Chapter 100: The Tahiti Project
A secret base of Hydra.
“What? The Immortal Iron Fist? The Ghost Rider? The Hand has been eradicated?”
Hearing the report from his subordinate, Whitehall, who had just dragged himself out of bed and was still in a foul mood, roared, “How did this happen so suddenly? Why didn’t I know about this operation?”
His subordinate trembled with fear, seeing the surgical scalpel clenched in Whitehall’s hand—a tool he never parted with, not even in sleep—and terrified that the boss might haul him onto the operating table for dissection. He hurriedly explained, “Fury deployed secret agents. Our people got no intel at all; we only realized when the operation was already underway.”
Whitehall’s face darkened.
The Ghost Rider was connected to the Darkhold, the Immortal Iron Fist to a powerful force, and the Hand to “resurrection.”
He had been keeping close tabs on these players who had recently surfaced, but because S.H.I.E.L.D. had been investigating Hydra, he hadn’t made a move—never expecting things would turn out like this.
Iron Fist and Ghost Rider seemed to have joined forces with Fury?
Whitehall paced back and forth, calculating silently.
Hydra had long since taken control of S.H.I.E.L.D., yet had never revealed itself. They were executing Dr. Zola’s crucial plan: Project Insight.
This plan had been in motion for decades, required vast resources, and also needed the backing of the World Security Council and the U.S. government. Hydra had to maintain the façade of “S.H.I.E.L.D.” to achieve it.
But this was Zola’s plan, not Whitehall’s.
When Pierce rescued him from prison, the project was already underway.
Hydra was far from united. After decades in captivity, Whitehall, though an old guard and Red Skull’s colleague, had lost his authority. Alexander Pierce now wielded the real power.
Dr. Zola favored ruling the world through technology, but like Red Skull, Whitehall was more interested in ancient myths and legends, and in unlocking the potential of the human body itself.
For him, the lure of immortality and great power outweighed that of authority or wealth.
“Get me Pierce or Garrett… No, contact my people inside S.H.I.E.L.D.!”
Whitehall’s voice was icy. “We must obtain the Obelisk. At all costs!”
…
…
Feirstone Farm.
Dawn had yet to break, but a convoy of vehicles had already arrived. The surviving agents, accompanied by a haul of seized goods, entered the underground base to deliver their reports.
In the training room, a high-resolution screen flickered on, revealing a shining bald head under the intense spotlight—a sight impossible to ignore.
At the sight of that bald dome, Black Widow couldn’t help but recall the braised eggs the Director and Master Wang had eaten that night, and stifled a laugh.
“Report,” the bald man coughed, hands clasped behind his back, face stern.
Black Widow quickly suppressed her mirth and recounted all that had transpired in the building the previous night. She added, “Before retreating, I checked the underground area. It had suffered a major collapse—completely inaccessible—so I have no idea what’s down there. Master Wang said he killed four Fingers, but we didn’t see any bodies. They must be buried in the rubble below.”
The Director pondered for two seconds. “You mean Master Wang can pass through solid matter? He emerged from the collapsed underground area?”
“Yes,” Black Widow replied.
“Send a team to excavate discreetly. I want to know what’s down there.” The Director remained impassive, then asked, “Did you find those items?”
“I went to the Hand’s secret base and found the Resurrection Sarcophagus,” Black Widow responded. “But there was no Dragon Bone. It could be hidden elsewhere, carried by Alexandra or someone else, or perhaps already used. The Five Fingers’ immortality depends on the Dragon Bone.”
Or perhaps Master Wang took it… thought the Director, his expression darkening.
Without the Dragon Bone, the Resurrection Sarcophagus was useless.
He now felt certain that Master Wang had only agreed to let him have the sarcophagus because it was a trap!
The sarcophagus was just a stone coffin over a thousand years old—perhaps valuable as an antique, but useless for true resurrection without the Dragon Bone.
If Master Wang really had taken the Dragon Bone…
He’d have to buy it from that swindler!
The Director was in a foul mood, though outwardly he remained composed, feigning an attitude of “I saw this coming.” He continued, “Keep the Resurrection Sarcophagus at the base. Assign reliable people from Tech Division to study it—Fitz and Simmons, for instance… Damn, I’ll oversee this myself. What about the other sites?”
“I checked Alexandra’s private villa,” Hawkeye replied, his expression odd. “All the collectibles are gone… The villa itself is still there.”
The Director’s mouth twitched, feeling as though his heart was bleeding.
Sure, the villa was valuable, but at most ten million, maybe just a few million.
The real fortune was in those collectibles…
And as for where they went? No need to guess!
“I’ll send a medical team over. You’re to stand down from any further operations and continue training. Agent Romanoff, contact Master Wang. With the salaries they’re paid, we can’t let them go to waste.”
His face blank, the Director’s voice rose sharply: “Remember! You’re secret agents. Only I know you exist. You report solely to me—you answer only to me!”
“You take orders from me alone!”
“Agent Romanoff, you’re responsible for filing the report on this operation. Class Five incident, Level Ten clearance. And some details must be included.”
…
…
S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters, Director’s Office.
The Director switched off the screen and dialed a number:
“Send the Resurrection Sarcophagus from Feirstone Base to Tahiti. Research it alongside the Kree corpse.”
“This project reports directly to me. Code name: Project T.A.H.I.T.I.”
…
…
Dawn was just breaking as Old Wang returned to Azeroth Specialty Store, only to find the lights already on.
The door was open.
Skye rushed out, her beautiful eyes scanning him up and down, her hands roaming over him to make sure he was uninjured. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief and, like a swallow returning to its nest, threw herself into his arms. “Thank God, you’re all right!”
“Okay, okay, off you go!” Old Wang pried Skye off and set her aside, walking into the shop as he spoke. “Order four more freezers—the large kind, big enough for a person.”
The Heart of Azeroth’s internal space was vast, but it wasn’t for storing corpses. It would make anyone uncomfortable, never mind the young lady; even thinking about it made Old Wang uneasy.
He’d heard of “elders in one’s pocket,” but never “corpses in one’s pocket.”
After a moment’s thought, Old Wang added, “Also, find a way to contact buyers and sell these things.”
With a wave of his hand, a pile of goods appeared, floating to the shelves under the control of his inner energy.
Skye responded briskly and got to work.
These were all items that couldn’t see the light of day, but as a top hacker and a member of “Rising Tide,” she had access to many channels. Selling these treasures wouldn’t be difficult—it just took time.
“Use the money to buy Stark Industries stock,” Old Wang said after a pause. “Keep some aside for laboratory funding and… payroll.”
Wages still needed to be paid—Old Wang was no heartless boss.
With his instructions given, Old Wang reclined in a wicker chair and closed his eyes.
A sliver of consciousness slipped into the Heart of Azeroth.
Twenty-four soul shards hovered nearby, emitting a faint violet glow like a scattering of stars—beautiful to behold.
Four corpses lay neatly beneath the soul shards.
The Dragon Bone took up the largest space, and Miss Azeroth floated above it.
“Wang.”
Her eyes shone like the night sky, her voice equally dreamlike. “The Heart of Azeroth is the supreme artifact created by all the Titans together, save Sargeras. It was granted many abilities, but requires vast amounts of Azeroth’s Blood to activate and maintain.”
“If you use this Dragon Bone for exchange, it should be enough.”