Game in Marvel

Bind- thick, thorned roots erupted from beneath, lashing through the Widows and yanking them into the air. Before they could recover, Liam casted Genesis, embedding jagged shards of stone into their limbs, forcing their muscles to lock up. This attack was used for killing large number of enemies but Liam had controlled the output and brought down multiple Widows with it and just secured them to the ground. 

But then a Widow flipped over the jagged stones, aiming a precise dagger strike toward his exposed neck. Liam shifted instantly—his form melted into a massive wolf, his fur gleaming with streaks of golden light. With a single bound, he dodged the strike, then snapped his jaws around her weapon, shattering it between his teeth. He growled, eyes glowing like a predator's before shifting back to human mid-air.

Sila's power ignited in his hands. With a simple flick of his wrist, he summoned Fusillade—two burning swords circled around him, forming a blazing barrier against the next wave of Widows. The moment they hesitated, he raised his hand and unleashed Firetrap, an explosive trap near some of the Widows that were charging at him that sent them sprawling across the icy floor.

But the rest weren't done yet. By now Liam was sure that these women were in some kind of pheromone control. 

"Alright, let's make this interesting." Liam smirked. 

His Draupnir Spear materialized in his grasp. He spectral dashed in a flash of wraith energy, appearing in their midst before unleashing a rapid whirlwind of spear strikes, reinforced with Atreus' elven agility. The weapon blurred as he struck pressure points with pinpoint accuracy, ensuring each Widow collapsed without fatal injuries. For that reason he used the butt of the spear and also a bit of Bifrost energy. 

Next three widows appeared from behind, their blades seeking his ribs. 

Liam activated Maelstrom. A spiraling surge of water twisted around him, sweeping them off their feet before freezing them solid in a burst of Cluster bolt magic. Before the ice could crack, he pulled back his Draupnir Spear and hurled it through them—the weapon shattered the frozen statues, leaving them unconscious but unharmed.

More were approaching. Liam raised his palm, channeling Heimdall's divine sight. His eyes saw every step they would take, every strike they would attempt. With a thought, he shadow-pulled himself behind the leader of the group, appearing in her blind spot as a wraith-like blur. His spectral hand touched her temple, activating Domination. Of course he didn't want to control her but put these helpless woman to sleep.

There were only 10 left now. But he could see that these women were struggling. They weren't moving to attack him as they intended to. It was as if something in them were stopping them to act. 

"So he hasn't made the pheromone fully functional." Liam said as he pulled his bow and pointed it to the air. The bow lit up in green colored light and after a small bit of wait he shot an arrow into the air high above. What followed next were a rain of arrows that came down fast. It was the Falling sky attack of his new enhanced runic bow. He had given a elvish runic bow to Barton. 

Of course he would have one for himself. A much better one. When he was in the game, he had spent time to memorize the runes needed to make a perfect bow. His new bow could be described as an amalgamation of Aesir - Jotnar bow from the game. The rain of arrows had a blunt edge on them as it made them try to take cover. Liam wanted to neutralize them so he casted Falcon's eve that summoned a bunch of runic eagles that attacked each of the widows. 

Each attack hurt them and by the end of the attack, all of the Widows were neutralized. 

Liam surveyed the battlefield. The dry place was littered with unconscious Widows, their bodies carefully incapacitated but alive. He could hear their soft, labored breaths, proof that he had restrained himself enough to avoid fatal injuries.

His eyes shone in the icy wind as he saw where Dreykov was and thus made a run. Liam moved like a specter.. The path ahead was marked with the aftermath of a fierce battle. Guards lay sprawled across the ground, their bodies riddled with evidence of brutal efficiency.

Natasha had come through here. And she hadn't held back.

He stepped over a downed soldier, his senses flaring as he reached the final room. The heavy doors were already open, the faint glow of overhead lights flickering inside.

Then he heard it. Liam turned the corner and came face to face with Natasha Romanoff—her hands clenched into fists, her entire body shaking in barely contained fury. Her eyes, cold and murderous, were locked onto the man standing before her.

Dreykov.

The man barely reacted to Natasha's presence. His expression was calm, too calm. And standing beside him was a girl—his own daughter, her face pale, her eyes vacant. Liam recognized her the moment he laid eyes upon her. The future Taskmaster.

A knife was pressed against her throat.

Not by Dreykov's hand.

By her own.

Liam's gut twisted. The girl's fingers trembled against the hilt, but the blade remained poised against her flesh. That damned controlling pheromone. Liam wanted to send his spear hurling down at him but he knew that even if was able to do so easily, it might mean the end of this young girl. She wasn't in her right mind and a small move could mean the end of her life. 

His life wasn't important. Her's was. Liam could saw Natasha in her stance, in the way her breath hitched ever so slightly. This wasn't just another mission for her. This was personal.

"You're hesitating, Natasha," Dreykov mused. "Why? Is this not what you wanted?"

"Let her go." Natasha hissed. 

"Why would I? After all she is my own daughter. My own flesh and blood." Dreykov laughed. 

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