"No way!"
"Absolutely not!"
Matthew's refusal was instant, sharp, and final. His voice rang with authority, a thunderous decree that reverberated down the dimly lit corridor. The sheer force of his words sent dust trickling from the ceiling, disturbed by the weight of the moment. His expression was rigid, his stance unmoving, as if his very presence had become a wall between the proposal and reality.
The air shifted. It was subtle at first, like the fleeting hush before a storm. A heavy stillness slithered through the space, curling around them like an unseen predator. Something primal, something dangerous, stirred just beneath the surface.
Matthew didn't notice. He was too caught up in the absurdity of it all.
To him, this was simple: A bunch of intelligence officers, more suited for desk work, thought they could follow elite soldiers into the heart of an undead-infested warzone? Ridiculous. Utterly, laughably ridiculous. Did they think this was some kind of game? A thrill-seeking adventure they could walk away from unscathed?
This wasn't just another mission. This was a living, breathing nightmare. A battlefield where death didn't just lurk—it hunted. Where the stench of rot clung to the air, where survival was a gamble with the reaper himself.
A muscle in Matthew's jaw twitched. His grip on his rifle tightened.
Then, as if on cue, the mercenaries behind him erupted into laughter, their amusement bouncing off the cold steel walls, sharp and cutting. The sound was thick with mockery, with derision so palpable it coiled through the air like smoke.
"Oh~"
"My God!"
"These guys are out of their minds!"
"You want to waltz into a nest of T-Virus freaks? Be my guest!"
Their voices carried a sneering edge, their words laced with disbelief and something else—pity. One mercenary, taller than the rest, casually slung his rifle over his shoulder, his smirk wide and condescending as he pointed a gloved finger at Tony and Black Widow.
"Listen, pretty boy. Zombies don't care how much money you've got. They'll eat you just the same."
Another merc feigned a sniffle, wiping at imaginary tears with exaggerated dramatics.
"Oh no, poor things, they think they're invincible!"
"Freeloaders should know their place."
A chorus of jeers followed, each one sharper than the last. The air thickened with scorn, with dismissal. To them, these two weren't just liabilities; they were walking corpses waiting to happen. Office workers with delusions of grandeur, about to waltz straight into a meat grinder.
"Heh~"
Black Widow's lips curled into a smile. The kind of smile that sent an icy shiver racing down the spine. It was subtle, almost serene—amused, even. But beneath that veil of effortless calm, danger simmered. A blade had materialized in her fingers, its sharp edge glinting under the dim emergency lights overhead, reflecting a promise of bloodshed.
Had they noticed the shift in her stance? The way her weight adjusted ever so slightly, a breath away from explosive movement? Had they felt the slow, creeping suffocation of impending violence pressing against their throats?
No.
They were too busy laughing.
She was moments away from making her point—
[Ding—]
A mechanical chime echoed in her mind, clear and undeniable.
[Side Mission Triggered: Zombie Attack!]
[A group of Lickers, attracted by the noise, are leading a horde of undead toward your location! Eliminate all incoming threats.]
[Reward: Unknown]
Her fingers tensed around the blade.
A mission? Now?
She lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Tony.
In his, she saw the same realization—the same sharp, calculating assessment of their situation.
This changes things.
The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken understanding.
Black Widow's hand shifted away from her knife.
No more playing low-key. No more blending into the shadows.
No matter what this [System] was—S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to get their hands on it.
"Looks like we have to get serious."
Tony smirked. That signature, cocky smile. The kind that made enemies grit their teeth and allies sigh in exasperation.
He rolled his shoulders, the metal plating of his suit shifting with the movement. This was his battlefield now.
Because truth only existed—
Within the range of artillery.
The distant echoes of snarls and guttural screeches reached them. The horde was closing in.
Tony flexed his fingers. His suit responded instantly, panels shifting into place as the repulsors charged.
"Jarvis."
"Light 'em up."
"Understood, sir."
Clank—
With a mechanical whir, the Iron Man suit deployed its arsenal.
Missiles locked. Repulsors charged. Targeting systems calibrated.
The next second—
Firestorm unleashed.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
Missiles streaked across the battlefield like falling stars.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions tore through the darkness, painting the battlefield in waves of fire and destruction. The air trembled, thick with heat and the acrid scent of burning flesh.
The Lickers never even had a chance to react.
Their grotesque, twisted bodies were ripped apart before they could move. Chunks of flesh and bone splattered across the metal floor.
The sheer devastation left a stunned silence in its wake.
Matthew and his men, mid-retreat, stood frozen.
Their ears rang. Their breaths came shallow and quick. The heat from the blasts still tingled against their skin.
Then they turned—
And saw him.
Tony stood amidst the wreckage, the glow of his arc reactor casting eerie shadows against the smoke. His repulsors hummed, still warm from the onslaught.
One man.
An entire horde.
Completely obliterated.
The mercenaries' mouths opened—words died before they could form.
Somewhere in the background, the sound of a lone voice whispering could be heard.
"Savage."
The weight of realization hit them like a hammer.
They had laughed. Mocked. Dismissed him as some pampered fool.
Now?
They had never been more wrong in their lives.
The invisible slaps of humiliation landed harder than any explosion.
—
"HAHAHAHA… I'm losing it! Did you guys see their faces?!"
"They were like a bunch of dumb ducks staring at a wolf!"
"They dared to underestimate Iron Man? Metal firepower teaches you humility!"
"A one-man army—I swear, Iron Man is in a different league!"
Across the world, laughter erupted through live-stream screens. The chat feeds scrolled too fast to read, thousands of messages flashing in real time.
Only moments ago, these creatures had seemed unstoppable.
And then—
They weren't.
The sheer contrast—
Was just too damn funny.
Tony, however, was unfazed by the global spectacle.
His focus remained locked on the holographic screen in front of him.
As data flickered into view, his gaze sharpened.
[Licker Defeated X1]
[Bio-Hazard Crisis: Speed Ranking Activated]