The Multiverse Hunter

"I'm waiting for my husband right now."

Natasha's words were smooth, casual-but Ali could see it in her green eyes. A flicker of something... unexpected

Surprise.

The master spy had seen many things, had met many men, but she had not expected him.

Ali casually pulled back his black hood, revealing his face fully.

Natasha was a trained assassin, an expert in body language, deception, and control, yet-just for a brief second-she was visibly flustered.

Ali smirked.

She liked what she saw.

His sharp jawline, his perfectly sculpted features, the slight edge of mischief in his dark eyes—it was enough to make even the legendary Black Widow momentarily distracted.

"Your husband doesn't let you have friends?" Ali asked, his voice carrying a teasing edge.

Natasha took a slow sip of her coffee, regaining her composure.

"You want to be my friend?"

She turned her seat, now fully facing him. The subtle movement spoke volumes.

Most people-even spies-were defensive when approached by a stranger. But Natasha? She leaned in.

She's interested

BURN.

Ali's mark ignited on his wrist.

His expression didn't change, but inwardly, his mind sharpened.

'Is it her?'

He ignored the searing pain, masking it with a relaxed smile.

"What's your name?" Ali asked, shifting slightly closer.

"Jennifer," Natasha answered smoothly, playing the part.

"Nice to meet you, Jennifer." Ali grinned, his deep black eyes meeting hers.

"I'm Ali. Are you having a busy day, or do you have some time for me?"

His voice was low, confident-the kind that made women lean in without realising it.

Natasha watched as Ali lifted his arms, making space for the large tray of doughnuts and two oversized hot chocolates that the café owner placed in front of him.

Her lips twitched in amusement.

"That's a lot of sugar."

Ali grabbed one of the glazed doughnuts, biting into it with zero hesitation, finishing half of it in a single bite.

"My body burns a lot of calories."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to eat something healthier?"

Ali didn't stop chewing. "Doesn't matter as long as it's dense in calories." He swallowed.

"Besides, I have a sweet tooth. I'll always go for dessert."

His eyes flickered toward her hands.

Most wouldn't notice it, but Ali wasn't most people.

Even hidden under perfect skin, her knuckles told a story.

They were worn, subtly deformed-the kind of damage that came from years of punching things hard enough to break them.

'She's a fighter'

The booklet had mentioned that the Avengers consisted of seven members.

Ali's gaze darkened slightly.

'Could she be one of them?'

"What do you do for work, Ali?" Natasha asked, tilting her head slightly.

"You look like you take care of yourself. Maybe a football player?"

Ali chuckled, licking some sugar from his fingers.

"I fight. Mixed martial arts."

Natasha feigned surprise, her acting flawless. "Really?"

Ali smirked, finishing his hot chocolate. "And what about you? What does a pretty girl like you do?"

His voice was flirtatious, but his eyes were studying her.

Natasha didn't hesitate. "I'm a teacher."

Ali tilted his head. "A teacher that fights?"

She took another slow sip of her coffee. "How'd you know?"

Ali tapped his own knuckles against the table. "Yours are damaged. That means fighting."

Natasha set her cup down.

"I do a little boxing to stay fit."

Ali smirked, "It shows….", Ali's eyes showing his meaning to Natasha.

CLACK.

The café door swung open.

Ali finished his last doughnut, not bothering to look at the newcomer-until he felt it.

The atmosphere shifted.

Natasha's posture changed.

Her fingers twitched slightly, a movement su small that only a trained killer would notice it.

Ali casually leaned back in his chair, watching as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a simple blue shirt and jeans walked in.

A cap covered most of his face, but even with minimal effort, Ali could see the chiseled jawline, the piercing blue eyes, and the undeniable air of authority.

"Darling."

Natasha smiled and raised her hand.

Ali watched in amusement as the man hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking over.

Natasha wrapped her arm around his, holding him close.

Ali smirked.

'So that's your husband, huh?'

He knew who it was before the man even spoke.

The way he walked, the controlled strength in his movements-it was all too obvious.

Captain America.

Natasha turned to Ali. "It was nice meeting you, but we have somewhere to be."

She started to pull Cap toward the exit—But Ali wasn't letting them go that easily.

He leaned back, casually stretching his arms, before looking directly at the super soldier.

"Wait a second."

Natasha froze for a second, her fingers tightening around Cap's arm.

Ali tilted his head, his smirk widening.

"What's your wife's name?"

Captain America's blue eyes locked onto Ali's.

For a moment, the entire café felt tense.

Then-Cap answered. "Jennifer."

Ali chuckled.

He had his answer.

Natasha tugged on Cap's arm, pulling him toward the exit.

Ali watched them go, a smirk still playing on his lips.

'Damn. I was really looking forward to fucking her...'

His black eyes flicked downward, toward his burning mark.

The pain intensified.

Not just from Natasha-but from Cap.

Ali's smirk widened.

'Two prey. Perfect.'

Outside, Natasha and Cap walked hand in hand, blending into the crowd.

Cap's jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. "Who was he?"

Natasha's voice was low. "I don't know. He calls himself Ali. I already told Fury to check him out. He's different."

Cap exhaled. "He's strong. Very strong."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

"I've never heard you say that about someone you just met."

Cap's blue eyes darkened. "I felt it the moment I looked at him."

Just then—

A sudden gust of wind swept through the street.

Natasha's hair lifted, swaying in the air for just a second before settling.

Her spy instincts immediately went on alert.

She turned sharply-scanning the area.

Nothing.

No one.

It was just wind.

But something felt off.

Ali, now several blocks away, grinned to himself.

"Marked."

His second mark ignited.

'Just because I have two new prey doesn't mean I'm giving up my first hunt...'

Inside a dimly lit apartment somewhere in New York, the stench of blood and rot clung to the air like an invisible curse.

The walls, once a dull beige, were splattered with crimson, the floorboards sticky with congealed blood.

A set of bloody footprints led from the living room, winding their way toward the bathroom-where a horrific ritual was about to reach its climax.

Standing at the edge of the bathtub, a twisted figure observed her work.

The Witch.

Her withered, violet-stained hand hovered over the tub, where a young man's corpse lay mutilated and submerged in murky red water. His skin, once pale, had taken on a grayish tint, his limbs twisted in unnatural angles, as if he had been toyed with before being discarded.

The Witch's black lips parted, and she began to chant in a language not meant for human ears.

Dark magic seeped into the water.

The scarlet hue began to shift, swirling violently as the liquid thickened, turning into a deep, poisonous purple. The young man's lifeless body began to sink, pulled downward into the viscous abyss, as if the tub itself hungered for flesh.

The Witch's wrinkled fingers twitched, and the water boiled.

BUBBLE. POP. CRACK.

The grotesque sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing filled the small bathroom.

Something inside the tub was changing.

Something was being reborn.

For ten long minutes, the Witch continued her incantation, her veins darkening as the spell drained the last remnants of her Spirit.

Finally, she exhaled and withdrew her now even more shrivelled hand from the cursed waters.

The bathroom fell silent.

Then—

CREAK. CREAK.

The thick purple liquid rippled violently before two monstrous figures emerged slowly from the depths.

Neither were human.

Two purple-skinned goblins, each standing half the size of the original corpse, now stood in the filthy tub. Their elongated faces, filled with jagged teeth, dripped with a caustic purple slime that burned the air itself.

Their long, clawed fingers twitched as they adjusted to their new forms.

GROWL.

They bared their needle-like fangs, their yellow eyes gleaming with feral hunger as they turned toward their creator.

The Witch let out a shaky breath, exhaustion weighing heavily on her frail, wrinkled form.

But she wasn't afraid.

She lifted her remaining hand, fingers curled as if grasping invisible strings-and the goblins froze instantly, their movements halting like puppets awaiting their master's command.

Satisfied, she lowered her trembling fingers into the thick, swirling liquid that still filled the tub.

The dark magic stirred once more, shifting and twisting until—A distorted image flickered across the surface.

A figure clad in black, walking calmly through the streets of Queens.

Ali.

The goblins' snarling expressions shifted, their pointed noses twitching as they sniffed the image, inhaling the scent of their target.

They didn't just see him.

The goblins' snarling expressions shifted, their pointed noses twitching as they sniffed the image, inhaling the scent of their target.

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