Marvelous Meditations

Nathan moved through the base with silent precision, his senses dialed up to full alert. His magnetic boots made no noise against the cold metal floors, his fingers flexing instinctively around the grip of his energy pistol. He could feel it now—something was coming. The air was thick with tension, the kind that only ever existed when two killers knew they were moments away from trying to end each other.

He had already cut through Hydra's forces like a blade through flesh, and he knew the survivors wouldn't be eager to engage him again. Which left one man.

Crossbones.

Nathan's pace slowed as he reached a dimly lit corridor. A heavy steel door stood slightly ajar at the end. Beyond it, darkness stretched like an open maw, waiting. A faint red light flickered from within, casting long shadows across the walls.

Then—movement.

A hulking silhouette stood just beyond the threshold, partially obscured by the gloom. A distorted voice rumbled through the stillness. "Took you long enough, Cross."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. This was it.

"Not in the mood for banter, Rumlow," he said, voice calm but edged with impatience. "Let's just get this over with."

Crossbones chuckled, the sound low and guttural. "Straight to the killing, huh? Always liked that about you."

Nathan didn't hesitate. A single thought sent the Floater streaking forward—silent, invisible, and lethal.

It shot toward Crossbones' skull, moving faster than a bullet—and passed straight through him.

Nathan's eyes sharpened. No impact. No blood. No reaction. Like it had sliced through thin air. Then—the heavy door slammed shut.

The reinforced locks clamped into place with a deep, metallic thunk, trapping the Floater inside.

Nathan exhaled sharply. "Hologram."

A slow, mocking clap sounded from behind him. "Clever boy."

Nathan twisted around just as the real Crossbones stepped out from the shadows.

The man was built like a wrecking machine—broad shoulders, thick arms, and a body armored for war. His skull-emblazoned vest stood out starkly against the dim light, and the wicked grin carved across his face spoke of pure, unfiltered bloodlust.

"You really thought I'd just stand there and let you ghost me?" Crossbones sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Come on, Cross. Give me some credit."

Nathan's fingers twitched. This time, he wasn't going to fall for tricks. He just moved.

The moment Nathan lunged, Crossbones was already in motion. The two clashed like colliding freight trains—fast, brutal, efficient.

Crossbones swung first, a vicious right hook. Nathan ducked, slipped past the blow, and countered with a knee to the ribs. The impact was solid, but Crossbones barely reacted, catching Nathan's leg mid-strike and twisting—flipping him off balance.

Nathan rolled with the momentum, twisting in the air and landing low on his feet. His right hand snapped forward, a throwing knife flicking from his sleeve.

Crossbones dodged—barely. The blade sliced past his cheek, drawing blood.

But he was already retaliating. Crossbones' wrist flicked, and from his gauntlet, a spring-loaded stiletto shot forward.

Nathan barely managed to tilt his head back, the blade slicing just inches from his throat. In a blur of motion, he seized Crossbones' wrist, twisted—wrenching the knife from his grip—and reversed it toward his enemy.

Crossbones caught Nathan's wrist in turn, locking them in a brutal deadlock.

Neither gave an inch.

Then Crossbones cheated.

He slammed his forehead into Nathan's skull. The impact was like a sledgehammer.

Nathan staggered back, vision flashing white. That moment was all Crossbones needed—his hands went to his twin pistols, yanking them free.

Nathan's reflexes took over. He twisted his wrist, activating the concealed energy pistols in his sleeves.

Four gunshots rang out at once. Two from Crossbones. Two from Nathan.

They both dodged.

Nathan twisted away as bullets flew past him, the heat grazing his shoulder. Crossbones dropped low, barely evading the blue-hot energy beams that melted straight through the wall behind him.

Neither stopped moving.

Nathan dived forward, grabbing Crossbones' wrist mid-aim and twisting his pistol loose. It clattered to the floor. Crossbones retaliated, kicking Nathan's gun from his grasp, sending it skidding across the floor.

Unarmed again.

Right back to square one. The moment stretched for half a second.

Then Nathan went for the kill.

His neural-linked telekinetic field flared to life, augmenting his speed and power. He moved faster than Crossbones could react, ducking under a wild punch and hammering his fist into the mercenary's solar plexus.

Crossbones choked, stumbling back, his breath stolen.

Nathan didn't let up. A palm strike to the throat. An elbow to the jaw. A crushing knee to the sternum that sent Crossbones sprawling backward.

He hit the ground hard, gasping. Blood dripped from his split lip as he glared up at Nathan, who stood over him, expression unreadable.

Then—a sound.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Nathan's eyes flicked downward. Crossbones' vest—rigged with explosives. The bastard had strapped himself to a bomb.

Crossbones' bloody grin widened.

"Hope you weren't planning on walking away from this," he rasped, suddenly lunging and gripping Nathan's right arm in an iron hold with the last of his strength and will.

The countdown continued.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Nathan's expression remained calm as he tried to yank his arm away, but Crossbones' grip was like a vice—unshakable.

He met the mercenary's gaze, his voice even. "Never took you for the kamikaze type. Is Hydra really worth your life?"

Crossbones chuckled under his mask, his fingers tightening around Nathan's wrist. "No," he admitted, his voice thick with malice. "But winning is." His grin widened. "I don't lose twice, Cross."

Nathan couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"All the same, I'm afraid I can't give you this win…" His free hand moved, slow but deliberate. "…I still have much to do."

He reached for the Muramasa blade.

The cloth-wrapped hilt met his fingers, and with a swift tug, he pulled it free. He bit down on the sheath, holding it between his teeth, and slowly drew the blade. The whisper of steel filled the air—hungry, eager, absolute.

Crossbones didn't flinch.

"I'm already battered, and other than the timer, this bomb's on a deadman switch," he said, watching Nathan with a cold, unblinking stare. "Cut my arm, and I'll bite my tongue. We'll both die all the same."

Nathan met his gaze and smiled. "I know how you operate, Rumlow."

He raised the blade.

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Crossbones' features.

Nathan didn't hesitate.

The blade fell.

Crossbones braced for pain, for the sharp agony of severed flesh—

—but he felt nothing except for a splash of something warm and wet hitting his face.

His eyes snapped open.

Nathan's right arm was no longer attached to his shoulder.

For the first time in his brutal life, Crossbones was speechless.

He stared, stunned, as blood spilled in thick, crimson rivulets from Nathan's fresh wound.

The severed limb still twitched in his grip, fingers slightly curled as if reaching for something.

The sheer insanity of what just happened locked him in place.

That half-second of hesitation was all Nathan needed.

Without a word, he spun, turned on his heel, and sprinted away.

Crossbones' shock snapped into rage.

"CROSS!" he bellowed, voice raw and furious.

Nathan didn't stop.

Crossbones staggered forward, blood splattered across his face, his breath ragged. "I told you—I don't lose twice!"

Nathan barely glanced back, calling over his shoulder, "You did say you'd take my hand, and you did... take that as your win, and die already, you piece of shit!"

The countdown ticked toward its final moments.

Crossbones' snarl twisted into something almost feral. "What about you?! Will you be able to put me in the dirt?!"

Nathan's silhouette blurred as he disappeared down the corridor.

Crossbones let out a breathless, bitter laugh. "…This is my win."

And then—

The bomb exploded.

Fire and steel consumed the room.

...

Nathan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move. His breath came in slow, measured inhales—controlled, despite the pain. Blood dripped steadily from his severed arm, soaking the fabric of his jacket, but he barely acknowledged it.

One problem at a time.

He pulled his belt free with his remaining hand and wrapped it around the stump, cinching it tight. A sharp, burning pain shot through him, but he exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. His focus couldn't waver now.

Then, with a flicker of thought, he sent a mental command to the Floater.

It responded instantly.

From somewhere in the wreckage, the diamond-shaped device streaked toward him, cutting through the smoke and embers. The explosion had obliterated the door that had trapped it, setting it free.

Nathan caught it mid-air with his mind, groaning in concentration. The neural link pulsed, and the Floater began to shift.

It morphed, liquefying like mercury before reshaping itself into a sleek, reinforced casing around his stump. It latched onto his severed limb, its structure adjusting to block the blood vessels and apply pressure, effectively stopping the bleeding.

Nathan let out a slow sigh of relief, tension leaving his body. For now, he wouldn't bleed out.

His gaze drifted downward.

Crossbones' helmet lay on the scorched ground, motionless.

The charred remains of its once-imposing skull design were fractured, half-melted by the heat of the explosion. The portion that had once shielded his face was gone, revealing nothing but blackened ruin beneath.

Nathan stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head. "There's not much left for me to put in the dirt, is there?"

His voice was quiet, almost reflective.

A beat passed.

Then, with a slow exhale, he crouched and picked up the helmet. His fingers ran over its cracked surface, feeling the heat still radiating from the twisted metal.

"I guess it's your win after all…"

A bitter smile crossed his lips before he set the helmet aside. Then, without another glance, he turned and walked away. Nathan moved through the wrecked corridors, his steps steady but unhurried.

His destination wasn't the exit.

Not yet.

He retraced his path until he reached the section where he had been held captive. The cells stood in eerie silence, illuminated by dim, flickering emergency lights.

But instead of stopping at his own cell, he stepped into the one across from it.

Inside, Elihas Starr sat at a cluttered workstation.

The scientist had been poring over a datapad, but the moment the door slid open, he paused. Slowly, he turned to face Nathan, adjusting his glasses as he took in the sight before him.

One-armed. Bloodstained. Burnt jacket. The glint of the Muramasa Blade still visible at his back.

Starr let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Huh. I didn't think I'd see you again…"

His gaze flicked to Nathan's missing arm, then back to his face. A hint of dry amusement colored his tone. "I take it our captors are dead, then?"

Nathan gave Starr a blank, unreadable look. "Every last one of them." His voice was even, devoid of any satisfaction or regret.

Matter-of-fact.

Then, with a faint smirk, he added, "And it only cost me an arm."

Starr blinked, visibly thrown off by how casual Nathan was about it. He hesitated, then replied in an unsure tone, "Good for you…?"

Nathan chuckled, low and dry. "Relax, I'm not fishing for praise."

He leaned against the wall, shifting his weight. The Floater hummed faintly, adjusting its grip on his wound.

"I can call for an extraction, but I have no damn idea where the communication room is, and this place is huge." His brow furrowed slightly. "Figured you might help with that. Unless, of course, you'd rather rot here a little longer."

Starr sighed, shaking his head. "I can help with that, sure." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "But honestly? Makes no difference to me." His voice carried a subdued resignation, like a man who had long stopped expecting better outcomes.

He exhaled, adding, "Rotting here or elsewhere."

He turned toward the door and walked out.

Nathan frowned, something about those words setting off a flicker of curiosity. He followed, his boots silent against the cold floor. "What exactly are you in here for, anyway?"

Starr shot him a sideways look over his shoulder. "I thought I told you when you barged in here with Strucker in a headlock. They kidnapped me to build weapons. Hydra does what Hydra does."

Nathan waved a dismissive hand."Yeah, yeah. That's not what I'm talking about."

His voice dropped just slightly, laced with an edge of curiosity.

"Hydra doesn't go after just anybody. They don't kidnap nobodies off the street and force them into their service. So how'd you get their attention?"

...

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