Heroine ϟ Marvel [3]

8.3

CHAPTER THREE

Meet Marcus Michaels

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BAGALIA CITY

Marcus felt the blood spill from his lips as he numbingly stared at the red stained ground. When he breathed in, it felt as if he was inhaling razor blades. Everything hurt. His bones were aching. His skin felt tight. His core energy was being drained out of him. No super strength. No enhanced senses. No healing. No quick thinking. Just... nothing. Marc was cold. He was shaking. Teeth were chattering. Fingertips felt nonexistent. It was hard to soothe his aching arms since they were strapped against the armrests of the wooden chair. If it wasn't for Megaton, the being of pure energy who stood behind him, his abilities would resurface.

Megaton used to be known as Jules Carter, a former nuclear scientist who was exposed to a dangerous amount of radiation. His skin changed into rock hard bronze, and he became a walking nuclear bomb. He had the ability to drain energy from other beings to fuel his own strength. The more energy he took on, the larger he grew, the brighter he shone. There was a downside to that part of himself — too much power and he could explode. Marcus could tell Megaton was taking his time in stealing his life force, or what little was left anyway. If Marc wanted to escape, it had to be done soon. Otherwise, he should have just stayed with Fury and Hill in that containment room of his.

Tony Masters, the mercenary known as Taskmaster, walked inside the penthouse floor he was being kept in. He was whistling a tune as he extended his hand out and waved at all the others inside. The security guards raised their firearms in response. Taskmaster pulled up a metal chair and sat in front of Marcus, crossing one knee over the other. He sheathed his sword and holstered his gun. He was ready to talk, man to man. If Masters was honest, beating the guy responsible for absolutely demolishing ninety percent of Bagalia's weapons supply was getting a little too repetitive. He would stab Marc, only for the wound to close in the next ten minutes. He would then shoot Marc, only for the bullet to be pushed out of his body and a scar to form over the tissue. It was like trying to hurt a ghost. Poking at nothing but air. Doing no real damage. Wasting his time and energy on one man. Despite being paid millions to use Marcus as his own pincushion, Tony wasn't feeling it anymore. He was bored.

So when William Cross called him up about a mysterious new tourist in town, his interest piqued, and he came to tell his new friend all about it.

Marcus stared at Tony with dull eyes. Not saying a word. Regardless of the fact that his body would heal after injuries inflicted by Taskmaster, his mind wasn't so easy in repairing itself. Being locked away and drained of his life-force was plenty to prevent him from fighting back. He felt braindead. He was detached. From himself and reality. The headaches were getting worse. Memories were flooding back like a dam in his mind had been broken. Shattered to bits. It was too much too fast. Made him unresponsive. Borderline lethargic.

And to Taskmaster, not a lotta fun to play with.

"Heya, pal. How's ya noggin?" Tony's voice drew Marcus back into the right now. Masters grabbed his chin forcefully to get him to look into the eyeholes of his skull mask. He used his other hand to slap some sensation into Marc's face, and also because he felt like it. "Did I hit ya too hard? Good. I thought I was losing my touch."

"I've been hit by beings much stronger than you." Marc managed to utter. His eyes were leaking with water, mixing in with the blood on his face. He tried not to swallow, knowing it would feel like digesting a sphere of needles. Before Marc could stop himself, his lips tipped up in a mild smile, and he went on to taunt Tony by saying, "Older, much smarter beings."