BANG-CRUNCH!
The double-reinforced titanium security doors of the central command bridge buckled inward, sparking violently as [Joker’s Anarchy Domain] rotted the electronic magnetic locks from the inside out.
Jack kicked the heavy doors wide open, stepping through the billowing white extinguisher fog with a theatrical spin, his royal-purple velvet coat trailing smoke. On his left, Natasha glided in with dual suppressed pistols raised, her steel-grey eyes cold as ice; on his right, Felicia popped her titanium claws, balancing lightly on her toes.
The bridge was a cathedral of sleek glass consoles, flickering tactical displays, and frozen command officers.
Standing right at the center of the command catwalk, his long black trench coat pristine despite the chaos outside, was Director Nick Fury. Beside him stood Clint Barton—Hawkeye—a high-tech explosive broadhead arrow already drawn taut to his ear, his sharp eyes locked dead-center on Jack’s forehead.
"Stand down, Romanoff," Hawkeye’s voice cut through the hum of the turbines, steady and unyielding. "I’ve got three explosive tips keyed to your cardiac rhythm. You make a move, and this entire bridge goes up."
"Clint's arrow is a micro-thermite pulse," Natasha transmitted instantly through [The Royal Flush Command], her mind interweaving seamlessly with Jack and Felicia's. "If he releases, the blast radius takes out the main computer console."
"Let him shoot, Red," Jack broadcasted back, a wave of dark, electric delight pulsing through the neural link. "I want to see if he can hit a moving reality!"
Jack took two slow, exaggerated steps forward, his handmade leather shoes clicking against the steel grate floor. He held his gold-wrapped microphone in one hand and his stolen diamond lighter in the other.
"Director Fury!" Jack purred, his raspy voice dripping with theatrical affection as his bloodshot eyes burned with a deep, violet-tinted 65.0% Synchronization flare. "Look at you! Standing tall! Eye patch polished, trench coat pressed... you really know how to host a party at thirty thousand feet!"
Fury didn't flinch. His single eye fixed on Jack with the cold, calculated weight of a man who had stared down alien invasions and rogue gods.
"You're out of your depth, clown," Fury said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You humiliated Stark. You pulled off a stunt on Wall Street. But this is a warship. You don't leave this bridge unless I let you."
"Oh, Nick..." Jack shrieked happily, tilting his head until his neck popped loudly. "You think this is a warship?! Take a look outside your window, my dear Director!"
Jack snapped his fingers!
BZZZZZZT-FOOM!
The massive, panoramic glass windshield of the command bridge didn't shatter—instead, [Joker's Anarchy Domain] bled through the glass, turning the dark Atlantic clouds outside into a swirling, neon-purple vortex of floating debris, glowing sparks, and distorted gravity! The Helicarrier's artificial horizon indicators began to spin out of control as the ship's altitude controls glitched wildly!
"CLINT! TAKE THE SHOT!" Fury roared!
Hawkeye released the string!
The thermite arrow cut through the air at four hundred miles an hour—straight for Jack’s throat!
Current Status:
Synchronization Level: 65.0% (Anarchy Domain corrupting the Helicarrier bridge)
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