"Eliminating those street heroes outright would be reckless," Sowande warned, his deep voice slicing through the dimly lit chamber. "It would draw the attention of every rival faction. If they learn we're digging for dragon bones, it will be chaos."
Tubo sat hunched in his chair, fingers twitching with withdrawal from the dwindling supply of elixir that kept his centuries-old body alive. His eyes burned with desperation, but even in his madness, Sowande's words made sense.
Across the table, Madam Gao's gaze was cold and unreadable. She had considered unleashing the elite killers she'd brought from the East, wiping out the "Defenders" and cementing her dominance over New York's East Coast. But that would only strengthen her position at the cost of the others—and the Hand's internal politics were as dangerous as any battlefield.
Alexandra leaned forward, her voice smooth as silk but sharpened with paranoia. "Sowande is right. The Black Sky alone can draw them out. If you move openly, Madam Gao, your influence won't stop at the East Coast—you'll reach the West Coast too. And I can't allow that."
Madam Gao's expression didn't change, but her fingers tightened on the armrest. "Very well. We'll use the Black Sky to bait them. Once they're distracted, the Rand Corporation will serve as our trap to capture the Iron Fist."
For a moment, silence held the chamber, broken only when Murakami, silent until now, finally spoke. "I'll lead my own men to guard the dragon bones." His voice was calm, but the meaning was clear—he trusted none of them.
Tubo immediately straightened. "I'll guard them as well." In truth, he would sleep on top of the relics if it meant claiming the first piece.
Alexandra cut them both off. "Too many bodies near the site risks exposure. Gao and I have our people stationed there already. That's enough."
Murakami smiled without warmth. "Then I'll go in secret. The dragon bones are worth more than all our territories combined—they must be protected without flaw."
Sowande's eyes narrowed. They had been allies, enemies, and conspirators for centuries. He knew the truth: all of them were planning to skim from the treasure. He also knew none of them would admit it aloud.
By the time their negotiations ended, it was past four in the morning. They had agreed—on paper at least—that Murakami, Tubo, and Sowande would each take a small contingent to guard the bones, while Gao and Alexandra focused on the Defenders and the Iron Fist. When the seal was broken, they would retrieve the bones together.
Within the hour, three shadowy groups slipped out of the Hand's New York headquarters, vanishing into the winter darkness. Their destination: a burial site deep beneath the Hudson River, west of Hell's Kitchen.
The city awoke to rumors before dawn. Word spread that Erica—once an ordinary girl—had become the new Black Sky. But something had gone wrong in her "creation." She was no longer fully controllable, and would have to be shipped to Japan for reconditioning.
By noon, Hell's Kitchen was a powder keg. Street factions, underworld syndicates, and vigilantes all turned their attention toward the Hand's headquarters. From the shadows, S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra agents began to converge.
Among them was Frederick, head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Los Angeles branch—and secretly a high-ranking member of Hydra's "traditionalist" faction. Sent by aging European Hydra leaders who clung to life with the Hand's elixir, Frederick had one mission: seize the dragon bones before Pierce's Red Skull loyalists could.
Hydra had coveted the Hand's immortality for decades. They'd bought stolen vials of the elixir at ruinous prices, confirmed its power… and learned it could only be made from one thing—the bones of a celestial dragon.
And now, those bones had been found.
Frederick had already lost an East Coast "bridgehead" when the Duke—Jue, the Shinigami from another world—erased it without a trace. At first, he suspected Pierce's operatives. But during the investigation, Alexandra's network revealed a critical truth: the Hand had discovered a cache of dragon bones buried in New York.
By the time the winter sun set, every shadow in Hell's Kitchen seemed to move with intent. From mutant street gangs to Hydra spies to the Hand's assassins, all paths were drawing inward—toward the same treasure.
And above them all, unseen but ever watchful, Jue lingered in the spiritual currents, his gaze fixed on the players below. He had seen centuries of greed in Soul Society, but even there, few had ever schemed over a prize so dangerous.
Frederick had emptied his deck this time, sending every loyal operative into the field. The dragon bone wasn't just a relic — it was currency that could buy him leverage over Europe's most powerful magnates.
As the long-time head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Los Angeles branch, he'd grown sick of dancing to Pierce's tune. This was his ticket to break the leash. Whatever political storms it stirred up, as long as he held the dragon bone, the rest could burn.
Elsewhere, the Duke — known to the mutants at Xavier's as Jue, the Shinigami intruder from another world — tied up loose ends. Erica was safely stashed away in a private villa under the care of a wealthy patron. Only then did he return to the crime-soaked streets of Hell's Kitchen, his black robes blending into the early-morning shadows.
The Hand's fortress was already doomed; Jue had made sure of that. But he wasn't here for them anymore. Other eyes had been watching the Hand — patient, calculating eyes. Previously, he'd ignored them in favor of seizing Black Sky, but now their presence demanded attention.
With a flick of his wrist, threads of Bakudō energy unfurled — low-level spells by Bleach standards, but honed to surgical precision. A faint glow in the air revealed their true nature.
"Hydra… hiding in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Los Angeles network?"
He chuckled to himself. Hydra's presence here meant trouble — and opportunity.
"They're after the Hand's immortality elixir," Jue reasoned. "For the powerful, it's not just a luxury — it's a cheat code against death itself. If they secure it, it won't just extend their lives; it will entrench their grip on this world."
A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"Perfect. Let's draw them out. Hell's Kitchen can be the stage… and I'll see what this world's predators are truly capable of."
With that, he flash-stepped away, vanishing from Hell's Kitchen's skyline and reappearing at Xavier's School just as the first hints of dawn lit the eastern horizon.
The school was still in its peaceful slumber — a sharp contrast to the chaos he was about to unleash. Without ceremony, Jue walked straight to Yi Feng's dormitory.
Yi Feng stirred awake, blinking at the shadowed figure by his bed. When recognition set in, excitement flared in his eyes. He had wanted to seek Jue's protection for his mother's sake, but hesitation had cost him his chance. Now, fate had given him a second one.
"You've got something to say," Jue observed, but waved it off. "Not now. I'll hear it in three days — have your words ready. Right now, I need your skills."
Yi Feng straightened. "Anything, Mr. Jue."
"I remember you said you were good with computers," Jue continued. "I need a message spread online — fast, loud, and impossible to trace for at least a week."
A flicker of pride crossed Yi Feng's face. "I've studied hacking since I was a kid — self-taught. And since I got here, I've picked up techniques even major players use. No matter what you give me, I can make it viral without leaving a trail."
"Good." Jue's tone hardened. "Repeat this word for word:
'Dragon bones, the key material for the elixir of immortality, have been discovered beneath Hell's Kitchen, New York. The elixir can prolong life indefinitely without side effects, preserving youth and vitality. The method of production rests with the five leaders of the Hand. If the dragon bones are removed, New York faces certain catastrophe.'
Spread it through New York and Washington before nightfall. Deny everything if confronted. If you can't, come straight to me. Understand?"
Yi Feng repeated it perfectly. Satisfied, Jue clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the door — only to pause when he noticed Scott Summers watching from the hallway.
"New York's about to get messy," Jue warned. "Keep the gates closed, don't wander, and don't get involved. A dangerous organization's in play."
Scott frowned. "Is it true?"
Jue smirked. "All of it. But don't chase the dragon bones — the Hand's leaders are still guarding them, and while they're not much stronger than humans, they've lived long enough to be clever. If you want a piece, act fast — competition will be brutal. Alexandra probably still has some. Go to her directly."
Scott was still processing the information when Jue vanished again. In truth, the Duke had already stolen three of the elixirs from Murakami, Tubo, and Sowande during a week in Nepal. Without Charles Xavier's telepathy, he'd relied on his Bleach-honed mastery of hypnosis, plucking the knowledge from their brittle minds.
Madam Gao's cache was another story — a secret even among the Hand. Few had ever seen it, fewer still connected it to the organization. For Jue, it was the perfect spark to ignite the powder keg.
Hell's Kitchen was about to burn.