Marvel: The Infinite Crown

{Chapter: 157 - Shadows of Fear}

As the loading ramp of the Quinjet hissed shut behind them, the metallic hum of containment seals activating filled the bay. Steve barely had time to glance at Aiden before a pulse of raw energy surged beneath their feet—a blinding shimmer of dark green-light enveloping them both.

Then came the lurch.

The Quinjet—once securely grounded—vanished beneath them as their bodies were launched into the sky, wrapped in a cocoon of force that moved faster than Steve had ever experienced. Faster than a hypersonic jet. Faster than sound—five times over.

To his surprise, there was no pain, no g-force crushing his ribs or tearing at his skin. Just speed. Limitless, directionless speed—like being pulled through a wormhole made of light.

"You already know, don't you?" Steve's voice was calm, composed, even as clouds whipped past them in a blur.

Aiden floated effortlessly beside him, his dark coat flaring behind him like a cloak caught in a storm. His eyes glowed faintly with a violet sheen—a sign that his foresight had already kicked in.

"I know where he is," Aiden answered, voice steady over the windless rush. "But this specific incident? No. That's all new to me. Fill me in."

Steve nodded, always grateful when things could be direct. "The last time Natasha went looking for the Berserker Staff, she failed. It fell into your hands. She reported it, of course. Fury wasn't exactly thrilled—but even he knows better than to try prying anything out of your grip."

Aiden smirked. "That's why he is the greatest spy in the world."

"But that's not the real issue. If the staff made its way back to Earth… it likely wasn't alone. Which means there are Asgardians here. Or something close."

"Ah… classic Fury logic. If one ancient relic shows up, check for the rest of the museum."

Steve cracked a smile. "Pretty much."

Aiden's expression sharpened, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly as his focus narrowed. "So where do I come in?"

Steve's smile faded. "We don't know who Elliott Randolph really is—not fully. And we sure didn't expect what happened next. Natasha, Clint, and I were dispatched to track him. Just intel gathering. But…"

"But something went sideways," Aiden guessed, folding his arms mid-flight.

"Exactly. We arrived at his door just as he'd forged something—two blades. They were... wrong. Raw. Alive. The moment we entered, he panicked and grabbed them. They aren't on the same level as the Berserker Staff, but they're not something a normal person should be touching either."

Aiden's brows arched. "Elliott's not normal."

"No," Steve agreed. "But even he wasn't prepared for this. He can handle rage—that's part of the Berserker's legacy. But these knives… they feed on fear. And Elliott's drowning in it."

Aiden tilted his head as he was the one who commissioned them to be built and provided the raw materials for it.. "Interesting twist. What's Natasha doing now?"

"She went to talk to someone. She didn't say who. Clint's evacuating civilians. She told me to come get you."

"Really?" Aiden grinned knowingly. "If this was that urgent, wouldn't it make more sense to send her? She's better at persuasion than you are, Steve."

The Captain hesitated. "It was her idea. Said once you heard what's happening, you'd help."

Aiden's grin deepened. So that's how it is…

'Mm…It seems it's because of Daisy so she sent Steve instead of coming herself' Aiden smiled and contemplated.

"Mm, figures. She probably figured if you came instead of her, I wouldn't get distracted," Aiden muttered. "You do have that whole 'noble boy scout' vibe."

"You're mocking me again, aren't you?"

"Only a little," Aiden said. "But don't worry, Steve. I like you. You're too honest to play the long game. Refreshing."

Steve gave a low grunt of amusement. "You gonna keep monologuing, or are we getting to Seville anytime soon?"

"Right… hang on."

They pierced the edge of the stratosphere before arcing down like twin meteorites. The city of Seville stretched below them—elegant, ancient, and now teetering on the edge of panic.

Even before they touched the ground, the signs of chaos were clear. Riot police, barricades, black-suited SHIELD agents and local law enforcement forming perimeters. Civilians being guided—or dragged—away. And at the center of it all: a pulse of fear that warped the very air, as if reality itself were recoiling.

Aiden inhaled deeply. "Ah… now this is more like it."

Steve shot him a glance. "You call this 'not bad'?"

"It's not affecting the whole city. That means the source is still controlled—barely—and that means the knives haven't fully awakened. That's… promising."

"You're disturbingly cheerful right now."

Aiden shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be? I collect magical weapons, Steve. And these? They're calling to me."

"Please don't say that like it's romantic," Steve muttered.

"Too late."

They descended slowly now, the speed gone, landing with a light thud near a cordoned-off street. As soon as their boots hit the asphalt, a voice called out behind them.

"About time."

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent jogged over with urgency in his stride, sweat glistening at his brow as he tapped furiously on the tablet in his hands. He wore tactical gear, a combat-ready uniform reinforced with Kevlar plating. The faint SHIELD emblem glinted on his shoulder under the fading sun.

Behind him, a figure in a dark combat suit emerged, instantly recognizable by the quiver full of high-tech arrows on his back and the sleek bow in his hand—Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye. He moved with the quiet assurance of someone who had been through wars both public and classified.

"You're finally here," Clint said, voice low as he nodded toward the smoking skyline of Seville. "The city's been evacuated. Took everything we had, but they're safe. Problem is, that guy—he's only getting stronger."

Aiden stood silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, sensing the waves of chaotic fear energy washing over the area. His gaze shifted to the shattered city blocks in the distance. Clint followed it.

"You've been here before?" Clint asked, brow raised.

Aiden didn't respond. A low hum filled the air as the distant sound of turbines neared. The Quinjet, elegant in its sleek design, swept down and hovered for a moment before descending. The back ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics.

And there she was.

Natasha Romanoff walked out like a vision against smoke and concrete, her red hair catching the wind, eyes fixed on Aiden. The corner of her lips curled into a smile, one soft and genuine—reserved only for him.

"I've contacted Tony," she said. "He should be here soon."

"You saw him?" Aiden asked, voice casual but warm.

Natasha shook her head, stepping closer until she could almost touch him. "No. Just called. You know me—I'd rather keep my distance from that thing," she said with a faint chuckle, motioning to the chaos brewing in the city. "It's feeding off fear in there… it's not something I want getting under my skin again."

Aiden gave a knowing nod. The last time Natasha had come into contact with the Berserker staff, she'd fought off the madness like a true warrior, but the emotional fallout had left scars no training could cover. She didn't say it, but he could see it in her—she was afraid.

"Hey…" he said softly, stepping close and brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingertips trailing along her cheek. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you, right?"

Natasha smiled, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "Aiden… are you sure you can handle this?"

Aiden's eyes held hers. "Since you're the one who invited me, wouldn't it be unfair if you didn't believe in me, just a little?"

"Not unfair," she replied gently, "just… human."

"But don't worry. I think someone's about to show up and create a show that would make you feel a whole lot better."

Natasha blinked. "Who?"

Aiden grinned and raised his hand to the sky.

"Him."

Above, a roaring hum split the clouds as a blazing red-and-gold comet cut through the sky. Stark's latest Iron Man armor dove down at breakneck speed and buzzed over their heads like a missile with personality.

Tony Stark's voice crackled through the comms. "Alright, alright, party people! Let's see what kind of overgrown tantrum we're dealing with!"

Without waiting for orders or support, Tony beelined for Elliott's villa, flying low and fast.

"Tony! Wait, we have a containment plan!" Steve's voice barked over the comm, but Tony was already out of range, blasting through the shattered suburban outskirts.

Aiden sighed and turned back to Natasha. She was close—closer than she needed to be. Her body language was confident, but there was an undeniable softness that hadn't been there before. Her fingers brushed his arm, lingering.

"You really came," she said quietly, eyes searching his. "Not just for the mission."

"I came for you," Aiden admitted. "I couldn't let you face this alone."

Natasha's expression melted. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "To my mission… and my heart."

They locked eyes for a moment too long. Clint coughed nearby, looking away discreetly.

Aiden laughed and wrapped his arm around Natasha's waist, pulling her close. "Let's finish this fast. You still owe me a dance under quieter stars."

"I don't dance," she teased.

"Liar."

Before she could protest, a drake green pushed outward, shielding Clint and Steve. The trio took to the sky, heading straight for Elliott's last known location.

As they soared, Natasha held tightly to Aiden, and for the first time in a long while, she felt safer in someone's arms than in any fortress.

---

The villa was unrecognizable. What once was a luxurious estate now lay in twisted ruins. The structure had collapsed inward as if something massive had exploded from the inside. And there, in the epicenter, stood Elliott.

He was enormous. His form towered over them, easily three to four times larger than before. The tatters of his clothing hung loosely from a body rippling with muscle and rage. His skin pulsed faintly, like veins under pressure.

In his left hand, a shimmering silver-white blade—a curved dagger—drew in ambient energy, darkening visibly as it fed off fear. The one in his right was pitch black, leaking malevolent intent with every twitch.

One knife absorbed, the other released.

From the sky came a sudden burst of repulsor energy—Tony Stark.

"Hey, did I interrupt your villain origin monologue?" he quipped, hovering above. "Sorry, I've got a beauty waiting, and I hate to keep her on hold."

Twin shoulder-mounted missiles fired without hesitation. They streaked toward Elliott and exploded in twin bursts of fire and pressure.

BOOM! BOOM!

Smoke filled the air.

Tony lowered slightly. "Huh. That it? That's the scary guy? Honestly, I expected more."

He turned, nonchalantly beginning his ascent. "Guess I'll head back to—"

A howl split the air, more animal than human.

Tony barely had time to scream as a massive, obsidian blade came crashing up from the dust.

Aiden landed beside Natasha and Clint, eyes narrowing.

"This isn't just rage," Captain muttered. "Something else… something ancient is inside those knives."

Natasha stepped closer to him again, fingers brushing his. "Then let's put it to rest. Together."

Aiden glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Together, Natasha."