A few hours later, a team of police officers arrived at the scene to conduct an investigation.
“The deceased is Prince Jordon, a New York City councilman.”
“The time of death is estimated to be between midnight and 1:00 AM.”
“The body was first discovered by Councilman Jordon’s mistress, Alyssa. According to her statement, after the two finished an intimate encounter, the councilman went into the bathroom alone to freshen up. When he didn’t come out for a long time, she went in to check on him and found that he had no signs of life.”
At this point, the reporting officer paused, looking hesitantly at NYPD Commissioner George Stacy.
“Go on,” George Stacy said, frowning.
“Yes, Commissioner.”
Clenching his jaw, the officer continued, “Alyssa later noticed that the deceased’s eyes were staring straight at the bathroom mirror, so she couldn’t help but look as well.”
“As a result… a hideous, menacing spirit was reflected in the mirror.”
“An evil spirit?”
George Stacy let out a soft chuckle and glanced down at his watch.
“It’s only nine in the morning. Is it possible that the lady hasn’t fully woken up yet?”
Just as the officer was about to explain, his phone rang shrilly.
“Hello? What?!”
Hanging up, his face went pale, and he rushed over to George Stacy.
“Commissioner, six more identical homicides have just cropped up across New York. All the victims were choked to death, suffocated by dense black hair spewing from their mouths.”
“I’m afraid this is no ordinary case.”
George Stacy’s expression instantly darkened.
As the head of the NYPD, he knew that certain unspeakable dark forces did exist—vampires, for instance…
“Report this to the higher-ups.” He let out a long sigh.
Supernatural events were never within police jurisdiction anyway.
Forcing their way in would only lead to thankless, fruitless effort.
“Yes, Commissioner.”
The officer nodded.
As Stacy’s deputy, he naturally knew that such matters were handled exclusively by a special department with a long name and extremely high clearance.
Not long after the report was filed, a team of men in black suits arrived swiftly at the scene.
Leading them was Agent Coulson, who currently sported dark, heavy circles under his eyes.
“Good morning, Commissioner Stacy.” Coulson yawned, raising a hand weakly toward George Stacy.
“Good morning, Agent Coulson.” George Stacy returned the nod.
Though he noticed the agent looked exceptionally drained today, he didn’t press further.
After quickly handing over the details of the scene, he led his men away.
“Search every corner of the house,” Coulson said, his voice dry as he rubbed his temples.
Last night, he too had run into Sadako.
He didn’t lose his life, but his soul was nearly scared right out of his body.
Yet the Director had insisted on putting him on the case, under the fine pretext of: “You’re a firsthand witness; you’re more familiar with the situation.”
“My hairline is probably going to recede another three centimeters,” he muttered under his breath, running his fingers through the increasingly thin hair on his forehead.
Once upon a time, he had been sharp-featured and handsome.
Unfortunately, he ended up with an unreasonable boss who dumped every hot potato right into his lap.
“Sir, there’s writing on the bathroom mirror!” an agent checking the bathroom shouted.
Coulson stopped complaining immediately and strode into the room.
On the once-pristine glass of the mirror, a row of crimson words had strikingly appeared:
“The original Sadako videotape is hidden in the place with the heaviest daily foot traffic.”
“Guess where? —The Joker.”
“The Sadako videotape?” Coulson’s heart skipped a beat as he recalled the chilling warning The Joker had delivered seven days ago.
Anyone who watched that tape would surely have their life claimed by Sadako seven days later.
There were only two solutions: either burn the original master tape, or pass the video on for someone else to watch.
“At the time, The Joker presented Tony Stark with these two paths.”
“Which means Tony likely has a dubbed copy of the tape in his possession.”
As an experienced agent, he instantly locked onto the crucial clue.
…
Coulson was far from the only one who had connected these dots.
There were easily several hundred people attending the Stark Industries weapon demonstration that day, many of whom were heavyweights in New York’s political and business circles.
After experiencing the terrifying visitations of Sadako in the night, they realized something was deeply wrong almost simultaneously, and they all converged on Tony Stark. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“I don’t have that tape.”
“What The Joker gave me was a fake.”
Tony’s face was livid.
In his mind, he had already chopped The Joker into mincemeat eight hundred times.
This wasn’t just throwing boiling oil on him—it was setting his house on fire!
“Tony, this really is no time for jokes.”
“General Ross, Mayor Elton… over a dozen people are blocking the lobby downstairs.” Obadiah Stane spoke in a harsh tone, his brow furrowed with impatience.
“I’ll say it one more time: I don’t have it.”
“Go tell them that I will find a way to deal with this thing.” Tony frowned and turned to stride away.
“Tony Stark…”
Obadiah Stane watched his retreating back, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
Although it had been The Joker in disguise last time, that line—”This is Stark Industries, and I, Tony Stark, call all the shots”—had long since burrowed into his heart like a thorn.
Now that Tony was putting on such an arrogant display once again, Obadiah Stane could no longer suppress his rage.
*Tony, you will definitely pay for this!!!*
“Tony Stark really is a fat piece of meat.”
In a quiet villa in the Upper East Side, Luke Lane was staring at his system panel, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.
[Shock Points: 113,200.12]
Sister Sadako had only just made her appearance, yet she had already gathered so many Shock Points.
This was quite a pleasant surprise.
But considering the rich and powerful figures who had attended the press conference, he understood.
While superheroes were undoubtedly the protagonists of the Marvel universe, the Shock Points contributed by high-and-mighty power players when they were scared out of their wits were equally spectacular.
After a midnight visit from Sadako that left them drenched in cold sweat and weak in the knees, it was only natural to harvest such a high number.
“System, open a Silver Chest.”
Flush with Shock Points, Luke Lane spoke with absolute confidence.
As soon as he finished speaking, a silver light flashed, and a shimmering, silvery-white chest emerged in the center of the panel.
[Item: Captain Jack’s compass]
[Effect: Points to the thing the holder desires most in their heart]
[Description: From the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. A magical artifact Captain Jack Sparrow bartered from the Sea Goddess Calypso using his charm and silver tongue.]
[Note: “Come on, baby, let me find you.”]
…
[B-Grade Card Fragment × 1]
[Effect: Synthesis]
[Description: Fragment of an unknown B-Grade card. Collect five to synthesize a complete card.]
…
[C-Grade 6-Star Card: John Constantine]
[Skills: Magic, Trickery]
[Description: A cynical master of the dark arts. Having offended half the demons in Hell, and dreading eternal torture after death, he turned to working as a “Hellblazer,” desperately seeking a ticket to Heaven.]
[Note: Trust me, screwing over my teammates was never my intention.]
“My luck wasn’t great this time,” Luke Lane muttered, knitting his brows as he stared at Constantine’s card with a look of disapproval.
This guy’s capabilities were notoriously hard to pin down.
Given enough preparation, even Satan, the ruler of Hell, and Trigon, the interdimensional demon lord, had fallen prey to his schemes.
Yet more often than not, a simple handgun could completely ruin his day.
“Besides, Constantine doesn’t fit at all with Mount Shu’s Eastern aesthetic of green swords, flashing blades, and misty peaks.”
Luke tapped his chin, feeling a bit vexed.
He had wanted to acquire a few characters to flesh out the Mount Shu faction, but Constantine was clearly a misfit here.
“The whole Sadako situation has only just begun.”
“Why not let him make a guest appearance first to harvest some Shock Points from the audience?”
He quickly formed a plan.
Forming a hand seal, he conjured a shadow clone and slipped the card inside.
Inside the Stark mansion, Tony paced back and forth anxiously.
“Jarvis, hack into the NYPD database and retrieve all death records starting from midnight today.”
“Highlight any cases with unusual causes of death, particularly those suspected to be the work of vengeful spirits.”
“Understood, sir.”
For Jarvis, this was a matter of a split second.
Before his voice even faded, an entire floating holographic screen unfurled in midair, packed with case summaries.
“These are the ones.”
Tony’s eyes sharpened like blades as he instantly locked onto seven cases sharing clear commonalities: the victims had all suffocated, their mouths packed with thick, black hair.
“The first victim was… New York City Councilman Prince Jordon.”
“The key clue is most likely on him.”
He recalled The Joker’s previous words, but his tone carried a hint of doubt.
But could he really trust The Joker’s words?
Could the clue itself be a trap?
“No, I can’t let that madman lead me by the nose.” Tony furrowed his brow.
“Jarvis, run a web-wide search on all paranormal records. Filter out any items or methods that might counter vengeful spirits.”
“Please wait a moment, sir.”
“I’m going to splash some water on my face first,” Tony replied, stepping quickly into the bathroom.
As the cold water hit his face, he exhaled a long breath.
Truth be told, he still couldn’t understand why The Joker was targeting him of all people.
Had he really offended this guy in the past?
He frowned subconsciously.
His habitually arrogant attitude had indeed offended plenty of people, but he never paid them any mind.
Could The Joker be one of them?
In the brief instant his mind wandered, the bathroom lights suddenly began to flicker violently.
A massive clump of pitch-black hair surged from the drain, wrapping around his neck like a snake.
“Ugh…”
Tony gripped the sink with both hands, his face turning a deep, purplish red.
In the mirror before him, a faceless figure covered in long black hair slowly emerged.
Under Tony’s wide-eyed, horrified gaze, a pale, slender hand began to reach out from the surface of the glass, inch by inch.
He struggled with all his might, but the strands of hair tightened further, choking his windpipe like an iron band.
“No…”
The moment that bone-chilling hand pressed against his forehead, Tony’s eyes rolled back, and his breathing nearly stopped.
Boom!
With a deafening crash, the bathroom door was kicked open.
Coulson stood there holding an oddly-shaped energy gun.
Aiming straight at the dark silhouette in the mirror, he decisively pulled the trigger.
A beam of deep blue light shot out, causing the mirror and the wall behind it to collapse in a heap of rubble, dispersing the dark shadow instantly.
“Hah… hah…”
Having regained his breath, Tony slumped against the side of the sink, gasping heavily.
“Tony, are you okay?” Pepper rushed in from behind Coulson, catching Tony as his body swayed unsteadily.
“Much better.” Tony caught his breath and looked up at the scorched hole in the wall.
His gaze then drifted to the gun at Coulson’s waist.
“Agent Coulson, that’s some pretty hardcore gear SHIELD is packing.”
“It’s actually an old relic from World War II,” Coulson replied with a smile, slipping the gun back into his holster.
“Wow.” Tony raised an eyebrow, already resolving to have Jarvis look into SHIELD’s inventory when he got the chance.
Facing Tony’s probing look, Coulson maintained his gentle smile.
He knew full well that these energy guns were war trophies seized from Hydra.
Their core power source was the Tesseract, and SHIELD had not been able to replicate them to this day.
“In any case, thank you for stepping in just in time, Agent Coulson.” Tony stood up straight and extended his hand.
“It’s my honor to be of help, Mr. Stark,” Coulson said with a smile, shaking his hand.
“Just call me Tony.” Tony nodded, feeling a touch more respect for this steady, capable agent.