Outside the door, Hawkeye and Natasha—having just rushed over to provide backup—stood frozen, eyes wide with shock.
They never expected their own people to show up and take action.
Worse still, the man in the black mechanical armor had already spotted them… and clearly didn't take them seriously at all.
Minister Pierce had just been killed right before their eyes. This wasn't just an attack—it was a naked provocation.
Seeing Loren kill Pierce outright, Hawkeye—Clint Barton—frowned but said nothing. Instead, he instantly loosed a second arrow, this time aiming not for Loren's face, but straight for his eyes.
And to be fair, Hawkeye deserved his reputation as the Marvel Universe's premier archer. His accuracy was flawless, and his custom bow—rated at 250 pounds—was a testament to both his strength and precision.
But unfortunately, his opponent wasn't ordinary. It was Loren.
Even without his high-tech armor, Loren's physical prowess alone would have been more than enough to overpower Hawkeye. His strength surpassed even Captain America's—a fact that made the idea of Hawkeye standing a chance seem almost laughable.
As Hawkeye's arrow streaked toward him, Loren merely tilted his head slightly—and effortlessly dodged it.
Hawkeye's eyes widened in disbelief. His expression darkened, growing grim. Refusing to accept what he'd just seen, he fired a third arrow, then a fourth.
Both met the same fate: Loren evaded them without breaking a sweat.
"How is this possible?!" Hawkeye muttered.
As S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top marksman, he'd never missed a target at this range. No one had ever dodged his arrows up close—let alone multiple shots in rapid succession. What he was witnessing defied everything he knew.
To him, it felt like seeing a ghost.
What he didn't know was that Loren's neural and muscular reaction speeds were many times faster than those of an ordinary human. To Loren, Hawkeye's "lightning-fast" arrows moved as slowly as a snail.
Moreover, Loren's Bat Armor housed an embedded AI named Alice. Long before Hawkeye even drew his bow, Alice had already calculated the arrow's trajectory. The armor had automatically initiated evasive maneuvers—meaning Loren hadn't even needed to react himself.
If Hawkeye ever found out he'd been outmaneuvered not by a man, but by someone else's artificial intelligence… well, he might just lose his mind.
This wasn't just a slap in the face—it was a full-on faceplant into the dirt.
"Barton," Loren said with a smirk as he strode forward, "your so-called 'Eagle Eyes' seem a little blurry today."
The usually composed archer felt something inside him crack.
"You're asking for death!" Hawkeye snarled.
He yanked another arrow from his quiver, drew his bow to its full 250-pound tension, and released.
This time, Loren didn't dodge.
Instead, he reached out—and caught the arrow midair.
"Too slow," Loren sneered, twirling the shaft in his fingers. "How do you expect to hurt anyone with a bow like that? Let me teach you a lesson."
With that, he hurled the arrow back at Hawkeye.
Suddenly, the arrow tore through the air with a terrifying whoosh.
Before Hawkeye could react, it pierced his shoulder in a flash—like lightning striking flesh.
Blood erupted from the wound like a geyser, drenching his suit in crimson within the blink of an eye. The sight was horrifying.
The arrow's force was so immense that it didn't just pierce Hawkeye's shoulder—it drove deep into the brick wall behind him, embedding itself with a heavy thud.
This alone revealed the terrifying power behind Loren's casual swing.
And that was just an arrow. Had he thrown a punch instead, Hawkeye might have been blown apart on the spot—far bloodier than the scene in Li Wang, by a hundredfold.
"Hawkeye!!!"
Natasha, watching from the sidelines, gasped in shock as Loren felled her comrade in a single strike. She darted forward, placing herself between Hawkeye and Loren, slipping instantly into a combat stance. Her eyes locked onto him, sharp and furious—ready to attack the moment he moved.
Loren merely regarded her with mild curiosity, his expression cold and indifferent. To him, both Hawkeye and Natasha were little more than ants. In his personal hierarchy of heroes, they ranked near the very bottom—barely above street-level vigilantes like Fak Man.
Still, he couldn't help but glance at Natasha a second time. She was undeniably striking—graceful, poised, and radiating lethal elegance.
"That slender waist, that commanding presence… no wonder she's legendary," he mused with a faint smirk. "This world's Black Widow outshines even the one from the movies."
For a fleeting moment, he even entertained the thought of testing her mettle—until the memory of Hulk's infamous grin flashed through his mind. He quickly dismissed the idea.
"What did you just say, asshole? 'Gene pool'?" Natasha snapped, her brow furrowed in confusion. She clearly hadn't understood his remark.
Loren blinked. This Natasha seemed… different from the calculating spy he'd expected.
"Nothing," he said smoothly. "Just an observation. If I'm not mistaken, you're Natasha Romanoff—S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Black Widow."
Her eyes narrowed. "You know my name? Who are you? And why did you do this?"
Loren chuckled. "So many questions. Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to answer them."
With that, he turned and strode toward the exit. His mission was complete—Pierce was dead. There was no reason to linger. As for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Unless they crossed him again, they were beneath his notice.
But Natasha wasn't about to let him walk away. Furious at being dismissed, she lunged after him—
—only to be intercepted by a sudden, swift kick that sent her skidding backward.
"You dare lay a hand on my man?"
A stunning figure stood before Loren, clad in a flowing black Gothic gown that rippled in the wind—elegant, fierce, and unmistakable.
If it wasn't 2B, then who else could it possibly be?