In a luxurious room at Midland Circle Financial, a corporate skyscraper in Manhattan that also served as the main front of The Hand in the United States, six individuals of different ethnicities were gathered: Asian, African, European, and even Latin.
They were the five leaders of The Hand, known as the Five Fingers. From the shadows, they had ruled crime for centuries, sustained by mysterious techniques that prolonged their lives. Their wisdom and composure were legendary.
Today, however, the calm that distinguished them had crumbled.
"Listen, this time I can't help you. The enemy is too powerful," said a male voice through the phone.
"We don't need to fight," replied an elderly woman firmly. "All we ask is legal support. If you can give us that, I will handle the rest."
Her voice belonged to Madame Gao, the most ancient of the Five Fingers. Though she looked like an extremely old woman, in truth she had lived even longer than she appeared. Despite her identity, the man on the other end showed no respect and mocked her cruelly.
"Handle the rest? You can't handle anything. They're ninjas, for God's sake. A shadow organization. Their strength lies precisely in that. Now that they've been exposed… they have nothing."
"We have not been exposed. It's just a painting. They cannot convict us for that."
Madame Gao kept a diplomatic tone, but she was interrupted by Murakami, another of the Fingers. Black-haired, with a stern face marked by scars, he spoke with contained rage.
The man on the phone continued.
"A painting? What year do you think this is? It's 2015. Five years ago, rumors of a flying tin man were taken as fiction. Today, if someone claims to have seen a werewolf, people will check before dismissing it. Times have changed. Maybe before a painting could be ignored, but now… now it's a prophecy. A prophecy painted by an Avenger who has saved Earth countless times. Who do you think the government will trust?"
Silence filled the room.
"We know we are in trouble," said Madame Gao, trying to ease the atmosphere. "But with your help, we can overcome this. And you will be richly rewarded."
"Do you think I'm a fool? Even with my help you'd need at least half of parliament to agree. With SHIELD watching every corner, that's impossible. Don't call again."
The line cut abruptly.
Instead of raging, Madame Gao let out a resigned sigh and turned to the others.
"That was the eighth to reject us… and the last one with enough power to help. The rest are just small fish in this country."
"Damn it!" roared Murakami, slamming the table. "So we're just going to sit here, waiting like lambs for slaughter?"
"And what do you suggest?" another of the Fingers replied sarcastically. "The Avengers are too much for us. Not to mention Hulk or Scarlet Witch. Even regular SHIELD agents could defeat us if they have the right intel."
"Then let's strike before they do!"
"Are you stupid? Do you want to hand them our heads on silver platters?"
"What did you call me?!"
"Enough!" ordered a female voice, imposing immediate silence.
It was Alexandra Reid, a Caucasian woman with silver-blonde hair, fragile and elderly in appearance, but with a gaze so firm it imposed authority effortlessly. She was the de facto leader of the Five Fingers and the great strategist.
"This is no time for infighting," she decreed.
"So then?" asked Gao, with a trace of defiance in her tone.
"The Hand is on the brink of destruction," continued Gao. "The only reason we're still here is probably because the Avengers are busy going through the personal data SHIELD delivered. And you just sit there, calm."
Alexandra didn't react to the provocation. Her voice was serene, almost maternal.
"The Hand will not be destroyed. That is impossible. The time of Black Sky has not yet come."
"Black Sky is a myth! Nothing more than that," spat Murakami, turning to the sixth person in the room, the only one who was not a Finger.
Beside Alexandra stood Elektra Natchios, motionless.
"Look at her. She's just a girl with some power. At best, she's on Captain America's level, and that's being generous. Do you really think she can lead us and save us?"
"Yes. I do," Alexandra said, calm and with a spark of devotion in her voice.
The group fell silent, exchanging looks heavy with resignation. Elektra, on the other hand, watched everything with empty eyes, devoid of expression.
Her existence was intimately tied to the origins of The Hand.
Once, the Five Fingers had been members of K'un-Lun. But after manipulating the substance known as Black Goo—extracted from dragon bones to prolong life—they were accused of heresy and exiled for defying the natural order. Thus The Hand was born: an organization that sought to spread across the world, amass power, and continue extending their lives, always from the shadows.
That obsession with the Black Goo was also the reason they were in New York, despite the risk. The resource was running out, and desperation had pushed them to increasingly reckless measures.
In their original plans, discretion was absolute. They avoided any action that could attract the gaze of the so-called Demon of Laplace: as long as nothing happened on the surface, not even someone who could see the future would find clues. But something changed. Something in the future forced The Hand to take desperate risks, and that was the disaster Leonardo had foreseen in his vision.
Alexandra had meditated for hours, trying to find the answer, but even her intellect could not unravel the mystery.
Still, she held firm to one certainty: they would survive.
Since the organization's birth, there had been the myth of Black Sky, the chosen one destined to lead The Hand and conquer the world of the living.
Interpretations varied. Alexandra believed with blind faith; others were skeptical; some dismissed it as nonsense.
In fact, Elektra, at first, had been in the other camp, those who fought The Hand. But after her death, Alexandra had used the second gift of the Black Goo: to resurrect the fallen. Those who returned came back without individuality, as empty puppets. Alexandra brought her back, convinced she was the true Black Sky.
Now, in the midst of despair, that faith was the only thing sustaining Alexandra.
What she didn't notice was that, just behind her, in Elektra's dull eyes, a fleeting spark flickered, barely perceptible.
"For now," said Alexandra, breaking the silence, "all we can do is defend ourselves. Escaping the country is impossible. Call everyone to the base. This will be a fight where we must give it our all."
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