9: MGT Chapter 009: S.H.I.E.L.D.
Intervention 9: MGT Chapter 009: S.H.I.E.L.D.
Intervention Loki finished his sentence and lunged toward Daredevil like a hawk swooping on its prey.
Matt Murdock’s ears twitched.
He hurriedly raised his billy club to parry.
Clang!
The sound of steel on steel rang out, throwing a shower of bright sparks into the dark air.
This guy…
what incredible strength!
Matt’s arms strained, his muscles bulging.
Thanks to his rigorous training and Stick’s mentorship, his physical conditioning far surpassed that of an ordinary man, but he was barely holding his own.
Loki, conversely, wore a look of effortless disdain.
He was composed, composed and lethal.
“In the end, you are but a mortal.
How do you intend to bridge the gulf between our power?” The dagger flickered like a butterfly in flight.
Matt desperately angled his club, but the blade slid along the shaft, narrowing missing his throat.
Seizing the tiny opening, he pulled his club back and brought it down in a brutal overhead strike.
Loki’s lips twitched in amusement.
What an utter fool.
He didn’t even attempt to block.
He simply thrust his other dagger toward Matt’s abdomen.
By all conventional logic, this was a trade—a mutual blow.
But as Matt’s club struck the Trickster’s head, it let out a dull, metallic thud.
Matt’s heart sank.
He’s wearing armor and a helm underneath that robe?
Being blind, his tactical perception was hampered by the unexpected equipment.
That split second of hesitation cost him dearly.
Loki’s blade sank into his side.
“You…” Daredevil clutched his wound, staggering backward.
His strength bled out with his life force.
Every enemy he had fought in Hell’s Kitchen wore street clothes; he hadn’t prepared to fight a man wearing hidden armor.
“Is that all you’ve got?
Aside from a pair of sensitive ears, you’re nothing special!” Loki smiled cruelly, spinning his dagger in a flourish, ready to finish the job.
But Matt suddenly spoke up.
“If I were you, I’d check behind me.” “Behind me?” Loki glanced back.
While he had been busy with Daredevil, Bullseye had been limping away, already a hundred meters off.
Loki’s rage flared.
He had descended to Midgard to build a power base to defeat his brothers.
It was far faster to hijack an existing network than to build one from scratch.
Bullseye, with his hundred subordinates, was essential.
And the “Kingpin” he served—judging by the territory he controlled—was someone worth capturing.
Loki abandoned Daredevil and turned to chase the assassin.
Matt seized the moment, fired his cable, and vanished into the night.
By the time dozens of police cruisers swarmed Pier 7, the area was already cordoned off by a group of agents in black suits.
George Stacy, the NYPD Police Commissioner, stepped forward to negotiate.
“Who are you people?
This is New York City.
Homicide cases fall under our jurisdiction.” “Hello, Commissioner Stacy.
My name is Phil Coulson, with the FBI.” A middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a polished smile stepped forward, producing his credentials.
“We have reason to believe this was a terrorist operation.
We are currently conducting a classified investigation, so we are taking over.
Your superiors will contact you shortly.
Please keep your lines open.” Stacy inspected the ID.
It was indeed a federal badge.
He cursed under his breath: These feds have noses like bloodhounds; they pop up everywhere.
Despite his frustration, he kept his cool.
“That prismatic beam of light was visible across the whole city.
Do you have any leads?” “I’m afraid the investigation is ongoing,” Coulson said, maintaining that standard, professional smile that gave away nothing.
Stacy returned to his car, defeated.
Moments later, an agent approached with a scanner.
“We’ve detected residual high-energy signatures.
There was a major firefight—eighty-four dead.
Gunshot wounds and lacerations consistent with daggers.” Coulson studied the gruesome crime scene photos, his brow furrowed.
“Security footage?” “This was one of Fisk’s primary hubs.
The cameras were shut down for the night.” Coulson nodded.
A lead was a lead.
“If this is Fisk’s territory, he knows things we don’t.
Notify Team Two.
Begin a full-scale investigation into Kingpin.
I want to know exactly what happened here.” The agent nodded.
Fisk was the king of the New York underworld, but against a global titan like S.H.I.E.L.D., he was a small fish.
The government had tolerated him for years because he stabilized the criminal underworld, preventing large-scale gang wars.
But Fisk was about to find that senators and corrupt officials couldn’t protect him from an agency that operated in the shadows of the world.
While Coulson prepared his strike, Fisk himself was facing the greatest challenge of his life.
“Ants are always ants.
Even if you train them to be stronger, they are simply stronger ants.” In the dim, cavernous underground bunker, Kingpin stood like a mountain at the center of the ring.
Under the golden lights, he was surrounded on all sides by dozens of reflections of Loki.
The scent of blood filled the room.
Kingpin squinted.
His men had all been eliminated—and the one leading the charge was his own traitor, Bullseye.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
As a professional, Bullseye was expensive.
Fisk was the only employer in the country who could afford him consistently.
Why turn on him now?
Did he find a bigger buyer?
“Who are you?
I don’t recall offending an enemy of your caliber.
You are clearly powerful.
If you are willing to work for me, I can offer you a price that will satisfy you.” The chorus of Lokis laughed with cold, aristocratic disdain.
“Do you think money can solve everything?” Kingpin replied with a hollow smile.
“Actually, I have always believed that there is no problem in this world that cannot be solved with money.
It is simply a matter of how much.” — Don’t forget to send Spirit Stones for more chapters.
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