The first Shadow Ninja charged into the enemy ranks. After cutting down three mercenaries, he was unluckily banished back to the shadow realm by a suicidal maniac clutching a live grenade. But it didn't matter. More and more ninjas flooded the encampment, completely slaughtering the remaining forces.
"It's over," Luke said quietly, watching the last of the mercenaries fall.
"Looks like we aren't getting much loot out of this one, unless you want their guns. If we're lucky, we might find some spare change in their pockets," Luke told the Punisher, watching the carnage below while simultaneously ordering his ninjas to quickly loot the bodies.
"Forget it. I prefer my own gear," Frank replied dismissively. "I have to admit, your abilities far exceed my expectations. I assumed your powers were only suited for stealth and assassination. I didn't expect you to hit this hard in a frontal assault."
Frank thought back to how the Shadow Ninjas had seamlessly grouped up, using their blades to deflect a literal hail of bullets and carve a path through the crossfire. He had seen a few freaks with bulletproof skin, but someone hacking bullets out of the air with a sword? That was a first.
(Deadpool: There's a lot you still don't know.)
"There's a lot you still don't know," Luke joked, unwittingly echoing a certain Merc with a Mouth. He had the ninjas grab a few high-end rifles and some extra ammunition before they finally cleared out.
After parting ways with Frank on the outskirts of the city, Luke headed straight for a luxury hotel in downtown Manhattan.
Once he was checked in, he used his daily ad skip on the System. Looking at his massive surplus of dark energy, he bumped his Shadow Ninja count straight up to 200. The sheer combat potential of the ninjas after the stat boost had completely exceeded his expectations.
He had initially thought blocking a dozen rifles was impressive, but seeing them perfectly coordinate to carve a path through a literal storm of lead blew his mind.
But how exactly did they communicate with such perfect division of labor?
In the cartoons, Luke had never seen them speak. They usually just exchanged a single look and perfectly understood each other's intentions.
Curious, he summoned a few ninjas in his hotel room and asked them how it worked.
The ninjas just stood there, staring at him in complete silence. After a long, awkward staring contest, Luke couldn't take it anymore and banished them back to the shadow realm.
Shaking his head, he booted up his gaming console. Since Coulson had gotten his account banned yesterday, he had waited for the suspension to lift and was finally ready to play.
After playing a few rounds and getting absolutely obliterated, Luke had a sudden stroke of genius. He summoned a Shadow Ninja, handed it the controller, and taught it the controls.
The ninja's physical coordination was absolutely insane. Its ten fingers danced across the controller, each digit performing its duty with mechanical precision. It was playing on a console controller but executing maneuvers that looked like it was using a high-end mouse and keyboard.
Since the ninja's physical stats and reaction times perfectly mirrored Luke's—combined with its insanely nimble fingers—it effortlessly racked up a kill-death ratio even higher than Coulson's!
'Wait... if our physical stats are exactly the same, why do I still get completely wrecked when I play?' Luke wondered, slightly offended.
Still, he happily let the ninja boost his rank, idly wondering how much money he could make if he started a boosting service.
He fell asleep to the sound of button mashing and woke up the next morning to find the ninja still flawlessly carrying his team.
He dismissed the tired gamer ninja and checked his match history. Seeing a massive wall of MVP victories, he smugly took a screenshot and posted it to his newly registered social media account.
A notification popped up immediately: Phil Coulson liked your post.
Luke snickered. 'Looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to mend fences.'
He quickly typed a reply: "Shouldn't you be out serving the taxpayers instead of browsing social media on the clock?"
Coulson replied with a single sweating-smile emoji and stopped responding.
'Caught you slacking,' Luke grinned.
He stretched lazily in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, basking in the morning sun.
CRASH!
A throwing dart suddenly shattered the tempered glass, whistling past Luke's head and embedding itself deep into the wall behind him.
Luke whipped around in shock. He was on the 20th floor! What kind of dart could be thrown this high?!
Noticing a small piece of paper pinned under the dart, he pulled it free. It was a message from Bullseye.
'Oh. That guy.'
Luke recalled Bullseye's gimmick: a bald psychopath with a target carved into his forehead. The Kingpin's top assassin, a man with such terrifying throwing accuracy that he could kill someone with a paperclip.
Despite holding the title of top assassin, Bullseye wasn't actually a superhuman powerhouse. His true danger lay in his flawless, unpredictable assassination techniques. Still, Luke silently decided to keep a few ninjas actively hiding in his shadow from now on—whether to guard against Bullseye or sneaky S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, it couldn't hurt.
The note was filled with the usual mobster garbage—a mix of threats and bribes demanding he join the Kingpin.
Luke scoffed and tossed the paper in the trash. What a joke. It was 2010. Tony Stark was about to go public as Iron Man, and the Age of Heroes was right around the corner. Joining the Kingpin now would be like buying a Samsung phone right before the battery exploded.
Ignoring the dramatic letter, Luke got dressed and headed out to find some fun.
He texted Coulson, asking for a few of Kingpin's safehouse coordinates so he could go play. Coulson replied almost instantly with several addresses, but Luke realized they were all in different cities.
Since he had never been to those locations, he couldn't open a portal to them, and shadow-stepping across state lines would take hours. Too lazy to commute, Luke decided to just wander the local streets, hoping to trigger a classic "hero rescues the beauty" trope.
"So... why is it you?"
Luke casually tossed an unconscious thug into a pile of garbage bags, looking down at the beautiful, "terrified" woman cowering in the alleyway.
He had come out looking to play the hero, but he definitely hadn't signed up to rescue S.H.I.E.L.D. spies.
Natasha Romanoff was dressed in high-end, fashionable street clothes, looking every bit the helpless city girl. But Luke, knowing exactly who she was, stared at her completely deadpan. "Did the Bald Egg send you?"
"Who is a Bald Egg?" Natasha asked, maintaining her innocent, frightened act while her mind raced. 'When did my cover get blown?!'
Tired of playing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s games, Luke sighed. "Agent Romanoff. The infamous Black Widow. You can drop the act."
"Fine. I was getting tired of it anyway," Natasha sighed, instantly shedding the terrified damsel persona. "And for the record... 'Bald Egg' is an incredibly accurate nickname. I'm going to have to have a serious talk with our intelligence department when I get back."
"Right? I'm pretty sure it's the universal consensus," Luke quipped.
The two of them somehow ended up having a pleasant conversation entirely centered around roasting Nick Fury's shiny bald head, leaving the S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance team listening in on the wire completely terrified that they were going to be silenced.
Receiving a mental ping from his hidden ninjas confirming there were no other agents nearby, Luke asked curiously, "Why are you out here alone?"
Natasha didn't suspect he was bluffing. "Fury ordered us to stop surveilling you yesterday. All the agents assigned to you were pulled back. But while I was out here, I found this."
Luke watched in sheer awe as she casually dragged an unconscious body out from the shadows.
"Holy crap. Bullseye?" Luke gaped. The man had literally just sent him a threatening letter this morning, and now he was tied up in an alley!
"You know him?" Natasha asked, frowning. 'How does this kid know everything? Intelligence said he was a blank slate! What exactly does he know, and what doesn't he know?'
Feeling a migraine coming on, she irritably kicked Bullseye in the ribs. "Fury sent me to make contact with you today. When I got here, I saw this creep throw a dart through your window, so I knocked him out and brought him along."
As a future founding Avenger, Natasha's combat skills were absolutely top-tier, surpassing many actual superhumans. It wasn't too surprising she could easily ambush and subdue a street-level assassin like Bullseye.
"You shouldn't have! You didn't have to bring a gift!" Luke laughed. He pulled out his phone, snapped a quick selfie with the unconscious assassin, and texted it to Frank.
Be right there, Frank replied instantly.
Luke put his phone away and looked at Natasha. "So, what exactly do you need me to do? Consider this returning the favor." Honestly, he was just incredibly bored and wanted something to do.
"Fury wanted me to test the waters and try a honeypot operation to recruit you. My original plan obviously failed, but the result is the same. At least you're willing to work with us."
Natasha pulled out her phone, got his number, and shot him a charming wink as she turned to leave.
"I'll call you when a mission comes up. Coulson is tied up with far more urgent matters right now."
Luke saved her number under the name 'Natalie' and leaned against the brick wall, patiently waiting for the Punisher to arrive.