"No." Her mana began to churn, deep and still like a well.
"A 'Guardian of the World'? I thought Bul-Kathos was the only one foolish enough to take that title. In a way, you're just as annoying as he is." Kulle sneered. "But if I were to simply take it, what could you do? You don't have the strength to refuse me."
"This is Harrogath," she reminded him coolly.
"Yes, yes! Harrogath! Barbarian territory! I wouldn't dream of doing anything 'unrighteous' here and risking Bul-Kathos hunting me down! But... you can't stay on this mountain forever, can you?"
Kulle was exasperated. He didn't want the Stone for evil, but he couldn't expect her to trust him. "I need the power of Time so that if Bul-Kathos ever faces an enemy he cannot beat... I can give him a second chance."
"And what do you gain?"
"Why is it that my 'selflessness' is always treated as a hidden agenda?" Kulle's voice turned shrill. He had been questioned the same way back in Sanctuary. Perhaps it was just his face. It was hard to play the hero when you looked like a villain.
"Fine. Take my notes. But when the time comes, I will take the Stone by force if I must. I have fulfilled my duty to inform you. And you won't be foolish enough to tell Bul-Kathos, will you?"
Kulle vanished, leaving the notebook behind. It radiated a powerful psychic aura. The Ancient One looked at it, then reached down and picked it up. The pursuit of power never went out of style—and as Kulle said, she wasn't yet strong enough to say no to the truly powerful.
Frank Castle raised his gun and fired. The thug in front of him collapsed into a beam of light, sucked into the ring on Frank's finger.
Frank spat on the ground and hoisted his shotgun over his shoulder. The streets were a mess. To keep his family safe, he had to deal with these "troubles" personally. This was the thirteenth "nuisance" he'd eliminated today.
Small-time crooks who stumbled into superpowers tended to show their worst sides. A few tried to play hero, but their resolve was paper-thin and easily shredded. Evil, Frank knew, was much better at adapting to power.
"And who the hell are you?" Frank asked, looking at the woman in the green bodysuit.
He didn't know what kind of madness had possessed "Death" to hand out rings of Life and Death so haphazardly. It only brought chaos. The woman in front of him looked familiar, but his ring was pulsing with a violent, concentrated hostility.
"You can call me Green Lantern, Frank. You didn't think you were the only 'special' one in the world, did you?"
Frank stared at her, but his eyes couldn't seem to focus on her face—the deep green mask acted like a cognitive filter.
"Purpose!" Frank racked the slide of his shotgun. His answers for those who bothered him were always short and violent. He wasn't in the mood for costume play.
"To end this chaos. These rings are causing too much damage," the Green Lantern said.
There was a hint of a "S.H.I.E.L.D. agent" cadence in her voice that made Frank's brow furrow. "Is Nick Fury still hiding this kind of crap in his back pocket?"
"Think what you want."
Frank didn't get a confirmation, but he had narrowed it down. Not everyone knew about S.H.I.E.L.D., and few could hear Fury's name without flinching. Only an elite agent—someone like Maria Hill—could remain that stoic.
Against people like her, Frank had only one response.
Boom!
The muzzle flashed. The buckshot transformed into a black, smoke-like substance that swarmed toward her. In close quarters, a shotgun was more devastating than any submachine gun, and Frank didn't believe in "suppressing fire." He believed in kills.
"Frank!"
The woman—Hill—shouted as she raised her right hand. The glowing green ring erupted with light, manifesting a shield. It was the exact shape and design of Captain America's shield.
The power of Will. Imagination was the conduit.
The black barrage slammed into the green construct with a heavy thud.
"Hill?" Frank barked the name, but he didn't stop firing. Each blast sent her reeling back, and cracks began to spiderweb across the green shield. "I don't know how you got that toy, but you're dead."
Frank's shotgun shifted, morphing into a submachine gun that poured lead into her position. With his free hand, he pulled a grenade from his vest, bit the pin, and infused it with the power of Death before tossing it.
"People who suddenly get powers are either crazies or liabilities. You're both!"
Frank knew Hill. As a Level 10 agent who answered to the World Security Council rather than Fury, she represented everything Frank loathed about the system. She was a root of the problem.
Hill's ring flared with an even more intense green light, forming a spherical barrier. The grenade detonated, and the energies of Death and Will collided like oil on fire, resulting in a thunderous roar.
"Seems like Death really hates your flavor of power," Frank noted.
It was a strange sensation. Usually, when he faced "supers," the Death ring whispered to him that their souls were interesting. But facing Hill, the ring gave a singular, screaming command: Kill her.
Frank was suspicious, but he wasn't going to stop. To ensure his wife and daughter could remain in this world, he couldn't afford to ignore the wishes of Death.
"I thought you were a hero, Frank!" Hill bellowed.
The green light began to condense, forming a suit of metallic-textured armor around her body. Frank scowled. He'd seen something like that on the news, though hers wasn't gold and red.
Maria Hill, it seemed, had a very limited imagination. She was an agent, trained to operate within boundaries, not to fight with her mind.
Fighting with imagination? Frank thought. This is going to be a new experience.
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