UNKNOWN GUEST

#32 Stun-gun and Morris

I gripped the stun gun firmly in both hands, my breath steady as I moved cautiously through the narrow corridors of the ship. Every step was calculated, every shadow carefully inspected. The metallic walls echoed with the faint hum of the engines, a constant reminder of where I was—and what I needed to do.

Taking cover behind a nearby counter, I strained my ears for any sound, and sure enough, I caught the faint shuffle of movement ahead. Just then, Ramlow's voice crackled through the comms, sharp and direct: "Captain, Batroc is heading towards the CIC and communication room."

A beat later, Dad's voice cut in, serious and focused, "Who's in charge of the engine room then?"

I scanned the area, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow until they landed on a figure standing behind the main engine. The person was partially obscured, but the long black coat they wore was unmistakable. They were casually knocking a gun on the table, the metallic taps sending a chill down my spine. Then, I caught sight of their hair—brown braids that I knew all too well.

I leaned into my comms, keeping my voice low, "Morris is in the engine room."

Stella Morris. My target.

She must have sensed my presence because she suddenly turned, her eyes locking onto mine as she raised her gun. A scorpion tattoo curled menacingly on her neck, adding to her already dangerous aura. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, as if she was sizing me up in that split second.

I sighed internally. Here we go again. I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Morris wasn't just any adversary; she was skilled, ruthless, and more than ready to take me down. But I wasn't about to back off.

Morris smirked, her voice dripping with contempt. "We knew SHIELD would come for us like hungry, lost dogs."

I sighed, realizing that the stun gun in my hand was practically useless against someone like her. With a resigned shrug, I slipped it back into my pocket and looked her in the eye. "Look, ma'am, we need to take the Lemurian Star back. And for that..." I took a cautious step forward, trying to reason with her. "You need to give up control."

She scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that."

Before I could react, she raised her gun to shoot. Instinctively, I grabbed a nearby computer monitor and hurled it at her hand. But Morris was quick—too quick. She dodged the monitor with ease and fired a shot in my direction. I barely managed to duck under the counter, the bullet whizzing past where my head had been just moments before.

Thinking fast, I slid my leg under the counter, aiming to sweep her feet out from under her. The move caught her off guard, and she crashed onto the counter, landing hard on her elbows. The impact sent her gun skidding across the floor, leaving her momentarily disarmed.

I rose from my cover, adrenaline surging, and leaped at her, hoping to pin her down. But Morris was a fighter. She swung her elbow back, catching me square in the nose. Pain exploded in my face as I stumbled backward, wincing as I touched my nose and felt the warm trickle of blood.

"Great," I muttered, wiping the blood on the back of my hand.

She lunged for her gun, but I kicked it away just in time. Her eyes narrowed, anger flaring as she threw a punch. I ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, and when she swung her leg between mine, I caught her by the shoe.

"You wouldn't understand how good this hurts," I sighed, trying to shake off the pain.

But Morris wasn't done yet. With a fierce determination, she swung her other leg high, aiming for my face. She practically flew through the air, but I saw my chance. As she overextended, I backed away and yanked her feet out from under her. She had no time to react as she came crashing down, her face meeting the cold, unforgiving metal floor with a thud.