Chapter 17: Shadows of Manipulation

Midland Circle, New York; Hand Compound

In the dimly lit confines of Madame Gao's office, an air of secrecy hung heavy in the air. The room was adorned with intricate Chinese artifacts, and the aroma of incense wafted through the space. Madame Gao, a woman of formidable presence, sat behind her desk, her eyes sharp and calculating.

With a subtle nod, Madame Gao motioned to her trusted aide, who discreetly placed a phone on the desk. Her fingers moved with purpose as she dialed a number, her voice filled with an air of mystery and authority.

As the call connected, a voice on the other end crackled through the line. "I am ready to cash in on that favor you owe me," Madame Gao stated firmly, her gaze unwavering.

There was a moment of silence before the voice on the other side responded, curiosity tinged with skepticism. "Oh really?" it remarked. But Madame Gao paid no heed, continuing with her request.

"I'm sending you a picture and video of the target I want taken care of," she stated matter-of-factly, asserting her authority. The voice on the phone, seemingly intrigued, questioned her motives, asking why they should aid the Hand.

Without missing a beat, Madame Gao leaned in, her voice low and persuasive. "Lend me Death Dealer," she whispered, her words laden with hidden implications. The request hung in the air, each syllable pregnant with an unspoken understanding.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, as if the voice was contemplating the implications of Madame Gao's proposition. Finally, a sigh escaped the receiver, followed by a reluctant agreement. "Only because I owe you this century-old favor," the voice conceded.

A triumphant smile tugged at the corners of Madame Gao's lips. But she wasn't finished yet. With a hint of mischief in her voice, she added, "And there's something in it for you as well." The voice on the other end, intrigued by the promise, urged her to continue.

"I know where Shang-Chi is," she revealed, her tone dripping with a blend of satisfaction and secrecy. "This problem of mine would be the perfect test against the others captured." Her words hung in the air, the implication clear. Madame Gao had something to offer that the other party desired, something that would serve their own hidden agenda.

The voice on the other side of the line erupted into a deep, sinister laugh, a chilling sound that reverberated through the room. It turned to its most trusted aide, Death Dealer, and issued a command. "Go deal with this Blake Bishop for our mutual friend," it ordered, a tinge of malice in its voice. "And then, go to Madame Gao so we can drag home my son, even if you have to break every bone in his body."

As Death Dealer bowed in acknowledgment, his face obscured by his mask, he took the photo of Blake Bishop from the hands of the voice on the phone. With a silent nod, he disappeared into the shadows, his purpose clear and his intentions dark.

Madame Gao watched as her plans fell into place, a cunning smile playing on her lips. The wheels were set in motion, and the stage was being set for a deadly confrontation that would shape the destinies of those involved. In the shadows, the web of manipulation continued to weave its intricate threads, ensnaring both heroes and villains in its malevolent grasp.