Chapter 61: S.H.I.E.L.D. Is Not Blind

Night had fallen.

Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., the lights still blazed brightly. The recent tremors and alarms had quickly thrown the staff into a flurry of activity.

Hill, clutching a stack of neatly organized documents, strode briskly into Nick Fury’s office.

“Director, the situation is extremely dire right now.”

“How dire?” Nick Fury lifted his head, ending his conversation with Rogers. Unless the planet was going to explode in the next second, nothing seemed worth fearing anymore.

He had come to terms with much.

“It’s even worse than you imagine,” Hill replied offhandedly. “I have to bring you some rather unwelcome news. The source of this energy radiation has shocked us all. The energy wave is extremely high, immensely powerful, and it’s coming from Manhattan.”

“Oh, I hate Manhattan. Honestly, Hill, every time something happens, it’s always there. So much for the surprise—what about the delight?”

“The epicenter is Rand Tower. That’s the property of the young billionaire Danny, who disappeared for over ten years and only recently returned to New York to inherit his family’s business. Shortly after being acquired by Kingpin, the building was sold to another company. According to our informants, that company is a shell. And three days ago, Danny himself vanished.”

Hill placed part of the intelligence file on Fury’s desk. “This might be tied to a group we’ve been closely monitoring.”

“That corpulent man skilled at exploiting legal loopholes? The Hand, perhaps?”

Nick Fury was no stranger to the Hand, nor to Kingpin—for he’d once considered how to extract funds from the underground boss, and through him, he’d met some of the city’s street heroes, or rather, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s potential recruits.

“Yes, Director. Not long after Kingpin sold Rand Tower, the anomalies began. I believe both Kingpin and the Hand are heavily involved.”

Rogers, standing nearby, was lost amid the flood of information. There was so much he needed to understand—so many basic facts that eluded him. Since waking, he’d realized just how drastically the world had changed. His former glory, his past triumphs, had faded to nothing but smoke with the passage of time.

He could no longer conquer the world with nothing but a shield.

At these words, Nick Fury immediately regained his composure. He already possessed some intel on Kingpin and the Hand and knew well what kind of organization the latter was. When recruitment of Tony had failed, he’d shifted his attention to the heroes of the streets.

Daredevil and Punisher had long been on his radar, and with them, he’d come to understand the Hand.

“Director, should we head to the scene immediately?”

“No need to rush. The Hand has caused such a commotion—they must be after something significant. We don’t need to be the first on site; others will do some of the work for us. What we need to do is clean up afterward.”

A tactical gleam flashed in Fury’s single eye. He intended to use this incident to test those so-called street-level superheroes—to assess their qualifications and strength, to see if they were worth recruiting into S.H.I.E.L.D. In the end, S.H.I.E.L.D. would step in officially, and those heroes would owe him a favor.

That would make them easier to recruit.

He immediately began to devise all sorts of schemes to ensnare the street heroes.

Having lost Tony, he could always try for a Punisher, a Daredevil, or someone else as a substitute.

“Yes, Director.”

Hill turned on her heel and left the office, exchanging a knowing glance with Alexander Pierce as they passed in the corridor.

The appearance of Roald had drawn the five fingers of the Hand together once more.

In their eyes, these newly emerged figures were nothing less than a force of evil.

Roald hefted Frostmourne effortlessly.

“Warriors of the frozen wastes! I command you to fight for your master—slaughter until the enemy is dead! Let the terror of the Scourge descend upon mankind!”

A chorus of cracking bones and clashing metal sounded instantly.

Countless blue lights flickered into being, densely packed across the field as Roald, dragging Frostmourne, strode forward.

The silhouette of black armor grew larger and larger in the eyes of the Hand. The heavy footsteps and the screech of the blade scraping the floor seemed to lick at their ears with a chilling intimacy.

It was a cold that cut to the bone.

“Everyone, let’s deal with the immediate threat first,” Alexandra intoned, unleashing her psychic power. Her ninja followers thrust out their twisted, monstrous limbs from beneath their cloaks in unison, their bodies grotesquely contorted.

These “beasts” had been utterly transformed—heads and bodies now half-human, half-animal. Only a few features still hinted at their former humanity; the rest was an unidentifiable metamorphosis.

All of them were elite warriors, once human, now mutated by their devotion to the demon “Beast,” forged by the Hand as a special force loyal only to its commands.

With Alexandra’s signal, a host of beastly phantoms materialized around Bakuto, leaping forth to attack the encroaching Scourge soldiers.

At the front line, Sowanda’s body shimmered with strange markings as he raised his massive club, standing squarely at the vanguard.

Madame Gao and Murakami had repositioned themselves the moment Roald appeared. A faint aura flowed over the sword-staff in Madame Gao’s hand.

“Heh—” Watching the Hand’s members tense in readiness, Erica, worried for Roald, tried to step forward, only to be stopped by Kel’Thuzad.

Erica was puzzled, as was Zazira. Neither of them wished for Roald to take such a risk.

Kel’Thuzad’s lips curled into a sly smile as he stroked the orange tabby cat in his lap. “This is the path a king must walk, the choice the master must face. Don’t worry—leave everything to me.”

Despite his words, blue light burst from Kel’Thuzad’s fingertips, layer after layer of frosty armor wrapping around Roald. Soon, the underground chamber was filled with swirling icy mist.

The barrage of shuriken and hidden weapons hurled by the ninjas all clattered harmlessly off the ice armor. In that moment, they had never missed their RPGs and firearms quite so much.

In the distance, Bakuto crouched low, the massive blood-red eye on the bear’s head emblazoned on his chest fixed intently on the slowly advancing Roald, radiating a fierce lust for slaughter.

Alexandra and Sowanda immediately channeled their powers into Bakuto, their energies fusing in a single, brilliant glow. Murakami, blade in hand, moved to support them, though a prickling unease crept over him. As he prepared to charge, a surge of terror gripped his heart.

“Death Grip!”

The energy of [Death Grip] lashed out, yanking Murakami toward Roald. The armored hand closed around his throat and, with a brutal twist, snapped his neck. Blood sprayed, only to freeze in midair, scattering as shards of dark red ice.

“Impossible—impossible!” Bakuto roared in fury, the phantom bear and wolf on his chest launching themselves at Roald.

A thunderous roar from the giant bear shattered swathes of ice blossoms.

The enormous spectral bear lunged toward Roald, as the eyes of the Hand’s members brimmed with desperate hope.