"Everyone, I must admit, your ideas are impressive," Patch spoke, his voice calm and measured as he slowly paced before the group. "But the truth is, you're overthinking it."
The men in suits, sitting around the table, tensed immediately. They rose in unison, hands diving into their jackets, drawing out pistols, and aiming them directly at Patch.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the men demanded, his voice sharp with alarm.
Patch grinned, spreading his hands in a nonchalant gesture. "Who am I?" He laughed lightly. "I'm the Patch Meiwes you sent men to kill. A shame, though, all of them should have been washed into the sewers by now."
"In the sewers?" One of the men looked incredulously at him. "That's impossible. Those were elite, well-trained fighters."
"Impossible?" Patch scoffed, his lips curling slightly. His eyes gleamed with cold amusement as he continued, "You clearly misjudged me. I'm not the trash you think I am."
He shot a pointed glance at each of them before speaking again, his tone taking a darker edge. "Gentlemen, I'd appreciate it if you didn't point your guns at me. It tends to irritate me, and when I get irritated..."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"The consequences can be... severe."
With that, Patch was gone. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind the middle-aged man, Bach, his hands casually resting on the man's shoulders. The suddenness of his movement left the men in suits bewildered, struggling to keep up.
As they registered his new position, Patch turned his head toward Bach, wearing an unsettlingly relaxed smile.
A suffocating silence fell over the room.
All the men, stunned and terrified, dropped their guns without realizing it. No one dared to speak, no one dared to move.
"Gulp!" The sound of someone swallowing echoed through the basement, audible even in the oppressive quiet.
"Haha!" Patch chuckled, his voice rich with dark amusement. "Gentlemen, there's no need to be frightened. I'm not here to hurt you. I just came to prove a point."
Leaning closer to Bach, Patch whispered into his ear, his voice soft but menacing. "Mr. Bach, you can give me the answer I'm looking for, can't you?"
Feeling Patch's cold hands on both sides of his neck, Bach couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat. After hearing Patch's question, he quickly responded, "Mr. Meiwes, if you want to know anything, I'll tell you without hesitation."
"Good," Patch nodded before asking aloud, "Where did you get the matrix cube you're talking about? Do you have anything similar to it?"
"We got it from Switzerland," Bach answered quickly, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "This is the only one. We don't know what it's for."
"Switzerland?" Patch's mind raced as he mulled over Bach's response, his suspicion growing.
Patch then furrowed his brow and asked again, "So, you only have one of these cubes?"
"Yes, sir." Bach nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Let me ask you one more thing, Bach," Patch said, his voice cold and commanding. "You should know these three words…" Patch glanced around at the stiff men in suits before shouting, "Hydera!"
The men in suits immediately widened their eyes, and in an instant, they raised their pistols once again, pointing them directly at Patch.
Bach's body trembled, his face pale as he turned to look at Patch in sheer horror.
This time, it wasn't just fear— it was true terror. While there had been a subtle fear of Patch's strange ability earlier, now there was a deep, visceral fear mingled with surprise.
"Mr. Meiwes," Bach managed to stammer, his voice tight with panic, "Where did you hear that name?"
His blood drained from his face, his fear now palpable. The reason for his fear was simple: Hydera.
In Greek mythology, Hydra was a multi-headed serpent, but in the modern world, Hydra referred to a shadowy, global criminal organization. The eight men in suits, including Bach, were all operatives of Hydra. After World War II, most of Hydra's forces were decimated by Captain America and the U.S. military, and the organization's leader, Red Skull, was believed to have perished in the crash with Captain America (at least, that was the prevailing belief). As a result, Hydra had been forced to go underground and regroup.
While Hydra had been steadily regaining its strength, it was still wary of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, who could potentially wipe them out if they were discovered. Hydra's revival had been quiet, hidden in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to rise again.
But hearing Patch yell "Hydra" in front of them now was enough to send them into panic. Even with their regained power, Hydra understood that if they were exposed to S.H.I.E.L.D. or the wider world, it could mean their extinction. The Nazis were gone, and the power of Hydra alone could not withstand the global response if it were ever truly uncovered.
And he—Marshall Bach—could easily guess the kind of consequences he would face as the one who exposed Hydra. There was no need to think too much about it.
"Do you think I need to spell it out for you?" Patch sneered quietly. Without waiting for a response, he uttered a strange incantation, one that no man in a suit had ever heard before.
The moment the bizarre words left Paqi's lips, a wave of darkness overtook the seven or eight suited men, including Bach. They felt their vision blur, a strange dizziness overwhelming them as they collapsed to the ground, unable to resist.
"I didn't expect there to be a Hydra base hidden in Hell's Kitchen. This trip's not a total loss," Patch mused, a small grin creeping onto his face.
Once the suited men had all collapsed, Patch casually paced in place, then sighed in slight regret. "It's a shame S.H.I.E.L.D. confiscated the Obelisk. Otherwise, this trip would've been far more fruitful."
He looked at the eight unconscious men, their suits now crumpled around them, and smiled slyly. "But it's still good. With the information from them, I can accelerate some of my plans."
Instead of using a fatal spell on the men, Patch had simply put them into a light coma. While he desperately needed soul crystallization, he knew that the souls of these eight men would be low quality at best. However, they still had some potential use.
With a flick of his hand, Patch cast two spells: "Memory Erasure" and "Spiritual Branding," ensuring the men would remember nothing. Then, with a soft whisper, he vanished, leaving the room silent and still.