Chapter 34: S.H.I.E.L.D. Mobilizes, Captain America
Inside the cold interrogation room.
Nick Fury's solitary eye appeared especially deep as he stroked the stubble on his chin, lost in thought.
The final words left by those reincarnators before they vanished still echoed in his ears, like a fog that refused to lift.
Despite his deep contemplation, he found no answers.
"Agent Hill, check the names they mentioned. See if there are any leads on Earth."
Since thinking got him nowhere, Fury chose to drop the matter and passed the task on to the diligent and capable Agent Maria Hill via his earpiece.
"Yes, Boss,"
came Hill's sharp and professional voice.
At the same time—
Fury's thoughts drifted far away.
If those people who vanished into thin air really were extraterrestrials, perhaps Talos and the Skrulls might know something.
After all, they were once a prominent race in the cosmos, with a far greater understanding of interstellar matters than S.H.I.E.L.D.
Next—
Fury's gaze shifted to Black Widow.
"Agent Romanoff, Stark Industries needs a pair of eyes. I want you to go undercover."
As he spoke—
Fury's one eye scanned the graceful curve of her figure.
"Stark's little genius seems to have gotten himself into trouble. The arc reactor his father left behind is starting to harm him. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to help solve this issue."
At the mention of Tony Stark, Fury's mouth twitched slightly.
His father, Howard Stark—
was one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D., a figure of great prestige. Fury, now the current director of the organization,
oversaw countless hidden secrets across the Earth.
Besides Whiplash—
Fury could also see Tony was suffering from palladium poisoning.
So S.H.I.E.L.D. had to intervene.
Fury couldn't allow a potential Avenger candidate to die.
"I'll get him to invite me to tour his lab himself."
Natasha caught on quickly. She straightened her back, her fiery red hair flipping over her shoulder.
Her smile carried lethal charm, as though she already envisioned Tony falling at her feet in admiration.
As New York's number one playboy—
Tony never hid his lustful tendencies, and his reputation was well-known.
Fortunately, Natasha was both stunning and well-trained—
a graduate of the Red Room, well-versed in countless fields.
She was confident—
that with her beauty and talent, she could easily infiltrate Stark Industries and land a position as his secretary.
"Alright, I'll leave it all to you."
Fury nodded slightly.
After assigning his subordinates their tasks, he returned directly to his office.
Besides the reincarnators and the Tony situation—
there was another major problem that urgently needed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention.
"Frank doesn't lie. If he says that the killer tearing through Hell's Kitchen isn't him, then who else could it be?"
In the office—
Fury rubbed his pounding temple, muttering to himself.
He'd been aware of the serial killer in Hell's Kitchen for some time.
But he chose not to intervene—
because it was Hell's Kitchen: a cesspool of vice. The victims were all criminals.
So Fury turned a blind eye.
To sit in the director's chair at S.H.I.E.L.D. and be known as the king of agents—
naturally meant he too had blood on his hands and wasn't afraid to get them dirty.
Besides Hell's Kitchen being what it was—
there was another reason.
When the killing spree first began—
Fury made the same mistake Daredevil did.
He thought the ruthless murderer in the shadows
was none other than his old war buddy, Frank Castle—
the infamous Punisher.
But just last night, that misunderstanding was cleared up.
Frank reached out to Fury himself,
telling him the real killer was someone else—
and that the scale of the carnage had already escalated.
What he thought was a former ally resurfacing to clean up scum—
was actually something far worse.
Lurking in the dark was a beast even more dangerous.
"This bastard's killed even superhumans. The threat level's skyrocketed. S.H.I.E.L.D. has no choice but to step in."
The devastation in Hell's Kitchen filled Fury's eyes—
as he opened his screen.
On it—
Mockingbird's shattered mask;
Kraven's blood-soaked lion-hide cloak;
Kingpin collapsed on the ground, his body burst like an overfilled balloon…
Dozens of notorious villains were shown,
each dying in gruesome fashion.
As Fury scrolled through the photos captured by the Punisher—
his breath unconsciously caught.
In a single night, someone had taken out so many top-tier criminals.
The killer was clearly a powerful superhuman—
and Fury now had a massive headache.
He couldn't think of anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. capable of handling this incident.
Most of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents were, after all, just highly trained regular people.
In terms of combat power, even the likes of Taskmaster were out of their league.
"The Avengers Initiative must move forward. This is an age of superhumans now. We can't rely on mere mortals—efficiency is too low."
Fury shook his head with resignation.
But his gaze grew more resolute—
it was time to put his long-standing plan into motion.
"Should I send the newly defrosted Steve? But he's still adjusting to this era… carrying out missions might be tough for him."
After much thought—
a figure surfaced in Fury's mind:
The man who'd recently returned from the glacier—
a living legend.
The one who had led troops against Hydra in WWII.
Captain America—Steve Rogers.
He had frozen himself to save the world,
and spent seventy years entombed beneath the Arctic Ocean.
His worldview was still trapped in the 20th century.
Now thawed—
Steve was trying to come to terms with the modern world.
But he remained in recovery,
unable to keep up with many of today's ideas—
like a centenarian trapped in a young man's body.
Yet aside from Steve, the super-soldier—
Fury could think of no one else in all of S.H.I.E.L.D. who could compete with these superhumans.
"Maybe… it's time Captain America saw for himself how insane 21st-century battlefields have become."
After a moment of hesitation—
Fury made up his mind.
Meanwhile—
in the research lab atop Hammer Tower,
Jiang Feng was pretending to work.
His fingers danced across various instruments,
the clinks and clangs of metal forming an oddly rhythmic melody.
On one of the side screens—
a news broadcast was playing:
> "The Hell's Kitchen murder case has escalated again.
The killer's range has now extended to other districts."
> "Last night, many citizens witnessed a monster storm into Fisk Tower.
The body of famed philanthropist Wilson Fisk was later discovered in the underground garage."
> "According to police, higher-level agencies will now take over the investigation.
Citizens are urged to remain calm. The matter will soon be resolved…"
This piece of news—
like a massive stone dropped into a still pond,
sent shockwaves through New York's criminal underworld.
Everyone was watching.
Whether it was Daredevil, the Punisher, or other street-level heroes—
or crime bosses like Hammerhead, Martin Li, and Puzzle—
all were stunned by Kingpin's death.
Their reactions varied:
some were shocked, others terrified, some simply in disbelief.
That New York's underworld emperor had died such an undignified death
was beyond anyone's expectations.
And the one most at a loss—
was not any other gang leader—
but Daredevil.
He had spent years fighting tirelessly,
trying to bring Fisk down—
only to see him suddenly and inexplicably killed.
With his lifelong nemesis gone—
Daredevil felt lost, as though he had suddenly lost his purpose.