Marvel: Ned the Master of Mystic Arts

"Whoa! Dude, that outfit is seriously cool!"

Tony Stark forced an awkward smile, then spun on his heels, ready to bolt.

Click!

The Winter Soldier made no unnecessary movements. He simply drew his pistol and aimed directly at Stark.

"Shit!"

Tony knew this guy wasn't the type to play around. His ears had been on high alert the entire time. The moment he heard the slightest sound behind him, he dove to the side, rolling into a nearby alley.

Bang!

A bullet slammed into a graffiti-covered wall where Stark had been standing just seconds ago. The mural depicted the Avengers, with Iron Man right in the center. Now, a fresh bullet hole was punched straight into his forehead.

Normally, Tony might have stopped to make a sarcastic remark about the irony of it all. But right now? No time for that. His hands were still cuffed!

Lurching forward in an awkward, stumbling run, he darted into a dark, abandoned shop. The place was pitch black, and he had no idea what it even sold. Right now, he didn't care—he just needed to get these damn handcuffs off.

Fumbling in the darkness, he grabbed what felt like some kind of packaging, trying to rip it open. Before he could figure out what it was, his foot landed on something smooth and oval-shaped.

Slip!

Tony lost his balance and went sprawling forward, crashing face-first onto something incredibly soft.

"…Mmph!"

The sensation was so unexpected that his mind went blank for a second. But before he could process it, he heard a noise behind him.

He's caught up already?!

Panic surged through Tony's veins. His hands were still bound, and his face was buried in this weirdly plush material. Getting up was going to be a struggle—never mind running away!

Just as despair started setting in, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy. Fury sent me. Said you'd run into… unexpected trouble."

The voice paused, then added with a hint of amusement, "Looking at this mess, I'd say he was spot on."

Hawkeye?!

Tony had never been so relieved to hear another man's voice in his life. He tried to speak, but whatever soft thing he had fallen onto was still smothering his face. Struggling to lift himself up, he finally managed to turn toward Clint Barton.

"…Uh, what the hell are you lying on?"

Hawkeye squinted in the darkness, trying to make sense of what was beneath Tony. The dim lighting made it difficult to see, but as Stark moved, the object underneath him was revealed in full.

A life-sized, 170 cm-long silicone doll.

Silence.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Hawkeye cleared his throat—loudly. "Ahem."

Then he turned away, trying very hard (and failing) to keep a straight face.

"Don't worry, man. Your secret's safe with me."

"What?" Tony blinked in confusion.

Still not understanding, he finally glanced down… and immediately wished he hadn't.

Oh. Oh, hell no.

With an expression of absolute horror, Tony kicked the doll away with all his strength.

THUD! The doll went flying into the darkness.

"This—this is a misunderstanding!" he stammered, hands raised in protest. "I—come on, it's me! Tony Stark! Do you really think I—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hawkeye interrupted, nodding in an overly exaggerated way. "I totally believe you."

He was still trying not to laugh as he pulled out a thin, black wire and picked Tony's handcuffs with practiced ease.

"Alright, let's get—wait a sec." Clint's sharp eyes caught something else on the ground.

Another object, small and oval-shaped.

He picked it up, inspecting it under the faint light.

Then he pressed a button.

Whirrrrrr.

Hawkeye blinked.

"...Huh. Fully automatic."

Tony's stomach dropped.

"Drop it. Drop it right now."

Smirking, Clint casually tossed it aside and handed Stark a pistol.

"Alright, let's focus. You need to get out of here. I'll handle the Terminator outside. Fury thinks this guy might be working for some off-the-books division in the agency."

"Our own guys are coming after us now? Great. You'd think they'd know I've been waiting for an excuse to watch Fury's bald head explode from stress."

"Not today, Stark. Now move!"

Suddenly, Clint's expression turned sharp.

"GET DOWN!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three bullets whizzed past, tearing through the shelves where Stark had been standing a second ago.

If Hawkeye hadn't pulled him down, Tony would've been missing more than just his pride.

Crouched behind a makeshift barricade of unboxed… adult products (Tony really didn't want to think about that right now), he peeked toward the entrance.

Under the cold glow of the moon, the Winter Soldier stood motionless, his gun raised. Beneath his boot, an old advertising board lay shattered. Faded English letters could barely be made out beneath the debris.

"Adult Products."

Tony felt his soul leave his body.

He barely had time to react before another shot rang out.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bullets shredded through the 'barricade,' leaving the unfortunate silicone merchandise riddled with holes.

"Shit!"

Hawkeye, now thoroughly done with this situation, reached for his bow. Without even looking, he fired an arrow straight at the Winter Soldier's feet.

Thunk!

The arrow vibrated slightly as it embedded itself in the ground.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the store, sending the Winter Soldier flying backward.

Hawkeye smirked.

"Got him."

But when the smoke cleared, the assassin was already back on his feet, shaking off the blast like it was nothing.

Clint's smirk vanished.

"Oh, come on!"

He didn't wait around. Yanking Tony by the arm, he fired a smoke arrow to cover their escape.

"Move your ass, Stark!"

"Working on it!"

As they sprinted into the night, Tony couldn't help but groan.

Worst. Escape. Ever.

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