Chapter 126: Exterminate Them All, Leave Not One!

The night was deep, and the undying lights illuminated the bald head.

It looked just like a peeled hard-boiled egg.

Against the darkness, it was exceptionally conspicuous.

Sytwell hurried to the door of an office in the government building. He went over the lines he had prepared, made sure there were no problems, then took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.” A low voice sounded from within.

He wiped away his sweat and hurried inside.

He was just about to deliver his lines with all the appropriate emotion when Alexander Pierce, seated behind the desk, pointed toward the door.

The words died on Sytwell’s lips. Only then did he realize that he had been so anxious and nervous that he had even forgotten this basic courtesy—hardly the conduct of a qualified agent.

“I hope you’ve brought good news.” Pierce leaned back in his chair, appearing perfectly calm.

He thought highly of Sytwell, but he also understood the gulf between the man and Fury. The difference was as obvious as that between a peeled boiled egg and a braised one. The former was wholly unsuited to surviving in the darkness, and it was far more susceptible to being stained by other things—to turning red or black.

Like a blade of grass swaying with the wind, he was not especially reliable.

Fury, on the other hand, was black from head to toe. No matter how one tried to dye him, his nature as a braised egg would never change.

“Secretary, I’m afraid it isn’t good news.” Sytwell wiped away another bead of sweat.

Pierce’s interruption had caused him to forget half of his prepared speech. Giving up on it, he got straight to the point.

“Whitehall has been captured!”

Pierce raised his eyelids slightly. “The Iron Fist?”

“You already knew, Secretary?” Sytwell promptly displayed precisely the right amount of surprise.

Pierce had experienced great upheavals in his life and was confident that even if the Hulk were standing before him, he could remain unfazed. He gave a slight nod.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Agent Ward led a team into the laboratory and quickly located the Winter Soldier. However, the enemy was extremely powerful. Daredevil, Stick, and Black Sky killed most of the agents. Agent Ward originally intended to pretend to surrender and find an opportunity to awaken the Winter Soldier, but… Black Sky killed him outright.”

Sytwell continued, “The Immortal Iron Fist and Skye joined the fight. Nearly all of Whitehall’s men were killed. The Jericho missile wasn’t launched in time, and the sonic cannon’s shock wave was no match for Skye’s. It was overturned immediately. The Iron Fist personally captured Whitehall.”

“Skye?”

“Skye possesses a peculiar power that allows her to control seismic waves,” Sytwell explained. “We don’t know the details. We suspect it may be connected to the Obelisk. Our people only had time to transmit this intelligence before they were all killed. Not one survived.”

Pierce fell silent for a moment.

Both Ward and Whitehall had failed. That had disrupted his plans.

The Immortal Iron Fist’s abilities had exceeded his expectations, and now a Skye capable of controlling seismic waves had appeared as well.

Was all of this connected to Fury?

Could it be a conspiracy—a conspiracy intended to draw Whitehall out?

Pierce suddenly felt an inexplicable unease. This matter was certainly not as simple as it appeared.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

Sytwell gave the answer he had prepared long ago.

“Put pressure on Fury and make him transfer Whitehall to S.H.I.E.L.D. Once that happens, we’ll only need to make a few arrangements to have Whitehall released, or…” He paused. “Kill him.”

Only the dead could keep secrets.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was their territory. How difficult could it be to kill one Whitehall?

“Putting pressure on Fury will make him suspicious. In fact, he already suspects me. He suspects everyone.” Pierce shook his head. “Fury wants Whitehall even more badly than we do, and the moment he moves, Whitehall will certainly be imprisoned at a secret facility—not at the Triskelion or any other known base.”

“Then… what about making a move against Fury?” Sytwell proposed a second plan. “Kill Fury and replace him with one of our own as director. Someone like Garrett?”

“The disturbance would be too great. The United Nations Security Council and the American government would certainly intervene and investigate. The Insight Program isn’t finished yet. We can’t do that.” Pierce rejected the idea once more. “Besides, without Fury, who would raise the funds for the Insight Program? Government appropriations alone? We couldn’t even build a single helicarrier!”

Every year, government appropriations accounted for only a small portion of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s funding. The rest came from the “donations” of wealthy individuals.

Some of those donations were voluntary, some coerced. Some had been secured by S.H.I.E.L.D. itself, and some by Fury. They could not afford to sever either source.

“Then… what do we do?” Both proposals had been rejected. Sytwell knew that he could not offer a third, so he hurriedly put on an expression of bewilderment.

“Go take care of your own business.”

Pierce rubbed his brow. “I’ll deal with this matter.”

He waved Sytwell away.

Only after thinking carefully for five minutes did he pick up his phone and dial a number.

“Plan B. Contact Anton. Launch the missiles. Wipe them all out. Leave no survivors.”

“The disturbance may be rather large.”

“No disturbance could be larger than killing Fury. Say it was a military exercise, or blame it on a terrorist organization.”

“How many missiles?”

“All of them.”

…

…

The Darkhold Laboratory.

“Get out, Doctor Whitehall.”

The moment Old Wang finished speaking, he felt a ripple pass through the air beside him.

Then came a loud bang.

He turned his head and saw Whitehall plummeting from the sky, landing flat on his face and filling his mouth with dirt.

Women truly were not to be provoked…

Old Wang shook his head slightly without changing expression, got out of the vehicle, and entered the laboratory.

As for Whitehall?

He was Skye’s toy now. While still in the vehicle, she had arranged him into eighteen different positions, each one pushing the human body to its limits. His entire body had trembled incessantly, including—but not limited to—his lips, heart, eyelids, and certain indescribable parts.

Skye’s technique was still somewhat lacking. Several times, she had nearly played Whitehall to death.

Had Old Wang not treated him and dragged him back from the brink of death time and again, he probably would have died ten times along the way.

He had truly been brought back from death only to die again.

“Watch yourself, Skye. Don’t actually kill him. Believe me, there are people more skilled than you—and more willing—to torment Whitehall.”

Old Wang said no more. He trusted that Skye would understand.

Skye nodded, raised her right hand, aimed it at Whitehall, and unleashed another wave.

The Hydra leader, who had always taken pleasure in tormenting others, was sent flying dozens of yards and slammed viciously into the wall.

He would not die. Old Wang had left a stream of vital energy inside him to protect his heart.

But there was a way of living called wishing you were dead.

Leaving Skye to amuse herself, Old Wang soon found the others.

Daredevil, Stick, and Black Sky were all unharmed.

Tempered by their battle against the Hand, along with the training they had undergone during this period, all three had cultivated vital energy. Each of them was now qualified to engage Black Widow in close combat. Together, they were at least the equivalent of Black Widow and Hawkeye fighting side by side.

Although there had been only three of them against dozens of enemies, most of the opposing forces had been bronze-ranked fighters of the first and second levels. Old Wang’s side consisted of three fully equipped, top-tier combatants at least level sixteen, each possessing powerful ultimate abilities.

Most importantly, Daredevil’s extraordinary senses were equivalent to having the entire battlefield revealed in advance. In a team battle fought under such conditions, defeat had been impossible.

The only regrettable part was that not a single enemy had been left alive. Those three had been far too ruthless.

Black Sky—Elektra in particular—never held back once the fighting began. Every move was intended to kill. Clearly, the power of the Beast had exerted a profound influence on her.

Wilson Fisk was dead, and the Beast had lost another host. It was highly likely to seek out Elektra again next. They would have to remain vigilant during this period.

“For now, stay in the laboratory and take responsibility for security.”

Old Wang issued the order, then turned to Fitz.

“How much longer until the brain-mapping and memory-upload technologies are complete?”