But to his surprise, Abomination flexed his massive leg muscles, shattering the ice encasing his foot and retaliating with a sweeping backhand. Liam barely managed to dodge, using his spectral dash at the last second. He reappeared several feet away, eyes narrowing as he assessed his opponent.
"You surprise me again, Blonsky..." Liam muttered.
The battle raged on, Liam weaving in and out of the shadows, his wraith abilities allowing him to strike and vanish before Abomination could react. His movements were so swift that neither the beast nor the humans—despite their powerful floodlights—could track him. But even with his superior speed and precision, the monster's resilience was formidable.
Liam darted in close once more, dodging a massive fist before leaping onto Abomination's back. For a fleeting moment, he considered dominating the creature with his wraith abilities—controlling him completely. It was likely possible. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Too many eyes were watching. If people realized their so-called 'Ghost' could manipulate not just monsters but potentially humans as well, panic would ensue. Some abilities were best kept as trump cards.
Instead, with a swift motion, he drove both swords into the sides of Abomination's thick neck. The enchanted blades cut deep through muscle and sinew. Abomination let out a strangled roar, his massive body convulsing before finally collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the battlefield. Liam glanced up and spotted several drones hovering high in the air—public drones, most likely streaming the entire fight. The battle had drawn quite an audience.
Liam pulled his swords free, stashed them into his separate space, and jumped down from the monster's back. As he reached for his phone to inform Tony that his help was no longer needed, a squad of military personnel closed in, rifles aimed directly at him.
"Hands behind your back! You are under arrest for creating this monster and causing casualties and damage in New York City!" a soldier barked, fingers tightening around his trigger.
SHIELD agents, caught off guard by the military's sudden aggression, rushed forward—only to be met with more pointed weapons.
SHIELD too drew their guns in response. The situation was on the verge of spiraling out of control.
"What the hell are you doing? I told you he's a friendly!" Phil Coulson shouted.
"Friendly to SHIELD doesn't mean friendly to the U.S. Military!" the soldier snapped. "He's on U.S. soil, which means he follows our laws. If he's innocent, we'll let him go. But until then, he's under our jurisdiction. Now back off!"
The man removed his mask, revealing a young Black officer. His stance and authority made it clear—he was in command. "This is a direct order from General Ross," he added.
"I don't care who gave the order," Coulson said coldly. "This man is not being arrested under any pretext."
"And what makes you think you can arrest me?" Liam finally spoke, his voice resonating with an eerie, supernatural weight. His words sent a visible shiver through the ranks. Even the most hardened soldiers hesitated, their fingers twitching near the triggers.
"Who gave you the right to speak?" the commander snapped.
"I thought I recognized your voice. Now I know where from. You must be Erik Stevens from the U.S. Navy SEALs." Liam tilted his head slightly
Erik's eyes narrowed. "Do we know each other?" He was clearly unsettled. His real name wasn't widely known—not even among those present. Most knew him only by his call sign.
"No," Liam said casually. "But I know you. Killmonger. Do the U.S. Navy know about your other identity?"
The tension in Erik's body was immediate. His fingers curled into fists, jaw tightening.
"What the hell are you talking about?! Men, arrest him!" Erik ordered, attempting to regain control.
"N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu… It must be hard, growing up in a foreign land, yearning to see the sun set over your true home… Isn't that right?" Liam's tone turned colder, quieter—deadly.
The words hit like a hammer. Erik trembled, his body rigid. His men, previously tense and ready to act, now hesitated, stealing uneasy glances at their commander.
"You motherfu—!" Erik roared, raising his gun.
Liam vanished. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared just feet away. Erik, a skilled soldier with lightning reflexes, fired again—only for Liam to dodge effortlessly.
Before Erik could react further, a powerful hand clamped over his face, lifting him clean off his feet. The pressure was immense, suffocating. Pain shot through his skull as Liam's grip tightened.
Erik struggled, his hands clawing at Liam's wrist. With his free hand, he reached for his sidearm, but Liam effortlessly kicked it away with his knee. The gun skidded across the pavement.
"Don't mistake your position here," Liam said, his voice a guttural whisper that slithered into Erik's very bones. "You are nothing but an insect before me."
Erik's struggling slowed. His breaths grew shallow. The world around him darkened. Then, in an instant, his body went limp. Liam released him, letting him fall unceremoniously to the ground.
A heavy silence followed. No one moved. The military personnel stood frozen, uncertain whether to attack or stand down. SHIELD agents, guns still drawn, exchanged wary glances.
"Wraithborn..." Phil stepped forward, lowering his weapon slightly. "We are agents of SHIELD. You might not have heard of us, but we represent the World Council."
"Wraithborn?" Liam was confused when he was first called that.
"Yes, since we don't know your name, we have designated that name for you. If you want you give us your name and we will call you by that." Phil said. He sighed in relief, because for a moment he thought he would attack him too. He needed to be given a raise for the courage he just pulled.
"No. I like that name. Now connect me to General Ross. I need to talk to him." Liam said.
"Please give us a moment." Phil said as he soon connected to his private phone.