After another grueling day at the office, I finally pulled into my driveway, the sun dipping below the horizon casting a warm, orange glow over the neighborhood. I stepped out of my car and stretched, savoring the cool evening breeze on my face. My house, a modest single-story dwelling with a neat lawn and a few flower beds, stood quietly at the end of the cul-de-sac.
As I approached my front door, I noticed something off. The door, though closed, showed signs of tampering. The lock looked slightly off-kilter, and there were faint scratches around the handle. My senses, heightened by the super-soldier serum coursing through my veins, picked up on these details immediately.
"Looks like we have some uninvited guests," I mused, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I slipped my keys into my pocket and pushed the door open, stepping inside as if nothing was amiss.
The house was dark, save for the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. The air was thick with the scent of something unfamiliar—a faint, metallic tang. My heart rate remained steady, a testament to the serum's influence. I closed the door behind me with a soft click.
As I walked further into the house, a voice pierced the silence. "Don't move!" The cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head.
I raised my hands slowly, playing the part of the panicked victim. "Please, don't hurt me! I have money, you can take it all!"
"I don't understand why we were given such a simple task," a voice grumbled from somewhere to my left.
"Yeah, we're agents, not babysitters. Why are we here for a cartoonist?" another voice chimed in, dripping with disdain.
I could hear three distinct voices, in addition to the one behind me. They clearly thought I was an easy mark.
"We don't want your money," the man behind me said, his voice low and menacing. "Someone just wants to ask you some questions."
Before he could finish his sentence, I spun around, my reflexes honed to perfection. I grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to drop the gun. My other hand shot out, delivering a powerful punch to his chin. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
The other three agents stared in shock, their mouths agape. I didn't give them a chance to react. In one fluid motion, I snatched the fallen pistol and hurled it at the nearest agent. The gun struck him square in the forehead, and he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.
The remaining two scrambled to draw their weapons, but I was already moving. My body, enhanced by the serum, blurred with speed. I reached them in an instant, grabbing their wrists and squeezing until I heard the satisfying crunch of bones. They screamed in pain, their guns clattering to the floor.
"Don't move, or I'll blow your heads off," I growled, my voice cold and steady. "Now, who sent you?"
They looked at me, eyes wide with terror. "Who the hell are you?" one of them whispered. "You're just a cartoonist... how are you so powerful?"
"Not talking, huh?" I tightened my grip, eliciting another scream. "If you don't tell me, I'll kill all of you. Trespassing and assault with firearms—I have every right to defend myself."
One of them finally broke. "Do you know about S.H.I.E.L.D.? You can't mess with us! You'd better let us go!"
"S.H.I.E.L.D., huh?" I said, a smile spreading across my face. "Go back and tell your leader that if they want to talk to me, they should be polite and send someone higher up the chain to invite me."
"Can we go?" the other one asked, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Absolutely," I nodded. "But first, leave all your gear. And your clothes. Then run out of here naked."
"What?!" they exclaimed in unison, horror dawning on their faces. "No way!"
"Then I'll have to do it myself," I said, and with a swift blow to each of their heads, they joined their comrades in unconsciousness.
I quickly stripped them of their gear and clothes, tossing the items into a corner. After ensuring they were all securely tied up, I dragged them outside to my car. The night was now fully settled, stars twinkling in the clear sky. I drove them a few blocks away, an area known for its bustling nightlife.
Ten minutes later, I unceremoniously dumped the four naked agents onto the sidewalk, one by one. The streetlights cast harsh shadows over their pale, exposed skin. I hopped back into the car and drove off, leaving them sprawled out in the middle of the street.
It didn't take long for passersby to notice. The agents began to stir, groaning as they regained consciousness. They sat up, confusion giving way to horror as they realized their predicament. Around them, people stopped, whipped out their phones, and started recording.
"Fake!" one of them yelled, trying to cover himself with his hands.
"Shet!" another shouted, his face red with embarrassment.
They scrambled to their feet, using their hands to cover their crotches as they began to run, the crowd's laughter ringing in their ears. Their bare backs glistened under the streetlights as they sprinted away, a sight that would soon become an internet sensation.
Within hours, videos of their naked dash were trending, the hits skyrocketing as people shared the clips far and wide. The hashtag #NakedAgents was born, and the legend of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents' most humiliating mission spread like wildfire.
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