"John Constantine, I know you. You'd better understand what you're dealing with."
Ancient One gazed at the fragmented soul before her, her tone laced with disapproval.
To her, even if Constantine used demons or angels to fight evil, his actions risked weakening the barriers Agamotto had forged, giving demons a foothold.
She had no fondness for such a man.
"Oh, to meet the legendary Sorcerer Supreme—what an honor!"
Constantine's exaggerated gestures dripped with mockery, his demeanor as flippant as ever.
Long ago, he'd locked away the softer parts of his soul in a box, leaving him far from human.
"Might.album I have the pleasure of your contact details?"
He performed an over-the-top gentleman's bow, his expression unchanged.
Ancient One's gaze shifted to the angel, Manny. She sensed something off about him, but that was Heaven's problem to sort out.
As long as these outsiders followed this world's rules, she wasn't petty enough to strike first.
"Alright, angel, carry on with your task. But if you step out of line, let your superiors fish you out of that pool!"
With a yellow shimmer, Ancient One vanished, and the world resumed its flow.
Constantine's soul watched as paramedics swarmed his body, attempting CPR. His face twisted oddly.
Manny had left the patrol officer's form, and now Constantine had to figure out how to slip back into his own.
"What a headache. Another cigarette wasted."
Rumlow was back at S.H.I.E.L.D., heading to Nick Fury's office to report on his mission.
Compared to his gains, the materials he'd acquired weren't the priority, but he was ready for the next step.
As he pressed the elevator button, he eyed the seven or eight figures inside, a nagging sense of unease creeping in.
No time to overthink. What force could outmuscle Hydra within S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Rumlow stepped into the elevator with ease.
For some reason, he felt an urge to break the silence with nonsense.
"Stuck in a confined space with a bunch of big guys—gotta say, it's thrilling."
He didn't know why he said it, but it felt wrong to stay quiet in an elevator.
A hand swiftly snatched the pistol from his waist, and a hard barrel jabbed into his lower back.
Fortunately, they didn't bother with his melee weapons.
"Rumlow, before you see the Director, you're coming with us."
A cold voice sounded from behind, unfamiliar to Rumlow.
He knew he was being targeted.
Shouting "Hail Hydra" might reveal their allegiance, but it wasn't the time for that.
"Who are you people?"
Rumlow crossed his arms, his voice steady.
This was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s elevator. As head of the STRIKE team and Pierce's direct subordinate, he had no reason to cower here.
"You know the confidentiality protocols. Don't ask questions."
The gun barrel poked harder, making Rumlow grimace.
"Are you really S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?"
His tone carried a hint of suspicion. These guys didn't feel right.
If they were Fury's men, they'd know his recent trials made him immune to small-caliber firearms.
Hawkeye had likely just left Fury's office before Rumlow's arrival.
If they were Hydra, why resort to this? Nothing beat "Hail Hydra" for identifying allies.
"Move!"
At the command, the group attacked.
Oddly, Rumlow felt he belonged among the assailants, not their target.
The situation struck him as almost comical.
Having passed the trials, he'd crossed into superhuman territory. These men bore the scars of frequent combat, but none could match his strength.
In a flash, his hand-axe was in his grip. With a crisp snap, the pistol at his back split in two, along with a few fingers.
"Pathetic!"
A surge of energy welled up within him. Without explanation, he instinctively knew its name.
"Fury!"
He'd already mastered the Ancestral Hammer, a barbarian technique. Now, he could clearly feel the energy of Fury coursing through him.
Instead of drawing his knuckle-duster, his empty left hand swung a clean, heavy fist into another attacker's face.
He felt the satisfying crunch of teeth giving way.
"Hail Hydra!"
The sudden cry caught Rumlow off guard, but his body flowed seamlessly through the attack.
In that brief moment of distraction, two more bodies hit the floor.
"Damn it! Whose side is he on?"
"The material grab failed! Get out now!"
The remaining four blocked Rumlow's instinctive strikes while hammering at the elevator's outer wall.
Snapping back to focus, Rumlow saw they were trying to escape through the elevator shaft. His movements grew fiercer.
Clasping both hands, a massive hammer's shadow materialized.
Boom!
The hammer crashed into the elevator floor, its energy ripple shredding the attackers into fragments.
Beneath their coats, high-tech bodysuits gleamed.
"Damn, too heavy-handed!"
Rumlow shook his head. Fresh from the secret realm, he was used to demon-level durability.
His body had reacted faster than his mind, leaving no survivors.
As the elevator's damage alarm blared, Rumlow could imagine the agents outside scrambling into alert.
A headache was brewing.
These guys seemed to know him—knew he was once Hydra.
But Rumlow racked his brain and couldn't place them. They were complete strangers.
"Whatever. They'll make my story more convincing."
Rumlow was starting to lean into the barbarian mindset.
For problems he couldn't solve, his weapons would do the talking. The ones causing trouble would show up eventually.
(End of Chapter)
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