MAJOR LEHNSHERR, AGENT OF SHIELD
The mission was simple: investigate a new piece of experimental robotics SHIELD tracked down to a warehouse in Metropolis. SHIELD needed as much intel as possible -- number, capabilities, destination, origin, design specs, manufacturer. Even more concerning was SHIELD's lack of any knowledge about this new robot.
Major Erik Lehnsherr, agent of SHIELD on loan from the Israel Defense Forces, didn't care. As long as the robot was made of metal, he was confident he could handle it. Nearly two decades of combat service in Israel and the United States meant he had nerves harder than the steel he could bend with his mind.
SHIELD sent him on a Quinjet into Metropolis airspace. He didn't even wait for the pilot to announce the approach to the warehouse coordinates. He simply extended a hand and opened the bay doors himself.
"Major?" the pilot questioned in surprise.
Lehnsherr smirked back. "I'll take over from here, pilot. Just be ready for pickup."
"Sir, what about a parachute...."
Lehnsherr leaped into the void with arms extended. Off in the distance, an eagle shrieked.
But he did not fall. He flew.
Magnetic fields were his tools and he warped them around him to facilitate a graceful descent like a bird on the wing. Below, the corrugated metal rooftop of the warehouse sang to his senses. With a thought, he peeled an opening for his insertion and he landed upon the ground floor with only a slight dustoff.
That was when he heard an ominous whirring behind him. Red and yellow lights -- sensory apparatuses, apparently -- flared to life. Lehnsherr stood to face the mechanical robotic terror before him. In all its grim, warlike glory, the war machine lumbered toward him with weapon-ports open.
Gunfire rattled at him, ports spitting out hundreds of rounds a second. And Lehnsherr continued to smirk patiently. The hail of bullets simply slowed to a stop in front of him, the accumulated slugs quickly forming a small wall of lead before him. With a wave of his hand, Lehnsherr sent the storm of bullets back; they ricocheted off the robot's bulletproof hide.
Lehnsherr, adjusted his gloves and tugged on the black SHIELD fatigues he wore to straighten them. That smirk never left his face. "Well, why don't we have a little fun, hm?"
The robot obliged.
The sound of combat roared.
@Gands @LuckycoolHawk9