"Well, finally, some good news." Nick Fury irritably tossed his phone aside, pressing his fingers to his temples in an attempt to alleviate his headache. "The Ankara Air Force Base has agreed to deploy an F-22 loaded with ground-attack missiles. I'd bet my last dime that some bureaucrat was stalling this. Damn it, I should've seen this coming. These mercenaries have everything—even armed drones. What don't they have?"
"RPG! Watch out!"
"Oh great, now they've got anti-tank missiles too—and they're Stark Industries' old models! Shit! How many more parasites do we have in our system? Fck! Fck!" Fury angrily dusted off his leather jacket and turned to the agent trailing behind him. "Any word from Captain Rogers?"
"None, sir," the agent replied. "We lost contact with him 15 minutes ago. Should we send another team to provide backup?"
"No, no." Fury's headache seemed to intensify. "I've already sent support. Let's leave it at that. Hey, deploy a team to assist Agent May. Keep the boy and those monks in check; I hear the monks are being difficult. Damn it! That little bastard! Why hasn't he contacted me? He probably ditched his comms!"
"I was expecting vampires, but honestly, it's still too bright for them to be out," Solomon mused as he snapped a large bar of chocolate in half. He handed one piece to his android and distributed the rest among Captain Rogers and the strike team. The soldiers couldn't help but be curious about the girl in a flashy dress wielding an oversized sword. However, after witnessing her effortlessly cleave a supernatural creature in two while riding a motorcycle across the battlefield, all questions were laid to rest.
Their skepticism toward Solomon, however, lingered a little longer. After all, no one had ever seen a dragon—especially a massive red-and-black one that descended from the sky, crushing a supernatural beast beneath its claws. When the dragon morphed into a man in a crimson robe, the soldiers nearly opened fire. It was only Captain Rogers' personal guarantee that kept the team from shooting Solomon on sight.
Their doubts were further dispelled when Solomon unleashed curved waves of flame and spherical bursts of lightning from his fingertips. The entire battlefield became engulfed in a dense, obscuring mist, making visibility nearly impossible. The only signs of battle were intermittent flashes of crimson fire and electric-blue lightning, accompanied by the agonized screams of supernatural creatures. The acrid scent of ozone and sulfur filled the air, mingling with the ever-present smell of ash. Though Solomon hadn't eradicated every enemy, the few who managed to flee the mist were promptly picked off by S.H.I.E.L.D. snipers. When the fog finally began to lift, Solomon emerged, dragging several misshapen heads toward the team's defensive position.
"Is that a wizard?" one of the strike team members whispered to Captain Rogers. "Do you think he'll curse us?"
"He shouldn't," Rogers replied with a faint smile. "I've seen him curse others, but I doubt he'd do it now. Just don't piss him off."
"You've fought alongside him before?" The soldier's mind drifted to the comrades they'd lost to the supernatural creatures earlier. He absently touched his now-empty ammo pouch, wishing he could remove his helmet to scratch his head. His recent encounter with the creatures had been horrifying—monstrous strength, near-immunity to bullets, and a relentless ferocity. The memory of one beast's foul, gaping maw lingered in his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that fleas might be nesting in his hair. "Where the hell did these monsters come from? They're too strong—dodging bullets like it's nothing! This world just keeps getting crazier."
"Tell me about it." Rogers shrugged, flexing his wrist, which was still sore from the fight. He, too, struggled to make sense of the world around him. Decades ago, he had been the pinnacle of scientific achievement. Now, there were wizards, billionaire inventors in flying metal suits, aliens, and gods wielding hammers that only they could lift. Vampires and werewolves barely fazed him anymore, and he wouldn't even be surprised if a sentient planet showed up next.
Solomon, meanwhile, wasn't paying much attention to anyone around him. After all, Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., and who knew how many of these soldiers could be trusted? "It could be werewolves, or maybe undead creatures. Hell, it might even be low-ranking demons from the underworld. But I didn't expect all of them to show up at once, so I didn't waste any time." He gestured broadly. "Spells are precious. I used the most cost-effective option—it's not rocket science."
"I didn't know you could… do that. Turning into a dragon, I mean." Rogers accepted the last piece of chocolate with a curious look. "Thanks. Do you have any idea where these creatures are coming from?"
"Dark magic creatures might originate from Earth's shadowy corners—places where we've left them very little room to survive. Of course, we haven't shared this information publicly. You know how things are these days: people, once their bellies are full, start empathizing with every random creature just to showcase their useless sense of kindness." Solomon kicked one of the misshapen heads at his feet. "As for this… it's been summoned. Smuggled in, if you will. Their master must be nearby. I didn't see any sorcerers capable of summoning demons here. If there had been one, they wouldn't have died so easily."
The android stepped forward, her massive sword flashing as she severed a creeping, clawed hand that was inching toward Solomon. Her timing was impeccable. Some spellcasters could channel area-of-effect magic through controlled undead creatures, and the android wasn't about to let any threat reach her master.
Hearing the commotion, Solomon turned to see what had happened. "Vishanti! What the hell is that?" His eyes widened in disbelief. The shattered remains of the dark magic creatures he'd killed were rapidly decaying. Their bones—rotting and reeking—were being extracted and drawn toward a point deep within the mist. He watched as the bones fused together, forming a massive hound-like creature made of rotting flesh and skeletal fragments. But as Solomon cast a spell to dispel the mist, the undead beast vanished into thin air.
"What was that?" Rogers asked, his shield at the ready.
"There's a necromancer hiding nearby," Solomon replied grimly. "A powerful one. He's been lying low all this time, biding his time. And he's not alone—necromancers never act alone. Without accomplices, they wouldn't take the risk of showing their hand."
Solomon glanced around, searching for any signs of the enemy. "Do you have anything explosive left?" he asked.
"We used it all before you arrived," Rogers admitted. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. Is this… black magic?"
"Yeah, I can do stuff like this too. You just haven't seen me in action before." Solomon sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, alright. I guess I'll handle this."
Stepping out of cover, Solomon muttered an incantation. A massive, indistinct white spectral figure appeared behind him, its features blurred and ethereal. He had summoned a Vishanti Spirit Guardian to temporarily take over the android's protective duties.
"Dana," Solomon said, addressing the android, "find that necromancer and take him out. Leave this big guy to me."
"Yes, Master." The android hefted her massive sword and set off to carry out his order.
"What should we do?" one of the strike team soldiers asked. "Bullets don't seem to work on those creatures, but there's gotta be something we can do, right? How do we send those bastards to hell?"
"Start reciting hymns," Solomon quipped, "if you ever bothered to learn any."
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