MARVEL : Starts From Zombie universe

"Because you didn't tell me," grumbled Clint, his face drooping with frustration.

"Don't sweat the details," Adrian said with a dismissive wave. He took the lead, sliding down the slope toward the ruins of Moonstone Village.

The rest of the group—Clint, Wanda, and Frank—followed closely behind, weaving their way through the wreckage.

As Adrian stepped into what remained of the village, he noticed the temperature wasn't as harsh as the surrounding area. Whether it was due to the explosion or the spent power of the moonstone, the environment lacked its previous oppressive chill.

Adrian caught Clint by the shoulder just as he was about to kick a smoldering plank of wood. Gesturing toward a distant pile of corpses, he warned, "I'd bet there's a lot of radiation there. If you want to live long enough to keep teaching your daughter, you might want to stay back."

At the mention of his daughter, Clint froze. He retreated behind Adrian, the weight of his limited time bearing down on him. The memory of Natasha and his former protégé Bishop briefly crossed his mind. Though they hadn't suffered radiation sickness from the moonstone in their time, Clint wasn't about to take any chances.

Adrian turned to Wanda and patted her shoulder. Without a word, she stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, Wanda's hands began to glow with vibrant red energy. She raised the charred corpses into the air, encasing them in a massive sphere of crimson light.

With a flick of her wrists, the red orb ascended, hovered for a moment, then launched over the ridge, disappearing from sight.

Adrian then nudged Frank. "There should be some anti-radiation meds in the pack I gave you. Check the green bottles."

Frank immediately dropped the oversized pack from his shoulders. Digging through the bag, he pulled out two small green bottles adorned with an eagle logo—the telltale mark of S.H.I.E.L.D., who seemed to put their emblem on everything.

Everyone took a pill, grimacing at the bitter taste, before Adrian nodded. "Let's move."

They pressed on, avoiding the worst of the carnage, until they reached the far side of the village. There, lodged in the ruins of a brick building, was what they had come for—a massive purple Sentinel head, roughly the size of a truck.

Clint's eyes narrowed as he drew his bow and nocked an arrow. "Tell me! Where's Zemo?" he demanded, his voice trembling with rage.

The Sentinel head, battered and lifeless, gave no response.

"Pretty sure it's dead," Frank said flatly as he circled the giant mechanical wreck. He crouched down, inspecting the exposed circuits with a practiced eye.

"You've got no sense of humor," Clint muttered, lowering his bow.

Adrian, perched slightly higher on a pile of rubble, pointed toward the Sentinel's neck. "There's a black box inside. About the size of your palm."

Frank didn't waste time. Rolling up his sleeves, he dug through the Sentinel's innards. Sparks flew, and faint metallic groans echoed as he worked. After a few minutes, he emerged covered in grease and dust, holding a sleek black device.

"This it?" Frank asked, holding the object up.

"Looks about right," Adrian said, taking the device. He handed it to Clint. "You should have a decoder on you. Get the coordinates."

Clint pulled a small, worn touchscreen device from his gear. "I never leave home without one," he muttered, connecting the black box to the decoder.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of numbers and letters. After a moment, a loud beep sounded, and latitude and longitude coordinates appeared.

Clint's face darkened as he read the location. "Zemo's nearby. Less than 100 kilometers east of here—Weapon X base."

His hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding with rage. The memory of Zemo killing Natasha replayed in his mind, fueling his burning hatred.

Adrian stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on Clint's shoulder. "You'll get your revenge. I promise—Zemo's yours to deal with."

Clint's lips quivered before he forced a smile. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Without another word, he turned and stalked toward the ruins. Moonstone had been a self-indulgent woman, so Clint suspected she'd left something useful behind.

Adrian watched him disappear into the wreckage.

Before long, the sound of an engine roared to life. Dust billowed as Clint emerged behind the wheel of a crimson sports car that looked laughably out of place in the frozen wasteland.

"Get in!" Clint shouted, honking the horn with a wild grin. "Let's go kill that son of a bitch Zemo!"

The others climbed into the vehicle, and the sports car sped off down a wide dirt path leading east.

Wind whipped through the open windows, tugging at Clint's silver hair as the car surged forward. His eyes blazed with determination, his thoughts consumed by vengeance for those he had lost.

Outside the window, the desolate landscape blurred into streaks of gray and white.

With his foot pressed hard on the gas pedal, Clint muttered under his breath, "Zemo, I'm coming for you."

The roar of the engine echoed into the distance, signaling the beginning of a long-awaited reckoning.

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