Fury's Ultimate Terror: Mortal Ants in a Battle Between Gods
shock.
The constant, violent shaking made Nick Fury feel like a mouse stuffed into a washing machine.
He huddled tightly under the explosion-proof table made of Vibranium and high-strength alloy. The acrid smell of gunpowder and concrete dust made him cough incessantly, each breath feeling like swallowing sandpaper. Above him, pieces of ceiling debris and burning wires rained down, slamming onto the table with dull thuds.
His single eye was fixed intently on the only surviving surveillance screen in the corner of the office.
The screen's signal was extremely unstable, filled with snow and distorted electromagnetic waves, yet it stubbornly transmitted images from the lower levels of the building—images powerful enough to drive any sane person insane.
That small screen became his only window into this new Hell.
"No, no... this is not war."
Fury's lips trembled unconsciously; his pride in his composure, which allowed him to remain calm even in the face of imminent collapse, had long since been shattered.
He saw it with his own eyes just now.
On the screen, a Winter Soldier codenamed "Impact" was, just a moment ago, under the control of Fury Grey's invisible mental threads, performing an extremely comical and contorted mechanical dance with his gleaming metal arms. On his face was that eerie, ecstatic, and chillingly blissful smile.
The next second.
A group of undead agents, their bodies radiating black aura, who had just crawled out of the pile of corpses, pounced on him like hyenas smelling blood. With their rotting nails and teeth, they brutally tore the Winter Soldier's flesh from his skeleton. His metal arm was ripped off, and parts were scattered all over the ground. The blissful smile on the Winter Soldier's face hadn't even faded before his body was completely devoured.
However, this is not the end.
Before the undead could finish enjoying their "feast," a Scarlet beam of light, guided by absolute logic, was precisely cast from the hole in the ceiling, locking onto the bloody, mangled area.
Immediately afterwards.
Boom--!
A beam of light from the Helicarrier's cannon crashed down with Thunder force, obliterating the undead, the remains of the Winter Soldier, and the floorboards, leaving only a huge, molten crater emitting blue smoke.
A puppet of the spirit.
Servant of Death.
A traitor to logic.
Fury's body was trembling violently and uncontrollably.
He understood.
He finally understood.
This is not chaos, this is not a disorderly Carnage at all!
This is... a closed loop! A meat grinder that is perfectly cyclical and Eternity running, constructed by three completely different god-level powers!
Jean Grey was in charge of creating the "actors".
Hela is responsible for collecting the "corpses" and transforming them into new "killing tools."
Wanda, on the other hand, was in charge of "clearing the stage," using the most powerful firepower to wipe out those out-of-control actors and props, or those whose "performance was over," along with the stage!
A thought, like the most vicious curse, exploded in his mind.
"Compete..."
Fury's teeth were clenched so tightly they were grinding together, and his single eye was bloodshot.
They're competing!
This isn't teamwork, it's competition!
They were competing to see whose methods were more elaborate, whose killings were more efficient, and whose despair was more "visually appealing"!
A chill deeper than death itself gripped his heart.
He, Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.., guardian of Earth, the ultimate coin who always lurks in the shadows, preparing Plans A, B, C, and even Z for every possible crisis.
He prepared the Avengers for Loki's invasion.
He prepared Veronica for the out-of-control Hulk.
He built three Helicarriers in anticipation of potential cosmic threats.
He thought he had calculated everything and treated the whole world as his chessboard.
ridiculous.
How ridiculous!
Only now did he realize with sorrow that the defense system, intelligence network, and even the entire S.H.I.E.L.D.. he had built up with all his might throughout his life were nothing more than pawns in the face of these three true "Deity".
They are simply... the chessboard itself.
It was that wooden plank, carelessly smeared and wantonly destroyed, used to support the games of the "Deity"...
And the man who could drive three Deity to such frenzied competition, even turning Washington, D.C. into a playground...
Lynn!
That young man who, not long ago, was listed as a "Level Three Logistics Agent" in his S.H.I.E.L.D.. file!
The face that sat calmly and indifferently on the Bone Throne during the live death broadcast resurfaced in Fury's mind, perfectly overlapping with the Hell scene on the screen before him.
Fury's pride, all his arrogance and dignity as a top strategist and the controller of Earth's dark side, were utterly crushed and trampled into the dust at this moment.
He is not declaring war on S.H.I.E.L.D..
He wasn't seeking revenge against Hydra.
He just...
Walking the dog.
Hela, Wanda, and Jean Grey —three terrifying beings capable of easily destroying civilizations—were his three hounds, tearing each other apart in a frenzy over a single bone!
Nick Fury, on the other hand, didn't even qualify to be that bone.
He was nothing more than an ant, constantly at risk of being trampled to death while the hunting dogs fought.
"Heh... heh..."
Fury gasped for breath, feeling as if his lungs were on fire, and each heartbeat felt like a drumbeat, making his eardrums buzz.
An unprecedented, soul-deep sense of powerlessness completely engulfed him.
He lost.
They suffered a crushing defeat.
He lost to a power he couldn't comprehend at all, to a being he didn't even have the right to look up to... a being of a higher level.
Click!
Suddenly, the floor above groaned under the strain, and a huge hole was torn open by the violent energy, sending debris and sparks flying everywhere.
A figure fell heavily from the hole, landing on the floor not far from Fury.
He is Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.
One of his metal arms was missing, half of his body was charred black, but his chest was still rising and falling slightly.
He's not dead yet.
However, Fury's pupils suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints.
Because he saw that behind Bucky Barnes, at the edge of the gaping hole, three distinct yet equally terrifying energies, like a swarm of sharks drawn by the scent of blood, were frantically converging on this sole "Survivor"!
Dark Gold spiritual tendrils, Scarlet Chaos Magic, and a jet-black Aura of Death...
They jostled and vied with each other, each wanting to be the first to bring this dying toy under their control!
A glimmer of hope?
No.
Fury closed his eyes in despair.
In this battle of the gods, any ant that tries to survive will only become the next, more interesting toy for the goddesses to fight over.
Amidst this extreme chaos and despair, a staggering, disheveled figure crawled out from the ruins at the other end of the office.
It's Alexander Pierce.
The Hydra leader's face now held none of his former majesty and composure. His suit was torn and stained with dust and blood; his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were unfocused, filled with primal fear.
He neither looked at the Divine Punishment outside the window nor paid any attention to the Winter Soldier struggling to survive on the ground.
He was like a terrified mouse, frantically running towards the wall at the far end of the office that was disguised as a bookshelf.
Fury recognized the place.
That was Pierce's top-of-the-line, absolutely secret emergency escape route...
Watching Pierce's ridiculous and pathetic desperate struggle to escape through a dog hole in the Deity ' playground, Fury's face revealed a smile more painful than tears for the first time.
escape?
Where can we escape to?