Ivan's death was so abrupt, it bordered on comical.
One moment he was descending in full villain swagger, ready to deliver a line straight out of a trailer. The next, his brain met daylight.
Tony and Rhodey just stood there, blinking.
Neither had processed what had happened before the Russian dropped dead on the spot.
Darren holstered his gun, strolling over at a leisurely pace. "What can I say? Timing's everything. He really shouldn't have gone for the dramatic pause."
Honestly, Darren would never understand these armored geniuses.
They built power suits capable of shrugging off tank shells… yet somehow, they all had a habit of flipping the helmet open mid-battle to deliver a monologue.
He'd simply followed the map marker, arrived right as Ivan started his villain speech, saw an exposed head—and instinct did the rest.
A single shot. End of scene.
Poor Ivan. A self-proclaimed supervillain whose screen time was outnumbered by his own drones.
His legacy: Didn't die in combat, died from forgetting his helmet.
Tony and Rhodey exchanged a look, silently vowing: from now on, never take the helmet off. Not even to sneeze.
As Darren stepped closer, the familiar mechanical chime rang in his ears.
[Boss "Whiplash" Ivan Vanko defeated!]
[Calculating Damage Contribution…]
[Rewards Granted: +10,000 XP, +5 Free Attribute Points, Equipment "Whiplash Armor", Skill "Silent Step", Items: "Universal Ladder", "Eternal Torch", "Emo Wig"]
[Equipment: Whiplash Armor — A power suit built by Ivan Vanko. Equipped with twin energy whips of destructive potential.
Warning: Comes without a helmet. Vulnerable to certain bald agents with Desert Eagles.
Note: Self-destruct system removed for your safety.]
[Skill: Silent Step — Move without producing sound. Great for stealth, theft, or sneaking up on directors.]
[Item: Ladder — Holding this ladder grants unrestricted access to any area. Security conveniently ignores you.]
[Item: Eternal Torch — A pixel-style torch whose flame will never extinguish. Excellent for aesthetics or spontaneous cave expeditions.]
[Item: Emo Wig — Wearing it makes half your enemies disappear from sight, doubling your courage through ignorance.]
The next second, the armor vanished from Ivan's corpse.
Darren sighed. "Figures. Instant teleportation to my inventory—thanks for the convenience, I guess."
Tony and Rhodey both looked at him with deadpan suspicion.
Darren raised his hands innocently. "Don't look at me. It wasn't me."
Tony's smirk said otherwise. "Sure. Just like how my arc reactor 'walked off' by itself last time."
…
Being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent meant one thing: no such thing as a day off.
And every time you dared to relax, the bald taskmaster himself would find you.
That evening, Darren was halfway through a Batman movie when his phone buzzed.
"Agent Darren," came Fury's unmistakable gravelly tone. "I need you to infiltrate Oscorp. Norman Osborn's been working with the military on something classified. Find out what it is."
[Mission: Investigate Oscorp]
[Objective: Infiltrate Oscorp Corporation and uncover Norman Osborn's secret military collaboration.]
[Reward: +1000 XP, +20 S.H.I.E.L.D. Reputation, Random Item ×1]
Darren raised an eyebrow. "Why not send Natasha? She's the actual infiltration specialist."
"She's on another assignment," Fury replied. "Besides, Osborn's an old man, not a playboy like Stark. Beauty tactics won't work this time."
Ah.
Translation: Natasha's charm was useless on the elderly.
Oscorp Industries—one of America's biggest biotech empires, worth tens of billions.
Biotech might've been their main product, but their reach extended into weapons, energy, and industrial technology.
In short, the only company that could compete with Stark Industries.
Darren drove up to Oscorp Tower behind the wheel of Fury's very own car.
And oh, the car was nice.
Smooth handling, premium interior, air conditioning like a gentle hug.
He sank into the seat and muttered, "For a guy with one eye, he sure knows luxury."
Inside the building, Oscorp gleamed with sterile elegance.
He followed the receptionist's directions straight to the recruitment office.
"Is this your résumé?" the hiring manager asked, flipping through the pages—then froze halfway.
"Uh, Darren? MIT graduate, PhD in biochemical engineering, expert in genetics, molecular chemistry, hand-to-hand combat, firearms, stealth operations—"
The recruiter's face twisted into a question mark. "Are you applying as a researcher or a mercenary?"
"Yes," Darren replied simply.
Infiltration was about confidence. The louder you said nonsense, the more believable it sounded.
And since S.H.I.E.L.D. had forged the records, the man's background checked out perfectly.
The recruiter blinked in awe. "Unbelievable! I can't imagine how someone with your credentials slipped under our radar."
Darren shrugged humbly. "I'm not one for fame. I keep things quiet."
"Outstanding! Welcome to Oscorp."
The recruiter extended a hand eagerly. "You'll start as an assistant in our lab."
"Assistant?" Darren's smile froze. "No, no, I'll need a private lab. My own research project."
The recruiter hesitated. "What sort of project?"
Darren reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a vial of shimmering red liquid—the same Life Potion he'd once given to Blade.
"This," he said proudly. "Life Elixir. One sip for instant clarity. Two sips for endless energy. Three—well, not immortality, but close. Heals most known diseases."
The recruiter stared. It sounded like a scam from late-night TV. "You're serious?"
"Completely," Darren replied with a straight face. "But if Oscorp's not interested, I can always take it across the street to Stark Industries. Tony Stark has a thing for genius scientists."
That name did the trick.
The recruiter straightened immediately. "Please wait a moment, Dr. Darren. I'll have to call my supervisor."
Minutes later, the door opened—
and in walked a tall, composed man in an immaculate suit, hair streaked with gray but eyes sharp as glass.
"Mr. Osborn!" The recruiter jumped up, stunned. "I didn't expect—"
Norman Osborn didn't even glance at him. His gaze was locked on the vial in Darren's hand.
"You claim this can cure most diseases?"
[NPC: Norman Osborn]
[Alias: Green Goblin]
[Affinity: 0]
[Profile: Marvel's classic lunatic. Spider-Man's eternal nemesis. Technically Peter's other uncle.]
[Status: Suffering from a genetic disorder. Terminal.]
Darren's grin widened. "That's right. It may not fix every incurable condition, but for hereditary or degenerative illnesses—it can stabilize the body, ease symptoms, even restore strength over time. With consistent use, it'll keep the patient healthy indefinitely."
For a brief second, Norman's mask of composure cracked.
Hope flickered behind his calculating eyes.
Still, his voice remained calm. "May I send it for testing?"
"Of course."
Darren handed it over with a charming smile.
And just like that, the most dangerous corporate villain in New York had taken his bait—hook, line, and glowing red sinker.