Marvel: Ned the Master of Mystic Arts

Hawkeye gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, "Freak."

Without hesitation, he pulled out several explosive arrows from his quiver and unleashed them at the relentless Winter Soldier.

He wasn't some self-sacrificing hero fighting for a noble cause—at least, that's what Hawkeye liked to believe. But since he had taken on the responsibility of protecting Stark, there was no way he would let the billionaire die before him.

"Click!"

The sound of his bowstring releasing was followed by the sharp whistle of arrows streaking through the air.

The Winter Soldier hated Hawkeye. He loathed him with a burning fury. Even though he was a super-soldier, he couldn't ignore the destructive power of those high-explosive arrows. Aside from his metal arm, any other part of his body getting hit or blasted could lead to severe injuries.

Earlier, an explosive arrow had detonated near his feet, sending him tumbling. Though the damage seemed minimal, the Hydra-issued combat boots he wore had absorbed most of the impact. Still, the dull ache in his legs reminded him of the attack's power.

Hawkeye's arrows weren't just for show—they were advanced enough to shake even the "Supreme Sorcerer of the Nine Realms."

As another volley of arrows rained down, the Winter Soldier was forced to retreat, dodging swiftly. But even when he avoided a direct hit, the shockwaves from the explosions kept pushing him back.

With every arrow Hawkeye released, the distance between the Winter Soldier and Stark widened.

Then Hawkeye noticed something.

He's afraid of my arrows?

He tested his theory with another few shots. Sure enough, every time he fired, the Winter Soldier dodged far away instead of charging forward.

Hawkeye's lips curled into a smirk.

So, I can make him dance, huh?

His confidence surged. He fired even faster, forcing the Winter Soldier out of the alley. When his supply of explosive arrows ran low, he mixed in regular ones. The beauty of it? His enemy had no way of knowing which arrow would explode and which wouldn't.

Eventually, the Winter Soldier had no choice but to abandon the alleyway.

From his hidden perch, Hawkeye observed his opponent's frustration. The way the Winter Soldier clenched his fists and glared at him… If looks could kill, Hawkeye would have been vaporized on the spot.

Still, the assassin wasn't one to give up.

With a swift scan of his surroundings, the Winter Soldier leaped onto a nearby building, moving stealthily across the rooftops. He barely made a sound as he advanced toward Stark from above.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye let out a deep breath, only now realizing his palms were drenched in sweat.

Damn… That was intense.

"Hey, Stark," he called out, stepping toward the car. "That guy's not gonna give up on killing you. We need to move—fast."

Inside the vehicle, Stark was holding his nose, a hint of red seeping through his fingers.

Hawkeye frowned. "Uh… what happened to your nose?"

"Mmff…" Stark mumbled through his hands, shaking his head.

A quick glance at the car's control panel revealed a fresh bloodstain. Hawkeye instantly understood.

"Well, this car's a lost cause. We'll have to borrow another one." He opened the door, motioning for Stark to step out. "Same deal—remember the license plate, pay the owner back later."

Stark nodded and got out of the car, following Hawkeye toward the street.

They didn't get far.

Hawkeye's steps slowed.

"Clint?" Stark asked, sensing the change in his demeanor.

"MOVE!"

With a sudden shout, Hawkeye shoved Stark aside.

A dark figure descended from above—The Winter Soldier.

He landed hard, his knee smashing into Hawkeye's chest and slamming him to the ground.

Ignoring Stark completely, the Winter Soldier grabbed Hawkeye by the collar and hoisted him up.

"This is personal."

Then, without hesitation—BAM!

The metal fist crashed into Hawkeye's face, turning his features into a bloody mess in an instant.

Still not satisfied, the Winter Soldier raised his arm for another devastating punch—

CRACK!

Stark, having scrambled back to his feet, swung a metal rod straight into the side of the assassin's head.

For a normal person, that kind of impact would be fatal. Even for the Winter Soldier, it was enough to make him pause. He turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto Stark with unfiltered rage.

Before he could retaliate, Stark raised his wrist.

"Hey, pal. Ever seen my limited-edition watch?"

With a flick of his hand, a miniature repulsor cannon snapped into place on his palm.

"Boom."

The repulsor blast hit the Winter Soldier point-blank, sending him crashing to the ground.

Wasting no time, Stark rushed over and pulled Hawkeye up. The two of them stumbled toward the street, desperate to escape.

Hawkeye, barely conscious, managed to pick a car's lock before slumping over.

"Clint? CLINT?!"

Panic surged through Stark. Memories of Yinsen's sacrifice flashed in his mind. He couldn't let another person die because of him.

With trembling hands, he checked for a pulse.

He's alive.

Exhaling in relief, Stark carefully placed Hawkeye in the passenger seat before hotwiring the car.

He had no idea if driving like this was a good idea, but one thing was certain—he had to get them both to safety.

Meanwhile…

The Winter Soldier finally staggered to his feet, ripping off his shattered mask. His face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition.

If Steve saw him now, he wouldn't even recognize his old friend.

Gritting his teeth, the assassin whispered a name.

"…Stark."

A sleek black car pulled up in front of him. A man stepped out, scanning the area.

"Where's the target?" he asked.

"Escaped," the Winter Soldier replied flatly, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled. "Get me medical treatment. And… I need weapons. Full arsenal."

The man hesitated for a moment before a sly smile crept onto his face.

This was the first time since his brainwashing that the Winter Soldier had shown real emotion—rage, hatred, and a desire to kill Stark.

That was good.

That was very good.

"Understood."

Back at the Safehouse…

Stark kicked open the warehouse door and carried Hawkeye inside, placing him on the couch alongside his damaged Iron Man suit.

He glanced around. The warehouse was empty. Too empty.

A sinking feeling hit him.

"Harry? Harry?!"

No response.

Cold dread crept up Stark's spine. Had that bastard from the bar gotten to him?

Just as he was about to lose his mind with worry, the sound of an approaching car rumbled from outside…

--------------

T/N:

Access 40 Chapters in Advance on my

P@treon: [email protected]/PokePals