SCREEEEECH—
Logan slammed on the brakes, and the tires of the Spider-Tank screeched across the ground, leaving long skid marks.
“A bug?”
Logan turned, eyes fixed on the small device in Hawkeye’s hand.
It was a tiny component—something so small it would have gone unnoticed if Clint hadn’t felt it with his fingers.
“Probably something one of Ashley’s enemies planted.”
Hawkeye sighed, crushing the bug in his hand. “The kid was just too careless. She didn’t even notice she’d been bugged… Sigh.”
No wonder Ashley had ultimately been captured by Kingpin.
Neither Logan nor Hawkeye gave the bug much thought; they naturally assumed it hadn’t been meant for them.
Two old men with no real secrets—what was there to spy on?
Only Kathoom, watching from the back, sensed something deeply wrong.
Something didn’t add up.
The technology behind that bug was far too advanced for this world.
There was no way a small-time gang member like Ashley would attract an opponent that sophisticated.
“Kathoom?”
Bruce’s voice called out to him, realizing the same thing.
If they assumed the worst, this bug wasn’t planted by one of Ashley’s rivals.
It was planted by her killer.
Kathoom’s chest tightened. To be able to calmly bug her after killing her—to show that kind of thoroughness along with that deadly skill…
“This time, our pursuer might really be Deathstroke!”
Kathoom’s mind raced. What might Deathstroke have overheard from them?
The answer was obvious.
He’d likely heard everything Hawkeye had said about Galactus and Red Skull.
“What would Deathstroke do with this information?”
Kathoom tried putting himself in Deathstroke’s shoes, attempting to predict his next moves.
Although Deathstroke was here to kill Bruce, he wouldn’t act unless he had a meticulously crafted plan.
When he finally made his move, it would be with absolute confidence.
Kathoom looked wearily at Hawkeye.
—
Was the curse of Hawkeye’s karmic “luck” about to activate once again?
New Utopia was drawing closer.
Bruce and his group arrived at the legendary Ant-Man’s Crossroads, where they were greeted by a massive skeleton sprawled across the intersection.
It was the colossal corpse of Ant-Man, who had died while in his giant form.
The sight sent a shiver through Logan and Bruce, finally making the meaning behind the name sink in.
The intersection was named after Ant-Man because the roads crossed directly beneath his enormous skeleton.
Ant-Man had been one of the founding members of the Avengers, and Hawkeye hadn’t brought it up before, as it was difficult to explain.
As they drove past the skeletal remains, Logan tipped his hat and bowed his head in silent respect.
The atmosphere inside the tank grew somber, broken only by the steady hum of the engine.
When they passed the Crossroads, the silhouette of a grand city appeared on the horizon.
New Utopia.
When they drove into the city, Logan was awestruck by its grandeur.
It was the seat of the President himself, and even fifty years after the fall of the old world, its opulence hadn’t faded in the least.
At the center of New Babylon stood an enormous statue of the great President, Red Skull. His left hand was raised, clutching the bodies of his countless fallen enemies.
New Babylon was Red Skull’s city through and through!
—
Meanwhile, inside the Presidential Palace of New Babylon—
Red Skull stood in his trophy room, gazing in satisfaction at his collection.
In front of him was a massive display case, containing the relics of the superheroes who had dared oppose him over the last fifty years.
Iron Man’s armor, Doctor Strange’s cloak, Spider-Man’s mask, Thor’s helmet…
At the very top of the display sat a round shield with a star emblazoned on it. It once belonged to his arch-nemesis—Captain America.
—
Fifty years ago, in the burning White House.
Captain America lay on the ground, utterly defeated, devoid of any strength to fight back.
Red Skull stood above him, hands behind his back, savoring the moment as he looked down at the spirit of American heroism.
“If I’d known you all were this easy to defeat, I’d have united all the villains ages ago.”
Red Skull sneered down at Captain America. “From now on, this country belongs to us. I’ll carve up your beloved America into pieces and hand it over to my men.
“They’re all despicable criminals. I trust that once they have control of this land, they’ll shame and defile it in every possible way.
“Steve, how does that make you feel?”
Captain America had no strength left to speak; tears of helpless rage streamed silently down his face.
“Don’t hold out hope for some miracle. Not even God can reverse the outcome of this battle—because God’s not home.”
Red Skull approached Captain America, whispering softly. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over soon.”
With that, he pressed both thumbs against Captain America’s eyes.
Then he pushed down, hard.
With strength amplified by the serum coursing through his veins, Red Skull released the full extent of his superhuman might.
Captain America’s agonized scream echoed as his head was crushed under Red Skull’s relentless force, ending in a sickening burst.
—
Back to the present.
Red Skull now wore Captain America’s mask on his face.
Not only that, he donned Captain America’s old battle suit as well—ripped directly from his opponent’s body, an unwashed, bloodstained relic he had worn for fifty years.
Red Skull’s ancestors had a tradition of skinning their enemies after victory; wearing Captain America’s suit was his way of honoring that family legacy.
“If I were to face Steve now, I could defeat him effortlessly,”
Red Skull murmured to himself with deep satisfaction. “I have far surpassed that Captain America!”
In this world, who could possibly be greater than he?
Lost in his reverie, Red Skull basked in his own glory for some time.
With the Galactus weapon complete, there was no longer any threat to his life.
The vision of his death would never come to pass.
Never again! Not ever!
Red Skull had risen to become the strongest of the strong!
But then—
“Are you done?”
A voice rang out, unfamiliar and tinged with a mechanical distortion.
Red Skull’s entire body went cold, goosebumps prickling his skin. He whirled around to find a figure standing in the corner of his trophy room.
Clad in tactical armor, face concealed behind a yellow and black mask.
Deathstroke stood there, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall.
“Who are you?!”
Red Skull demanded. “How did you get in here?!”
How long had he been there, unnoticed?!
This so-called “supreme president” was now seized by a sense of deep, paralyzing fear.
An overwhelming dread enveloped him, his limbs turning ice-cold.
“Relax. I’m only here to discuss a transaction with you.”
Deathstroke replied in a low, calm voice.
“What kind of transaction?”
“I’ll need access to some of your presidential resources.”
Deathstroke stepped closer, his tone dangerously smooth. “In return, you’ll have my gratitude.”
—
T/N: Xia Luo would win smh
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