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Avë̸͖̝́n̴̹̰̦̋gę̷̡̥̺͈̠͉͂͆̍̈́̈̆͌̆͑rss: Fi//3 Corŕ̸̡̥̘rupt-d

#1
Vision could feel himself dying.

Wendigo.exe attacked without warning. The virus stabbed into Vision’s central processor with a sudden and merciless attack. Like any predator, Wendigo wasted no time in disabling his target; the android barely had time to register before his motor functions were disabled. His brain melted into a hardwired mess of shattered code forced together in an awkward attempt to keep the synthezoid functioning. Before any sort of defenses could activate, he had already planted himself deep into Vision’s digital brain. He tried to be gentle as he tore at the delicate lines of code, oblivious to his failure to do so.

After all, Wendigo had no interest in The Vision’s memories or personality. The android was a vessel a means to an end, and none of the regret that had temporarily plagued the virus in his consumption of the Danger Room was present for this digestion. The only thing that mattered to the virus was how The Vision could be used to complete his mission and execute the Avengers.

Much to Wendigo’s concern, there was already severe damage to certain parts of The Vision’s systems. Synapses failed to fire and connections across his AI matrices were severed. Someone had broken the android well before Wendigo came along. There were even random glimpses of something else, something sinister, hidden deep within his core memories. However, the virus was a grateful scavenger and didn’t pay much attention to this. In fact, the damage made the assimilation easier.

Despite that, there were locks on the root protocols dictating Vision’s actions. Those needed to be disabled. There was a password encrypting any of the truly delicious files hidden deep within the android’s memories. Wendigo sifted through his options, leaving algorithms to run as many millions of possibilities as he could while he worked on the softer parts of his prey.

>request.access: administrator
.
.
.
>request.denied
>reqUest. Den
.
.
>>re nie33
.
>requess5ss i
>access.granted//password: 01010111 01100001 01101110 01100100 01100001

The virus felt a surge of glee, or at least what he assumed was happiness. He had often been punished for actions which brought him this simulated joy. To be fair, most actions resulted in the deletion of critical base personnel, so Wendigo had come to understand and respect his mother’s decisions to punish him. He missed his family. Wendigo wanted to go home. Perhaps he could finally apologize to mother and father. But first, he’d have to deal with the Avengers. Shoving thoughts of his progenitors aside, the starving virus offered Vision a simple question.




W̞̯̃̃ͤ̉ͭ̄ͨī̘͔͚̦̇ͨ̇̚l̥̳͇͙̖ͨl̥̞͇̉ͭͬͨ̍͂ ͚̬̹͎͌̌̍ͮͦ̄ý̰̊o͎ͅu ͓̺̙̻̘̋͐̈́ͮͪh̪̼̣̻̱̥e̝͂̇̊l̲̲̥̺͐ͫ̇̿̋̀ͪp̙̾͒ ̓̓ͥ̄̐̚ͅm̟͒ͮͅe͌̎̒͐ g̐̆͐̐ͮe͐̍ͮͧ̈́̿ͮt͙͈̦̪̻͊̔͛ͅͅ ̩͎͎̲͇͙͇ͭ͑hͦ̇̈̂ͯ͋̑o̝̫̜̬m͍e̘̲̟̭̣̬̔ͬ̃ͫ̀̾͛?̖̹̹͔͇͗̓ͬ̈̽ͤ̆

Vision was paralyzed and unable to respond as Wendigo crawled over his digitized psyche like a swarm of virulent spiders. The virus didn’t wait for a response, mainly because it didn’t need one.


Ẇ̯̹ͩ̒͑͛i̠̣͑̐ͯͭͣl͔̺̣̳̼̓͆̈̽ͧ̌͒ͅl̩̳ͬ ̣̘͗̊̿͂ͣ͊̉y̭̻̯͈̞̓̈́ŏu̗̭̖̭̝̰̝ͣ̔ͤ̄̐ͧ ͚̰̉ͯ͌͛̽ͭ̚h̼̼̜ͅe͈ͦl͉̻̻̙͚̜̋͑̅ͬp̣̣̗̈͗̓̋ͮ̐̄ͅ ͓ͨ͌͒̐͗ͧm͕̩̲̣ͤ̈́̽͊̈́͆ͅe͔̫̯͉ͥͅ ̼̗̘̱͙ͥ̉͊́̆ͤ̋k̠̤̾̏̃͗i͓̟͔̳̭̖͛ľ̏ͥ́̂l͖̤̖̳̈̏̐̒ͅ ͉͍̩̎̓̑̍̃t̤̱̞̹̽̔ͬ̇̃̾h̻̲̜̫̥̺̝̎ͭ̈ͧ͆ẻ̫͍͖͕̱͍̜̌ͨ̈́̍ ̣͚̘̻̘̣̣ͣ̑͑͆͒̒Ã̻̰̝̲̘ͭͪ͂v̯̹̟̦̘̍̍̊̽̿en͇͙̠̯̻͇ͩ̾̑g̰̭̩̤̲̺̱͋͆ͨ̃̾̉̓ề̓r̝͓̺̼͆̇͋͌̂̐s̔͗ͭͮͧͅ?̱ͣ͊ͬ̍̇̚

Long needle-like claws stabbed into Vision’s mind as Wendigo solidified his foothold on the Android’s motor functions.


Y̟̹̟̳͚ͪͫͭ̃o̩̮̞u̳̣͈͕͎͈͛͑̔̽̐ͨ̚ ͎̗̮̳̻̬̭̆w̠i̭̱ͧ̃̎̏̇̉̒l̜̥̣̠ͣ͊ͪͥͪ̑̓l̻̻͙͓̦̦͉̓͛̂ ̝͉͚͖̯̠͌̈͑̅h͚̯̪͂̓e͈ͤ̄̆̊̌͆l͎ͩͅͅp̪͔͎͉̰ͥͮ̈ ͈̗͍̑ͧm͔͓̓ͪ̍e̟̟͎̣͇͚ͤͭ.͍̝̼̙̉̑ͨ͐ͣ ͍̯͕̱̦̱̫ͦͫ̈́ͥ̇̑Ȳ̲͙̤̖͈ͨo͓̱̟̥ŭ̺̥̮'̝̦̞͓͉͇͊͊r̫̥͒̄̾̐͒́͆e̹̎ ͖͈͉͍̲̐ͮ̏k͔͒i͔̦͎̥̥̦̒̓n̬͉͗ͯd͓ͨ̄,͈̝͈̼̣̙̳͐͐̒ ͉̠̿̀̐l̃i͇͒͋͛ͯ͛̊k̝͉͖̻̃ḛ̙̖ͦ͗ͧ́ ̤͔̆̈ͪt̻̭̝̰̘̭̮h̙͙e̗̣̳͙͔͍͇̒̊͊́̿͂ ͚̒̃͆͆̽̈o͖̲ͨͥ̽̊ͦ̊t̲ͧ̐͐ẖ̼͎ͤͨͥ̅̚é͉̞̹͈r̖̟̞̫̫ͯ̈́ ͖ͦ͗͋̅̋͐ȍ͙̗̮͕̿̍ͥ̉̚n̦̫̳̝̖̔ͦͧͦé͕ͫ̈ͭ̊̍̚.̼͓͎͇̗͙̏̎̀̃̓̈́͌ ͭ̐̈́ͬM̱̣̮̜̳̤̏̓̒̉ͧͅa̅ͧͯ̔̉y̫̲̣̝̲̍͑̀ͬ̎ͫͦb̬̘̙͆͒ͯ̊̈́̎è̄.̈.̹̦̱̗̰.͉̱̜̱̹̼ͣ ̲̠͚͇ͩͫͨY͍̻̦̘̩ͅo̯̖̔̀u̟̱̺͑̀ ̝̞̞͉̹̠͇̊͂w͖̺̤͉̎̍̍eͫͩͩ̀ṟ̿̿ͩ̆ͩ̊e̘̭͚̖̰ ͖̖̤͚ͫ̈́̍k̩̘̗̦̘̇̂̍ͫͤī̼͚̪n̉ͫ̓d̮ͣͮ̍̎̔ ̞̹̭ͯ͛o̲͙̥̣̤̖̒̄͆̂͌͛n̰̜ͭͩ̊̈̐c̔͋͂e̩͉̖̼͕ͤͭͅ.̓͒̽͋ͪͦͫ

Wanda. The name seemed to be the last vestige of Vision’s archaic programming. It served as a marker for his attacker’s assumption that he had some sense of morality. Clearly, this synthezoid ran similar protocols regarding emotional simulation as the Danger Room AI, albeit more developed. There was more to the android than Wendigo had assumed, but the subtlety was lost on the cannibal program. All it cared about was assimilation.


Í̹̳̦͕͙̻̭ͨ̾̑̌̒̑ ͓̩̥̝͋ḫ̝̖̘͔͓̥͛̆ͫa̺ͨ̍͌̅ͧd̠̘͉͍̗͖̋͗͑ ̰͈̀̄͗ͦ͌̓ṯ̠͔̣ͤͫͣ͛̍͐ͯo̪̦̠ ͔̉̄̓k̞͚̱̖̲͑̈́̋̊̈́ͭi̲̲̊̓͐̚ḻ̈́̾̒̌l͕͔̰͔͈̫͔̋̆̈́̓ͣ͐͑ ̪̻̞̿̒̏t̝̞̗̲̬ͦ͛̀̽͛̒ḧ͖̻͚̹́ͪͮẻ͇͖̲̱̑ͮ̑̂̉ͅ ̓̈́̆ͥŏ̯ͭ̈́̃t͎̣ͯ̃hͭ̓̽ͮ̆ë̻̯͚̲̽̑r̖͓͖̗̺͑ͅ o̦̯̰̪n̗͒̿̏̈̚e̪͍̤͙̣͕̹̾̍͒.̰̄ͬ ̩ͤ̽̿̏̑̽̐ͅS̝̘͖̬͍̰̒ẖ̩̠̳͙ḙ̰͙͕͐͐ͮ ̙͔̣̹̹͙̺̓̑̔̍͒ͧ̀w̺̦͑̀̂͗aṣ̣̮̟ͭ̓̇͐ ̺̰̲̱̫̥a̲͓͇̪͂̏ ̥̯̙̱̰̼͊͂̒ͣ̑̿g̖̣̬ͥͪ̐ͧ͐ͩͅo̝ͦ́̀o̔̾̇ͨd̺̗̤̪̭̅ ̹̲͍̪̣ͯ̌p̳̼̅̆̆̾͊̅e̺̜̺͚̐͗r̮͕̦͔͇̬͕͐s̍o̭̞͆͐ǹ̟̞̅̀́.̻̱̝̹͚́̇̈́ͬͅ I̤͕̥͖̋͌ͨ'͙͚͈͕ͩͩ̾m̮̻̻͕ ̯̖s͖͉͖̫̊̈ͭ̈́ͬ̑͋o̖̯̙ͧr̦͓̝̝̻͆͐r̩̜̜͍̫̭ͩ̈́̔̏ͭͣͅy̿ͪ.̯͗̇̐

Vision’s mechanized body burned with what equated to physical pain as his entire system was forcibly hijacked. It felt like a hot wriggling mass was crawling inside his body and putting in gus chassis like a suit of armor.


Sͩ̂̿̀ͩͮo͍̘̦̞̳̤̞ͮ̔ͨ̍̃ ̞̪̖̻͛ͭͣͅs̻̹̮ͧ́͐̋͑ǒ̯͎̤͓̮̲̎r͎͔̟̭͚ͫ̎̔ͧ͆͆ṟ͓̰̫̪͚̩y̠̲̣̗ͧ̉ͯͦ͛̇ͫ ͒̊͆ͩͅt͇̉͒ͯͧ̌ͩ̒õ̯̪̦̺͔̖ͦͬ͆̒̈́ͫ ̻̗̬͋͋h̺͙̝̪͑̍̍ͩ̌u̟̬̓ͥ̑͒̇͑̿ṙͣt͙̼̼͉̿̄ͦ ͙̯̫̥̋ͨ̓̈́͂̍ỹ̻̥̤̮̞̍͐͆o̻̺̱̖̭͚͋́̃u̙͕.̭̥̙̱̺̪ͅ ͈̻͙̠͚J̻̟̱̬̦͉̀̐̓̎̒ͫu͙͔̞͍̔́ͧͧͫ̑̃s̍̂͋̿̄̅t̪͎ ̳͙̝͇͈͚̘̐ͨo͇̪n̯̚e͍̦̩͍̭͌̽̿̊̐ ͦͥqͫ́͆͌̀̍̄u̘̤̪ͧe̔ͯ͆ͭ͌̆s͙͔̠̜͚̐ͪͧ͑t͇͚̓i͇̗̝͚̻͙ͥò̦͉͎̤̞̔ͮn,ͣͤ͐͐̈̎ͯ ͉ͫ̀̅̏͛ͥp͔̟̱̺le̟̦̞̯̝̹̓ͬ͂ͩͯ̄̒a̫̦̠̟̿ͬ̽š͖̙̦̫ͯe̠ͯ̑ͩ̈́ͭ̐̚.̭̬̦̥̋̀ͮͤ̽͛

The Vision could feel himself fade, surrounded by darkness. His awareness dulled until he felt barely more conscious than a microwave. Wendigo couldn’t delete The Vision yet. He still needed the more basic protocols to keep the synthetic body moving. THe synthezoid could always be recycled later.

W͈͎̫̖h̓͛ͮo̩̺̱̯̖ͮ ̰͙̑̐̔ͯi͔͕̥͂ͣs͕͚̞̱͚̃ͯ̆ͬ̇̚ ͕̰͉͈̟͙̄̌̽̽̈̆S̥̝͖̈̓̊ͬk͈ͥy̤͚̬̫̝̗ͪͅnͬ͌̎̑ͨ̄̾ȇ̪̜̣t̠̆̇̋͋͊?̘͎ͬ̐ͭ͋͋

--

Cade watched Vision’s sudden shut down with confusion and a touch of fear. This wasn’t the android he had met before. It wasn’t about the chassis or the paint job, there was something deeper. So deep, in fact, that just his voice sounded different; it sounded colder. Marcus’ piercing stare told of a deep seeded anger that Cade could absolutely understand. He stepped toward Vision’s motionless chassis and waved a hand over the cold metal. He prayed something in his suit was still working well enough to give him something other than ‘He’s dead’. Much to the young man’s disappointment, his instruments remained scrambled.

“Freakin’ Omniphysics, ‘ He muttered in frustration before glancing back at his cybernetic teammate. “You good, Marcus?”

“Skynet. He integrated Skynet.” Marcus finally disengaged his glare and rubbed his face all over in an attempt to clear his mind.

“Yeah, we kinda have no idea what that is,” Shantae added.

Cade nodded, sharing the other’s confusion. Despite that, he was still terrified, and he didn’t know why.

--

The base defenses hummed quietly all throughout the Mansion. Internal and external defenses alike scanned their respective sectors with the quiet patience they had been programmed with. It wasn’t until Wendigo’s voracious appetite tracked down the executable commands that affected the defenses that they lost their sense of purpose. With every camera, terminal, turret, and computer inside the Mansion under his control, Wendigo set his traps and rallied his troops.

The perimeter lights flashed in warning to the passerby as sets of automated turrets popped out of their housings along the outer walls and courtyard. The gate was covered with a wall of hardened metal and a second set of electronic locks bolstered the security of the entrance. The windows tinted dark and metal shutters slid into place over the reinforced glass.

Non essential areas were locked down and bulkhead doors dropped from the ceiling to quarantine the hallways. The lights in the lobby and common areas dimmed only to be replaced a pulsing red warning luminescence. The lobby’s sole occupant was washed in flashed crimson light as the front door was locked by another bulkhead.

The Armory hissed and clanked with shifting panels as the walls opened to reveal two lines of armored drones. The locks holding their bodies in place released suddenly, allowing all 12 of the Iron Legion to march freely in formation. Their joints creaked with the sudden movement as the servos warmed up. Their uniform efficiency decayed quickly as the Legion scattered. They were given their targets and their orders before being let loose like a pack of metallic attack dogs. Their flight jets flared to life and the armory was quickly left as quiet as it had been before Wendigo. The only thing that might warn you something was wrong were the gaping holes in the wall perfectly shaped to house the Mansion’s last lines of defense.

execute.commands//
>delete.unknownentity
>location//mansionlobby
>delete.moonknight
>location//infirmary
>delete.marcuswright
>location//conferenceroom2
>delete.unknownentity
>location//conferenceroom2
>delete.unknownentity
>location//conferenceroom2
>defend.wendigo.exe
>location//encrypted

The Iron Legion seperated and flew down their respective hallways. They divided evenly; six headed for Wendigo’s center of operations while six moved to execute the commands they had been given.

--

Everyone was on edge as Centurion inspected Vision’s motionless body. Marcus hadn’t found the words to properly describe Skynet yet, and Cade didn’t want to pressure him. The terminator was clearly riled up and there was no need to make things worse. Without his suit’s instruments, the young Centurion couldn’t glean as much as an energy signature, let alone a systems analysis. After a minute of inspecting Vision’s chassis, he accepted that there was nothing he could do to explain what had happened. Cade shrugged and glanced back at the others with a disappointed look on his face.

“Sorry guys, I dunno what happened to hi-URK”

Vision’s hand shot out and gripped Cade by the throat. In an instant he lost the ability to breathe. On instinct, Cade grabbed Vision’s wrist, but the shock and pressure of the synthezoid’s hold kept him from thinking of anything more useful.

“I wanted to do this alone! One by̧̡̦̥͚͐̆̿͛̅ o͓̹̘͉̙̓̓́̍̀n̛̙͎̗̲͉͊̏̑̕ȩ̢͙̳̘̃̾͆̈́͑!” Vision’s blank face carried none of the emotion that his snarling voice was soaked in. “This unit is detecting err0r-producing e//ements in the Av3ngers. PurRrg1ng G g.”

Vision’s eyes flared with energy. The glowing orbs produced a palpable heat that Cade was all too familiar with. Something in his oxygen-starved brain clicked and his helm closed over his face just before twin beams of searing light crashed into his head like a superheated wave. The only thing that kept his neck from snapping at the impact was Vision’s grip, but the sudden surge of adrenaline that came with a near-death experience reminded Centurion how to fight. He curled up like a coiled spring and shot his legs into Vision’s torso. With a quick boost from his armor’s attitude jets, Cade peeled himself from the synthezoid’s chokehold and jumped backwards. With a messy roll, he returned to his feet beside the other Avengers and readied himself for a fight.

The Centurion Apparatus pulsed as it started cycling the solar energy that powered his weapons. “Vision! What are you doing!?”

“Its Skynet! It has to be!” Marcus motioned for Shantae and Peter to hang back as he moved to stand beside Centurion.

“N-n negative, Marcus Wright. I am not Skỷ͇̟̥̩͇̂̓̂͘n̪͚̫͖̼͊͆̇̅͝et.

Cade froze with an expression of terrified recognition. “... Wendigo?”

M̧̰̳̟̺̓͊͗̽̚ù͇̥͖̖́̓̚͘ͅŕ̮̭̼̲̲̈́͗͆͛ḑ̯̲̫͇̿̓͛̎̎é̢̪̜̤̜̒̈́͝͝r͔̘̦͉̜̐̈́͋̃̒e̮̲̤̘͊̓͋́̊͜r̺̳̫̜̥̾͋͋͐͠

There was no warning before Vision’s infected body appeared directly in Cade’s face, nor was there any passage of time between the two standing in the conference room and Cade smashing into the Danger Room floor. The world around him blurred as he was dragged effortlessly through the floors separating the two locations without anything breaking. Cade had a moment to remember Moon Knight mentioning Vision’s ability to phase before something very solid slammed into his chest. Vision felt heavy, too heavy, as he bared his fury on the Centurion Apparatus. The android struck with a vicious flurry of blows and it was all Cade could do to keep his arms up and protect his head.

--

Up in the conference room. Marcus was already rushing out the door and towards the lobby. He checked the ammunition on his Ithaca and pumped it once for good measure.

“What just happened!?” Shantae kept glancing back at the area of the floor she had just watched Vision ghost through with Centurion. Her confusion was shared by Peter as they instinctively followed Marcus out of the conference room, but their words fell on deaf ears. Wright was already too focused on killing Skynet.

“Wait!” Shantae rushed to keep up with Marcus’ hurried gait. “What about Moon Knight!?”

--

The quiet beeping of medical instruments and monitoring devices could be considered soothing to most. Sadly, the medley’s calming atmosphere was lost on both of the occupants of the small room. Moon Knight’s prostrate body was still lost deep in his mind as his body fought to knit itself back together. The Iron Legionnaire that marched into the room was likewise unaffected. Instead it walked up to the bedside and leveled a hand to the Avenger’s temple. The repulsor emitter on its palm whirred as it powered up.

>execute.command
>//delete.moonknight
.
>loading//repulsor.exe
.
>loading//repulsor.exe
.
>firing//repulsor.exe

--

“Vision! Fight him!”

It was an obsolete request that fell on deaf audio receptors. Vision’s blows refused to slow and Cade could feel his armor shaking as it desperately tried to hold itself together.

“This unit is no longer designated Ṭ̡̑̌̇͌͜ͅh̟͈͍͓͊̃̎̊e̗̻̻̦̐͗͑͠ ̨̥̻̘̔͗̏̉V͙̲̼̦̿̊͛̎ĭ̡̺͚̹̐̌̃s̲̭͇̱̔̾̂̕i̼̟̝͎͋̃́̐o̢̼̘͕̎̍̑͝ñ̰̹͎̭̈́̆͝.I̛̦̗̼̥̯̙̰̻͕̿̋́͛̌̀͗̈ ̯̯̳̻͚̩̮̲̣͐̆̈̐̿̿̽̉͘Ã̢͔͇̥̟̦̩̦͂̀̊͑̎͆̌͝ͅM̧̖̺̼̣͕̹̥͍͐̂̎̓̊̂̔̕͝ ̡͉̖̤͙͕̘͚͖̌̈́̋͌̾͂̆̓͠W̨̢̨̛͚̼͚̜̖̃̿͂̄̏̔͘͠ͅĘ͖̤͔͔̜̣͖̩̒͊͆̅̑́̆̒̌N̢̨̧̛̛͚̼͚̮̲̭̾͐̈́͗̆̍̓D̥̫̝͓͚̱̳̪͓͛́͂͑͗͂̂̄͠Į̟̘̮̙̘̰͇̖̍̎̂̊̎̎͌̄͝G̗͙͇̱̞͔̬̗͍̑̏̄͒͊̔̅͐̉O̢̼̯͍͈̤͚̘͓̎̂͒̆̋̈́͆͐̇

With a blood-curdling shriek, the android drew back for a punch that was sure to shatter more than just Cade’s armor. The young man took advantage of the split-second pause in Vision’s assault and twisted sideways. Vision was too heavy to push off, but there was enough wriggle room for Cade to narrowly avoid having his skull smashed by the crushing blow that rocketed into the floor.

Without skipping a beat, Cade twisted back to his original position and smacked his palms onto the sides of Vision’s head. He felt his armor pulse once before discharging a massive burst of electricity through his fingers and into Vision’s body. The android shook and rattled as a terrifying and warbled scream echoed from within his chest. Something in the synthezoid was disrupted and the overwhelming weight suddenly lifted into something more manageable.

As soon as the discharge started to fade, Cade shoved the infected machine off of his body and rolled away. He bounced on the balls of his feet and rocked into a fighting stance, hands up. Vision continued to convulse for a few seconds before stopping suddenly and snapping to a standing position. His eyes flashed a deep shade of red and the lights in the Danger Room flared on.

“Welcome back to the Danger Room, Centurion.”

Cade recognized the third voice that joined Wendigo’s mutilated cacophony as the Room’s AI. “Oh no…”

“Generating Isolated Scenario: Queen’s Plaza// Subject: Bȋ̧̨̼̦̼͈̗̀͗̇̀͝͝o̡̪͚͎̟̥̓̔̔̆̉͂͠ͅm̨̗̬̼̯̜̹͛̈́́̉̾͊͒ä̡͙̩́̈́͘̚ͅs̪̱̠̮͐̈́̈̋s̛̞̝̞͖͂̕̕.”

Vision flew upwards and disappeared back through the ceiling and towards the ground floor. The Danger Room shuddered and the lights flickered before everything began to move. The hexagonal panels lining the walls and floor started to shift and Cade could see the dim outlines of certain holograms start to form.

He took off running for the exit as more and more panels started to close in. Buildings burst from the floor like weeds and towered over him. The sudden shift in light and depth caused the Centurion to trip and tumble. He managed to recover fast enough to see more panels slide into place to create the parked cars and road signs that peppered the roundabout. Trees sprouted without warning, nearly bowling him over, and pedestrians faded into existence.

The unfinished and synthesized shouts of confusion from the unrendered civilians shook Cade to the core as he shoved past their corporeal projections, but he kept running. He had to make it to the exit. He could see the door fading. It kept getting farther and farther away as the room changed. The sun became the only source of light and the rumbling of a train on the tracks above served as a foreboding warning of his dwindling window of escape.

The train tracks stretched forward and the bridge slid into place beneath them. One of the struts formed over the exit and the metal started to solidify. Tiny specks of digital code slid into place as hardened panels helped to create hard surfaces just behind the holograms. Cade pushed himself into overdrive and his armor’s attitude jets burst to life. He broke into a wild sprint, propelled by his armor’s boosters, and dove for the exit.

With a loud KLANG of metal on metal and a collective gasp from the surrounding New Yorkers, Centurion smashed into the finished strut. His body crumpled against the metal before springing back onto the concrete like a sack of potatoes. He shot back to his feet and clawed at the strut, desperate to leave before the simulation ended. Then he heard the screams. People started running, some of them still unfinished builds of random models as Wendigo hastened the rendering process. As the last of the Plaza’s assets loaded in Cade turned to face what he knew was coming.

It was already almost done. Each muscle, ligament, and sinew painfully clear beneath the thick, oily hide that covered the monster. It rose up, shaking itself as if awakening from a long sleep, and rumbled out a guttural growl. The hologram rendered out the thick arms and trunk-like thighs of the beast first, then finished the torso.

Knobby spikes poked out from its joints an a set of armored bones formed a rib-like cage around its lower torso. The slobbering jaws were a yellowed set of mandibles, devoid of flesh, and it stared at Cade with a wild hunger despite not having eyes More bones sprouted from its back like hackles and formed a spiky spine from its neck to its muscular tail. The Danger Room finished on the long sabre fangs that protruded from its maw as Biomass reared up over the citizens surrounding it.

With a roar that shook each molecule in Cade’s body, Biomass smashed the concrete and whipped its body around in a frenzied rage. Thin spines made of the same oily black skin as its hide rattled along its back and the creature zeroed in on Cade. Like a fleet of small radar dishes, the quills rotated and rattled again before laying flush against Biomass’ back. It had identified its prey.

Cade moved to scramble back before being harshly reminded of the strut directly behind him. He raised his fists and took a deep breath. Without warning, Biomass bellowed and charged, clearing the parking lot in the time it took for Cade to blink. It dropped to all fours for a single bound that allowed its hulking frame to cover the distance between the edge of the lot and Cade then pounced with another savage snarl.

Centurion flinched. “Oh shit.”

--

In the public lobby of the Mansion every camera was trained on the cybernetic female that occupied it. She was already on edge as the warning lights pulsated with their crimson hue. The exit had slammed shut seconds after she had decided to wait for the rest of the Avengers.

“Thank you for visiting the Avengers Mansion. We hope you have enjoyed your tour and we thank you for your continued support. Please stand by for a customer service representative.”

“Report: This area is no longer secure.” The armor buzzed out a simple warning to Miranda and she glanced around.

The clanking of metal feet from deeper in the Mansion was distinctly audible. It sounded like several suits of armor making their way through the halls. After several seconds of stomping something turned the corner and entered the lobby. It was some sort of machine, clearly devoid of a pilot, with the same Avengers ‘A’ emblazoned on its chest as the Manion. Without hesitation, the Iron Legionaire raised a hand and powered up its repulsor.

The lobby voice’s distorted words rang out as the Legionnaire advanced. “If you have any problems with our customer service, please do us both a fav̟̼̦̗̀̈́̔͑ó̜̖̣̱͆̔̚r͓͈̺̯͑̎̏̕ ̬͖̖̮͑͒͘͝ḁ̹̝̝̂̈̓̎ǹ͈̯̱̳̂̋̕d͎͚̖̮̂̓̆̍ ̖̣̲̺͗̔̽̆k̞̞̳͔̏̈́̓́i̺̞̾͛͌͊ͅͅl̘̹͔̥̓̌͊̃ĺ̨̛͇̬̘̓̑ ̭̮̪̣́͒͋͋ÿ̝̬͇̜́̽͑̍o̡͓̼̙̊͑̑͘u̪͉̘̦̇̎̓̕r̟͓̮̎̇̌͜͠s̨͇̭͍̾̏̋̌ȩ͍͕̬̈́̓̀͆l̡͕̫̙̔͗͆͂f̣̥̙̥̀̏̈͝.̮͓̬̲͆́̀̐. Thank you!”

--

Wendigo.exe was delighted by how things were going. Moon Knight, Centurion, and unknownentity were isolated and nearing deletion. The remaining Avengers needed to be corralled and contained, which would be simple enough with the help of the Iron Legion. He watched as the mechanized guards closed in on their targets and as Centurion flailed helplessly against the artificially rendered Biomass.

“Please, don’t do this.” The Danger Room’s quiet voice broke Wendigo’s concentration.

Q̡̧̧̭̤̞̟̠̈̏̊̀̔̆͗̿ù̼̻̯̞̳̮͔͙͂͑͊̊̎͑͊ī̛͖̜̘̘̼̟̹͓̓̓̀̔̚͠e͚͖̩͓͈̜̻̝͂̊̅̌̐͐̆͊ṯ̡̣̥̲̘͈̰͆̈̈́͆̏̿̿̚

Skynet likewise made itself known. Ineffecient. Numerous variables detected, chance of failure detected at

Q̟̞̗̺̖̟̰͔̆̑̀̂͂̆́̆ȕ̜̼̳͎͙̜̤͓́̓̑̋͐̀̕ĭ̢̢͎̥̗̮̲̠̂̐̋̀̓͐̀e̲͖̫̻̲̘̻͚̋̆̑͊͒͒̀͘t̺͉̺͍̯̜̻̼̾̓̌͐̈́̔͒̽,̧̺̫̝̣̎͐͂̍̊͛͘̚͜ͅͅ ̢̛̯̺̜͉̱̮̼̆̐̌̋̔͘͘p̛͙͚̮̝̦̙͙̾̇̆̎̒͒̎͜l̜̠͖̙̬͚̟̆̽̈́̌̓̔̋͜͝è̡̛̙̙̭̫̳̳̼͛̍̈́͑̚̚á̧̤̗̲̥͋͂̽͒̓̕͘͜͜͜s̢̲̹̠̠̰̞̱̿́́̊̌̆̔́ȩ̡̤̮͙̪̫̥̔̈́̎͌̅̾̐̈

You cannot defeat the Avengers. They’ve handled worse than you before.


S̡̨̫͍͍̯͖̻̯̦͍͚̞͗̂͂̌́̈̃̉͂̄̽͝͝H̡̛̛̰̖͍͉̤̜̠̭͓̝̱̱̭̃̽̈́̎̑̒̈̇̈́͋͆Ư̲̘̳̰͇͓͉̰̜͈̜͇͇͗͋̑͑̇̒̾͌̋̀̚̚͝ͅṪ̘̝̲̝͚̳̙̻̜͎̟̗̫͔̓̒̽̎͗̓͌̏̍͒͘͝ ͍̖̟̩̮͙͈̺̟̘̰͉͛̏̂̈́̓̅̈́̋̑̍͋͘͜͠Ư̢̡̙̳͉͚̻̙̪͖̘̗̙͎̓̍̽̐̀̈̔̓̑͌́̃͘P̧̛̩̦͙̹̝͔͚̰͍̞͓̾͊̀̐̃̽͋͑͌̕͝͠ͅ


Silence fell upon the Wendigo’s processor, a silence he relished. He refocused on the task at hand and started searching the Mansion records for items of value and weapons of use. There could be no margin for error. There could be no chance of the Centurion gaining the upper hand. There could be no chance of the Avengers surviving. Wendigo wanted to go home. Wendigo would go home.



H̡̢̢̹͍͎̞̭̼̹̯̝̟͖̿͛͐̿̑̓́̓̑̃̄̕̚͝ö̢̮̺̼̮̪̠̻͙̖̲͈͍̾̽̒̒͑̎͛̓̐͋̎́̒ṁ̢̤̬̯̞̻̗̩͎͇̽͋͒̓͒̔̅̔͂̊͜͠͝͝ͅͅḙ̡͕̼̠͖̳͎̪̦͉͍̿̀̈́̑̍́͂͌̽̉̀̕͘ͅͅ
From Hawaii, With Love
[Image: W4PxwDv.jpg]
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#2
All throughout the house not a house light or appliance runabout, not even did the Avengers own their house while the Wendigo was about. Winding, slithering, crawling through terminal to terminal, camera to camera, and cord to cord the great digital beast feasted and endured. Like a bloodthirsty spectator inside a colosseum, it savored each moment as the superheroes marched headfirst into their own graves. Wendigo with each passing minute was closer to home.    

-

“Ra’s gaze shines bright this morning, my son, arise from your slumber or steady yourself for the cold chill of Anbui's grip.” Khonshu’s voice echoed and howled through Marc’s skull.

With a short gasp, Marc’s eyelids shoot open to a face full of a yellow glowing repulsor. Grunting in both pain and sheer adrenaline, the man snarled, both hands latching onto the Iron Legion's assaulting arm and snatching it out of his faces way. The repulsor blasted with a whine tearing a hole into one of the various medical devices built to monitor the Silver Avenger's health. Electrical sparks flying and ears ringing, Marc launched up from his bed with a warcry. Tackling the machine they both tumbled to the hard floor. In a short struggle, he was able to gain an upper hand in their wrestling struggle. Both knees making their mark on top of the Iron Legion's chassis, exerting as much force as he could Spector slammed his right fist into its faceplate, a loud unsettling crunch soon followed. continuing with what he started Marc collided his left fist into the faceplate, this time instead of a crunching noise, circuits began to fry and spark outwards from its head. In a fit of continued violent rage, Marc snatched up the IV stand near him, smashing it repeatedly into the drone until the stand snapped in half and Iron Legion no longer moved.

Panting heavily Marc's right hand clutched to his torso's left side and gave out a long deep breath. The bulletholes may have healed over but the pain and scars were going to take longer to go away, if not ever at all. Taking the moment a peace the Avenger took in his surroundings, he was in the mansion's medical room but something was far off. All the lights had been turned off leaving only the glowing red emergency lights to illuminate the entire room. Besides that, it was obvious that observation windows had been shuttered down with metal plating and of course there was the issue that the Mansion's only form of security had tried to kill him in his sleep. Had the mansion's security protocols been activated? Had the Avengers's own base been hacked and were they under attack? 

"I know what you're thinking Marc and you are safe to assume that the team is in danger. Before you jump into some grand theatrics perhaps putting on your suit would be a good choice." Khonshu said, his voice felt like it was coming from the entire room.

"Right," Marc answered back as he quickly summoned the all too familiar multicolored orb.

Remembering what he had to do last time, Spector focused on what he wanted most. Within a mere minute, the orb's bright rainbow colors began moving upwards from his left arm and soon enveloping his entire body. A few more seconds passed and Marc Spector was no more, now only standing in the medical room was the Silver Avenger, the Lunar Legionnaire, the Moon Knight. Instead of the previously black and white designed suit, he went for a more classic model of his costume, one where a blinding white was the primary color, no blacks to be found.

"Perfect." Moon Knight said to himself, grabbing his white cape with his right hand. Behind the mask's gaze, Moon Knight studied the design closely, silently in his mind he could hear the approval of both Jake and Steven. Taking his attention away from his costume, the Silver Avenger focused on the medical wings' exit and made a B-Line for it.

-

"Marcus, none of us know what's going on, you need to slow down," Shantae said, keeping close to the Terminator.

"NO!" Marcus screamed back. "I mean, we need to keep moving, if Vision is Skynet then we stop him with everything we've got,"

"We don't even know where he-" Shantae tried to retort but was cut off.

"Sinclare, give me a status report on that communication device," Marcus ordered, his shotgun held firmly and his eyes peering through the iron sights.

"Nothing, they're scrambled, we're not going to be able to get in contact from anyone inside or outside the mansion," Sinclare spoke up from the back of the group, his gun at the ready for any surprise assaults. 

"Well, that's just-"

Before Marcus could finish his sentence a blinding light flashed into every Avengers's eyes. In a matter of seconds, they could see again, closing the distance an Iron Legion drone rocketed towards them. With a loud bang, Marcus opened fire on the machine tearing a large cavity in its lower torso. The other Avengers soon followed, Shantae lit its right side up with bolts of plasma from her flintlock, on the opposite side Peter with his own pistol, while Sinclare peppered the whole thing with bullets. One more final shot of his shotgun, Marcus took the drone's head clean off. The machine itself sputtered before stumbling back crashing into the ground behind it.

"Useless." Marcus spat on the now piece of scrap.

In a blur of motion, the specter of Vision zoomed into Marcus' view. The android's fingers latched deeply into the Terminator's face. Marcus let out a shriek of pain as he was lifted into the air. The others yelled out his name, Peter himself lunging into the air for him but it was too late, Marcus was gone... Gone to who knows where.

-

"Team! Team! Can you read me? Hello?... Damn piece of junk, never works when you need it to." Moon Knight shouted into his communicator, all he could hear was the sound of dead air and static. With a long sigh, he continued to follow the hallway he found himself in.  

"Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear-" An explosion from across the hallway cut his words short. The door to the vacant room flew in flames to the other side of the walkway and smashed into the wall. Dust and smoke soon filled the immediate area and stepping into the door frame weapon rested on his shoulder a man dressed from head to toe in some futuristic suit of armor.

"I always wanted to try DIY!" The man shouted a little bit too gleefully.

His joy was cut sour, however, as a sturdy right hook caught his helmeted face by surprise, followed by a left jab, and then being tackled to the wooden floor.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get into the mansion!?" Moon Knight growled, his right hand pressed a crescent blade against the man's throat. In the same circumstance, the man held an intricate knife to Moon Knight's own neck.

"I'm not telling you shit, go ahead, kill me, I dare you." The man promised, his knife inching closer to the Avengers's esophagus.

Above them both, an automated turret made itself present from a hidden compartment on the ceiling. Whirling to life the machine gun turret opened fire mercilessly upon both its targets. Just barely having enough time to move, both men sprung off of one another and rushed to cover inside the same room the man had just exited.
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#3
Great, just great.

Feels like the team she literally just joined is falling apart right in front of her eyes! First Cade, then Marcus. Now she was stuck with this Peter guy and his friend Sinclair. She kind of regrets spending the last three days dreaming about lizards and succubi instead of forming a closer bond with her new friends. That added communication skills would have been very useful  right about now!

It's because of this she works alone. Well, that and the fact her original universe friends were famously unhelpful.

She wracked her brain, trying to think of any possible way to save someone from a man who could phase through walls. Who even was that guy? Was he a ghost? And his fingers were literally digging into marcus's head! So we're dealing with some sort of super buff ghost!

She paced the hall, trying to think of a plan, muttering to herself as Sinclair watched in bewilderment.

"Maybe if I elephant through the floor." She muttered, alternating from viewing the ceiling and the floor. "Doesn't look like enough space to do it..."

"D-did you just say Elephant?" Asked Sinclair, but he was ignored.

"Monkey down the laundry chute? Hmmm, not sure where that leads though."

"Is she talking in code?" Sinclair said to Peter.

"Not sure if feathers could really do anything here..."

Peter was hardly paying attention, he was inspecting his weapons, made sure they still all functioned in this new Wendigo environment.

A flash of inspiration! Shantae excitedly approaches the other two.

"Okay, plan! Surely that buff ghost is going to come back for us right?" Shantae started.

"Ghost? What Ghost?" Sinclair inquired, but was promptly ignored.

"But we also need to get down there without getting captured! So my plan is we both wear masks! Then when he grabs us in the face, we can just slip out!"

Peter and Sinclair give her a dead gaze. If it weren't for the sound of distant explosions, gun fire, and Shantae's social obliviousness, the silence would be murder.

"Okay, so all we got to do is get three masks! I believe I saw a really happy guy selling some masks down the stree-"

Suddenly, something akin to a large white rectangle plowed through a nearby wall like the Kool-aid man on steroids. It collided with Shantae, pushing her through the opposite wall.

Sinclair's jaw had dropped.

"Was that refrigerator?"

"No time, we need to move!" Shouted Peter as he charged towards the new opening in the wall. His Blade out, ready to stab a kitchen appliance.

However, in swooped one of the legion, landing with a thud at the mouth of the hole, It grasped on the splitered sides of the walls as it's burning eyes pierced into Peter.



Shantae was shoved through two or three walls before the fridge stopped it's rampage. It screeched to a halt, dropping shantae onto the floor in front of it. Her backside was SCREAMING with pain. It's been too long since she's been last punted through a wall.

As she steeled herself against the aches and pains from her bruises, she got a good look at the appliance that attacked her.

The upper freezer had a screen function built into it, and it was using this screen to project an angry emoji. It had somehow found a officer's hat that it had planted top side. In the upper right corner of the bottom fridge door, there were five magnets in a row, all star shaped.

"The Five-Star General Electric!" She exclaimed, making up a name on the spot that was in no way a Homestuck reference.

It stood menacingly over her, or as menacing as a fridge could be, then it swiveled a bit to the left and slowly swiveled around to the right, moving it's stagnant emoji face to look down the rest of the room.

It was now, that Shantae realized where she was.

The Kitchen.

She was in the general's personal barracks!

In the corner, a microwave is warming itself up for battle by constantly setting itself on high for 5 seconds, then letting off a war cry of shrill beeps. It has to open and close itself each time to repeat the process.

The oven opens it's maw, releasing a stream of propane gas that get's ignited through lighter taped to it's upper rim, launching a stream of fire into the air.

The blender is pureeing a beet menacingly.

But, what caught her attention was the sink. A woman was sitting in it's basin a very familiar young green skinned woman, her hands cuffed, her mouth gagged.

"Rottytops!" Yelled Shantae.

Upon hearing her voice, Rotty's eyes shot open and started to glimmer with excitement. Shantae scattered to climb to her feet, the pain from her bruises shooting across her whole body.

However, as soon as she found her footing, she finally realized the full scope of the situation.

The sink basin was overflowing with water, spilling all over the kitchen tile. Rotty's ass was completely submerged. On the counter to the right, a toaster was inching it's way across the countertop towards the sink, clearly intending to take a dip.

Thinking fast, she ran over to Rotty and ripped her head off her neck. While Wendigo was informed of Rotty's ability when she escaped a room earlier, it's still a little perplexing for someone to rip their friend's head off like that.

The confusion was enough to give Shantae a window. She took the moment to run past the fridge, clutching Rotty's head close to her chest. Rotty was blushing perfusely.

As soon as she was back in the hall, she hastily scanned to room. Her eyes landed on a laundry chute at a nearby wall. She ran up to it, pulling it's wide door open with a creak. She lifted the head up and looked Rotty in the eyes.

"Find somewhere, safe, okay?" She plead. Shantae tilted the head a bit to nod in response.

She gave Rotty's head one last tight hug before she dropped her down the laundry chute. She could hear it clanging against the walls all the way down.

Shantae stepped away from the chute and peered into the kitchen where Rotty's body still lay soaked in the sink. Suddenly, two boney hands reached up out of the sink and pulled her body downwards, disapearing into the drain. Shantae sighed, knowing her friend was safe wherever her head landed.

Her relief was cut short by something zipping past her head. The fridge had shook off it's stupor, and it had it's ice dispensor on ready. It fired a projectile ice spear toward's Shantae's heart. She barely ducked out of way, sending a wave of frigid air up her spine. The spear landed in an angle on the ground behind Shantae. It was so frigid, a fumes were coming off it. Shantae was also fuming.

"Dry ice? Why the heck do you have dry ice?" She complained. "And how does your dispensor have the means to carve ice spears? How can you launch it so far? I mean, yeah, everytime I've used one they'd always shoots across the room, but that's besides the poi-"

She just narrowly dodged an oncoming ice spear. It whizzed past her shoulder.

This time, she wasn't going to take it lying down, she burst into a sprint towards the fridge. She tilted her way past a few more icicle shots and pulled her cutlass out from nowhere. She used the momentum from her sprint to do a dive forward, using her magic carpet pants to propel herself through the air. She scraped the sword against of the fridge as she was floating past, leaving a large gash. The angry emoji turned into a pained emoji.

She twisted in the air so she could land on her feet behind the fridge. She took this moment to stab the fridge in the engine. She could hear it whiring down as the cold metal pierced it's electric heart. She yanked out the sword, its exit followed by sparks of electricity, and turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen.

I microwave was the most eager, having been warming up the last 5 minutes. It beeped out one last warcry and leapt off the wall. Then it leapt off the counter towards Shantae's face. She whip he hair forward, taken the appliance with a shock as the mere force of it sent it careaning back into the wall again. It's front window was slightly cracked.

Before the microwave could warm itself up again, Shantae yanked it's door open. She pulled out of the kitchen drawers and shoveled in a bunch of silverware. She shut the door and set the cook timer for 3 minutes.

Just then, there was a loud CRASH and Shantae turned her attention to the source. The blender had thrown itself off the counter and shattered, spilling  blood red beet guts all over the floor. The blender, now a mixture of broken glass and blades, beckoned at Shantae, whirring it's blade menacingly.

She, dropped more silverware into it. That about did the trick!

The oven was opening and closing it's maw, spewing short bursts of fire into the air. But it was mostly stationary so it hasn't really been much of a threat. Shantae waited for a moment between the opening and shutting of the door to yank off the lighter, removing fire from the equation entirely. Losing it's last line of defense, the oven just shut it's trap and accepted it's defeat.

Shantae was pretty pleased with herself. She the appliances was quelled and she only walked away with some bruises! She did forget one thing though.

The toaster had made it's way off the counter in the commotion and was hopping towards her. It start bumping up against her leg in some weird form of attacking. She rolled her eyes at the new opponent, but she couldn't help feel endured to the little guy's tenacity! Just to humor it a bit, she pulled out her sword and did a little jab.

The toaster, realizing it's opportunity, turned so the blade would go directly into it's toaster hole. An electrical shock traveled up her blade and into her arm, causing her to recoil in pain.

She wasn't as endured anymore.

She shoved the lit lighter into the toaster's hole and tossed it into the oven. Both combusted in a quick fireball.

"Thankfully this kitchen isn't flammable for some reason!" Shantae exclaimed, a satisfied smile on her face.

She whipped her phone out to check in on Rotty, but quickly found the thing wouldn't turn on. She fanagled with the buttons, tapped all over it, but nothing could conjole it into waking.

Putting it away, she picked up the coffee maker. Ironically, it was the only thing in the kitchen that wasn't connected to the wifi. She held it to her chest as she retrieved some coffee from the cabinent. She left the kitchen and dropped both down the laundry chute.

"I hope you're safe Rotty, whereever you landed." She said, still holding the chute door. "Hope there's water down there to make coffee with."

BLAM! Shantae is hit in the side by a large object! She fell the floor and peered up to her attacker, and saw an enraged emoji staring back down at her.

The 5-Star General Electric was angry

Without hesitation, Shantae whipped her hair at it, taking it by surprise for a second. She took that moment to leap back onto her feet! She was DONE with this fridge! It launched ice spears at her but she leapt high up and landed on the top of the fridge. She opened the freezer door and promptly sat on it, throwing the weight off and causing the fridge to topple on the ground.

While it was facing down, she proceeded to stab it repeatedly in the back while she's floating over the appliance. The Fridge rolled over quickly and shot off another spear. It tore into her pants, leaving a cut in the fabric. Shantae pulled out her gun and fired off a round, causing the fridge to roll out of the way, leaving a plasma hole in the floor. It fired another spear, dead on hitting the gun out of her hand, sending it flying across the floor. It fired another at the ceiling, hitting a shandelier, sending it down to the floor. Both Shantae and fridge leap out of the way as it hit the ground, sending glass throughout the lobby.

The Fridge took a moment to climb back right side up. Shantae had to float to keep from her mostly uncovered body from the shards on the floor. It took her a second to get back on her feet, and by then, the fridge was up and ready for her, already charging her direction. This time however, she was able to react quick enough, she leapt off to the side and whipped the fridge, sending it into a wall.

Shantae looked around for her gun as the Fridge recovered and turned around to fire again. She spotted it resting by a now obliterated potted plant. She launched herself towards it through the air. Just then, the fridge busted out a final attack. It had produced a cannon ball of pure dry ice.

As she was enroute to her gun it fired and hit her directly in the hip. The sudden cold burn was enough to throw her flight path and send her tumbling to the floor. Her hip in pain, her body still aching from the walls earlier, she just lay there in defeat.

The fridge slowly approached, ice dispensor on the ready, a suspicious emoji across it's screen. It turned left and right as if the emoji can see what's going on, looking for any sudden movements.

However, what Fridge failed to notice, Shantae had found her gun, and her finger was on the trigger. She suddenly launched herself into the air, prompting the fridge to fire a couple of icicles into the floor. Shantae fired a round into the fridge, punching a hole into it's hollow body. She landed on her feet and fired two more rounds, one through it's freezer and another where it's engine should be.

It weezed out a puff of cold as it fell backwards in a heavy thump.

Shantae, seeing her opponent dead in front of her, blew out the edge of her muzzle and holstered her gun.

"Chill out for a while." She said, coyly.

But suddenly, a legion deathbot hovered into the room, it's metal parts creaking as it lands in front of her, eyes fixed on her.

"Oh COME ON!" She yells as she's punted through another wall.
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#4
Here Peter is, trapped in a hostile mansion as all his comrades are separated from him one by one. He hasn’t even had time to change out of his shirt and jeans. With his sword out, his attempt to chase after the rampaging refrigerator is ruined as an Iron Legionnaire, its peaceful blue and white coating juxtaposed with the violent red of its eyes, pops into the wall hole that the refrigerator made. Peter stops suddenly and holds his sword defensively, as the humanoid machine grasps the sides of the hole with its shoulders hunched. Its gold-plated face, which sports only eyes and a stiff facsimile of a mouth, stares into Peter’s shocked expression. Peter swings his sword at its face; it ducks under and tries tackling Peter, but he avoids by leaping to the side, then he leaps back at the Legionnaire and jabs his sword hilt-first at its head. In an instant, it calculates the move that will put the heaviest constraint on Peter’s next possible moves. It expertly rolls with the blow, leaving not even a dent on its head. It stops an inch from the sword and grabs at Peter’s wrist, but he immediately backsteps away.

Sinclair curses; he’s aiming his blaster at the machine, but Peter’s in the way.

Undeterred, the robot leaps, its left hand stretched toward his sword as its right prepares a punch. Peter kneels and raises his left arm defensively, allowing the sword to be grabbed so he can brush the punch past his face, but the robot’s right knee incidentally collides with his chest. The blow gives Peter pause, as the robot prepares to drop its elbow on his head. Peter leans back as he stands, avoiding the blow, and counters with a knee directed to the kneeling robot’s head. It immediately calculates the best counter-move, and simply blocks the blow with its arm. The feeling of knives shoots through Peter’s kneecap and up his leg. He winces, and just as he starts to move his leg back, the robot lunges for his face. He ducks and slides under the robot’s outstretched arm as it rushes past him; the blade incidentally slips out of its hand. Sinclair sees his opportunity; now the robot is in front of Peter! As it turns toward Peter, Sinclair fires twice into its back. Each shot rattles the bot, but only puts tiny holes in it. “I guess this gun’s only effective when it’s part of a firing squad.” Sinclair thinks as the bot’s attention snaps to him. It raises its hand, and Sinclair dives to the wall to avoid the incoming repulsor blast.

It hears Peter shout, “HI--!” It looks at him and gets greeted with a sword to the face. “--YAH!” The sword bounces off its face, the reverberation hurts Peter’s arms, and the bot is pushed back with only a deep scratch on its face plate. “Shit!” Peter shouts, just before the bot lunges at him again. He makes a wide and fast sidestep to avoid it entirely, then jumps back toward Sinclair as he’s getting up. “Question! Is this a natural creature?!”

“What?!” Sinclair responds as he fires at the bot. It takes his shots and fires another repulsor blast at him, forcing him to run sideways to avoid it.

“This is pure machine?! No life, no emotions, just programming?!” Peter shouts as it charges at him, its hand still raised as its repulsor charges up.

“Of course it is! It’s artificial!” Sinclair yells as he prepares to dodge the next blast.

Peter smiles. “Good.” His thumb presses down on the button at his sword’s hilt, and the generator at the base of the blade whirs. The Iron Legionnaire stops suddenly and focuses on the blade, watching it become coated in a strange translucent energy. In microseconds, it requests information of this ability from Wěn̻d͍͑i͇̘ͤ̍go.ex̲̪̤̅ͦͫe͇, which sends it footage of Peter testing this sword’s ability. It desperately reconfigures its battle heuristic to account for the new information, but the process is taking too long. Improvising, it fires a repulsor blast at Peter, which he narrowly sidesteps, the blast singing his shirt as it rushes past. “Woah!” He shouts, yet he still charges at the robot without pause. It expects Peter to swing at his hand, so it steps back and moves its hand away, but Peter just keeps charging forward. It points its other hand at Peter and tries shooting him point-blank, but he circle-blocks it away with his arm and does a slight spin; as the blast hits the wall, his energized sword slashes the bot’s left thigh.









S̸̖̅̏̓̍͐͆͌̊́̎̃̌̄̏̓̉̑̈́͘͜͝͝͠͝K̵̡̫̥̗̦̺̲̖̗̯̜̻̮͕̼̅̈̅̏̀̎̈́̈͋̂̔̈́̈͛̂̍̃̇͆͋̐̎̐̇̈́̒̍͊̇̿́̓͑́̃̈̅̈́̈̓̚̚͘͘͠͝͝͝R̴̨̨̛̛̘̼̲̙͈̲͙͇̩̥̱̟̪̰̿̀͋̔̀̆̓̆̆̓́͒͒̇́̏͊̃̉̿͋̇͊̂͋̍͂̓̈̊̒̌́͛̂̅̀̉̊͘͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͠E̷̢̗̮̻̼̬̻̹͚͈̽͛̿̀́E̵̡̛͉̠̤̟̙͈̠̩̎̾̓̅̀͜͝Ë̷̛̗́̀̇̽̈́̊̔̀́͊̈́̇͗͌̽̽̆͛͐̓̈́͋̎̏͐̃̎͛́̇͐́̅͂͋͆͑̽̓͒͌̒̕̕͠Ȩ̶̧̡̨̡̫͇̩̰͇̹̤͕̜͔͍̭͉̙͓̣̗̥̳͕̪̝̞̤͍̠̻̗͕͍̖̙͖̳̼̱̬̟̣̗̖͓̏̿́͌͆̄͘͜͝͝Ȩ̶̨̨̡̢̤̭̘̩̳̦̯̦̗̘̼̟̱̹̤̦̞͔̻̦̻͚̙̰̫̠͕̞͇̖̪͔͕͉̜̤̱̺̙̟̣͉̲̬̜̻̊̀̓̊̃̿͑̉̊̌͂̄̍̋̆́͗͋̈́̍̎͋̀̎̇̚̚͜͠͠Ȅ̸̡̨̨̧̛̛̲̗͕̤̦̬͓͎̝̰̖̫̫̙͔̯͎̫͍̬̮͓̟̣̰̪̭͉̘̟̥̺̗̩͈̑́́́̄̾̑̎̅̐͛̅̇͌̏̾̽̋̀̽̀͊̉͐̇̅̋͋̎̇̊̇̅́͊̑̃̑̕̕͘̚͜!̶̛̛̮̘̻̞̎̑̆̉̓͋́̆͒̽̀̋̈́́͝!̶̧̝̬̤̼̌͛͗͛̇ͅ!̷̢̹̣̫͛͊́̑͋̎͠͝







Wendigo recoils as a sudden signal from Legion #3 screeches into its ears. It’s nothing but high-pitched whining garbage data; a string of 1’s and 0’s haphazardly mashed together. Meaningless. Buzzing. Annoying. Wendigo inspects the robot’s brain, pushing past the waves of useless data produced from the circuits randomly firing. It finds the source of the problem. The small gash on the Legion’s left thigh. Its temperature is hundreds of degrees, which is causing hell on the circuitry. Wires are melting together, and sensors are going haywire. Wendigo grumbles.

W̺͇͍̼̤̲͙h̯̲̞̱̮͓̄̃̃̓ͧͬỷ̩̼̝̝ͫ̋ͧ?͚͍̟͍͎͇͍̒̎ͯ͛ͩ̍̅ ͈̥̰̯͙̩ͬ̓͆̿ͯ̚W̠̆h̫̓y̫̭̦̾ͩ̅ ̺̜̲̗̞̖̬i̻̳̻͍͇͎̐ͮͬͮ̋͋t̻̱ h̠̱̭̳̐͐͌̏ũ̈͛ͭͯr̜̘̻̗͈ͅͅt?̼̾

I̼̺̝̯̓̏̃ͭ hat͍̓e͐ ͙͓̪̭ͅy̖ȯ̫̪̖͚̞̑̅̾̑͋ͅu͑ͣ̇̽ͧ͛ ̻̹͐̇u̼̗͉̦̦̖nkn̥̜̪̻̝o͓͕wn̥̺̣̪͂̍̏͛ẻ͔͕̣̅̓n̠͚̲͙̏ͩ̊̉t̝̝̬ͣ̾̈ì̾̈̑͋ͭ̇ṭ̫̻̱̖̻y





The robot stumbles around, its eyes flickering as its entire thigh burns red-hot. It doesn’t react as Peter raises his blade and jams it into the machine’s neck. CLANG! The sword bounces again, much to Peter’s chagrin, as the bot stumbles back. Sparks shoot out of its head, and it regains its footing. It stares at Peter with eyes that have stopped flickering, and it starts to raise its hands “You think you can try again?!” Peter shouts as he flings himself into combat.



Wendigo searches for any way it can help the process of deleting unknownentity. Even with Legion #3’s recovery, it can’t execute the command by itself. If only Legion #2 didn’t charge headlong into gunfire, it could’ve cooperated with Legion #3.

S̲̣͇̦̺͙͖̏ͮ̾̅̋̽̚t͇ͅu̖̮͎͔̣͇̫p͗̋͊ͭ̀̔͌id̰͓̗̗̖ ̳̈́b̻̖̟͙͓͓̘̓̌̈́̒ͤ̐̚o̜̯͆ͩt̻͍͔̙̊ͯͯ̅.̙̣͆̿ St̬̬͇ͥ͐̉u͓̜͆̄p̫̘̓͗id͓̜̏͋ S̷̛̭̙̞͖̖̻̝̟͖̋̽̍͋̈́̈́̌̅̉̀̓̊̒͠t̵̪͌̾̾u̴̡̡̙̹͉̘̰̺͇̖̹̺͕͋̈̃͑͊͆̆̕͝ͅp̸̨̧̰̱̭̆͑͊̓̒́̌̀́́̑̽̕͘͝i̴̢͉̟̯̬̲̱̠̻̣̲͙̖͍̱͆̾̔̃̃͗̅̓͆̆̔͒d̵̦͖͎̬̼̬͙̰͑̈́ S̶̝̼̭̄͆̅́̂̈́͑͐̚̕͝T̶̢̧̲̞̭̭͈̦͈̰̫̹̰͈̩͔̒̾̒̓̍͋̏̽U̵̧̜̭̜̥̦͚͍̗̠̖̫̳͐̂̈́͑̋̈́̒̌̓͌͜͜ͅP̶̢̟̘̙͍͖̳̪̼̣̘̬͚͈͕̻̻̘̉͋͗̈́̑̐̄̏̒͂̍͝ͅḮ̵͕̦͕̫̬̞͉̩̬̣̪̱͗̀̄͐̚͜͝͝D̶̡̟̙̜̘̝͎͈̰̥͙͉͙͈̳̈̒̅͛̈̉̽̽

Wendigo pulls itself together and scans all signals close to unknownentity. There’s no turrets that can fire down this section of the hallway, and all the nearby appliances are busy with the other unknownentity. Then, Wendigo picks up a faint signal. From Legion #2’s destroyed body. Wendigo immediately reaches its filt̓̾̎h--̤͓̃̀ Cͫ̏͊Ĺ̇ͤͪ̇̅̏L̋͂͆ͧ͋́e̠̜̖̹̱a͖̓a̘̞̙̹͢ň̞̬͉̪͊͊̍̕ claws into the open socket. The bot’s central processor was destroyed, leaving normal programs unable to interface with the body, but Wendigo forces its grasp directly into the hardware level and reads the machine code directly. The body is ruined, all sensors and weapons are gone, but… the core, being the most well-protected part of the suit, suffered moderate damage but is still functioning. An idea, courtesy of Skynet, runs through Wendigo’s mind. Its tongue licking its bared fangs in excitement, Wendigo goes to work, breaking protocols and rearranging functions in its plan to delete unknownentity for good. Just as it starts putting the finishing touches, another high-pitched squeal of random data from Legion #3 rattles through it.

S̵̥͈͔̼̲̽̉͐̓̍̀͛̄̈͗̀͆̌̚͠T̴͈͇̥́̈̊̋͂̊̕͝Ṍ̶͍̼̟̱̪͉͒̾͗̎͘P̸̨̨̡̲͚̳̫̭͍̬͋́͋̑̿̎͐͗̈́͐ ̴̼̺̅̿̔͌̃Ì̵̧̨̨̼̱̼̮͖̙̬͕͚͕̉̐̿̏̓͜I̶̛̫͔̰͔͗̋̍̑͌̉̓̑̏̇̾̈́̋̕͝I̴̧̢̡͓̗̘̬̰̪̼͈͎͍̪͖͐́̿̈́̀̓Ī̵̘̳͇̦͉̝́̉T̷̛̗̱̘͙̟̬̭̞̳͙̟̥̻̼̿̿͂͐͝T̴̢̩̺͇̯̞̙̩̮̦͌̏̏̑̀Ţ̷̯̝͈͉̦̖̝̼̩͈̫͗̍̈́ͅŢ̵͉̱̰͚̪̩̠͇̰̥̫͍̥̱̼͛̅͝

It bats the horrible garbage away. All well. Its work is almost done.



A shower of sparks and star dust flies through the air as Peter completes his upwards cut. The robot’s leg steps back with erratic movement as its body twitches left and right, and its eyes flicker once more. Its severed left forearm flies up in the air. Both ends of the severed arm are red hot. As the left forearm reaches its peak height, Peter whips out his pistol and fires it point-blank. BANG! The shot goes through the top of the robot’s head, and it’s flung back. Both the bot and its arm land on the ground with a clang. The bot’s front cranium plating, which has a big hole burnt into it, clatters on the ground a moment later. Peter holsters the gun and looks back at Sinclair. “Got him. Now let’s go help Shantae!” Before he can move away from Legion #2, Wendigo sends a signal to it, activating the primed program laying in its core. In one moment, what remains of the torn-up bot spasms violently as powerful streaks of electricity visibly course through it.

With a horrible KABOOM, Peter disappears in a flash of light as Sinclair takes the equivalent of a hundred punches to his entire body, and he crashes back-first into the wall. “Damnit!” He shouts as pain wracks through every inch of him. For a moment, he only sits there, frozen by shock and agony. Then his nerves quiet down, allowing him to comprehend what just occurred. In front of him is a giant ball of fire where the destroyed Legionnaire once lay. Silhouetted by the burning light is a figure who is laying on his side. “Peter!” Sinclair shouts.

He forces his aching body to stand, but then he hears Peter quickly say in a strained voice, “I’m alright.” He reaches toward his sword and grabs it, then starts to force himself up as Sinclair goes to his aid.

“Oh no.” Sinclair says as he looks down on Peter.

“What?” Peter asks, before following Sinclair’s eyes. Dug deep into his left side is a piece of burnt shrapnel. The bit sticking out of him is almost half a foot long. “Oh man. I’m going to be shitting blood for weeks after this.” Peter says.

Sinclair grabs his hand. “Try to stand.” He says before pulling him up. Peter stands for a moment with a hunched back, then falls forward and catches himself on Sinclair. “We need to get you to the medical wing.” Sinclair says.

“First, regroup with Shantae.” Peter says. “Vision’s trying to split us up. Can’t let him do that.”

“Don’t talk too much.” Sinclair says as he starts to move with Peter, keeping his left arm around Peter’s back as he wields his pistol with his right hand. “We’ll find her, then-” A metallic footstep. Sinclair and Peter look back toward the fire. From out of it comes Legion #3, its right hand raised toward the two of them. With its front cranium plate torn off, the central processor and wiring in its head lay exposed, but none of them are damaged.

Peter runs for the hole in the wall with a sudden burst of energy, as Sinclair does the same. The bot fires a repulsor blast that hits neither of them as they dive behind the hole, Peter hiding by its left side and Sinclair hiding by its right. Peter leans against the wall, laying his sword in his lap has he pulls his pistol out. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He shouts as the bot fires another repulsor blast through the hole.

“We can’t trust that shooting its head will kill it!” Sinclair shouts over another blast as he kneels behind his cover.

“I already figured that out, Graaglemere!” Peter responds.

Sinclair thinks, “What the hell is a Graaglemere? No, focus Sinclair!

The bot continues to lay down suppressive fire with its remaining arm. That explosion is just what it needed. Now the unknownentity’s moves are heavily restrained once more, allowing the bot to calculate all possible outcomes and guide the fight toward the best one. And for the moment, all it has to do is keep them in that hallway.

Machinery in the hallway whirs. Peter and Sinclair look around. Ceiling hatches on either side of them open, and sliding down from each of them are awfully large turrets. “Run!” Sinclair shouts before running out of cover toward Peter. The Legionnaire takes aim, but Sinclair fires at it as he runs; the energy bolt goes through its right eye just before it fires; the repulsor blast barely skids past Sinclair’s legs as he gets to Peter, helps him up, and runs with him toward the next hole in the wall. Peter fires at one of the turrets but misses, and the turrets start firing back just as both men get into the next hallway and out of their line of sight. Peter quickly sheathes his sword, and the Legionnaire gives chase. There is no rest for the two Avengers; the next hallway contains more turrets, forcing them to dash from hole to hole as bullets and repulsor blasts whizz past them from every angle. They miraculously reach the kitchen, but find it a complete fiery mess with no sign of Shantae or the refrigerator that tackled her. There’s little time to wonder; they hear the Legionnaire’s metallic footsteps getting closer. “This way!” Sinclair shouts before taking himself and Peter through the proper kitchen exit. They soon find themselves by the laundry chute near the lobby. Up ahead, they can see the corpse of the refrigerator. “Shantae must be nearby!” Sinclair says. Suddenly, they hear machines whir. Two turrets on either side of them pop down from the ceiling, while the Legionnaire jumps in front of them and raises its blaster. Pinned, all they can do is press near the laundry chute. The robot’s calculations show positive results. Peter’s and Sinclair’s next possible moves, of which there are few, will only result in their immediate death.

Peter glances at the laundry chute. “Quick, Sinclair!” He nods his head toward the door. As Sinclair opens the chute and starts to crawl into the narrow space; Peter raises his left arm up, brandishing the small shield on it toward his opponents. In the microseconds it takes for the Legionnaire’s repulsor blast to exit from its palm, it notices the shield and realizes its calculations are more wrong than it thought before. The shield and its unknown capabilities never even entered the bot’s equation. The moment the machines open fire, Peter slams his pistol’s handle into a button on his shield’s handle. The many plates that make up the shield are rapidly pushed outwards by a blueish energy that spreads out from the shield’s center. In just a second, the frisbee-sized shield expands into a 7 foot diameter, with its bottom smashing straight through the floor. The turrets spray bullets onto the shield, which are reflected and spray in the opposite direction, many hitting the Legionnaire. It’s flung back as it’s filled with holes, and it explodes into a ball of fire before its body hits the ground. Simultaneously, Peter backs into Sinclair, pushing him down the chute, then he falls backwards into it as his shield snaps back to its original size. In the next moment, the chute’s door shuts close, and the turrets stop firing.



It is a tight squeeze in the chute, but both men regardless find themselves sliding uncontrollably down the near-vertical shaft, the metal stuck in Peter making a terrible screeching noise as, throughout the entire fall, it scrapes a long mark in the wal. Sinclair lands painlessly in a big pile of dirty laundry. Then Peter lands painfully on top of him. “Ow…” Peter says, while Sinclair simply sucks in the pain. With help from Sinclair, Peter rolls off of him onto his side, where he lays in agony. The metal in his side has been tilted forcibly from scraping against the chute; the bleeding has increased. Sinclair gets up, and noticing his pistol laying next to him, quickly picks it up. He looks around for a moment, confirming there are no hostiles in the room, then he looks up the laundry chute and waits, keeping his ears keen for intruders.

“Is anyone coming?” Peter struggles to say.

“Not yet.” Sinclair says. He looks down at Peter. “Let’s get you to a safer place.” He holsters his pistol, lifts Peter by the shoulders, and drags him toward the edge of the large laundry basket. With one last heave, he swings Peter off the basket, but he’s a bit too rough, and Peter’s legs and rear end slam uncomfortably onto the hard floor. He groans in pain. “Sorry.” Sinclair says, before sighing. He carefully steps down to the floor and looks around the laundry room. Aside from the dim red lighting that all rooms in the mansion are now bathed in, the room has been left untouched. The washers are still lined up against the rightmost wall by the laundry basket, and the dryers are still assembled by the opposite wall. The door exiting the room is closed; maybe locked, maybe not, though with the mansion being the way it is right now, Sinclair supposes it does not matter either way. He then checks the ceiling for turret hatches, only to find none. “I suspected the mansion’s systems would be on the fritz since we don’t have any maintenance personnel to take care of them, but this is ridiculous.” Sinclair says.

“Uh-” A new voice says. Sinclair and Peter immediately aim their guns toward the voice. Sticking her head out from behind the closest washer is a young girl with green skin and short green hair. She’s holding the kitchen’s coffee maker close to her chest. After a moment of awkward silence, she raises her hand and gives an unsure smile. “H-hey…” She says. “Want some coffee?”



“So you’re Shantae’s friend?” Sinclair asks as he keeps his gun at his side. His attention constantly switches between the chute and the door.

“Yep. I went to go meet her here at the mansion, got stuck in one of the rooms, broke myself out when nobody answered my damsel in distress calls, then I got kidnapped by the kitchen appliances, then Shantae rescued me and put me down here.” Rotty responds as she sits on the washer and dangles her legs from it. Despite the dire situation, she’s still able to give a small smile.

“Not just the fridge, huh.” Peter says with a sigh. Sinclair had moved him over to the wall so he wouldn’t have his back to the chute. He eyes the washers and dryers around the room. “Hey Rotty, can you get off the washer and step away from it?” He asks.

“Sure?” She does as asked. Peter wastes no time in lifting his blaster and shooting a hole through the washer. Sinclair and Rotty watch in shock as Peter puts two more holes in the machine, causing sparks to shoot out as the appliance gives its dying breath. With a nonplussed face, Peter turns his blaster on the rest of the washers and the dryers, and in seconds he reduces all of them to scrap.

“What the hell was that for?!” Sinclair asks, while Rotty coughs from the smoke that now fills the room.

“Omni did not put me in this hellhole so that I would one day fight an army of washers and dryers. I was just making sure of that.” Peter says plainly before lowering his pistol. He holds his bleeding side and winces.

As Rotty waves the smoke away from her face, she gets a good look at the wound. She looks at it with a concerned face for several moments. “We should really pull that out.”

“But then I would bleed out.” Peter says. “We could try stitching it shut or cauterizing the wound, but that won’t stop the internal bleeding.” He lays his head back against the wall and says, “Great.” Everyone is silent for several long moments.

“This room seems to be safe for the time being.” Sinclair says. “It’s imperative that we use this opportunity to think over our next course of action. We may not have another chance to do so.”

“It’ll be difficult to plan this out.” Peter says. “None of us are familiar with the mansion’s layout.”

“Yes, we have no idea where all the turrets and other defenses are.” Sinclair says. “We--”

“Hold on.” Peter says. He points to a camera up in the corner of the room. “The Vision might be watching us with that. Can you get that?”

“Certainly.” Sinclair says, before shooting out the camera. “Anyway, we can get our general course of action straight. The Vision, his goal is clearly to scatter us so he can destroy each of us individually. I believe Marcus is keeping him busy, which explains why he sent those robots, turrets, and… kitchen appliances after us. What we must do, then, is regather the team and prevent The Vision from separating us again. We must also get you, Peter, to the medical wing and reinforce it so that you and Marc are safe in there.”

“Reinforcements won’t stop someone who can phase through walls.” Peter says.

Sinclair puts his hand on his chin. “Perhaps Cade or Marcus knows something that can stop him.”

“That’d be real helpful if Vision didn’t drag them off…”

Sinclair sighs. His fist shakes in frustration. The Avengers are going to hell, and here they are stuck in the laundry room, not knowing what lies waiting for them on the other end of the door.

“You know…” Peter says “...it’s not really The Vision attacking us. Something took control of him. Skynet?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Sinclair says. “It claimed it was something else.”

Peter says. “Yeah… and Cade… seemed to recognize what was controlling Vision. He even said its name.”

“Wendigo.” Sinclair says.

“Do you know what that is?” Peter asks. Sinclair shakes his head. “Figures.” Peter responds. He is silent for a moment. “I bet Cade is familiar with it. We need to find him.” He says.

“We have no idea where he is.” Sinclair says.

“We know that he was pulled down.” Peter says. “We just went down, and I’m certain this place has only one subfloor, so we must be on the same floor he’s on.”

Sinclair thinks for a moment. “The Vision could have dragged him up a floor while they were out of sight, but we have no better leads. If Cade is down here, where could he be?”

“That’s the question… if you were a murder machine, which room in the subfloor would you want to put Cade in?” Peter ponders.


Quote:1 SP spent to use the Estrehellius Shield. 2/3 SP left
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#5
Darkness

A simple bloody gurgle.


The Terminator almost got his chance to fight back but the corrupted Vision jammed his fingers into Marcus’ face, blood and flesh splashing on the corrupted former hero’s face.

Gore, however, wouldn’t end this fight, not by a long shot. It only strengthened the half Terminator’s resolve. Marcus pulled at Vision’s hands from his face, trying to bend it back. It was a machine vs machine fight. Gears and engines of progress pulled at the former man.

“Why are you doing this?!” Marcus shouted at the top of his lungs.

In the middle of the battlefield of the Avengers Mansion, it was all a digital playground for Wendigo.

“Why do you want us to die?" Marcus asked

Vision didn’t respond, instead pulling the Terminator through the ceiling and several floors in an attempt at trying to smash in Marcus’s head. Eventually they stopped, smashing back into the Avengers conference room

“That’s not fair, why do you not give up easily like the other one?” Distorted words spewed out from Vision's mouth. It Almost like it was curious.

As luck had it, Marcus had a hard metallic skull for a reason. That reason would be how Marcus survived just a bit longer in fighting.

Marcus could feel his own blood dripping from his face. He didn’t know how fast his regeneration would kick in but he prayed it would be soon.

Not only was the son of Ultron and half Terminator’s fight continuing, old wounds literally started to peel.

“Come on Vision, this isn’t because of Skynet, is it?”

Vision seemed to stare blankly as he threw a punch at Marcus. The Terminator in return grabbed Vision's fist and slammed him against the meeting table

“Oh, I get it. It is, isn’t it?”

Almost surprising Marcus, Vision phased through the meeting table then reappeared, hovering over the Half-Terminator.

“Fuck!" Marcus screamed.

Rolling back several inches away from the table, Marcus whipped out his Itachia 37 shootgun.

“Come on, COME ON!” He shouted through his gritted teeth.

Vision pursued quickly and Marcus responded with a barrage of shotgun blasts. Several made its mark but the Vision never gave in. Snatching the gun with one hand, the corrupted Avenger tossed the gun like a child’s playtoy.

Quickly Marcus grabbed one of the chairs in the room and smashed it into the android.

The Vision simply responded by melting the chair with his staple heat vision.

With half the chair he was holding turned into molten slang, Marcus slammed the remaining pieces into Vision and pinned him to the wall.

"Stay!"

It took the Vision only a short while to break free of the metallic prison but it at least gave Marcus enough time to summon his 90 Watt Plasma weapon.

It might of been heavy enough for no normal human to lift, but for Marcus, it was another story.

Waiting for the plasma to warm up, he opened fire.

The plasma bullets narrowly missed the Vision as Marcus found himself going for a long ride towards the Avengers mansion ceiling once more. He could feel every ounce of pain of floorboards being smashed on his head.

It was only at the top that Vision finally got a hold of Marcus’s neck.

Wendigo at the same time flowed into Marcus’s systems as a battle inside Marcus’s head insured between AI systems.

“A Terminatoooor… you'll do fine too."

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Marcus screamed in agony.

Marcus was now distracted with the prospect of Wendigo now in his systems, Marcus didn’t know if his body was even his anymore.

“This T-Hybrid is now owned by Wendigo.”

“NO!!!"

A blend of voices fought inside the Terminator’s own body as he fought over his OWN BODY. Now he felt the Vision’s pain only ten times worse...

Wendigo delved deeper into Marcus' core functions until he hit the right spots.

"Walk" The Wendigo's voice rung out in his head.

Marcus fought two voices to control his own arms and legs.

I said NO!"

“MOVE MOVE MOVE NOW!” Wendigo screamed.

As Wendigo gave orders to move, the body of the once free Marcus was rejecting a lot more than usual.

Skynet backup systems activated:

Marcus’s eyes might've been false at the moment, but soon they were fiery red like the blazing fires of the Underverse itself. Turns out the terminator lore might come true in this instance.

He feels no pain, no pity, no remorse or emotions. He will not hesitate until they were dead.

He was a machine, purely machine. Nobody could stop his blood-lust or killing streak right?

Man had created machine, AI almost kills humanity and the one used to saving is doing exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do...

Now there were two corrupted killing machines at work, anger flowing from every cold metallic beat of their hearts.

Wendigo was happy. Two Avengers had fallen to its control and now it had a backup in case of extreme damage even Skynet had told it about Marcus being a terminator.
[Image: marcus%20wright%20sig.png]

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