"Boss, the house was attacked. I covered May, Raven, and Wanda during the evacuation. Since I couldn't reach you, I contacted Mr. Tony Stark for backup. We're currently at his residence."
Karl exhaled slowly after reading Pietro's message.
The tension in his chest eased.
The shadow soldiers surrounding the manor dissolved into darkness, and Karl vanished.
A moment later, he appeared inside Tony Stark's Malibu mansion.
Aunt May, Raven, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, and the unconscious Gwen were all present. Pepper Potts was speaking reassuringly with Aunt May.
Tony noticed Karl and walked over immediately.
"Hey, buddy! Where the hell were you? Your house got hit! And seriously — you didn't tell me you had a Transformer? Do you know how surprised I was?!"
Tony's voice carried genuine astonishment.
In this world, the Transformers films existed as global blockbusters — fictional, not real — which made Tony's comment an exaggerated joke about Karl's shadow army appearing like mechanical invaders.
"You never asked," Karl replied flatly. "We'll discuss that later. Who attacked my house?"
His tone was cold.
Across the room, Raven paused while tending Gwen's injuries and looked toward him.
Tony activated a holographic display.
"We traced the operation to an intelligence network known as the Red Room — Soviet-era origins, deep-cover espionage, assassination training. Elite female operatives. But even with Stark satellites and JARVIS, I can't locate their base."
Karl studied the data, eyes narrowing.
The Red Room.
Natasha Romanoff had appeared at his manor under an alias. If they had failed infiltration, retaliation was predictable.
"They wanted leverage," Karl said quietly. "Control through hostages."
Tony studied his expression.
"Need help?"
"Protect them," Karl replied. "I'll handle the rest."
The final note in his voice carried lethal intent.
Tony didn't argue.
"JARVIS, full defensive protocol."
Protective shutters sealed the windows. Automated weapons emerged from concealed compartments. Missile countermeasure systems came online.
Tony Stark's home was never undefended.
Karl vanished.
Above Belarus
Karl moved through the Shadow World, emerging above a city in Belarus.
Shadow soldiers dispersed into the darkness.
He sensed an anomaly in the sky — a pocket of shadow suspended in open air.
A cloaked structure.
Aerial stealth platform.
The Red Room.
Inside the Red Room Facility
The command chamber hummed with tension.
Taskmaster stood before assembled operatives, voice cold with fury.
"You failed. No leverage. No control."
He turned to the woman beside him.
"Dispose of them."
Yelena Belova stepped forward.
She led several operatives away.
The women they escorted begged, pleaded, wept.
Yelena's face did not change.
Gunshots echoed down the corridor.
Mercy did not exist here.
The Red Room was not merely a training facility — it was a machine designed to erase identity and manufacture obedience.
Girls were isolated, indoctrinated, trained in combat, languages, seduction, espionage, and assassination. Their pasts were erased. Their futures were missions.
Failure meant death.
Survival meant becoming a weapon.
Infiltration
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Shadow soldiers erupted from every dark surface.
They surrounded the chamber.
Taskmaster pivoted instantly, adopting a combat stance.
Karl stepped from the darkness, applauding slowly.
"I expected cruelty," he said calmly. "But this… truly earns the Red Room its reputation."
Taskmaster studied him.
"You're Karl."
He showed no fear — only calculation.
"I didn't expect you to find us."
Karl stopped ten feet away.
"You attacked my family."
His voice lowered.
"That forfeits your right to exist."
He raised a hand.
"Kill them."
Shadow soldiers surged forward.
Yelena understood immediately: eliminate Karl, break the assault.
She launched forward.
To Karl, her movement was slow.
He struck once.
CRACK
Yelena was thrown across the chamber.
Her tibia twisted unnaturally. She collapsed, unable to stand.
Karl's casual strike carried multi-ton force.
Taskmaster's eyes sharpened.
He adapted instantly, countering shadow soldiers with perfect mimicry — Captain America's shield mechanics, Black Panther's striking angles, Widow stances, and battlefield flow optimization.
But mimicry could not compensate for endless enemies.
Screams echoed through the facility.
Karl had deployed ten thousand shadow soldiers.
Every corridor was under assault.
This was extermination.
Taskmaster shifted tactics, attempting retreat—
Karl's telekinesis locked him in place.
The air itself became a prison.
Taskmaster strained, muscles trembling.
Impossible.
Karl stepped closer.
"You trained killers," he said quietly.
"I erase threats."
His hand closed.
Telekinetic pressure increased.
Bone cracked.
Armor buckled.
With a final gesture—
Taskmaster's skull collapsed.
Silence fell.
Only the distant sounds of battle remained.
Karl turned, eyes cold.
The Red Room was finished.
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