As the remaining three members of the Fantastic Four advanced carefully toward the center of the mist, Marcus finally caught up from behind.
They were close—too close. If they reached the Mist Entity, the tide of battle could turn in an instant. There was no more time for stealth or strategy. Marcus ignited the Bloodflame beneath his feet, the searing energy propelling him upward in a blazing arc. He soared over their heads, twisting midair before landing squarely in front of them.
No words were needed. The crackling, lightning-charged Adamantium katana in his hands made his intent unmistakable.
"Well, would you look at that," The Thing sneered, his gravelly voice filled with disdain. "Another little rat crawlin' out to die."
He rolled his massive shoulders, his orange, rocklike body gleaming under the haze. With a thunderous stomp, he charged forward. The impact of his footsteps cracked the street beneath him—his momentum was like a charging tank, unstoppable and terrifying.
Marcus tensed, ready to dodge to the side and counterstrike with surgical precision. But before he could move, invisible pressure slammed in from both sides, pinning him in place as though two walls of air had materialized out of nowhere.
Invisible Woman's force fields.
Forced to stand his ground, Marcus gritted his teeth, gripping his blade in both hands. The Bloodflame surged violently, wrapping around the katana in a torrent of red fire. He met The Thing's charge head-on, thrusting the weapon forward.
But before steel could meet stone, a rubber-like arm shot forward with impossible speed—Mr. Fantastic's elongated fist. It snapped out like a spring-loaded cannon, striking Marcus squarely across the side.
His movement faltered. With the force fields still pressing against him, Marcus couldn't evade in time. The blow sent pain shooting through his body as his left arm was knocked free from the hilt of his blade.
Still, with his remaining hand, he drove the katana forward—just as The Thing's rocky bulk crashed into him.
Steel and stone collided. Sparks exploded outward in a shower of light, the clash ringing through the air like a blacksmith's hammer.
The next instant, the sheer force of impact tore the weapon from Marcus's grasp. The Thing's unstoppable momentum slammed into him full-on, sending him hurtling backward like a bullet. He crashed through a row of concrete buildings, his body embedding into a wall before the entire structure collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris.
When the dust settled, Marcus lay half-buried in the rubble, his body broken and bleeding—but not beaten.
The Thing looked down at his chest, where the flaming blade had struck. The cut was deep—five or six centimeters—but far from lethal. Orange blood oozed from the wound, sizzling as it met the ground. It was the first injury he'd taken in years, and yet it only made him angrier.
The battle had only just begun, and already the Fantastic Four had demonstrated their frightening synergy. Alone, each of them might not have matched Marcus—but together, they were a well-oiled machine, every movement perfectly synchronized.
Reed Richards (Mr. Fantastic) possessed superhuman elasticity—his body able to stretch, reshape, and flatten into virtually any form. Bullets ricocheted off him. Explosions barely phased him unless he allowed them to. His intellect had evolved alongside his body, his brain literally expanding from the same elastic structure that gave him his power. His mind was flexible, sharp, and nearly impossible to corrupt.
Susan Storm-Richards (Invisible Woman) could manipulate light to render herself and others invisible, and more dangerously, she could shape force fields of extraordinary strength. These fields could block projectiles, crush enemies, or even cause internal explosions by manifesting inside objects—or people. Her force constructs could move at incredible speeds, allowing her to fly or strike with concussive power.
Ben Grimm (The Thing) was their shield and hammer—a being of living stone. His rocky hide was harder than any known earthly material, and his strength was nearly limitless. He could lift hundreds of tons with ease. His combat style was brutally simple—direct, devastating, and relentless.
Each of them represented a unique kind of problem. But together? They were a nightmare.
Marcus rose from the ruins, his wounds rapidly knitting themselves closed under his enhanced regeneration. The blood flames flared across his body, ready to burn again. The thick mist shrouded everything around him—perfect for a counterattack.
But before he could strike, the Fantastic Four moved first.
Mr. Fantastic's ten fingers intertwined, stretching outward to form a massive elastic net. The web-like structure expanded, shooting forward to ensnare Marcus.
He answered instantly—the Bloodflame erupted across his body, intending to ignite the rubbery trap. But the fire licked harmlessly across the surface.
He realized too late—Invisible Woman had coated Reed's extended limbs in a thin, invisible force field, perfectly insulating them. The burning crimson fire could not reach the flesh beneath.
The net snapped closed, wrapping tightly around Marcus's body.
Before he could break free, The Thing crouched low, coiling his powerful legs beneath him, and leapt into the air. His body rocketed skyward like a missile. Below, Invisible Woman extended her arms, reinforcing his ascent with her force fields—each one a burst of kinetic acceleration that propelled him higher and higher, faster and faster.
Within seconds, he pierced through the clouds, soaring beyond the mist, beyond the atmosphere.
The air thinned. The blue sky darkened to black. The Thing hovered at the edge of the upper atmosphere, his rocky skin rimed with frost.
Then, with a grim smile, he tucked himself into a tight ball.
Gravity took hold.
He fell.
As he plummeted, friction ignited the air around him. Flames erupted across his body, turning him into a burning meteor streaking toward the earth. The fire grew brighter, hotter, trailing a searing crimson tail across the heavens.
Below, Marcus—still bound in the elastic net—looked up to see The Thing descending like a falling star, wrapped in flames, the sky itself splitting apart from the sheer velocity of his descent.
The ground trembled. The air screamed.
In that moment, The Thing was no longer a man.
He was a celestial meteor, falling with the full, merciless weight of the heavens—
—and his target was Marcus.
_____
T/N:
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