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"I'm heading out! Tonya, keep an eye on Ashley for me, okay?"
In the garage, Clint handed his bag to a middle-aged Black woman who appeared slightly overweight.
Tonya took the bag with a skeptical expression. Opening it, her jaw dropped in shock.
Inside were rolls of old banknotes—likely amounting to about a hundred thousand dollars. In this barren world, such a sum was nearly impossible for the average person to accumulate.
"Where did you get all this money? You didn't…" Tonya trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
Clint smirked. "Your ex-husband was an Avenger, remember?"
He slipped on his sunglasses, waved her off, and approached a red SUV convertible. Slamming the door shut, he called out to his passengers, "Do you know what this is? It's a Spider-Car. It can climb walls just like Peter Parker! I won it from the Mandarin over a decade ago!"
In the backseat sat the Punisher, Quicksilver, and Scarlet Witch. The SUV was spacious enough for the three of them to sit comfortably, though Pietro was squirming with discomfort.
He shifted awkwardly and asked with a strange look, "I know about this car. Wasn't it something Parker and the Human Torch built together? But... aren't you losing your eyesight? Why are you driving?"
Clint lowered his sunglasses halfway and gave Pietro a mock-surprised look. "Am I not your guide? Of course, I'm driving!"
Their banter was interrupted by Ultron, who approached the car. Red energy particles glowed faintly from his mouth as he addressed Clint. "Mr. Barton, based on my calculations, your chances of surviving this journey for revenge are very low—just over ten percent."
Clint was about to respond when Ultron handed him something. "Here. An amulet."
It was a small, rusty metal necklace with the letter A etched onto it. It looked old, like a relic from a bygone era.
Clint stared at it for a long moment before nodding slowly. He hung the necklace on the rearview mirror and then chuckled. "You're not factoring in the variables, my friend," he said, gesturing toward the passengers in the backseat.
Ultron tilted his head slightly, unsure how to respond.
Clint floored the gas pedal, and the engine roared to life. The red SUV shot out of the garage like a rocket, weaving through the streets. Startled pedestrians scattered in its wake.
Adrian, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced back at the outskirts of Hammerfell City. He spotted the remnants of a jeep that had once belonged to the Madrox Gang. It had been stripped apart by scavengers, leaving little more than a husk behind.
He turned to Clint, who was grinning like a man years younger. "We head east to Hulkland first, then keep moving north. From there, we cross into Canada to find Zemo. Got it?"
"Of course!" Clint replied, pushing his sunglasses higher on his nose. "I've taken this route a hundred and eighty times before, trying to convince that old man Logan to join me. Want to guess how that went?"
Without waiting for an answer, Clint continued, "He told me he's just a farmer now. Pays his rent on time. Doesn't do 'superhero nonsense' anymore."
He shook his head and chuckled bitterly. "Can you believe it? Wolverine—the guy who survived a nuclear bomb and being thrown out of a plane at 10,000 feet without a parachute—decides he's done. What the hell happened to him?"
Adrian, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the road behind them, where a group of ornithomimosaurs was trailing the car. These creatures were remnants of the wilderness, often kept as pets by bored survivors before being abandoned.
"Take care of them," Adrian said.
---
They eventually reached a small, desolate farm in the middle of nowhere. The ground was dry and cracked, with no signs of life apart from the house and a dilapidated pigsty nearby.
The house was surrounded by barren land, and the distant mountains loomed high, covered in sparse grass and rocks.
An older man with gray hair stood near the pigsty. He wore an old windbreaker and stared blankly at the pigs as he poured feed into their trough.
Nearby, a boy with a pointed hat nervously approached him. "Dad," the boy said quietly, "they're coming."
The man's expression didn't change. He set the feed bucket down, placed a hand on his son's head, and turned westward, gazing into the distance.
"Go inside. Stay with your mom and sister. Don't look outside," he said calmly. "This is Banner's doing. His temper's flaring again."
The boy hesitated but eventually obeyed, running back into the house.
Moments later, a rusty aircraft appeared on the horizon. Its battered frame groaned as it descended, coming to a stop just a few feet away from the old man.
Two green-skinned men emerged from the aircraft, both towering over eight feet tall, their bulging muscles making them appear even more imposing.
The leader had an elaborate haircut and an iron-studded collar around his neck. He leaned in close to the old man, his yellowed teeth bared in a mocking grin.
"Wolverine," he said.
"Call me Logan," the old man replied, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"The rent was due two days ago. What's the deal?"
"I don't have the money," Logan said evenly. "Abel's family hasn't paid for the pigs yet. I'll settle everything next month."
The green-skinned man sneered, leaning closer. "So, no rent this month, huh? Your family's inside, right?"
Logan's jaw tightened, but he didn't turn around. He knew his wife and children were watching anxiously from the window.
He finally raised his head, locking eyes with the man. "It'll be taken care of next month. Don't bring up my family again."
The man laughed, his grin widening. "You know what happens when rent isn't paid, right?"
Logan nodded, his face expressionless. "I know."
The man's fist shot forward, slamming into Logan's face. Blood sprayed from the impact, staining the old man's weathered features.
Logan stood his ground, his voice calm. "Just hit me. Get it over with."
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