Marvel: Ma'am, I'm your husband's boss

Of course, these are small matters that can be left to the people under his command. Fisker has more important things to do.

177A Bleecker Street, Manhattan!

Standing in front of the building, Fisk was alone, like a silent sculpture, but exuding an irresistible pressure. He quietly fumbled with the cracked bronze ring on his hand, his eyes revealing a complex emotion, anger, thought, and a subtle vigilance.

If it weren't for those damn mages who locked him in the mirror world, this attack should have been stopped within five minutes, but it was because of these damn mages that he was locked in the mirror world for six or seven hours. If it weren't for the thorough preparation before, the consequences would be unimaginable. Thinking of this, Fisk's anger grew even stronger, his fists clenched unconsciously, and the veins on his hands bulged slightly.

Although those mages had no souls, they looked like the dark mages who had surrendered to Dormammu in the legend. However, they actually attacked Fisk within the coverage of the New York Temple. If the New York Temple didn't know about this, Fisk would never believe it. He was not someone who could be fooled so easily. He had to find out the secret behind this matter.

Fisk originally had no intention of dealing with Ancient One right now. This was a kind of respect for the other party's strength. After all, he didn't know how strong the other party was, so he didn't want to provoke him. But now that the other party had already made the first move, it would be unreasonable for Fisk not to fight back. Even if all this really had nothing to do with the other party... who would believe it?

He gently raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door in front of him. The sound of "dong dong dong" followed, but no one answered. Fisk shrugged and looked up, only to see the doorbell beside him. However, he did not intend to ring the doorbell again. Instead, he raised his fist and hit the wooden door heavily the next second. The fist was filled with his anger and determination, as if a cannonball hit the wooden door. The heavy wooden door made a muffled sound, and then it began to slowly sag inwards as if time had slowed down. The huge sound was accompanied by the sound of wood breaking, which echoed in the silent street, like a horn declaring war. Wood chips flew everywhere, falling like snowflakes.

The room was filled with men and women in red robes, with circular, square or triangular light and shadow arrays suspended in their palms. Countless strange symbols were constantly rotating back and forth, emitting mysterious and powerful energy fluctuations. Those symbols flashed with strange light, as if telling an ancient and mysterious spell, filling the entire room with a mysterious atmosphere.

The one walking in front was a fat Asian man, his face full of seriousness, that serious look was like an unshakable mountain, revealing firmness and determination. He stared at Fisk at the door, without any intention of retreating, as if he was guarding something extremely important. And the mages behind him were also like him, lined up neatly, their postures were upright, and despite facing the aggressive Fisk, they were still as steady as a mountain, with no intention of retreating at all.

Fisk looked around and fixed his gaze on the second floor. A figure wearing a brown robe and a hood stood there quietly. The hood was lowered deeply, covering her face, making it impossible to see her appearance clearly. But from her figure and the aura she exuded, it could be felt that she was definitely not an ordinary person. The brown robe fluttered gently in the wind, as if it merged with the surrounding air, revealing a mysterious temperament that was otherworldly.

Under the shadow of the hood, there seemed to be endless wisdom and profound power, as if she was the master of this mysterious world, silently watching everything happen. Although he couldn't see her eyes clearly, Fisk could feel that the eyes hidden in the darkness were staring at him closely, as if examining an intruder, and as if waiting for something.

"I owe you a favor, but this matter has nothing to do with the New York Temple." A neutral voice floated down from the second floor.

Fisk tilted his head and glanced at her.

"Two favors."

"it is good!"

Chapter 252 A hammer fell from the sky!

"You want to kill me?" An unbelievable voice came from the darkness. The voice seemed to have lost some of its strength due to the darkness, and it seemed a little weak, and full of disbelief. It felt like a person who was seriously injured and dying and then encountered a fatal betrayal, full of shock and despair.

Mrs. Gao walked up the stairs slowly, and each step seemed to carry a heavy sense of oppression. Under the stairs was something like a bathtub, emitting a strange and pungent smell. The liquid in the pool was like ashes soaked in water, showing a turbid grayish white color, with a sticky texture, and it was constantly wriggling in it, as if it had life.

Murakami was soaking in the pool, and his body looked tattered. His body was covered with various suture cracks, which were like twisted centipedes crawling all over his body. In some places, the sutures had loosened, revealing the blurred flesh and blood inside, which made people feel cold. His hair was wet and stuck to his face, covering most of his face, but his tired and frightened eyes could still be seen through the gaps. His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't express it clearly because of his extreme weakness. His limbs stretched out weakly in the pool water, swaying gently with the creeping of the water, as if he had completely lost control of his body.

Murakami is dead, but he is not dead.

In fact, the life characteristics of each of the five fingers of the Hand are no longer ordinary. They don't die so easily, at least if Fisk doesn't have time to take his soul away, he has the possibility of resurrection.

But this comes at a considerable cost.

After killing Murakami, Fisk did not intend to take his rotten meat, so Murakami was saved. However, it is obvious that he could not escape death in the end.

Mrs. Gao looked down at Murakami, without a trace of emotion in her eyes. Her face was cold, as if Murakami in front of her was just an insignificant object.

"Murakami, the mistake you made is unforgivable. You acted on your own and put all of us in danger. Have you forgotten the rules of the Hand?" Mrs. Gao's voice was cold, echoing in this dim space.

Murakami looked at Mrs. Gao in horror. His lips trembled even more. He tried to struggle to get up, but he just twisted weakly in the strange pool of water. "Mrs. Gao, I... I did this for all of us. I found a clue. I thought..."

"Shut up!" Madam Gao interrupted him harshly, "Your self-righteousness almost ruined all of us. Fisk is much more powerful than we imagined, and your foolish behavior has cost us a heavy price."

As she spoke, Madam Gao slowly raised her hand. A sharp dagger appeared in her hand, and the blade flashed coldly in the darkness. She walked closer to the bathing pool step by step, and the water rippled slightly as she approached.

Murakami's eyes were filled with fear and despair. He shrank back desperately, trying to avoid Madam Gao's approach, but his injured body could not make any effective movements. "Madam Gao, don't, please..." His voice was filled with tears and fear of death.

Mrs. Gao showed no mercy. She walked to Murakami and stabbed him in the chest without hesitation. Blood gushed out of the wound instantly, spreading in the turbid water like a blooming dark red flower. Murakami screamed in pain, his body trembling violently. He instinctively grabbed Mrs. Gao's arm holding the knife with both hands, but was unable to stop the fatal blow.

Mrs. Gao turned the knife vigorously, as if she wanted to vent all her anger and dissatisfaction on the knife. Murakami's screams became weaker and weaker, and his eyes gradually became empty. Mrs. Gao pulled out the knife suddenly, and Murakami's body shook violently with this action, and then fell limply into the pool. Blood continued to flow from his chest, dyeing the surrounding pool water even more red.

But Mrs. Gao did not give up. She looked at Murakami, who was already dying, with a ruthless look in her eyes. She raised the knife again and slashed at Murakami's neck. The sharp blade easily cut Murakami's skin and muscles, and blood spurted out like a fountain, splashing on Mrs. Gao's face and body, but she didn't care. Murakami's head slowly separated from his body with the knife and rolled into the pool beside him. His wide eyes seemed to still retain the last bit of fear and unwillingness.

Mrs. Gao threw the knife aside casually, looking at the bloody scene in front of her, without a trace of pity on her face. She turned and left, leaving behind the headless corpse and the pool of blood, as if all this had nothing to do with her.

"Pick up the head and send it to Fisk... Murakami's affairs have nothing to do with us."

-----------------

"Raise the gun!"

"shooting!"

"Damn it, I'm a United States senator. You have no right to lynch me, and you have no right to judge me." The senator screamed at the top of his lungs, his face full of fear and anger, but this did not stop the ruthless gunshots.

The wide underground space was already filled with corpses, and blood was flowing on the ground like a stream, gathering into pools of blood, emitting a pungent bloody smell. However, the gunmen kept shooting and laughing, as if this cruel killing was just a game to them.

Groups of people were led to the platform at gunpoint. They were all participants in the attack. Of course, not all of them were participants. Some were family members of the participants. Their eyes were filled with despair and helplessness. Facing this cruel fate, they were powerless to resist.

However, this time even Sister Maria voted in favor, and no one voted against it. In this bloody and cruel scene, morality and ethics seemed to have been thrown out of the window.

Of course, some participants and their families were not executed directly. They had their own higher missions to accomplish, such as using their dirty organs to save some orphans who were only seven or eight years old.

Fisk looked at everything in front of him with indifference, like a cold statue, and his calm eyes seemed to be able to freeze all the emotions in the world.

He thought to himself that he had so many "enemies" in New York.

However, he also knew that this statement actually had loopholes, because many of these people could not be considered enemies in the true sense, but only speculators.

Those people were once Fisk's friends. They had chatted and laughed with Fisk on various occasions and even attended the opening ceremony of the First People's Hospital. At that time, their faces were filled with false enthusiasm and flattery.

But now, the temptation of interests has made them stand against themselves, and the ugliness of human nature is fully exposed at this moment.

Fisk couldn't help but laugh at himself. He didn't expect that he just wanted to make a fortune, but he actually got such an unexpected "harvest". This "harvest" was really disappointing. He once had a little fantasy about his authority, but now this cruel reality was like a heavy hammer, shattering his fantasy.

All the bodies were ruthlessly thrown into a container not far away, as if they were just a pile of worthless items.

But they are not worthless.

These corpses will become nutrients, nutrients for the cloned tyrants, providing some support for Fisk's ambitions.

The air was filled with a thick, almost suffocating smell of blood, which permeated every corner, as if telling of all the evil that had happened here. More people were also escorted here at gunpoint, their eyes filled with fear and despair, but they could not escape this tragic fate.

The gunfighters who have been trained in the doomsday world have long become numb to life, death and killing.

Even after carrying out long execution missions, they did not feel any discomfort. After all, to them, blowing up a zombie's head was the same as blowing up a human's head!

"Boss, phone call!" Lester stood beside Fisk with his phone in hand. He wore a white shirt under his black clothes, but the originally white shirt was covered with scarlet bloodstains. The bloodstains looked extremely hideous and abominable. The bloodstains were like blooming flowers of death, exuding a creepy atmosphere.

Fisk slowly turned his head and looked at the phone in Lester's hand, frowned slightly and said, "Why is it so dirty?"

Lester shrugged and said nonchalantly: "There are just too many people to kill, so..." There was a hint of disdain at the corner of Lester's mouth, as if he didn't care about the blood all over his body. In his eyes, this was just a byproduct of carrying out the mission.

Fisk answered the phone. It was Alexander Pierce on the other end. Pierce's voice came: "Well, do you feel better?" Fisk showed a strange smile at the corner of his mouth and asked back: "What do you mean?"

"Killing people does feel relaxing sometimes, doesn't it?"

Alexander Pierce's tone was slightly teasing, as if he could see what was happening right now through the phone.

"If you have something to say, then say it. If not, I'll just continue watching the execution. You're right, it's really quite stress-relieving." Fisk said lightly. He didn't respond much to Pierce's words. His mind was more focused on the current situation and the upcoming events.

"I heard that you are going to Mexico soon." Alexander Pierce didn't say any more nonsense, but said directly, "There is something I may need to trouble you with." "What is it?" Fisk asked, with a hint of vigilance in his eyes. He knew very well that Pierce's request would not be simple.

"A hammer fell from the sky... No one knows how it fell from the sky, but we have spent a lot of effort and still can't pull it out of the ground. If you happen to be going to Mexico, please go to the scene to help us take a look... However, you have to take a look secretly. Nick Fury's people are over there. If you can take the hammer away, you can take it away too. Anyway, just don't let it fall into Nick Fury's hands. I only have this small request. What do you think?"

Fisk sneered in his heart: "Okay, sure, no problem, I'll go there if it's on my way."

"Thank you for your help." Alexander Pierce said, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then hung up the phone.

Fisk sneered in his heart. Alexander Pierce must have encountered something, so he wanted to attract some firepower. However, since Thor's hammer had fallen into the desert, he had to go and take a look to see if he had the ability to pull the hammer out of the ground...

-----------------

Half a month later. Miami.

This coastal city adjacent to Mexico is bathed in warm sunshine, with the sea breeze blowing gently, carrying a hint of salty taste.

However, not long ago, it had just experienced a terrible storm, which was like the roar of a demon, wantonly destroying every corner of the city, leaving behind a devastated scene. But now, the city has begun to burst into vitality, as if there is a tenacious vitality supporting it to rise from the ruins.

What is surprising is that it was not the local government of Miami that forced it into reconstruction in such a short time, but the Mexican drug lord. To be more precise, it was Ophelia's people.

Ophelia has a huge influence in Mexico, and her influence is like an invisible net that covers the land.

However, Mexico has now fallen into the hands of the enemy, the Hydra rebel organization. In the fierce power struggle, Ophelia's people collapsed across the board, and they were forced to temporarily retreat to the United States. Miami, a city that was once full of vitality and prosperity but was cleaned up by Fisk, naturally became their temporary stopover.

Ophelia's people quickly took action here. They used their own resources and means to begin rebuilding the city, trying to re-establish their own stronghold and sphere of influence here.

Fisk came to this tropical city again. When he set foot on this land, he felt as if he had been in another world for many years.

He looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar streets and buildings around him, recalling every little thing that had happened here. The destruction brought by the "storm" seemed to be still vivid in his mind, and the scene of the ruins could not be erased from his mind.

But in fact, it was only less than a year since this tropical city encountered that devastating storm. Although the time was short, it was enough for the city to undergo earth-shaking changes, and also caused Fisk's state of mind to undergo subtle changes.

There were quite a lot of people coming with Fisk this time.

The reason is very simple. After experiencing the attack not long ago, everyone needs to relax.

Except for Lester, Sister Maria, Ena Maynard who is now the chief accountant, and Angela who is in charge of secret missions, almost everyone else was there.

Even Zhao Hailun was no exception. The reason was simple. In the attack that Tyrant encountered not long ago, many serious mistakes occurred. More importantly, she had to collect some relatively important experimental data.

And this data must be collected during the battle.

That's why she followed.

Of course, it was just a coincidence.

Luna, also known as Zhao Xuexi's global concert happened to arrive in Miami.

As an older sister, she felt she needed to come and support her younger sister.

Leave

I'm not feeling well. I will update as normal tomorrow. I've been busy lately, but there won't be so much next month, so I will resume normal updates and extra chapters.

Chapter 253: City of Heads (Part )

"Puff puff!"

The gunshots in the distance were a bit dull, and the sound seemed to be blocked by an invisible membrane. It sounded like someone was hitting the wall with a hammer through a sponge.

Each gunshot carried a repressive force that spread slowly in the air, giving people a dull and tense feeling.

The highways in the United States and Mexico are actually connected. This road, winding like a giant dragon, has become an important link for economic exchanges and personnel exchanges between the two countries.

Leaving the U.S. highway, you can drive directly into Mexico with just one checkpoint and one customs checkpoint.

At this moment, countless large trucks are lined up neatly, like a long dragon, slowly moving forward, waiting to pass the checkpoint. They are huge and loaded with a variety of goods, covering all aspects of life, from daily necessities to industrial raw materials. This trade artery is constantly transporting a large number of goods into Mexico, injecting a steady stream of vitality into the Mexican market.

There are not too many large trucks going from Mexico to the United States. In sharp contrast, there are more small passenger cars such as sedans. These small passenger cars shuttle in the traffic. Some of them are Mexicans going to the United States to visit relatives and friends, some are on business trips, and some are adventurers who are pursuing the American dream. Of course, there are also many large buses. One by one, the large buses are slowly moving. A large number of Mexicans are transported to the United States as laborers like sardines in a can.

With hope and vision for life, they left their homes and went to the United States in search of better job opportunities and living conditions. Although the journey may be full of hardships, they still firmly embarked on this road to the unknown.