The laughing shadow

It was a moonlit night in New York City, the skyline pierced by Avengers Tower, standing tall like a beacon of order. The city buzzed below, unaware of the calamity unfolding on the rooftops. Darius Flint stood on the edge of a high-rise, his silhouette barely visible against the night sky. His muscles tensed beneath his black tactical suit, but his face bore a grin that never quite faded. The curse of the Nika fruit, perhaps—always laughing in the face of danger.

A gunshot rang out. Darius's body twisted unnaturally as he dodged the bullet, his torso stretching like rubber. He cackled wildly, his voice carried by the wind.

"You're going to have to do better than that!" Darius shouted, turning to face his pursuers—two SHIELD agents, one aiming a sniper rifle, the other charging in with electrified batons.

"We've got you surrounded, Flint!" one of the agents barked. "Stand down!"

Darius laughed louder this time, his grin widening to unnatural proportions. He leaped into the air, stretching his legs impossibly far before slingshotting back to the rooftop. As he landed, the ground beneath him rippled like water.

"Surrounded? You really don't get it, do you? I don't play by the rules of your world anymore."

His body shifted into a fluid state, limbs extending like tendrils of rubber. The agents attacked in unison, but Darius was too fast—his form twisted and contorted, his body dodging and bouncing in ways that defied all logic. A quick flick of his elastic arm sent one agent flying into the side of a water tower. The other tried to tase him, but Darius's rubbery skin absorbed the shock, only serving to make him laugh even harder.

"You can't touch me! And even if you could, what would you do? I'm a walking joke!" His voice took on a mocking, exaggerated tone, full of manic energy.

As the second agent was about to call for backup, Darius's hand shot out, stretching several feet to grab the man's communicator.

"Ah-ah, none of that." He crushed the device and sent the agent tumbling to the ground with a flick of his wrist.