Capture

Near midnight, the docks.

A swift, agile shadow sprinted from the streets into the dock area, a relentless chain of gunfire tearing through the sky behind it. Muzzle flashes flickered in the darkness, bullets trailing streaks of light as they chased after the figure—but every single one whistled past empty air.

The shadow darted forward, weaving along an erratic, twisting path. It leaped lightly onto the top of a shipping container, then bounded from one container to another with effortless grace. A hail of bullets clattered loudly against the metal surfaces, yet none managed to touch the nimble silhouette.

Amid the dense barrage, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the air—like something tearing through the atmosphere itself. The shadow seemed to sense it, halting mid-stride, then abruptly stopping its forward momentum and leaping straight up. It executed a near-perfect backflip as a rocket-propelled grenade, churning with searing hot air, narrowly missed its back by a hair's breadth.

The shadow dodged, but the container beneath it wasn't so lucky. The metal shell was torn apart in the violent explosion, flames and scorching shrapnel blasting outward from the epicenter.

The shockwave caught the shadow, hurling it high into the air before it crashed heavily back to the ground. It lay there struggling for a moment, until a squad of soldiers in black tactical gear closed in, forming an encirclement around it.

"This is Sky Sword Special Action Squad C-03. Target is surrounded but still combat-capable. Possible reinforcements needed. Over."

A ring of dark muzzles aimed at the shadow, their mounted tactical lights all switching on at once. The harsh white beams revealed a figure clad in armor—lean and small, but covered in scale-like plating. A thin, iron-black shell clung tightly to his skin, reflecting a cold gleam under the lights.

But the target wore no helmet or mask. He slowly lifted his head, squinting against the blinding glare. It was a pale, youthful face—a boy's face, with dirty, messy black hair and a trace of lingering childishness. Yet his eyes were those of a wild beast: devoid of reason, filled with primal ferocity.

"Open fire!"

The guns roared in unison, muzzles spitting long tongues of flame. Bullets wove into a steel storm hurtling toward the boy. But he moved first. He launched himself into the air, charging straight into the dense rain of lead. His body twisted with a flexibility that would shame the world's best gymnasts, breaking through the barrage with impossible agility and closing in on the soldiers.

He raised his hands, and with a sharp clink, blades as white as snow shot out from his fingertips. He swung his claws down—five streaks of cold light tore through the bulletproof fibers. Blood sprayed, and a soldier crumpled.

He was too fast, his movements ghostly, flickering like a phantom. Bullets couldn't touch him. He weaved through the Sky Sword agents' encirclement, each vicious swipe of his claws leaving another agent bleeding on the ground. His metal claws were impossibly sharp. When one agent instinctively raised his rifle to block, the claws clinked and effortlessly sliced the barrel into pieces, the icy blades then carving through his throat.

The boy was unstoppable, carving a bloody path—until a silver-white metal hand firmly caught his descending wrist.

It was the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier's mechanical arm locked the boy's wrist in place. His right foot shot up, driving a brutal kick into the black scale armor on the boy's abdomen. The dark figure flew backward like an arrow, but landed with a backflip, dropping to all fours. He crouched low, head raised, eyes glaring at the Winter Soldier as if they could hurl cold daggers.

The Winter Soldier said nothing, drawing his SIG Sauer P266. The semi-automatic pistol spat fire loudly. His super-soldier physique let him ignore the recoil, and his sharp instincts and dynamic vision gave him terrifying accuracy.

But his opponent was clearly no slouch at dodging bullets. The boy pushed off with all four limbs, springing up and spinning to evade the shots, like a swordfish cutting through water.

He dodged four rounds, then flicked his claws, slicing the P226's barrel in two. He pressed the attack, a second swipe aimed straight for the throat. The Winter Soldier batted it aside with one hand, swinging a backfist at the boy's face.

The black-scaled boy seemed to lack formal martial arts skill, but his reactions were lightning-fast, his strength monstrous, and his leaping, bounding movements made him incredibly hard to pin down. The Winter Soldier, a master of multiple combat techniques with extensive close-quarters experience, plus his enhanced physique and mechanical arm, found himself locked in a fierce, evenly matched struggle.

The two enhanced fighters clashed across the docks, their high-speed punches and kicks blurring into afterimages. The onlookers had long since backed off to standby, knowing they couldn't do much to help.

After thirty-odd exchanges, the boy spotted an opening as the Winter Soldier threw a punch. He ducked low, sliding under the soldier's armpit. Fingers spread, claws extended, he slashed viciously at the soldier's waist. The strike came fast; the Winter Soldier, seeing no time to dodge, adapted on the fly. He lifted his left leg and whipped it with full force at the boy's low-to-the-ground form.

The cold, sharp claws cut through the protective fibers, slicing flesh and drawing blood. But the Winter Soldier's full-power kick also connected, sending the boy's lean body flying high.

Yet the boy's balance was astonishing. Kicked airborne, he somehow spun midair in the direction of the force, regaining his equilibrium and dissipating the momentum, landing back on all fours with steady precision.

Agile, ruthless, with physical abilities and reflexes far beyond human limits—even fighting purely on instinct, this boy was undoubtedly one of the most fearsome opponents the Winter Soldier had ever faced.

Capturing him might have taken considerable effort—if not for the timely arrival of reinforcements.

A crimson shockwave, shaped like a condensed arrow, roared in. Before the boy could steady himself, it slammed into him with brutal force. The lean black figure was helplessly blasted away, crashing into a red shipping container at over forty miles per hour, the metal shell denting deeply on impact.

A girl in a red leather jacket and black stockings stood atop a nearby container, magic swirling around her like flames, her dark red hair flowing like waves.

Scarlet Witch.

She pulled her hands back through the air, and the immense force of her magic tore the steel plate—with the boy embedded in it—straight off the container. Chaos Magic twisted and bent the metal, curling it like ropes to bind the boy in the center. He struggled fiercely, his armor plates grinding against the steel with sharp, cracking sounds.

The Winter Soldier raised his arm and threw a dart, which struck the boy's exposed neck. The sedative quickly entered his bloodstream through the jugular vein, and soon the boy drifted into a drowsy sleep.

Wanda let out a long breath as the Chaos Magic faded. The boy slumped sideways, wrapped in metal, and collapsed to the ground. The waiting agents moved in to clean up.

"This kid's got some serious strength," Wanda said, crossing her arms as she walked up to the Winter Soldier, trying to strike up a conversation with her "new colleague." "Tough gig, huh?"

The Winter Soldier glanced sideways at her. Wanda instinctively stepped back—she found the tall man's gaze unsettling, like a hawk searching for prey.

He looked away, but didn't respond. He packed his gear and silently walked off.

"Alright, you're welcome," Wanda muttered to his retreating back. "So I'm stuck working with this weirdo. Just great."

(Thanks to reader BARRYALLEN for the 10,000 Qidian coins tip, reader Black Mountain Village for the 3,000 Qidian coins tip, and reader →_→ Fan Er Song Ling for the 500 Qidian coins tip!)