Marvel: The Journey

As the year 1951 dawned, a sense of unease lingered in the air, especially in an undisclosed location, where a special prison cell was being closely monitored. Two guards, armed and alert, approached the heavy gates with a sense of trepidation. 

With a creaking of metal and a jangling of keys, the guards slowly opened the gates, their hands ready on their weapons. As they stepped inside, the air was thick with tension. The cell was in darkness, but the guards' flashlights revealed a chilling sight. Every inch of the walls was covered with a scrawled message - "He is coming!!"

One of them leaned in close to the other's ear, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are we here for this guy?" he asked. "Isn't he the one who was purposefully left alive by The Phantom Reaper while Fennhoff was killed?"

The other guard's response was equally hushed. "The higher-ups saw the footage of what happened that night," he said. "It gave my friend nightmares."

The first guard shivered at the thought, his skin prickling with unease. "All I know is that Fennhoff was brutally incapacitated while The Phantom Reaper did something to Zola," he said, his eyes flickering over the maniacal writings on the walls. "And Zola hasn't recovered from whatever had been done to him."

The second guard shook his head, his expression grim. "Let's just get it over with, man," he said. "I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

The guards' flashlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the cramped cell and revealing the horrifying truth. In a corner of the room, they found Zola curled up in a fetal position on the cold concrete floor, muttering incessantly to himself.

The guards shared a glance, their expressions reflecting the shock and revulsion they felt at the sight before them. This was no ordinary prisoner. Zola had been through something truly traumatic, and the evidence was clear in his haggard appearance and haunted expression.

As they approached him, Zola's muttering grew louder, and they strained to make out the words. It was a jumble of nonsensical phrases, interspersed with the occasional scream of terror. 

As they drew closer, one of the guards nudged the other forward, silently urging him to take the lead. The second guard hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stepping forward and squatting down next to Zola.

"Dr. Arnim Zola," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You have been granted release from this facility." The guard paused for a moment before continuing, his tone taking on a more official note. "You are being recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D. as part of Operation Paperclip."

The tension in the cell was palpable as Zola remained unresponsive to the guard's words. Both guards exchanged a worried glance, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, without warning, Zola lashed out, biting down on the guard's hand like a wild animal. The guard screamed in agony, trying desperately to pull away from Zola's grip.

The other guard sprang into action, his training kicking in as he drew his weapon and aimed it at Zola. "Stand down!" he shouted, his voice ringing out in the small, cramped cell. "We don't have to do this, Dr. Arnim Zola!"

Zola seemed to be in a state of complete and utter hysteria, his mind consumed by some unseen terror. Ignoring the pleas of the guards, he continued to chew on the flesh of the guard he had bitten, his teeth sinking deeper and deeper into the man's skin.

Suddenly, he threw back his head and let out an ear-splitting scream, his eyes bulging with terror. "He is coming!" he shouted, his voice rising to a fever pitch. The guards exchanged a worried glance, unsure of what Zola was talking about. But as they looked into his eyes, they saw something that made their blood run cold.

There was a madness in Zola's eyes, a dark and twisted force that seemed to be taking over his mind. It was clear that he was not in control of his own actions, that he was being driven by something beyond his comprehension. 

...

In the bustling city of London, amidst the industrial hub of the pier, Val found himself in a precarious situation. He was in the midst of dodging bullets fired by a group of ruthless gangsters. Donning a dark blue costume, far different from his usual attire as The Phantom Reaper, Val sought cover from the hail of gunfire.

As Val crouched behind a large object, his eyes darted around for something he could use as a weapon. His gaze fell upon a massive metal pole lying beside him. Without hesitation, he grabbed hold of it and with all his might, hurled it towards the gangsters.

* BANG *

Val cautiously peeked over the cover to see the effects of his attack. He watched as the men who had been firing at him were now writhing in agony, screaming out in pain.

Summoning all his strength, Val sprang from behind his cover and charged towards the gangsters. In a swift and agile movement, he leaped into the air, landing squarely on the faces of his attackers with both feet.

* CRACK * 

* CRUNCH * 

The sound of crushing bones echoed throughout the warehouse as Val delivered a fatal blow to his assailants. Without mercy, he swiftly eliminated the remaining criminals who dared to stand in his way.

As the final echoes of the battle faded away, Val took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings. The warehouse now lay silent, devoid of any sign of the ruthless gangsters who had been in it earlier. Satisfied, he ran out of the warehouse.

When Val emerged from the warehouse, he caught sight of a scene that made his blood boil. Captain Carter was locked in a fierce battle with a massive behemoth of a man. The bulky figure towered over Carter, measuring a monstrous 7'4" in height.

Val knew he couldn't stand idle. With a determined expression on his face, he rushed towards the duo, ready to lend a hand and put an end to the towering foe.

He reached into his crafted utility belt and withdrew a new and improved version of his Nitramene bomb. Dubbed the Disorientation Bomb, it was a formidable weapon that he had created through countless hours of experimentation and refinement a few years ago.

Val hurled the Disorientation Bomb towards the behemoth, knowing full well the destructive power it held. The bomb sailed through the air, leaving behind a trail of smoke, until it landed with a resounding thud at the feet of the colossal figure.

Captain Carter spotted the incoming bomb hurtling towards the towering man. She swiftly backed away from the epicenter of the blast and raised her shield, bracing for impact.

* BOOM *

Despite her defensive measures, the explosion was a force to be reckoned with. However, as the dust began to settle, Captain Carter emerged unscathed, shield still raised high.

As for the behemoth, he was clearly affected by the explosion. His movements became sluggish and unsteady, as if he were walking through a thick molasses. 

As the behemoth stumbled and struggled to regain his bearings, Captain Carter seized the opportunity to strike. She threw her shield, aiming for the towering figure's face.

* SWOOSH *

The shield sailed through the air, its edges gleaming in the light. The behemoth, still disoriented from the earlier explosion, was caught off guard and couldn't react in time. The shield struck him squarely in the face.

* BANG * 

Blood began to flow freely from a deep gash on the behemoth's face, a testament to the immense force behind the blow. Despite the injury, however, the towering figure still stood tall, refusing to fall to his knees.

Val's eyes darted towards Captain Carter as the behemoth stumbled from her strike, buying him just enough time to catch her thrown shield. With a deft motion, he spun around and launched it towards the towering figure once again.

* BANG * 

The sound of metal striking flesh reverberated as the shield struck the man's face again but this time, the behemoth had no chance to stay on his feet, as the blow knocked him unconscious and sent him crashing to the ground.

With a graceful motion, Captain Carter caught her shield and cast a quick glance towards Val, who had just delivered the final blow to their formidable opponent. "I told you, I didn't need any help," she quipped, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips and strode confidently towards the monstrous man.

Val chuckled in response, shaking his head in amusement. "I know, I know," he said, his voice laced with wry humor. "But sometimes, even heroes need to stretch their legs a bit. Sitting in a lab all day can make your bones stiff."

While Captain Carter rifled through the pockets of their fallen foe, Val turned to leave however, Captain Carter called out to him. "Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Yes," Val said. "I'm heading to Europe."

Captain Carter nodded. "Good luck on your journey," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And take care."

Val returned the smile and waved goodbye to her as he turned to walk away from the warehouse.