The reason Marcus paid such close attention to Daredevil wasn't just because of his strength — that was only secondary. What truly caught his interest was the fact that Daredevil was now an Extremis-enhanced organism. That made him both dangerous and useful.
Through his mental link, Marcus issued a silent command.
Marcus: Alex, can a non-zombie Extremis host be detonated manually?
Alex: If you can accurately strike the Extremis core located in the head, it will trigger an involuntary explosion. Master… don't tell me you're thinking about using this on Daredevil?
Marcus: The stronger the Extremis host, the greater the explosion's yield, right?
Alex: Yes. Based on my estimation, Daredevil's current power level could generate a blast strong enough to destroy the outer armor of the heavy military trucks — but it wouldn't damage their cargo. Those armored shells are highly resistant, even the Thunderbeast's self-detonation can't penetrate them.
Marcus: Good. I don't intend to destroy what's inside anyway.
Once his plan was confirmed, Marcus's strategist — the Winter Soldier — immediately acted. He coordinated the Extremis creatures, directing the Thunderbeasts and Chasers to subtly shift positions, separating the other superheroes from Daredevil. Bit by bit, they drew the defenders away until Daredevil was left fighting alone in an open pocket of the battlefield.
The vigilante didn't seem to care. Wielding his blazing dual batons, Daredevil was a storm of motion — cutting down every zombie that dared come close.
One of the Chasers lunged, claws raised high to crush him. Daredevil blocked effortlessly, deflecting the blow and driving his baton through the creature's heart in one swift counter.
The instant the Chaser died, its Extremis self-destruct program activated. A pulse of orange-red light burst from its chest, followed by a violent explosion that engulfed Daredevil in flame.
But for a being infused with the Extremis virus, such a blast was nothing. He walked out of the smoke unharmed, the burns on his skin already knitting together under the virus's regenerative effect.
The explosion had done no damage — but it had served its purpose. It created a perfect, momentary smokescreen.
As the haze enveloped the battlefield, Marcus emerged from beneath the ground behind Daredevil, blade in hand — a carbon-steel alloy sword glinting with deadly precision — and thrust it straight toward the back of Daredevil's skull.
However, Daredevil was no ordinary opponent. Having spent his life in darkness, he had never relied on his eyes. His radar sense mapped every movement around him, allowing him to perceive Marcus's killing intent even through smoke and fog.
At the very moment Marcus's blade struck, Daredevil twisted and raised his weapon. Metal clashed against metal, scattering a shower of golden sparks mere millimeters from his face.
Before the sparks had faded, Marcus's left hand had already drawn his Adamantium katana. With a burst of lightning and bloodflame, he swung again — a devastating downward strike aimed directly at Daredevil's head.
If stealth failed, then brute strength would finish the job.
But Daredevil, now empowered by Extremis, was far from helpless. His twin batons snapped apart and reconnected by a chain, forming his iconic Devil's Nunchaku. He crossed the weapon and blocked both blades at once, the clang of metal echoing through the smoke.
Even under the might of an Adamantium blade, Daredevil's weapon held firm — forged from an unknown alloy, it was one of the legendary arms of the Marvel world, unyielding even under immense pressure.
But Marcus was no longer the inexperienced fighter he had once been. After countless battles with heroes and monsters alike, his strength and precision had reached terrifying levels.
He suddenly spread his arms apart, wrenching the locked weapons outward. Daredevil's nunchaku followed the force, his defense collapsing and his centerline completely exposed.
Marcus seized the opening.
He lunged forward, smashing his head downward like a hammer — a metal-reinforced headbutt.
Daredevil, refusing to back down, met it head-on. Their skulls collided with a deafening crack. Sweat, blood, and sparks flew in all directions.
For an instant, they were locked together — and then came the sound of something sharp piercing bone.
Marcus's forehead had transformed into a metal spike, thrusting clean through Daredevil's skull and annihilating the Extremis core embedded within his brain.
The light in Daredevil's eyes flickered — then turned red.
Without the core's regulation, the Extremis virus inside his body went berserk. His flesh began to glow, veins pulsing like molten iron.
From a distance, Captain America's expression darkened. "Oh no…"
Within seconds, Daredevil's body became a furnace of energy, his skin radiating an intense orange-red light.
And then—
"BOOM!!!"
A deafening explosion split the ground. A massive crimson mushroom cloud erupted upward, flooding the entire area in blinding light. The shockwave vaporized everything within hundreds of meters.
The blast silenced the battlefield. Superheroes and zombies alike were hurled through the air. Those too close to the epicenter vanished instantly, reduced to dust.
Captain America crouched behind his vibranium shield, absorbing the brunt of the explosion. Beside him, Black Panther withstood the inferno with his vibranium armor, the suit absorbing the tremendous kinetic force.
When the flames and shockwave finally dissipated, the world was quiet again.
What had once been a city block was now a smoking crater, a wasteland of twisted steel and crumbling concrete. The undead, the Chasers, and even the Sentinels had been reduced to fragments beneath the ruins.
Only two figures remained standing amid the devastation — Captain America and Black Panther, the final protectors of the convoy.
The massive armored trucks they guarded still stood, their advanced S.H.I.E.L.D. protective plating having barely held against the blast. But the explosion had stripped away their outer layers, revealing the cargo inside.
Captain America turned — and his eyes widened in disbelief.
"...What in the world?" he muttered.
Inside each truck's open compartment lay a colossal, jet-black missile — its nose rounded, its surface gleaming like obsidian. The size was staggering — each one nearly as large as a small submarine, equipped with box-shaped stabilizing fins and reinforced casings.
There was no mistaking what they were.
These weren't conventional weapons. They were military nuclear warheads.
_____
T/N:
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