Marvel System In The Boys

The walls of the safehouse pressed in on them, the silence too heavy, too thick. A single lamp cast a sickly glow over the room, flickering intermittently as if even it were unsure whether to stay on. Valerie leaned against the far wall, cradling her side where she'd taken a hit during the ambush. Her normally steady gaze faltered, flickering over the destruction they had narrowly escaped.

The MC, his hands still tingling with the fading remnants of power, paced the length of the small room. Every so often, his muscles would twitch involuntarily, betraying the toll the electricity took on his body. But it wasn't the physical pain that gnawed at him.

It was the doubt. The overwhelming feeling that they were fighting a battle that was already lost.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, punctuated by the soft crackle of residual static dancing along his fingertips. The MC had been pushing his abilities harder and harder, each time reaching new heights, but there was always a cost. Every time he let the power surge through him, he could feel something slipping—control, maybe, or worse, himself. How much longer could he ride this wave before it consumed him?

"Valerie," he said, breaking the silence. His voice was gravelly, raw. "What if we're not cut out for this?"

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a breath, long and slow. "We're alive, aren't we?" she replied, but there was a bitterness to her tone that hadn't been there before.

"Barely."

Her eyes opened, locking onto him. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I didn't expect a trap? That I didn't think Vought could still be ten steps ahead of us? I know what you're thinking—that this was my fault."

He stopped pacing, the tension in his body coiling tighter. He didn't want to blame her. Not really. But the sting of their failure was too fresh, too raw. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Valerie's voice was low, a dark current running beneath her words. "I know how this goes. We were outplayed, and we got sloppy. That's on both of us."

She shifted, straightening herself up despite the pain in her side. It was rare to see Valerie show any vulnerability, let alone admit to making a mistake. She was sharp, calculating, always three moves ahead. But this time, Vought had played them perfectly. And that realization hit harder than any physical wound.

The MC let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to argue, to push back against the gnawing feeling in his gut. But the truth was undeniable. They were in over their heads, and every move they made seemed to dig them deeper into the labyrinth of deception that Vought had constructed.

Valerie pushed off the wall, moving gingerly toward the window. She peered through the blinds, scanning the darkened street outside. "You ever wonder," she asked, her voice softer now, "if this whole thing is just one big game to them? Like we're all just pieces on a board, and no matter what move we make, they've already calculated how it ends?"

The MC frowned. "That's pretty bleak, even for you."

She turned, leaning against the windowsill, her arms crossed. "Bleak? Sure. But I'm not wrong, am I? Vought's been playing this game for decades. Maybe longer. They've manipulated governments, created gods, controlled the narrative. You think we're the first ones to try and take them down?"

"I don't care if we're the first or the hundredth. We're not backing down."

"Yeah? And how long before we're the ones lying in a shallow grave because we miscalculated?"

He clenched his fists, feeling the faint hum of power coil beneath his skin. "We're not done yet."

"Maybe not. But don't kid yourself. We're not invincible." Valerie's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, a simmering frustration that hadn't been there before. "And we sure as hell aren't the only ones fighting this war."

He paused, the weight of her words settling in. She was right. Vought wasn't just a corporation. It was a hydra—cut off one head, and two more grew in its place. The more they fought, the more they realized how deep the rabbit hole went.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Valerie's eyes softened, just for a moment. "We need to be smarter. More careful. There's too much at stake for us to make any more mistakes."

The MC nodded, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the ambush over and over. The look in the eyes of the attackers, the way they moved, the precision of their strike—it was all too perfect. Too clean.

"Do you think it's possible…" he started, hesitating. "That there's someone on the inside? Feeding Vought our every move?"

Valerie's gaze sharpened, and the room seemed to grow colder. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know," he said, running a hand over his face. "It just feels like… they knew. About the warehouse. About everything."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Valerie's jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with something the MC couldn't quite place. Doubt? Guilt?

"They've got eyes everywhere," she said finally, her voice hard. "Vought's reach is deeper than we ever imagined. But if you're suggesting that one of us is a traitor…"

"I'm not accusing anyone," he said quickly. "But we can't ignore the possibility."

Valerie's silence was deafening.

---

The phone rang—its shrill tone slicing through the tension that hung in the room. Valerie shot the MC a glance, her expression unreadable, before picking it up. The voice on the other end was distorted, filtered through layers of encryption that kept Crane's identity safe.

"Jesus Christ, you two. I almost thought you were done for." Crane's voice crackled through the line, but there was no relief in it, only a simmering panic. "You got out, right? Tell me you got out."

Valerie leaned against the table, the phone pressed to her ear. "We're fine, Crane. Barely."

There was a pause, followed by a bitter laugh. "Fine? Yeah, sure. Fine. You just walked into the biggest setup since... Hell, I don't even know. Vought's got you in their crosshairs, and now they know you're coming after them."

Valerie's knuckles whitened around the phone. "We know that, Crane. What I want to know is how they knew about the warehouse. That was supposed to be a covert op. No leaks, no trails. So how the hell did they know?"

Crane's voice dropped, his tone suddenly conspiratorial. "That's the thing, Val. I think… I think someone's been feeding them intel. Someone close."

The MC's gaze shot to Valerie, who stood unnaturally still, her jaw clenched. "How close?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know," Crane admitted. "But I've been hearing whispers. Someone's been selling secrets. Hell, for all we know, the leak could be the one orchestrating the whole damn thing. Playing us like marionettes."

Valerie gritted her teeth, her hand tightening around the phone. "And you're just telling us this now?"

Crane's nervous laugh echoed through the room. "You think I like being the bearer of bad news? Look, I've got a lead—a safehouse. Old, barely operational, but the leak's been using it to communicate. Might be our only shot at getting ahead of this."

The MC stepped forward. "And you're sure this isn't another trap?"

"No guarantees," Crane said, his voice grim. "But it's all we've got."

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon by the time they arrived at the coordinates Crane had given them. The neighborhood was quiet—too quiet. Rows of decaying buildings lined the street, their windows shattered, their facades crumbling under the weight of time and neglect.

The safehouse itself was a relic of a bygone era. A squat, concrete structure hidden behind a rusted gate, its windows dark and lifeless. Valerie moved with a predator's grace, her gun drawn, her eyes scanning every shadow.

The MC's nerves were on edge, the air around him practically humming with anticipation. He felt the electricity stir inside him, like a snake uncoiling, waiting to strike.

"This better not be another dead end," Valerie muttered as she picked the lock on the door.

The door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit room filled with the remnants of someone's long-abandoned life. Dust-covered furniture, half-empty shelves, and a thick layer of grime that coated everything in sight. But it wasn't the sight that set the MC on edge—it was the feeling. The air was heavy, almost oppressive, like the walls themselves were watching.

Valerie moved forward, her footsteps careful, deliberate. "If the leak was here, they didn't stay long," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The MC's eyes scanned the dilapidated room as his heart beat faster. It wasn't just the stagnant air or the silence—it was the feeling that they were on the edge of something monumental. Like they were about to uncover a truth that could change everything. He wasn't sure whether that was exhilarating or terrifying.

Valerie, ever the soldier, was already moving to the far side of the room, her fingers trailing over the dusty surfaces, looking for anything that seemed out of place. "Crane said this was where the leak communicated, but…" She let the sentence hang as her sharp eyes darted to the corners of the room. "Nothing. I don't see any tech, any encryption devices. There's no terminal, no logbook—nothing."

The MC walked further in, noticing a faint scent of mildew mingled with the metallic odor of stale blood. His instincts kicked in as he crouched down by the floor. Something wasn't right about the way the dust settled there—it was disturbed, shifted recently. He brushed his hand over it and found a small latch embedded in the floorboards.

"Valerie," he whispered, jerking his head toward it.

She was at his side in a second, her hands moving faster than his as she tugged at the latch, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a single black notebook, worn at the edges, with its cover bent and creased. Valerie's brow furrowed as she carefully lifted it out.

"Looks like someone's been keeping their secrets old school," she said, flipping it open.

The pages were filled with scrawled notes, sketches, and coded symbols that neither of them immediately recognized. The handwriting was jagged and uneven, as though the writer had been in a rush—or desperate.

"What is this?" the MC muttered, leaning in closer.

Valerie scanned the first few pages, her face hardening. "It's a log… but it's not just communications. It's a diary, a detailed account of someone's involvement in Vought. Every move. Every plan. And…" She stopped, her eyes narrowing on a particular entry. "There's something here about us."

The MC's heart skipped a beat as he leaned over her shoulder. Scrawled in harsh black ink were notes on their movements, the warehouse ambush, their contacts. And worse—predictions about their next steps.

"They've been tracking us," the MC said, his voice low and strained. "They know everything."

Valerie slammed the notebook shut, her expression unreadable. "Then the leak isn't just a small-time informant," she said coldly. "They're orchestrating this. And whoever they are, they've been pulling the strings long before we even got involved."

Her words hung in the air, thick with a chilling realization. They weren't just facing a powerful corporation; they were fighting against a ghost who knew their every move before they made it.

"We need to go," Valerie said, her tone suddenly urgent. "If they know we're here, we're not safe. Not anymore."

The MC felt a surge of panic, but before he could respond, the lights in the safehouse flickered. A split second later, the sharp sound of footsteps echoed from outside, followed by the unmistakable hum of a drone overhead.

"Shit," Valerie hissed, tucking the notebook into her jacket. "We're compromised."

Without wasting a second, they bolted toward the back door, their steps quiet but quick, their bodies tense with adrenaline. As they moved, the MC could feel the hum of electricity building beneath his skin again, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. He wanted to lash out, to use it, but Valerie's sharp glance stopped him. They couldn't afford a scene—not here, not now.

They slipped through the alleyways, blending into the shadows, their breaths ragged but controlled. The MC's mind raced, trying to piece together the growing puzzle. The notebook, the ambush, the trap—it all felt too personal. Too targeted.

Just as they thought they were in the clear, a figure stepped into their path. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mask covering half of their face. The MC's heart stopped when the figure raised their hand, revealing a sleek Vought-issued weapon—a prototype of sorts.

"Going somewhere?" the figure asked, their voice smooth, confident.

Valerie's hand was already on her gun, but the MC stepped forward, his eyes locked on the masked figure. He knew that voice. And he knew who was behind that mask before it was even removed.

When the figure pulled off their mask, the MC's stomach twisted with a nauseating mix of anger and disbelief. It was Crane.

"You," the MC breathed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You set us up."

Crane gave a slow, mocking grin. "I'm flattered that you think I'm that smart. But this goes way beyond me. Way beyond any of us."

Valerie's eyes were blazing with fury, her finger twitching on the trigger. "You son of a—"

"Ah, ah," Crane interrupted, holding up the weapon. "Before you go making any rash decisions, I'd like to point out that I'm not here alone."

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. More figures emerged from the darkness—Vought's enforcers, armed and ready. Valerie swore under her breath, but she didn't lower her gun.

"What the hell is this, Crane?" the MC demanded, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. "You've been feeding Vought everything. You're the leak."

Crane chuckled, shaking his head. "I was never on your side, kid. This was always about survival. You think Vought's the enemy? You're thinking too small. The world's bigger than you realize. And right now, you're nothing more than collateral damage."

The MC's vision blurred with anger, the electricity in his veins screaming for release. But before he could make a move, Crane spoke again.

"Here's the thing—you don't have to die here. Not tonight. You and Valerie can walk away, clean slate, if you just hand over the notebook. That's all they want. All Vought needs."

Valerie's grip tightened on the gun, her eyes flickering to the MC. They both knew what was in that notebook. Giving it up would mean surrendering everything they had worked for—every secret, every plan. But if they didn't…

"We don't have a choice," the MC muttered, his voice low, defeated.

Valerie's face hardened, but after a long moment, she slowly lowered her weapon.

Crane's smile widened. "Smart choice."

But as Crane reached for the notebook, the MC acted. Faster than anyone could react, he released a surge of electricity, a sharp, blinding arc that crackled through the air, hitting Crane square in the chest. Crane screamed as his body convulsed, the shock knocking him backward into the wall.

The enforcers reacted immediately, but Valerie was already moving. She grabbed the MC's arm, pulling him into the nearest alleyway as gunfire erupted behind them. The bullets whizzed past them, ricocheting off the walls as they sprinted through the narrow streets.

"Keep moving!" Valerie shouted, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

The MC's heart pounded in his chest as they weaved through the maze of alleys, their bodies moving on instinct alone. He could still feel the hum of power beneath his skin, but it was fading, draining him with every step. He had overextended himself. Again.

Finally, they ducked into an abandoned building, panting heavily as they crouched behind a stack of crates. Outside, the sound of footsteps and shouts grew fainter as their pursuers spread out, searching for them in the darkness.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The MC's mind was racing, the adrenaline still surging through his veins. Crane had been their ally, their insider. But now… he was their enemy. And the game had just changed.

Valerie finally broke the silence, her voice cold and measured. "We can't trust anyone. Not anymore."

The MC nodded, his hands still trembling with residual power. "We need to hit back. Harder. Find out who's pulling Crane's strings."

Valerie's eyes were sharp, dangerous. "Oh, we will. But first, we disappear. Get off Vought's radar. We'll come back stronger. Smarter."

As they caught their breath in the shadows, the MC felt a new fire ignite within him. The betrayal cut deep, but it also gave them something they hadn't had before: clarity.

There was no turning back now.

This was war.

A/N:

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