"Latest reports indicate that our New York division has suffered an attack from an unknown chemical weapon. Every agent stationed at the base has been completely wiped out."
"When their bodies were discovered, they had already turned into mummified husks and skeletons, yet this incident occurred within mere hours at most."
"Even worse, the entire New York division base has been contaminated. Not only have all electronic devices been rendered useless, but even the ground itself has been corroded, transforming into something akin to a swamp, filled with an overwhelming stench of decay..."
"The only good news is that this biochemical weapon seems to have a limited range and has not spread. The covert sentries we stationed outside the base were not affected by the chemical weapon attack. However, they were systematically eliminated by unknown enemies. So far, we have found no survivors..."
Bang!
Before the tall-legged secretary could finish her report, Pierce, who had just retrieved a bottle of chilled whiskey from the car's mini-fridge and poured himself a drink to calm his nerves, suddenly smashed the glass in his hand with a loud crack.
Shards of the shattered glass cut through the secretary's stockings, leaving a thin bloody scratch along her long, slender legs. Yet, her expression remained unchanged.
She calmly watched Pierce's furious outburst, then gracefully bent down, retrieved another glass, and, using a pair of tongs, placed a few ice cubes into it. She then opened a fresh bottle of Pierce's favorite whiskey, swirled it lightly, and poured the golden liquid into the glass.
"Minister, your drink."
Pierce, who had been seething with rage, gradually regained his composure as he watched his secretary's fluid and elegant movements.
Taking the cool glass from her hand, he took a sip.
As the cold, rich liquor flowed across his tongue and down his throat, the chilling sensation helped him regain his calm.
To be able to rebuild Hydra right under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose and grow it into a formidable force again, Pierce's capabilities and cunning were beyond question.
His rage a moment ago was merely an instinctive reaction to the series of catastrophic reports.
Now that the initial fury had subsided, he swiftly returned to his usual calculated state of mind.
After a long silence, Pierce finally spoke again, "If I recall correctly, Frank Grillo (Crossbones) and the Winter Soldier were tasked today with eliminating that clown in Hell's Kitchen and retrieving the missing Iron Monger's head, correct?"
"Yes, Minister."
"So that means… they failed, and that clown from Hell's Kitchen turned the tables on them?"
"Yes, Minister. Mr. Sitwell discovered the bodies of Frank Grillo and his team at the clown's hideout not long ago. Then, while pursuing the fleeing clown, Sitwell was taken out by a sniper mid-route. Ultimately, it turned out the warehouse Sitwell was heading toward was another trap, one that cost us at least three elite squads..."
Pierce narrowed his eyes. "So, Sitwell's death was also the clown's doing?"
The secretary shook her head. "No, intelligence analysis suggests that the sniper who took out Sitwell was someone else, not the clown himself—more likely an accomplice."
"Why?"
"Although the warehouse Sitwell was heading toward turned out to be a trap, the clown had indeed been inside it earlier, engaging in a fierce conflict with Kingpin's men and killing dozens of them. If not for this, Sitwell wouldn't have rushed there and fallen into the ambush.
After analyzing the incident, our intelligence team concluded that given the distance between the warehouse and where Sitwell was sniped, the clown couldn't have made it there in time. So..."
"So the clown has an accomplice." Pierce sneered, then suddenly paused, frowning. "If that's the case, could the New York division incident also be their doing? A form of retaliation?"
The secretary furrowed her brows.
"It's not impossible... but how did they locate our New York division so quickly and launch such a devastating strike in such a short time?"
At this stage, Hydra was still in its dormant phase.
Though their influence had spread globally, and they controlled countless secret networks and military assets, their existence remained highly classified.
Their security protocols were nearly impenetrable.
Otherwise, with Fury's paranoid nature, how could they have infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. for decades without being exposed?
"Who knows? Torture, interrogation, hypnosis, electronic tracking… There are many ways to uncover the New York division's location. After all, most of the personnel we dispatched to capture that clown this morning were from the New York division."
"But none of that matters anymore..."
"Now that we know who the enemy is, we must do everything in our power to eliminate them and everything connected to them."
Pierce let out a cold chuckle, his eyes flashing with a chilling light as he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.
"But..."
The secretary hesitated before speaking. "What if we're targeting the wrong person?"
"Then we keep looking. It's only a matter of time. Even if the New York division incident wasn't the clown's doing, Frank Grillo and Sitwell's deaths are still linked to him. He killed so many of our people. He must die."
"I understand, Minister..."
Just then, Pierce added, "By the way, make sure this incident is reported to Director Fury. Frank Grillo and Sitwell sacrificed themselves for Hydra's cause. We mustn't let their families feel abandoned—ensure they receive full compensation. Have Director Fury sign off on the benefits promptly. After all, Frank Grillo and the others were official S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."
The secretary's eyes twitched slightly.
Pierce was right—Frank Grillo and Sitwell were legitimate S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on paper.
Even their subordinates had S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials.
And this mission had been officially recorded in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files.
Now that they had "died in the line of duty," S.H.I.E.L.D. was obligated to pay their families generous death benefits.
Compensating dozens of elite agents was a staggering financial burden.
Imagining Nick Fury, the notoriously tight-fisted Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., being forced to approve a fortune in benefits for Hydra's dead operatives made her lips curl into a slight smirk.
"Understood, Minister."
Not long after...
Wearing a trench coat, Nick Fury had just stepped off a plane from Europe, returning to the U.S. He hadn't even reached the Triskelion headquarters when he was met with an infuriating report.
"Motherf*cker!..."
Glaring at the trembling Level 3 agent before him, Fury's voice was like ice.
"How did the New York division suffer such catastrophic losses?"
The reporting agent hesitated. "Agent Frank's team perished during their mission, while Agent Sitwell and his men fell into an ambush while trying to reinforce them..."
Before Fury's face could darken any further, the agent quickly added, "Director, the mission was personally approved by you..."
Fury's breath hitched.
Indeed, during his time in Europe, he had remotely authorized numerous operations, including the mission to recover Iron Monger's head from the clown in Hell's Kitchen.
The remains of Iron Monger had been nearly reconstructed at S.H.I.E.L.D., with only a few key components missing. Securing those last pieces would allow them to replicate the devastating war machine.
So, upon learning that the clown had the missing parts, Fury immediately greenlit the operation.
Who could have foreseen...
That it would end in such disaster?
The deaths of over fifty S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had left the New York division severely crippled.
And the bureaucratic nightmare of compensating the families was a staggering headache.
Worse yet, as the one who authorized the mission, Fury would take the blame.
His face darkened to an abyssal black.
Another classic "F***" slipped from his lips.
Then, his fury ignited.
"Where is that clown now?"
"He... disappeared."
Fury's veins bulged. "What did you just say?!"
(End of Chapter)
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