My capacity for bullshit had officially reached its limit, so I didn’t even bat an eye when Elektra guided us through a secret network of tunnels beneath the city.
This was Marvel New York. I would’ve been more surprised if there weren’t secret tunnels.
“We’ve arrived.” Elektra pressed a seemingly ordinary brick, and part of the stone wall opened up.
I couldn’t help but whistle as we stepped into a massive underground hall. Racks lined the walls, filled with weapons ranging from swords and spears to even more esoteric weaponry. Thick black training mats covered most of the floor, while heavy sandbags and practice dummies hung from chains along the ceiling. There was even a raised dueling platform near the center of the chamber.
Guess being part of an ancient secret organization came with a few perks.
I couldn’t begin to imagine how they had built something like this beneath New York City without anyone noticing.
“Dude…” Spider-Man muttered as he carefully lowered his pile of children onto one of the mats. “How the hell do you guys afford rent?”
Elektra shot him an irritated look before shaking her head. “I appreciate your assistance in rescuing the children, but I believe it is time for you to leave.”
“Damn. Cold, I guess.” Spider-Man scratched the side of his mask. “Still, it’s your house. Let’s figure out how to get these kids to the cops, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“My organization will handle them,” Elektra replied. “They will be taken care of.”
Spider-Man stared at her for several long seconds.
“Isn’t that just kidnapping squared?”
“These children are dangerous.”
“They’re still kids.” The humor vanished from Spider-Man’s voice. “How the hell are they dangerous?”
“That is not for you to know.” Elektra scowled, one hand drifting toward one of her sai. “If you refuse to leave—”
“It’s ok.” Anna placed a hand on Elektra’s shoulder before glancing toward Spider-Man. “Once the kids wake up, we’ll figure out where they came from. If they have homes to return to, we’ll help them get back. If they don’t, then we’ll find somewhere safe for them.”
“I know a few people who could help sort that out,” I added. Tony or Fury would probably be willing to help with a little prodding on my part.
Possibly a lot of prodding.The plan seemed to satisfy both of them, albeit reluctantly.
“...Alright.” Elektra nodded. “But I don’t think the leaders will agree.”
“Damn right we won’t,” a grouchy voice called from the entrance.
An old man hobbled into the hall with the aid of a wooden cane. A dozen armed warriors rushed in behind him and quickly spread out around us.
“Who are you to issue orders to us?” the old man demanded.
“Stick.” Elektra stepped forward hurriedly. “There has been a misunderstanding. This is the Iron Fist.”
Stick’s expression twisted as if she had just claimed Anna was the queen of Mars.
“Iron Fist?” He struck his cane against the stone floor. “You bring outsiders into our sanctuary, lead them through our hidden passages, and now expect me to accept this woman as the Iron Fist because you say so?”
“Give me a moment.” Elektra tersely nodded toward us before hurrying over to the old man.
The armed fighters parted to let her through, then immediately closed ranks again and resumed surrounding us with their weapons raised.
My hand twitched toward my lightsaber, but I held myself back out of some faint, lingering hope that this could still end peacefully.
Elektra and Stick began whispering. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but that faint hope quickly shriveled as their conversation grew increasingly heated.
The warriors surrounding us shifted uneasily as the argument grew louder. Several tightened their grips on their weapons, glancing between Stick and Elektra as if they were only waiting for a signal.Could I have one normal meeting?
Just one? No, this is the fucking Marvel universe, so I doubt it.
I ripped the silver gacha ticket.
[Rolling Silver Gacha Ticket]
[Aura Farming]|Uncommon Skill|
You are skilled at presenting yourself in ways that appear “cool” and “badass.” You possess a unique talent for identifying opportunities to “farm aura,” allowing you to interject at the perfect moment, make dramatic entrances, stand atop ledges with your back turned while your cape flutters majestically, and produce an exceptionally crisp dap.
Well, that was certainly something.
I leaned down toward Anna’s ear. “Want me to deal with this when we inevitably start fighting?”
“Maybe we can resolve this peacefully,” she whispered, although she didn’t sound particularly convinced.
“If you’re wrong…” I snorted. “I’m going to aura farm the hell out of this.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” she groaned, shooting me a sidelong look. “Can we please avoid doing something insane for once?”
“Hey, this time it won’t even be my fault.”
Anna poked me in the side. “It’ll be fine. People can be reasonable—”
“Enough!” Stick raised one hand, silencing the chamber. “Subdue the outsiders. We’ll determine the truth once they’ve been restrained.”
The warriors moved immediately.
Several charged toward us while Elektra drew both sai and intercepted Stick as he lunged with his cane. Their weapons cracked together hard enough to echo throughout the hall.
“Reasonable, huh?” I giggled, poking Anna in the shoulder.
It was probably a little arrogant, but I didn’t consider the martial artists rushing us much of a threat. Weird techniques aside, there was no way they were putting a dent in any of us.
“Ugh…” Anna covered her face with one hand.
I started to take a deep breath, but she quickly grabbed my arm.
“I’ll handle it. Let’s not embarrass our potential allies, sugah.” She rolled her shoulders and stepped forward. “I’ve still got all the skill I stole from those ninjas rattling around in my head.”
“You sure?”
“I’m the ‘Iron Fist,’ right?” Anna sighed, her face scrunching with irritation as she walked forward.
“That’s right,” I muttered.
The idea hit me like a lightning bolt.
I raised my voice. “HOW DARE YOU REBEL AGAINST THE GREAT MASTER OF K’UN-LUN!”
A perfectly timed breeze swept through the chamber, dramatically ruffling our clothes. Scenic Wind had arrived right on cue.
My aura-farming instincts took over.
I jumped, caught Anna around the waist, and lifted her onto my shoulders. She yelped as I positioned her directly beneath one of the overhead lights, giving her the most dramatic entrance physically possible.
The approaching Chaste warriors slowed, visibly taken aback.“Hate. You. So. Much,” Anna muttered under her breath.
Then she launched herself from my shoulders, one fist blazing with sparks of sorcery, and fell upon the stunned warriors like a storm. I had to stop myself from giggling when I caught sight of the faint blush spreading across her face.
Between the Ring of the Bull, her basic sorcery, and the years of skill she had stolen from the Hand’s assassins, the fight was practically over before it began.
“Dude…”
Spider-Man stood near the kids, his arms slowly dropping to his sides as he watched Anna tear through the martial artists.
“You guys’ lives must be freaking weird.”
I snorted, unable to deny it.
His comment made me take a closer look at him. His costume wasn’t nearly as polished as the later versions I remembered. It was a step above the ragtag outfit someone might throw together for their first night out, but it still didn’t match any of Spider-Man’s iconic looks.
His voice sounded too old for him to be the Tom Holland version of Peter Parker, so maybe he came from one of the older movies, a show, or some entirely different universe.
God help him if he were the comic-book version. That poor bastard never caught a break.
“Trust me when I say this.” I gave him a knowing look. “This is going to be normal for you in a few years.”
“Huh?” Spider-Man recoiled slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I only smirked before teleporting into the fray.
“Hey!”—
Despite how much he loathed Hydra, Nick Fury had to admit he felt a sliver of respect for the sheer audacity of these snakes. Of course, that respect paled beside the burning contempt he felt every time Rumlow opened his mouth.
“Is that all, Agent?” Nick asked, staring at the screen.
“Yes, sir. We traced the source, and every lead points toward an ecoterrorist group.” Agent Rumlow, the two-faced bastard, lied as easily as he breathed. “I already have several men in pursuit.”
“I see. Good work.” Nick leaned back slightly. “Make sure you follow protocol to the letter once you’re on-site. You know how touchy the NYPD can be.”
“No need to tell me twice, Director.” Rumlow chuckled. “I won’t piss off the blues.”
“You’d better not. Keep up the good work, Agent.” Nick gave him a small nod. “Dismissed.”
“Understood.” Rumlow offered a quick salute before the screen flickered off.
Nick scowled and slammed the laptop shut. Maintaining his composure while speaking to that two-faced worm always gave him a migraine.
A knock came from his office door.
“Director, I have the reports you requested,” Coulson called from the other side.
Nick massaged his temple. “Come in.”
“Working late?” Coulson stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him before placing a stack of documents on Fury’s desk.
“You know how it is.” Nick sighed as he picked up the dossier and casually rolled up one sleeve. “Good work leads to more work.”
Coulson caught the gesture and didn’t miss a beat. At the code phrase, he rolled up his own sleeves a few inches. “Hopefully we can put a dent in it and get you home early, Director.”
Nick’s gaze dropped to the small markings hidden along Coulson’s forearms and hands. To the casual eye, they looked no different from ordinary birthmarks, but each tiny dot formed part of a carefully arranged identification code.
Skrull shapeshifting was nearly flawless on a biological level. They could replicate flesh, blood, and bone with near-perfect accuracy, but foreign materials such as piercings, tattoos, and makeup required conscious effort to reproduce. After the Skrull schism, applying coded birthmarks with specialized makeup beneath verified agents’ clothing had quickly become standard procedure.
God, Fury hated dealing with rogue shapeshifters.
“At ease, Agent. The room is clear.”It was a true sign of how dire their situation had become that even a seasoned agent like Coulson nearly collapsed into the chair across from him. Fury sympathized. He set out a glass and poured Coulson a drink from his flask.
“Progress?”
Coulson snatched up the glass, drained it in one swallow, and released a tired sigh. “Not too bad, sir. I’m almost finished vetting most of the field teams. Maria is making good headway through her departments, and we’ve brought in a sizable number of clean agents.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there.” Fury tapped one finger against his desk.
“Something is going to crack, Director,” Coulson admitted. “The more people we bring on board, the greater the chance someone slips up. It’s a tightrope walk, and it’s only going to get worse as we move further up the chain.”
“Can we maintain our current pace?” “Not safely.” Coulson shook his head. “Frankly, sir, it’s a miracle we haven’t been discovered already.”
Fury’s lips thinned before he released a weary sigh. “Send an agent to contact Charles Xavier and arrange a secure call. Then have someone quietly sound out one of the Wakandan ambassadors.”
Coulson hesitated. “Are you sure, sir?”
“No.” Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. “But what other fucking choice do we have?”
“Understood. I’ll get right on it.” Coulson stood, only to pause when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, read the message, and frowned. “Sir… you wanted to know more about the explosion at the docks, correct?”
“Yeah. Those snakes moved on it fast.”
“Our mysterious oracle just sent another text, and…” Coulson trailed off before sighing. “You should probably see this for yourself.”
Fury took the phone and read the message.
“Ninjas,” he muttered. “In New York. Working with Hydra.”
He leaned back in his chair and dragged both hands over his face.
Motherfucker.