S.H.I.E.L.D., the Brotherhood, New York gangs.
Three forces, three starved Beasts, were simultaneously led by him, like marionettes, with three pieces of information, difficult to distinguish between true and false, to the same meat grinder!
He was using thirty million U.S. dollars as bait, directing a bloody feast of three factions slaughtering each other!
This man was crazier and more terrifying than any ambitious person she had ever met.
Fear.
An primal fear of an unknown, powerful existence gripped Raven's heart.
But then, another, more terrifying emotion followed.
Excitement!
A pathological, bloodthirsty excitement, eager to immediately plunge into this crazy party!
She suddenly smiled.
It was a smile mixed with excitement, a thirst for fame, and the joy of meeting a worthy opponent. In her golden pupils, a dangerous glint, identical to Lynt's, flickered.
"You lunatic..."
She extended the tip of her tongue, slowly licking her dry lips, and walked step by step in front of Lynt. She leaned down, her nose almost touching his, her voice hoarse and alluring.
"...I really want to devour you whole right now."
Lynt also smiled, taking a black object smaller than a fingernail from a drawer and pushing it towards her.
"Get to work first."
He pushed the item in front of Raven.
"A miniature high-frequency tracker, with a listening function."
"Your mission is not to steal money, nor is it to kill people."
He leaned forward, his lips touching Raven's, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
"I want you to infiltrate that slaughterhouse and, without anyone knowing, attach this little thing to the box containing the money."
"Then,"
He leaned back in his chair, relaxing completely.
"We'll sit in the audience and enjoy the... grand fireworks I've prepared for you."
Lynt leaned back in his chair, relaxing completely. In his eyes, burning with his plan, Raven's golden vertical pupils, flickering with excitement, were clearly reflected.
Raven picked up the cold tracker from the table, weighed it in her hand, then casually tossed it to the corner of the table like trash.
She didn't speak, but her actions said it all.
The woman took a step forward, resting her hands on the armrests of Lynt's chair, leaning down and completely enveloping him in her shadow.
The only light source in the apartment was the neon outside the window. The light flowed over her blue skin, outlining her Beast-like, fluid, and oppressive muscle lines.
The air instantly dropped several degrees.
"Before the operation,"
Her voice was very low, with an unquestionable tone of command.
"I need to get stronger."
No sooner had she spoken than, without even walking around the table, she extended her arm and effortlessly lifted Lynt, weighing one hundred and twenty to thirty pounds, completely off the chair!
It was as easy as picking up a cat.
"Hey! Wait..."
Alarm bells rang in Lynt's head, and his body instinctively reacted in the most cowardly way—he hugged her to avoid falling.
Damn it! Is this woman on drugs! So thirsty!
His protest was completely cut off by a muffled thud.
The bedroom door was kicked open by her, then closed automatically.
Lynt was thrown heavily onto the bed.
The mattress suddenly sank, then bounced him high.
The old wooden bed frame creaked.
He had just propped himself up halfway when the light in front of him dimmed.
Mystique had already taken control of him, her golden vertical pupils in the darkness locking onto him.
She looked down at him, with scrutiny, with greed, like a blue female leopard savoring her prey.
She said nothing, just lowered her head.
There was no tenderness, only plunder.
The room was eerily quiet, with only breathing sounds, one urgent, the other... forced urgent.
The sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains danced and shattered uneasily at the foot of the bed, finally dissolving into a chaotic shadow.
The frame protested rhythmically.
From its initial intensity, it gradually became weak.
In the air, invisible sparks seemed to crackle.
Two auras in the confined space.
Colliding, intertwining, and finally merging into one savagely.
After an unknown amount of time.
When the last overwhelmed moan fell, everything returned to deadly silence.
Raven's chest rose and fell slightly, and she propped herself up.
Her nose almost touched Lynt's, her voice hoarse, but with a hint of lazy satisfaction after a feast.
"Now, I'm going to prepare for the work I need to do."
She rolled out of bed, her movements crisp and decisive, without the slightest lingering.
In the darkness, her blue body undulated like flowing Water, transforming into a glamorous beauty.
She pushed open the door and walked out without looking back, as if she wasn't the protagonist of the storm that had just passed.
Lynt lay alone on the messy battlefield, spread out in an 'X' shape, staring at the ceiling, stunned for a full ten seconds.
Damn it... I lost out.
This woman is getting better at squeezing out the remaining value from her tools.
He wiggled his fingers, and a familiar warm current surged through his limbs, faint but definitely present.
This was his own strength growing.
Immediately after, a light blue virtual prompt box, visible only to him, popped up on time before his eyes.
Double cultivation complete.
You have received a U.S. dollar reward: $10,000.
Looking at the ten thousand U.S. dollar figure, Lynt's little bit of suppressed frustration instantly vanished.
He grinned, laughing silently.
This small physical loss, in exchange for tangible strength growth and ten thousand U.S. dollars.
This deal was a huge profit!
Red Hook Slaughterhouse.
The smell in the air could knock a person over.
A strong smell of blood, a pungent smell of disinfectant, and the sour smell of animal fat that had been left out for too long.
They mixed together, constantly assailing your nose.
On huge hooks, rows of gutted pigs, like a silent army of corpses.
The ground was wet and slippery, and stepping on it gave an disgusting sensation of blood and minced meat mixed together.
An old man in a blue cleaner's uniform, wearing a mask and a hat, was pushing a cleaning cart, moving unhurriedly through the workshop corridor.
His movements were mechanical, numb, indistinguishable from the dozens of real cleaners here.
Raven's shapeshifting ability was simply a divine skill in this godforsaken place.
Target: B2 cold storage.
Kingpin's temporary vault.
She deftly avoided all surveillance, silently gliding underground.
In front of the cold storage's metal door.
A man sat on an iron chair, his back to the corridor, unmoving.
Brown trench coat, black fedora, like a poor quality wax figure.
But the moment Raven stepped within thirty meters behind him.
The wax figure came alive.
He didn't turn around, just pulled out a deck of playing cards from his pocket and slowly fanned them between his fingers.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
The sound of the cards cutting through the damp air was jarring in this dead silent underground space.
Raven's footsteps instantly froze.
She shrank into the shadow of the wall, her heart almost stopping.
Was she discovered?
How could that be!
The man stopped his movements, pinching a Diamond Ace, and tilted his head, as if listening to the wind.
"How strange..."
He spoke, his voice not loud, but with a nervous cat-and-mouse tone.
"The smell in the air seems to have a little more..."
"...the smell of a living person that doesn't belong to pigs."
Before he finished speaking, he suddenly flicked his wrist!
Whoosh—!
The thin playing card, like a throwing knife, with a sharp whooshing sound, grazed Raven's cheek and, with a "thud," was firmly embedded in the concrete wall behind her!
Three points into the wall!
Raven's pupils instantly constricted to pinpricks.
The man slowly stood up and turned around.
The dim light illuminated his face.
An unremarkable face, its only distinguishing feature being a circular brand, like a Bullseye, carved into his forehead with a knife.
Bullseye.
Kingpin's craziest dog.
He grinned, revealing a set of eerily White teeth, like a hyena that had finally seen its prey step into a trap.
"Caught you..."
"Little mouse."