DC Heroes in Marvel

"Let me see your courage…"

Batman's words left Destro and his men stunned, their eyes wide in disbelief.

Had they heard him correctly? Was this a superhero provoking them?

This was provocation.

As a superhero, shouldn't he care about the safety of citizens and the survival of a city? Destro stared at the man in the armored suit, his expression filled with incredulity.

"You!" He swallowed hard, his teeth clenched. "Do you think I won't do it? Batman, don't push me… If you force me, I'll do anything!"

"Then do it!" Anton's voice was calm but cutting. "Activate the nanoworm warhead, Destro!"

His cold, disdainful gaze sent a chill down Destro's spine.

"You!!"

Destro froze, his defiance faltering. If he activated the nanoworm warhead, New York would fall—but so would he. 

He didn't want to die. Yet, if he didn't act, he would undoubtedly be killed here and now.

Batman's unrelenting pressure pushed him to the edge, and he now stood at a metaphorical cliff. Below, a raging river offered the slimmest chance of survival. 

Stay, and he would be executed. Jump, and at least he'd have a desperate gamble.

"Fine!"

Destro laughed bitterly, his voice tinged with hysteria. "You forced me!"

He slammed the box containing the nanoworm warhead to the ground.

Boom!

The box sprang open, and the warhead's activation process began.

Click! Click!

At the same moment, Green Arrow fired a series of arrows, each piercing the hearts of Destro's nearby men, killing them instantly.

Destro collapsed in terror, his face ashen.

Cyborg stepped forward, transforming his arm into an interface that he immediately plugged into the warhead's system.

"It's pointless," Destrosneered. "Once the program is initiated, it's irreversible. You can't stop it."

He had resigned himself to his fate. If he couldn't survive, he would ensure his enemies felt despair.

As one of the main investors and developers of the nanoworm warhead, Destro knew better than anyone how powerful it was.

Click! Click!

But then, his smugness turned to sheer disbelief.

"No!"

Destro's jaw dropped as he stared in shock. "How… how did you do that?!"

Cyborg had taken over the warhead's system in seconds, bypassing its protocols and erasing key parts of the activation sequence. Within moments, the warhead was in a system-down state.

"This… this is impossible!"

For the first time, it was Destro, not his opponents, who felt the crushing weight of hopelessness.

It suddenly made sense to him why Batman had been so confident.

Cyborg's incredible hacking ability had just rendered one of Cobra's deadliest weapons useless.

Anton's smirk deepened. He had seen this skill before when cyborg hacked Alexander Pierce's computer, gaining detailed knowledge of the warhead's systems. 

He also knew the activation process wasn't instantaneous—it took time. That time had been just enough for cyborg to disable it.

"All right," Wonder Woman said as she stepped forward, her voice resolute. "My turn."

She summoned her Lasso of Truth, binding Destro tightly. She intended to extract every piece of valuable information about Hydra from him.

After a few tense moments of interrogation, their expressions darkened. But then, as if fueled by a renewed sense of purpose, they sneered.

"There are three more nanoworm warheads…" Wonder Woman said, her tone grim.

"And Hydra sees Batman as their greatest threat," Anton added, his voice ice cold. "They won't stop until they eliminate him."

His fists clenched, and his gaze grew darker. He had underestimated Hydra's resolve. They were willing to risk exposure—willing to gamble everything—to destroy him.

"They're scared," Anton muttered to himself. 

Cyborg's earlier infiltration of Alexander Pierce's computer must have rattled them, and Batman's actions had clearly made Hydra view him as an existential threat.

But that fear? Anton welcomed it.

The conflict between him and Hydra was irreconcilable. They were at war now, and there was no turning back.

"Then let's show Hydra who has the stronger fist!" Anton declared.

"Keep moving!"

Anton turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the three clones standing before him.

Even though the avatars shared his thoughts and consciousness, Anton habitually chose to speak aloud.

"This time, let Hydra see who truly owns New York!"

As his words fell, Anton raised a hand. In an instant, a massive fighter jet materialized before the four of them.

The Batwing, designed by Bruce Wayne's trusted ally and head of Wayne Enterprises' tech division, Lucius Fox, hovered silently in the air.

This was the first time Anton had summoned the Batwing.

Previously, he had relied on the Batmobile for his solo operations—its size and versatility more than sufficient. 

But now, with the main body and three clones working together, the Batmobile was no longer enough to carry them all.

It was the Batwing's moment to shine.

"This… this is!!"

Destro collapsed onto the ground, his face pale, still reeling from the effects of Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth. 

He struggled to regain control of his mouth, which had betrayed him moments ago, spilling secrets against his will.

Now, the sudden appearance of the Batwing sent another wave of panic through him.

To him, the jet must have been hidden all along, using advanced stealth technology to remain undetected. Such technology wasn't unheard of, but its deployment here confirmed his worst fear:

The Justice League had anticipated Cobra's plans.

This wasn't a chance encounter. It was a trap, and they'd walked straight into it.

"How… how could this be?"

Destro's shoulders slumped in despair. The powerful organization he had served and believed in now felt like a dog being led by the nose.

"Hydra…"

His voice was filled with dread. "What kind of enemy have you provoked?"

Anton's cold gaze bore into him.

"Take him away. He's not allowed to die yet," he commanded.

Destro's eyes flickered with a mix of terror and resignation as Green Arrow hauled him into the Batwing.

Anton had his reasons for keeping Destro alive. As the CEO of the prominent arms company MARS, Destro's value was immense.

Wayne Enterprises, though newly established, was steadily carving out a niche in domestic military channels. 

By acquiring Hammer Industries' production lines at a low cost, Anton had managed to keep the business afloat. But to expand internationally, he needed leverage—and Destro was that leverage.

MARS had deep ties to Hydra and a secret production line known as the "Foundry." The weapons produced there had been exclusively supplied to Cobra.

Anton intended to take over the production line and use it to scale Wayne Enterprises' operations.

 With Destro out of the picture, MARS would falter, leaving a vacuum in the international arms market—a vacuum Anton planned to fill.

The Batwing soared into the night sky, its sleek frame cutting through the air as it headed toward New York Airport.

According to Destro's intel, Hydra was working with other Cobra members to transport the remaining three nanoworm warheads into New York. 

A high-ranking Hydra operative was overseeing the operation personally.

Anton's goal was clear: intercept and eliminate them before they could strike.

Onboard a private transport plane, marked MARS-1…

Several individuals sat silently, their expressions calm but watchful. Every so often, their eyes flicked toward a figure seated in the corner.

He was a broad-shouldered man with slightly long hair, one arm glinting with the cold sheen of pure metal. Since boarding the plane, he had remained motionless, eyes closed, seemingly at rest.

"Do you know who he is?" someone whispered.

Another man, clad in a pristine white uniform, leaned in, his tone low and ominous.

"He's a ghost—a real ghost. Many intelligence agencies refuse to believe he exists. But those who do know him call him…"

"The Winter Soldier."

At this moment, aside from the man they called the "Winter Soldier," who remained motionless, the others exchanged uneasy glances.

It was clear that they all recognized the name.

"I thought he was just a legend."

"Is it true?"

"Storm Shadow, are you sure that's the Winter Soldier?"

The murmurs carried a hint of fear.

"Over the past fifty years, he's been implicated in more than two dozen high-profile assassinations," the man in the white combat suit, with two katanas strapped to his back, replied slowly. He was known as the "storm shadow."

"Fifty years ago, he committed an assassination that shook the world. And now, here he is again... If anyone deserves to be called a ghost, it's him."

"Fifty years ago?" one person questioned skeptically. "If he's been killing for that long, wouldn't he be at least sixty by now? He looks thirty at most. Maybe 'Winter Soldier' is just a title, passed down from one person to the next."

"No."

The Storm Shadow cast a cold glance at the speaker.

"A few years ago, when I first arrived in the United States, I took an assassination job. After infiltrating the target's home, I found the man already dead—killed with a clean shot to the head. Before I could leave, I was ambushed. I fought him… and I lost. I barely escaped with my life after being beaten half to death and falling into the river."

He paused, his gaze lingering on the Winter Soldier in the corner, his tone wary.

"After a long investigation, I pieced together his identity. The man I fought that night was him— the Winter Soldier.

"And he hasn't aged a day since then."

Huh!

As the Storm shadow spoke, the Winter Soldier opened his eyes.

They were icy, devoid of emotion, like the gaze of a predator.

The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop, a chill creeping into everyone's bones.

The others froze under his stare, their backs rigid, especially the Storm Shadow , who instinctively moved his hand to the hilt of one of his katanas. His wariness was palpable.

But just as quickly as he'd opened them, the Winter Soldier closed his eyes again.

The tension in the plane eased slightly, but the oppressive silence remained.

No one dared to bring up the topic of the Winter Soldier again.

After what felt like an eternity, a voice broke the stillness.

"Everyone, we're almost there!"

The speaker was a man who stood with a self-assured smile.

He was the team's temporary leader, though few seemed to acknowledge his authority.

He was Zartan, the Cobra organization's master of disguise.

….

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