S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the Triskelion.
Director Nick Fury was buried in paperwork when someone knocked on his office door.
"Come in," he said without looking up.
The door swung open and Agent Maria Hill strode in quickly. "Fury, we've got a situation."
"Hmm?"
Fury paused mid-signature and looked up, genuinely surprised.
Hill was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s few Level 10 agents. She had clearance for almost everything—enhanced individuals, alien technology, classified operations. In all the years they'd worked together, this was the first time he'd seen her look genuinely rattled.
Whatever had happened, it was serious.
He set down his pen. "What is it?"
"Major gang war in Harlem. But it's not what you think."
Hill was already flipping through the folder in her hands as she approached his desk, searching for something specific.
Fury leaned back in his chair and waited patiently.
Hill wasn't just a Level 10 agent—she was his right hand, his most trusted assistant. If she'd rushed to his office before even organizing her materials properly, something extraordinary must have happened.
"Found it."
Hill pulled a USB drive from the folder and plugged it directly into the projector on Fury's desk. As the machine hummed to life, she started explaining. "This happened about half an hour ago. A mafia group calling themselves the 'Vongola Family' showed up in Harlem out of nowhere and announced they were taking over every gang in the territory. Then they had a shootout with the three largest gangs in the area. This is the surveillance footage."
"Alright."
Fury nodded and turned his attention to the image projected on the wall.
On a run-down Harlem street, two groups—maybe six hundred people total—were walking toward each other, all armed to the teeth.
One side was mostly Black men, all built like linebackers and dressed in typical street gear.
The other side was... unusual.
They wore black suits and fedoras, dressed like they'd walked straight out of a 1940s gangster film. The group was racially diverse—Black, white, Asian—and included men, women, and what looked like elderly people and even children.
Fury could overlook the racial diversity. Some gangs emphasized brotherhood and didn't discriminate based on race.
The mixed genders weren't that strange either. Women in organized crime were rare but not unheard of. Some had even risen to leadership positions.
But the elderly and children? That was pushing it.
Especially the baby—and Fury was certain that was an actual infant, maybe a year old—wearing a tiny camouflage outfit and somehow carrying an anti-tank sniper rifle that was several times taller than he was.
That was absolutely absurd.
It looked like something out of a cartoon.
Was that thing even real? Or was it some kind of foam toy prop?
And there was an older man who looked like a European aristocrat, complete with a ceremonial cane. He seemed so frail that Fury doubted he could walk more than a few steps without assistance.
Did he think he was going to a formal dinner instead of a gang war?
What really caught Fury's attention, though, was that many of the "Vongola" members weren't armed at all.
Especially the ones at the front, who appeared to be the leaders.
They walked with their hands empty, wearing only distinctive rings on their fingers.
Were they seriously planning to fight like that?
Fury had so many questions that he didn't even know where to begin.
"The group on the left is the Savage Gang," Hill explained. "The others are the Vongola Family."
Despite knowing there had to be more to this story, Fury couldn't help himself. "Are you sure this isn't footage from some low-budget action movie?"
"I thought the same thing at first," Hill admitted. "But I can guarantee you, it's real."
"Fine."
Seeing Hill's serious expression, Fury suppressed his skepticism and focused on the projection again.
The firefight had already started.
The Savage Gang had superior firepower and struck first. The Vongola side barely fired back. In less than five minutes, the Savage Gang had completely wiped them out without suffering a single casualty.
That was it?
Fury looked at Hill with visible confusion.
Sure, a street battle with over three hundred casualties was a serious incident. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was a United Nations organization established to handle supernatural threats. This looked like standard gang violence—brutal, but nothing extraordinary. The NYPD could handle it.
"Keep watching," Hill said firmly.
"Alright."
Fury turned back to the screen.
The Savage Gang's leader stood in front of his crew, shouting victoriously and celebrating their easy win.
Then, without warning, a blurry figure appeared behind him. It solidified gradually, revealing a striking young man with long blue hair tied in a ponytail, holding an ornate trident.
Fury's eye narrowed.
He grabbed the remote, rewound the footage to the beginning of the firefight, and searched for the young man among the Vongola members.
There—second row, walking alongside six others.
In front of them was a young man in a black cloak with calm, intelligent features, bright orange hair, and distinctive orange eyes. He looked like the leader. Sitting on his shoulders was the baby in the black suit that Fury had noticed earlier.
"So there are at least eight others like him?"
Fury's expression darkened considerably.
The mafia took hierarchy extremely seriously. Everything from travel arrangements to meeting positions reflected status and power within the organization.
If this group was genuinely mafia, the person at the front would be the leader—the one with the most authority, respect, and strength. The people walking beside him in the second row would be his core members, his guardians or lieutenants.
If one of those core members had supernatural abilities, it made no sense that the others didn't.
Why else would they hold the same position in the formation?
Fury studied the faces of all seven individuals carefully, committing them to memory before continuing the video.
The young man had materialized behind the Savage Gang's leader as if appearing from thin air.
Fury rewound and replayed the moment over a dozen times, trying to find some clue—a shadow, a shimmer, anything that would explain the technique. But there was nothing. The young man had simply... appeared.
Frustrated, he let the video continue.
The young man seemed to say something.
Since the surveillance footage had no audio and neither Fury nor Hill could read lips, they had no idea what he'd said.
But the gang leader clearly heard him. He spun around instantly and opened fire, emptying half a magazine in the young man's direction.
The bullets passed straight through him like he was made of smoke. He dissipated into mist.
Instead, the gang members standing behind where the illusion had been took the full force of the gunfire. Several dropped immediately.
The gang leader froze, clearly panicking.
Then the young man reappeared directly behind him again and said something else—probably a taunt, judging by his expression.
This time, he didn't vanish. The moment the gang leader turned around, the young man moved with inhuman speed and drove his trident through the man's shoulder, pinning him to the ground.
At the same moment, something impossible happened.
The bodies of the previously dead Vongola members began to fade like watercolor paintings in the rain. They disappeared entirely—and then reappeared behind each member of the Savage Gang, guns aimed at their backs.
The entire situation reversed in an instant.
"Wait—are they all enhanced?" Fury shot to his feet, staring at the screen in disbelief.
"No, it's just that one young man's ability," Hill corrected. "He's creating illusions. Everything we saw before—the deaths, the bodies—none of it was real."
"How do you know that?"