"The werewolves have been contacted through Peggy. She'll tell them to coordinate with us!" Dugan's gruff voice reminded Rumlow of the ever-shouting Murdock.
"Why not contact them directly?" Rumlow asked.
"Caution! You're already being watched, and I might be too. Only Peggy, a powerless old woman waiting for death, won't be closely monitored," Dugan said, glancing at Rumlow. He seemed different—more tolerable now.
"Peggy contacting anyone is natural. She's dying; who'd stop her from seeing old comrades?" Dugan finished his reasoning.
Now it was Rumlow's turn to feel uneasy. He didn't know who attacked him, but he was sure they weren't from S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra. One shouted "Hail Hydra" before dying—a clear probe after learning his identity.
His plan wasn't ready, and Rumlow was reluctant to start a full-scale fight so soon. He touched the Ancestor's Bracers on his wrist, drawing some confidence from the gear.
"So, you're set on starting the fight now?" Rumlow said, his tone hinting at resignation.
"You planning to stop me?" Dugan's massive revolver was already aimed at Rumlow's head. "I've never trusted you!"
As Dugan spoke, a chittering sound filled the tavern. Hit Monkey never missed a fight.
"I'm not stopping you. I'm warning you. Scare the snake, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is done!" Rumlow's hand rested on his waist, where his axe now hung, giving him a barbarian's edge.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. was built by us old soldiers. If it has to exit the stage, it'll be by our hands!" Dugan didn't know Rumlow's true strength, but his wariness matched Fury's.
"And the cost of Hydra slipping back into the shadows? Can you bear that?" Rumlow snapped, irritated as Hit Monkey's gun poked his thigh. The monkey's short stature meant it could only aim low.
Rumlow could easily take down both Hit Monkey and Dugan, but his anger couldn't dictate his actions. Hydra was a mountain crushing him. All his guilt and shame stemmed from that organization. He didn't just want S.H.I.E.L.D. gone—he wanted both it and Hydra to perish in war, paving the way for a new shield to rise from the ruins.
"Eek!" Hit Monkey pressed the gun harder, the blunt pain stoking Rumlow's rage.
His anger was slipping beyond control, so he chose to seize the moment—barbarian style.
"Ha!" Rumlow spun, his axe cleaving Hit Monkey's gun in two. In return, bullet holes peppered his pants, spent rounds clattering to the floor.
Bang! Dugan's revolver roared, a massive bullet striking Rumlow's skull. The impact staggered him, but his counterattack was swift. He kicked Hit Monkey into the wall, embedding the creature like a painting. His axe flashed, shattering Dugan's historic revolver.
Rumlow's forearm pinned Dugan's throat, his voice a low growl. "If this is all you've got, I'll take down Hydra myself! I'm working with you to ensure that cursed group dies cleanly!"
Each word was forced through gritted teeth. If anyone in the world wanted Hydra eradicated, it was Rumlow. Guilt gnawed at his soul like a rat, his reawakened conscience—spurred by the legendary power of the Oath of Shame—forcing him down this path.
"You'd better prepare thoroughly and make Hydra disappear for good!" Rumlow snarled, releasing Dugan. Ignoring him and the wall-bound Hit Monkey, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the tavern.
Never had his heart been so consumed by rage. He longed to see the snows of Harrogath's sacred mountain to calm himself.
…
"The body's insides are completely destroyed, like they were thrown into a blender," the coroner said slowly into the recorder, his pale face betraying his limits.
The poor girl's remains, at her soul's repeated request, were left in place. The Ancient One honored her plea, ensuring her sister would know of her death.
The battle's aftermath left the Ancient One unsure whether to intervene. Using the Time Stone to rewind the scene felt excessive, especially since Bul-Kathos had no intent to hide his presence.
"I can't imagine what kind of torment left her body unmarked externally yet turned her organs to mush. Most crucially, there's no trace of anything non-human," the coroner said, his face growing paler.
Recalling the scene seemed to crush him. "When we cut the body open, a foul stench hit—a smell worse than a dead rat soaked in moldy, rancid water. It dissipated quickly, but…" He gagged, overwhelmed.
"Sorry, that smell was worse than anything I've encountered…" More retching interrupted the recording, turning it almost comical.
"It's like a horror story my mom told me as a kid—pure, primal fear," the coroner stammered, trembling as he finished the report.
(Chapter End)
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