AutumnXd
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CHAPTER 4
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 19:54:39 +0000 UTCBlade's Flash!
A sharp gleam of metal tore through the dimly lit corridor.
Squelch!
The sensation beneath the blade was eerily different—like hacking through tough, decayed leather. The resistance was substantial, but with a swift, forceful strike, Natasha Romanoff finally severed through.
Thud.
A grotesque head rolled off its shoulders, lifeless.
Yet, something felt…off. The sensation that traveled up her wrist was unlike any beheading she'd ever performed.
Her sharp eyes narrowed. Years of brutal training under the Red Room had hardened her against horror, but this? Even she felt an involuntary chill creep down her spine.
"What the hell is this thing?!"
She turned swiftly, her assassin instincts sharpening to their peak.
The creature at her feet was no ordinary target. It was something twisted—warped flesh and bones jutting out at unnatural angles. If anything, it was a complete violation of what a human body should be.
Then—
Screams.
Blood-curdling cries tore through the narrow corridor, shattering the unsettling silence.
"Ahhhh—!"
"Help! Somebody!"
"Shit, what the hell are these things?!"
Her earpiece buzzed with desperate voices.
Natasha instantly knew—she wasn't alone. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives had been transported alongside her into this hellhole.
But unlike her, they weren't faring well.
Her teammates, highly trained black-ops agents, were scrambling. The sudden attack had thrown them into disarray, and without her level of expertise, they were struggling to survive.
Gunfire erupted.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
RIP!
The enclosed space worked against them—bullets ricocheted unpredictably, some lodging harmlessly into walls, others barely stopping the creatures that lunged forward with inhuman hunger.
"Ahhh—!"
A gut-wrenching crunch followed.
Natasha turned just in time to see an agent's body go rigid as a chunk of his flesh was torn from his arm. His veins darkened instantly, his eyes rolling back as something horrible took hold.
His body spasmed.
Twisted.
Then—
His pupils burned an unnatural crimson red.
"Shit! They turn that fast?!"
Another agent cursed.
"Stay back!"
"Don't let them touch you! Even a scratch is enough!"
Natasha didn't hesitate.
Her dagger flashed.
A blur of cold steel whistled through the air, slashing through infected flesh without mercy.
One by one—zombies fell.
Even those that had once been allies.
No hesitation. No remorse.
Blood splattered across the floor, a crimson pool growing at her boots.
Somewhere beyond this twisted nightmare, the world held its breath.
In hidden military bunkers, shadowed war rooms, and covert government facilities—they were watching.
Their screens flickered with the gruesome reality unfolding in real-time.
"Jesus Christ… she's ruthless."
A stunned voice broke the silence.
"Did she just kill her own men?"
"No, correction—she executed them."
Gasps. Uneasy murmurs. Even among seasoned military officers, Natasha's cold efficiency was bone-chilling.
Some were in awe. Others, horrified.
And then—
A deep, gravelly voice cut through the noise.
"Natasha Romanoff."
General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross leaned forward, his sharp, calculating eyes gleaming with something dark.
He knew exactly who she was.
"So… S.H.I.E.L.D. sent their deadliest asset."
There was no admiration in his voice—only cold analysis.
Ross had always viewed Romanoff as an unstable variable. Too dangerous. Too independent. The kind of weapon that could turn on its wielder at any moment.
"She even kills her own if necessary… ruthless little viper."
But what truly piqued his interest wasn't the assassin.
It was the creatures.
His gaze darkened, lips curling into a thoughtful smirk.
Biological mutations.
Soldiers who don't feel pain. Who spread infection like wildfire. Who never stop.
Ross's fingers tightened into a fist.
This wasn't just some outbreak.
It was a goldmine.
"This… this is the future of warfare."
His subordinates stiffened.
Ross's mind was already racing—if they could weaponize this virus, unleash it under controlled circumstances…
An army of unkillable supersoldiers.
An unstoppable force.
His breath hitched.
"This is a gift. A gift to the United States."
His eyes shone with hunger.
"We need to secure this technology—at all costs."
Natasha's Realization.
Far away from Ross's scheming, Natasha was coming to her own grim conclusion.
As she stood among the carnage, something flickered to life in her mind.
Ding!
A mechanical chime echoed in her head.
[Kill confirmed: Zombie - 2 Points Earned]
[Kill confirmed: Infected - 5 Points Earned]
[Kill confirmed: Zombie - 2 Points Earned]
Her heartbeat quickened.
"Points?"
A rush of unease washed over her.
Had she just… imagined that?
No.
The words had appeared right in front of her.
She inhaled sharply and focused—then, instinctively, her mind pulled up something new.
A holographic screen materialized before her.
[Mission Objective: Infiltrate the Umbrella Corporation's Hive Facility. Shut down the AI Core 'Red Queen' to prevent global T-Virus contamination.]
[Failure to complete this mission will result in permanent entrapment in this world.]
[Current Points: 25]
[Points can be exchanged for: Weapons, Enhancements, Mutations, Technologies…]
Her breath hitched.
She clenched her fists.
"I was dragged here… for this?"
A mission. A game.
And failure meant she'd never go back.
Natasha exhaled. Her assassin instincts kicked in.
Analyze. Adapt. Survive.
She turned to her remaining agents, locking eyes.
No words needed.
They understood.
No matter what this was—no matter how twisted—it was still a mission.
And Natasha Romanoff never failed a mission.
"Move out."
They stepped forward. Into the unknown.
Meanwhile… Gotham City.
"These monsters…"
Bruce Wayne's voice was low, almost a whisper, but laced with disbelief. His sharp, calculating eyes flicked between the shifting lines of data on the Batcomputer's screens.
They actually exist?
It was no longer science fiction.
The massive display projected skeletal frameworks, muscle fiber analyses, and metabolic rates of the creatures. Bruce's advanced AI had mapped every detail—breaking down zombie physiology into its most basic components.
Every single result?
100% biologically plausible.
His fingers tightened on the edge of the console.
This wasn't some supernatural nightmare. This wasn't magic.
This was science.
A virus—a pathogen designed to target human biology, warp it, weaponize it.
"As a leaked bioweapon… it could contaminate the world and trigger an apocalypse?"
Bruce's heart pounded, but his face remained stone-cold. He didn't let fear control him. He forced his mind to process the situation like a strategist, a tactician—because if he didn't, billions of lives could be at risk.
His jaw clenched.
The footage showed S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives battling the infected. They were holding their own now—adapting, learning how to counter the creatures' movements, their attack patterns.
But this was just the beginning.
Bioweapons don't stop evolving.
Bruce knew this. He had spent years studying worst-case scenarios—hypothetical end-of-the-world threats.
If this virus had already restructured human DNA to create zombies, who knew what its mutation potential could be?
And then—
Almost as if the virus itself had sensed his thoughts…
Something new entered the battlefield.
The agent's gunfire rang out, disciplined and precise. They had adapted, learned to aim for the head, to preserve ammunition.
A shadow moved.
A dark, sinewy figure crawled along the walls, its elongated limbs bending in ways that no human should. Its grotesquely exposed brain pulsated, the veins darkening with unnatural fluid.
Then—
It leaped.
A massive blur of muscle and claws, faster than the human eye could track.
"Shit!" One agent barely had time to react.
Bullets flew.
Ping!
Ping!
But they did nothing.
The Licker's hide was grotesquely tough, its mutated skin absorbing impact like a living armor.
Then—
Crack!
Its razor-sharp claws sliced through an agent's short blade like it was butter.
Bruce's breathing slowed, his mind processing every detail at once.
"Enhanced bone density… Accelerated motor reflexes… These things were built for combat."
The battlefield had changed.
This wasn't a zombie. It was a predator.
And it wasn't hunting aimlessly.
Bruce's eyes darkened as he realized—it was learning.
Natasha Romanoff moved on instinct.
Her combat reflexes, sharpened from years of Red Room training, kicked in the second the Licker targeted her.
But even she wasn't fast enough.
The creature's tongue shot forward—thick, grotesque, and coated in slime, moving with such lethal velocity that the air shattered around it.
A miniature sonic boom.
Natasha dodged—barely.
The force of the attack sent a brutal gust past her, ripping apart the concrete wall behind her as if it were nothing.
Her knife was gone. Her gun out of reach.
She landed in a crouch, already calculating her next move, but—
The Licker lunged again.
And this time—
She had nowhere to go.
A Sudden Intervention
Then—
WHOOSH!
A missile streaked through the darkness, trailing black smoke.
Natasha barely had time to react before the projectile exploded, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
The Licker's inhuman screech was drowned out by the detonation.
Bruce's eyes flickered with surprise.
His system analyzed the missile's launch origin.
And then—
His expression shifted.
It came from outside the battlefield. From the city outskirts.
Someone else was here.
And they weren't just watching.
They had joined the fight.
