MARVEL : A myriad of personalities

The Desert Eagle, is one of the most iconic handguns in North America—a country where owning firearms is legal. Thanks to its frequent appearances in Hollywood blockbusters, it's famous to the point where virtually everyone knows of it. Many gun enthusiasts consider it a must-have piece in their collection.

Undeniably, in terms of raw power, the Desert Eagle stands at the very top among handguns.

When people think of powerful sidearms, this name is usually the first to come to mind.

However, its actual practicality doesn't quite match its reputation.

The reason is simple: while its firepower is massive, its recoil is just as brutal. It's also much heavier than standard handguns, making it difficult for the average person to use effectively. Only a select group of people can handle it proficiently.

But that wasn't why Vincent's tone had turned so strange.

Sure, for ordinary people, the Desert Eagle is hard to manage. But for most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, it's nothing unusual. Even if Ray could handle the weapon, it wouldn't be surprising.

The real problem was the scenario of the current trial—it was a fixed-point attack and defense exercise. A handgun like the Desert Eagle is only suitable for close-quarters or urban combat. It had no tactical value in this situation.

Seeing Ray assemble it now seemed like a complete joke.

"Did I really overestimate him...?" Vincent muttered to himself.

---

Inside the armory, Ray—now under control of the Deadshot persona—had just finished assembling the Desert Eagle. His lips moved subtly.

He barely made a sound, but it was clear he was talking to himself.

"Relax. How could I possibly lose to a formulaic puppet like him? An accident? No, no… When the gap in skill is absolute, there's no such thing as an accident."

A confident smile hung on Ray's lips as he calmly loaded the gun with training rounds.

He exited the armory with just three seconds left on the timer—1 minute and 57 seconds.

Meanwhile, Leonid had long since reached the high ground and was preparing his defensive position. He'd already retrieved a few advanced gadgets scattered around the base and set up a solid defense.

As Ray entered the battlefield, Leonid was completely ready and waiting for him.

He was confident that as soon as Ray peeked out, there wouldn't be any chance to launch an attack. He wouldn't need to just defend—he would strike first.

All he had to do was eliminate Ray, and the first round would be over.

Crouching behind a barrier, using a recon gadget to scan the area, Leonid scoffed to himself:

"I don't know where you got the confidence to think you could match me… but this match is already over—"

DUANG!!

A tremendous impact suddenly slammed down on his head from above, followed by a sharp metallic clang. His vision spun from the shock!

What the hell?!

Leonid was stunned. He had no idea what just happened.

Before he could regain his senses, the base loudspeakers blared:

"Agent Leonid has been eliminated. First round victory goes to Dr. Ray."

"I... was eliminated?"

Leonid was speechless.

What just happened?

He hadn't even seen a shadow of Ray—how could he be dead already?

---

What Leonid didn't know was that no one else had figured it out either.

Everyone watching the match unfold through the dual camera feeds was just as stunned.

Outside the arena, students and instructors buzzed with disbelief.

And inside the central control tower, the three remaining academy directors were equally shocked.

"What just happened?" Weaver turned to Claude, hoping he had seen something clearer than her.

As someone with an administrative background, Weaver wasn't especially familiar with combat. When she realized she didn't understand what she saw, her instinct was to ask Claude—head of the Espionage Division and a former high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. field agent, just like Leonid.

Claude, however, looked just as puzzled as she did. Shaking his head slowly, he turned to Vincent.

"Did you see anything?"

Vincent frowned, deep in thought.

Then, without a word, he sprang into action.

He quickly stepped over to the main control console.

"Good afternoon, Director!"

The console operators—all from the Communications Division—snapped to attention as their director approached.

But Vincent didn't have time for pleasantries. With a wave, he motioned them aside and got to work.

His hands glided over the controls, and the central screen switched angles—now showing a lateral view of the battlefield.

Within seconds, the scene was rewound and played back in slow motion. A red virtual trajectory line appeared, originating from Ray's last known position and ending behind the cover where Leonid had been hiding.

"So it was like that…" Vincent's eyes lit up as he switched angles again.

Now the camera focused on Ray's side from a side profile, right before Leonid's elimination.

"Watch closely. This is the key moment—"

Claude stared intently at the screen. He saw Ray—calm and relaxed—staring at the high ground.

Then suddenly, Ray made a casual flick of his arm holding the gun, like a man waving away a fly.

Immediately after, the announcement of Leonid's elimination rang out.

"My God… That was a shot?! Leonid got a headshot from that move?!" Claude exclaimed.

"Most likely, yes," Vincent replied, still stunned.

From all the footage and angles reviewed, that shot should not have been possible. Leonid had been crouched behind cover on high ground.

From Ray's position, the angle and direction didn't line up at all.

And because the match used non-lethal training rounds, there was no possibility of the bullet punching through a wall. It had to be a direct hit for a kill to register.

For that bullet to hit Leonid, it would have had to curve in midair.

But that's impossible... isn't it?