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Bang!
The black Lamborghini—no, Jack himself—shot forward like a spinning drill bit, its front end tearing straight into the opposing vehicle. The impact was violent, metallic screams echoing as steel crumpled under impossible force. Instead of stopping, the Lamborghini pierced through the enemy car entirely, ripping past it as if it were nothing more than thin paper.
For a split second, the world seemed to slow.
Then—
Bang! Bang!
Two compact missile pods emerged seamlessly from the body of the Lamborghini, firing in perfect synchronization. The missiles streaked through the air with a sharp whistle, locking onto the remaining vehicles behind.
A heartbeat later—
Boom! Boom!
Flames erupted violently. The two cars were swallowed whole in explosions, debris scattering across the road, black smoke rising into the sky like a signal of destruction. The shockwaves rippled outward, shaking the surrounding trees and sending fragments clattering across the asphalt.
Inside the Lamborghini, Natasha Romanoff remained calm.
Almost too calm.
"Also… really fierce," Natasha said lightly, her tone controlled, though her eyes reflected a flicker of acknowledgment. This wasn't normal firepower. This wasn't even advanced military tech.
This was something else.
"Those were just basics," Jack's voice replied lazily. "I quite like explosions. Especially big ones."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly back into the seat as if the chaos behind them meant nothing.
"So that's why you used an atomic bomb on Tokyo?"
"Something like that," Jack said casually. "Actually, I've thought about dropping one on New York too. Let the whole world enjoy a grand fireworks display."
Natasha's lips pressed into a thin line.
"You really are a lunatic."
"Life is short," Jack replied, his tone suddenly carrying a faint edge of disdain. "If you're not a little crazy, what's the difference between you and a dead fish? Just drifting… repeating the same useless cycles."
Natasha glanced at him—no, at the dashboard, at the reflection of herself in the glass.
"So you made the whole world remember you," she said with a trace of mockery. "Even children cry hearing your name. You're more terrifying than Bin Laden."
Jack chuckled.
"Mock me all you want. Do you think a god cares about the opinions of ants?"
Natasha smiled faintly.
"So now you think you're a god?"
"Call me the Killing God," Jack said, amusement clear in his voice. "Tell me… does that suit me?"
Natasha didn't hesitate.
"It does."
For a brief moment, silence filled the car.
Then Jack laughed, low and satisfied.
"Rare. We agree on something. I like that name too. Maybe I should work harder to live up to it—make the entire world acknowledge it."
His laughter lingered, echoing faintly in the confined space.
Natasha watched the road ahead, her mind already moving several steps ahead. Talking to him wasn't about winning—it was about surviving, understanding, waiting.
"Most madmen think they're special," she said calmly. "You're just… louder about it."
"Thanks for the compliment," Jack replied easily. "I enjoy being different."
The Lamborghini slowed gradually, leaving the main road and gliding into a quiet grove. Trees surrounded them, their shadows stretching long under the fading light. The atmosphere shifted instantly—isolated, quiet, almost suffocating.
Natasha's eyes sharpened.
"Jack," she said, scanning the surroundings through the tinted glass, "this is where you've been hiding?"
"I'm not hiding anywhere," Jack replied, his tone turning playful again. "You're inside me right now. Isn't that exciting?"
Natasha's expression didn't change, though internally she noted every detail, every tone shift.
"In your body?" she said flatly. "Your brain is worse than I thought. Still pretending to be a car?"
"This form is just… convenient," Jack said calmly.
Natasha let out a soft breath.
"That's impressive," she admitted, though her gaze betrayed disbelief. "Even for you."
"You've been busy too," Jack continued. "Taking my Tesseract. Developing weapons."
This time—
Her composure cracked.
Just slightly.
"How do you know that?" Natasha asked, her voice lower.
"Nothing escapes me," Jack replied. "Every move S.H.I.E.L.D. makes—I see it. Keep the Tesseract safe for now. I'll take it back later."
Natasha's thoughts moved rapidly.
"So it was you," she said slowly. "The energy fluctuation in South America eight months ago."
"Correct," Jack said. "I came back from another world… barely alive. Fell into the ocean. Got swallowed by a shark."
He paused.
"If not for that shark, you'd probably have me locked up right now."
Natasha shook her head slightly.
"That's unfortunate. Coulson should've fished out every shark in that sea."
Jack laughed.
"And yet… here we are."
Natasha exhaled softly.
"'Here we are'? You trap me in your car and call it a happy meeting?" she said dryly. "Open the door."
"Of course," Jack replied. "I'm always generous to beautiful women."
Click.
The door unlocked.
Natasha stepped out immediately, her body shifting into a ready stance without appearing aggressive. Her eyes scanned the surroundings—trees, shadows, escape routes, angles.
"Come out, Jack," she said. "Let's talk properly."
"I'm already right in front of you," Jack replied.
Natasha frowned slightly.
"Don't tell me…"
Before she could finish—
The Lamborghini began to change.
Panels separated. Metal folded inward. Golden particles shimmered into existence, breaking apart and reforming. In seconds, the car disassembled completely, transforming into a swirling storm of golden Transformium particles.
Then—
They gathered.
Condensed.
Formed—
Jack.
Natasha's eyes widened.
"…You…"
"Yo, Natasha."
In the blink of an eye, Jack appeared behind her.
Her reaction was instant.
She spun, firing a shot directly at his head.
Jack caught the bullet between his fingers.
"Always bullets," he said lightly. "So unfriendly."
Natasha didn't stop. Her fist shot forward—
But Jack caught it effortlessly.
With a single pull, he dragged her into his arms, one hand locking around her waist.
Natasha struggled immediately, muscles tightening, trying to break free—but his grip was immovable.
"Let go of me," she said coldly.
"This," Jack said calmly, tightening his hold, "is your fault. Now you want me to let go? Why would I?"
He pulled her closer.
Their bodies pressed together.
Too close.
Her chest pressed firmly against him, the contact unavoidable. Their breathing overlapped, warm and steady, their eyes meeting at a dangerously close distance.
To an outsider, it might have looked like intimacy.
But underneath—
It was tension.
Danger.
Control.
"Do you know what I want to say right now?" Jack asked softly.
"I don't want to know," Natasha replied instantly.
Jack smiled.
"You're not very cooperative," he said. "But I'll say it anyway."
His tone dropped slightly, teasing.
"You've got a great body. Soft… very soft."
He deliberately shifted his stance, brushing against her.
Natasha's expression turned cold—dangerously cold.
"Jack," she said, her voice sharp as a blade, "is this what you are? I thought humanity's greatest enemy would be… more impressive."
Her eyes locked onto his.
"Turns out you're just cheap."
But inside—
Her mind was still calculating.
Always calculating.
Because she knew—
This wasn't over.
Not even close.