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Seph revved his bike again, the roar echoing through the now-empty perimeter of the camp. But the core of the compound was far from silent. More guards were pouring in from the barracks, their shouts blending with the metallic clinking of loaded rifles.
Floodlights swiveled frantically, casting long, flickering shadows across the sand.
Seph adjusted his gloves as he rode forward, his smile widening. "You're bringing guns to my fight? How thoughtful."
The first shot rang out, sharp and thunderous. Seph leaned hard to his left, the bullet whizzing past his shoulder. From his perspective, it moved in slow motion, carving a lazy arc through the air. Without missing a beat, he spun the bike into a controlled slide, kicking up sand as he reached for his belt.
A sleek, custom handgun appeared in his grip.
"Let's even the odds," Seph muttered, squeezing the trigger.
The gun's recoil was barely noticeable as Seph fired with pinpoint accuracy. The first guard went down, clutching his thigh as he collapsed behind a sandbag barricade. A second ducked behind a crate, but Seph anticipated the move. A quick burst sent the man's rifle skittering out of his hands.
More bullets rained down, but Seph rode straight into the chaos, weaving through the onslaught like a phantom. The world around him slowed to a crawl, his heightened senses allowing him to predict every shot, every movement.
A guard appeared on a nearby ledge, aiming an automatic rifle. Seph's eyes flicked upward, his mind calculating the trajectory of the shots before they were even fired.
"Rookie mistake," He said, holstering his gun and accelerating.
The bike roared as Seph launched off a low ramp of crates, flying through the air toward the ledge. Time seemed to stop entirely as he twisted his body mid-jump, grabbing the rifle from the stunned guard.
"Thanks, pal," Seph said, shoving the man off the ledge with a well-placed kick.
As he landed, the stolen rifle came to life in his hands. Seph unleashed a controlled burst of fire, forcing the next wave of guards to dive for cover.
The moment his bike skidded to a halt, Seph abandoned it, diving into a sprint. The camp was a maze of crates, tents, and steel barriers, but to Seph, it was a playground.
Two guards rounded a corner, guns blazing. Seph vaulted onto a stack of crates, the bullets tearing through the air below him. As he flipped forward, his rifle barked twice. Both men dropped before they could fire again.
"Come on, guys," Seph called out, landing with a roll. "You're making this too easy!"
A trio of guards set up a makeshift firing line near the central barracks, their automatic weapons trained on him.
Seph darted to the side, sprinting along the wall of a nearby tent. His boots found purchase on the fabric, propelling him upward as he ran horizontally.
Bullets ripped through the tent below him, but Seph stayed ahead of the chaos.
At the end of his wall run, he pushed off with a powerful leap, twisting midair and firing as he descended. The guards' formation crumbled, two of them dropping instantly while the third scrambled for cover.
Seph landed directly in front of the last man, disarming him with a sharp twist of the rifle.
"You should've stayed home," Seph said, delivering a spinning kick that sent the guard sprawling.
As the dust settled momentarily, a sudden clanging noise caught Seph's attention. He turned to see a group of reinforcements charging out of a nearby storage area. They were better equipped than the first wave—body armor, helmets, and riot shields.
"Finally," Seph said, tossing the empty rifle aside. "Let's make this interesting."
The shield bearers advanced in a tight formation, their guns poking through the narrow gaps. Seph darted forward, zigzagging to avoid their fire. When he was close enough, he dropped low, sliding under the nearest shield.
The guard behind it barely had time to react before Seph grabbed his leg, yanking him off balance. The man fell hard, his shield clattering to the ground. Seph used it as a springboard, flipping over the next guard in line.
As he landed, Seph grabbed the second man's arm, twisting it behind his back. The guard cried out as Seph used him as a human shield, absorbing a volley of bullets from the others.
"Thanks for the assist," Seph said, shoving the guard into his comrades.
With the formation broken, Seph moved like a whirlwind. He disarmed one guard with a series of rapid strikes, then spun to catch another's wrist, redirecting his aim. The shot took out a nearby floodlight, plunging part of the camp into shadow.
"Whoops," Seph said, smirking. "Looks like someone forgot to pay the electric bill."
The last shield-bearer lunged at Seph, swinging his weapon like a club. Seph ducked, grabbing the edge of the shield and using it as leverage to flip over the man's head.
As he landed, he delivered a bone-crunching kick to the back of the guard's knee, bringing him down. Seph grabbed the shield and hurled it like a frisbee, knocking out the final assailant.
The camp was eerily quiet now, save for the distant crackle of fires and the groans of injured guards. Seph stood in the center of the chaos, his breathing steady as he surveyed the scene.
"Anyone else?" He called out, spinning the handgun he'd reclaimed off a fallen enemy. "No? Good. I was starting to run out of jokes."
Just as he turned toward the central barracks, a new sound filled the air—the low, mechanical whine of a minigun spinning up.
Seph's head snapped toward the source. A pickup truck roared into the clearing, its mounted turret manned by a grim-faced soldier.
"Oh, come on," Seph groaned, diving behind a stack of crates as the minigun unleashed a torrent of bullets.
The crates splintered under the assault, wood chips flying in every direction. Seph crouched low, his mind racing.
"Alright," He muttered, checking his ammo. "Time for a little creative problem-solving."
He sprinted toward the nearest tent, bullets tearing through the fabric just inches behind him. Inside, he found what he was looking for: a stack of propane tanks.
Seph's grin returned. "Perfect."
He grabbed a tank, hoisting it onto his shoulder as he darted back outside. Timing his movements perfectly, he hurled the tank toward the truck.
The driver's eyes widened as the metal cylinder clanged against the hood.
Seph's gun barked once, the bullet striking the tank dead center. The resulting explosion was deafening, a fiery plume engulfing the vehicle and sending the turret operator flying.
As the smoke cleared, Seph walked forward, twirling his handgun idly.
"And that," He said, holstering the weapon, "is why you don't mess with a guy who has a knack for timing."
The camp was in ruins now, most of the guards either unconscious, fleeing, or buried under debris. Seph made his way to the central cage, his pace unhurried.
Inside, Tony Stark was busy making his own preparations, his already covered with metal pieces of the suit.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up, his eyes widening slightly.
"Who the hell are you?" Stark demanded.
Seph leaned against the cage, flashing his trademark grin. "Just the guy who's going to make sure you get out of here alive. Let's go, genius—time's wasting."
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