Become a Homelander and a Marvel superstar

humiliation.

Naked humiliation.

Rumlow's ferocity was unleashed. He's Crossbones, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top operations specialist, not someone easily intimidated.

"Go to hell! You imposter!"

Rumlow roared, pulled a spare military knife from his boot, and charged forward.

He doesn't believe in superstitions.

He's been in close combat for over a decade and has never been afraid of anyone.

The two instantly became entangled in combat.

The wind howled from the punches, and the shadows of the legs flew.

Rumlow delivered a whip kick aimed at his opponent's temple.

The clone didn't dodge; it took the kick head-on, its head snapping to the side. But the next second, in the same posture and at the same angle, it retaliated with a whip kick.

"Bang!"

Rumlow was kicked and sent flying, crashing into the wall.

Rumlow gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet, then delivered another cunning stab to the opponent's ribs.

The clone didn't flinch, letting the blade pierce its body. It gripped Rumlow's wrist, as if sensing his technique.

It twisted its hand behind its back.

"Snap!"

Rumlow's left arm was broken off.

"Aaaaaah!!"

Screams echoed in the safe house.

The next five minutes were the longest nightmare of Rumlow's life.

He used all the knowledge he had acquired in his life.

All the killing moves, all the underhanded tricks, all the tactical maneuvers.

Shooting, explosions, even biting.

But no matter what he does, the other party will perfectly copy it in the next second and return it to him with greater power and faster speed.

The monster is learning from him.

Rumlow was desperate.

His face was covered in blood. He leaned against the corner of the wall, panting heavily, clutching the last high-explosive grenade tightly in his hand.

His eyes were fixed on the replica, and his expression gradually became ferocious.

Until the clone "Rumlow" came up to him.

Without hesitation, he pulled the pin on the grenade.

"Okay, baby, let's go together!"

Boom!!!

The flames engulfed the entire room.

The shockwave from the explosion ripped off the roof, and flames shot skyward.

……

In the raging fire.

A figure slowly walked out.

Most of its bionic skin was burned away, revealing a vibranium skeleton with a cold, eerie luster. Its electronic prosthetic eye gleamed crimson in the flames.

It picked up the nameplate that had survived the explosion from the ground; it was Rumlow's identification tag.

……

"Mission Report: Primarch Brock Rumlow has been defeated."

"Identity spoofing synchronization rate: 100%"

Skynet's report was transmitted to Azu via an encrypted channel.

"Well done. Now, we can update the mission instructions," Azu ordered.

"Instructions confirmed: remain in hiding and, if necessary, protect Alexander Pierce and the core Hydra members."

The red light in Rumlow's eyes, which had been restored to its original state at the Skynet base, faded, leaving behind a pair of brown eyes filled with human emotions.

He stood up, straightened his tactical vest in front of the mirror, and a signature roguish smile appeared on his lips.

"Go get to work now."

"I have a question, Commander," Skynet's voice intervened again.

"According to big data analysis, Hydra is a terrorist organization that will create chaos to achieve its goals. Its core ideology is fundamentally in conflict with Mr. Starr's Vought International system."

"In short, they are your enemies."

"Why not take this opportunity to completely eradicate them? Instead, we're investing resources in their protection?"

Azu smiled.

"Skynet, you may possess the knowledge of all humankind, but you do not understand human nature."

"If a person is hungry, he or she will only have one desire—to be full."

"But once he's full, he'll start thinking about other things."

Azu sneered and changed the subject.

"The same applies."

"If a person is frequently beaten, he will live in fear every day."

"His demands are very low—just don't hit him. He's willing to give you everything as long as you can protect him from being beaten."

"But what if no one hits him?"

"He'll start to become picky."

"He'll complain that your cloak is too dark, that your heat vision is too hot, and that you didn't smile when you were saving people."

"He will begin...to examine his savior."

Azu turned around, opened his arms, as if embracing this flawed world.

"Therefore, the world needs Hydra."

"Only when people tremble at the sound of gunfire in the middle of the night do they yearn for the embrace of their homeland."

"Only when the guns of those three aircraft carriers are pointed at their foreheads will they realize that Vought's bill... is not expensive at all."

……

An abandoned air-raid shelter base.

The air was filled with a damp, musty smell and the odor of rusty metal.

Several people were sitting around a worn-out tactical table.

"This place is awful."

Sam Wilson, also known as Falcon, was holding a compressed biscuit and looking at the mottled walls around him with a look of disgust.

"It's worse than the foxholes I stayed in during my time in Afghanistan. Seriously, with so many safe houses at S.H.I.E.L.D., couldn't we find one with hot water?"

"It's good enough to have a place to stay, newbie."

Natasha Romanov was sitting on the table, wiping her Glock pistol. Her signature red hair was slightly disheveled, but this did not detract from her competence.

"There are no surveillance cameras, no internet-connected devices, and it's even difficult for satellites to detect this place. To us now, this is like a five-star hotel."

Clint Barton, Hawkeye, was crouching in the corner adjusting his bow and arrow.

He didn't say anything, but occasionally glanced up at the doorway.

"Who is he waiting for?" Sam nudged Natasha's arm and asked in a low voice.

"Steve Rogers," Natasha said without looking up, "it seems our Captain America has finally come to his senses."

"You mean Captain Rogers?" Sam's eyes lit up. "Hey, did I tell you? That morning during our run..."

"I've said it about eight hundred times," Natasha interrupted him. "You're on your left, right? We all know that."

"That's a classic moment!" Sam retorted, unconvinced. "That's Captain America! Running as fast as a car!"

Just then.

"Creak—"

The door opened.

Steve Rogers walked in, looking travel-worn, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

"team leader."

Sam was the first to stand up, a fan's smile upon seeing their idol on his face.

"I knew you would come."

Steve looked at Sam and gave him a tired but sincere smile.

"Sam, sorry to have dragged you into this."

"Don't say that," Sam shrugged. "Retirement life is too boring, I'm looking for some excitement."

Steve nodded, his gaze sweeping over Natasha and Clint, and said, "Looks like the Avengers haven't fallen apart yet."

"We'll barely make ends meet," Natasha jumped off the table. "Or maybe I should go with the captain to Walter and try to earn a living?"