Chapter 215

In a small, dimly lit pub on the outskirts of New York, Julie sat at a worn wooden table, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her shot glass as she listened to the quiet murmurs of her teammates.

The pub was nearly empty, save for them and the terrified owner, who remained behind the bar, casting anxious glances their way.

His eyes kept drifting toward the massive sword leaning against the wall, the weight of the weapon causing the wooden panels to creak under the pressure.

The air smelled of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke, but no one in her group seemed to mind.

Julie sighed, rubbing her tired eyes before glancing at the others.

"So, where are we with finding the lab? Any progress?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

She had spent the entire night chasing down leads, going from gang to gang, interrogating anyone who might have useful information—And she had come up empty-handed.

One of her teammates raised a hand, his expression slightly more confident than the others.

"I found something that sounded promising…"

Julie nodded, downing her shot of whiskey in one smooth motion before setting the glass down with a soft clink.

"Go on."

Her teammate leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"I spoke to a port worker earlier. He told me about a shipment of 'special cargo' that arrives every two months. Regular workers aren't allowed anywhere near it—outsiders come in to handle it personally."

He tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully.

"The last shipment is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning in a small truck. If there's anything suspicious about this operation, that's where we'll find it."

Julie considered the information carefully.

It was thin, but it was better than nothing.

She looked around at her team before making her decision.

"Alright. This is the best lead we've got. If this turns out to be a dead end, we'll stop looking for the lab and focus on personal missions instead."

The others nodded in agreement.

Julie took a moment to scan the room, frowning slightly as she noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Hernando?"

The player sitting beside her shrugged.

"Upstairs, I think. Maybe he went to sleep early."

Julie exhaled, running a hand through her vibrant pink hair.

"I'm heading up. We have an early start tomorrow—don't stay up too late."

The others waved her off, laughing amongst themselves as she climbed the stairs.

At the top of the stairwell, she walked past the rickety wooden doors of the inn's second floor, heading for her own room—

Then, she stopped.

A sound from the last room down the hall made her freeze.

"UHM… UHM… AHH… AHHH—NO—!"

Julie's eyes darkened instantly.

Her grip tightened into a fist, the wooden floor creaking beneath her boots as she moved.

She didn't bother knocking.

CRACK!

She kicked the door open, shattering the cheap lock as she stormed inside.

Inside the small, dimly lit room, Hernando was half-naked, his pants still partially unzipped as he hovered over the trembling girl beneath him.

She was young, her tear-streaked face pale and bruised, her body covered in marks that made Julie's stomach churn with rage.

The sheets beneath her were stained with blood, and her wide, terrified eyes locked onto Julie's figure standing in the doorway.

Hernando's expression twisted in horror as he saw who had caught him.

His body went rigid, his previous arousal vanishing instantly as panic set in.

"Julie, please—"

His voice was desperate, but it was too late.

Julie's eyes were cold, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered fury.

"You knew the rules."

She took a step forward.

Hernando scrambled off the girl, hurriedly trying to pull up his pants.

"Wait—Julie, I swear, I—"

BANG.

The sound of something breaking echoed through the hallway.

Downstairs, the rest of the team jerked their heads up, startled by the sudden noise.

Without hesitation, they rushed upstairs, their boots thudding against the wooden floorboards.

They reached the end of the hall just in time to see Julie stepping out of Hernando's room.

She met their curious gazes with an eerily calm expression.

"We need to find a new scout when we get back."

DRIP.

DRIP.

The players' eyes flicked downward.

Julie's right hand was covered in fresh blood, thick droplets dripping onto the wooden floorboards.

The quiet sound of blood hitting the floor was the only noise in the otherwise silent hallway.

No one asked what happened.

No one needed to.

Queens, New York

Meanwhile, across the city, Ali soared through the skies of New York, his black cloak billowing behind him.

His eyes locked onto a five-star hotel in the distance.

"Defeat an Avenger (1/1)."

Ali glanced at his interface, his lips curling into a subtle smirk.

'That's probably worth a single point…'

On the top floor of one of New York's most luxurious hotels, Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers sat in their lavish five-star suite, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the room's elegant chandeliers.

The city skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, its lights flickering like distant stars, but neither of them paid it any attention.

Their minds were still focused on the long, exhausting night they had just endured.

For hours, they had scoured the criminal underworld, chasing down whispers of Hydra's secret activities, but their search had yielded little more than dead ends and false leads.

Steve leaned back in a plush leather chair, his muscular arms resting on the wooden table in front of him, his fingers idly tapping against the surface.

Scattered before him were handwritten notes, hastily scribbled clues, and reports filled with theories about Hydra's movements.

His sharp blue eyes moved methodically across the words, his mind piecing together the puzzle—

But the picture remained incomplete.

Across the room, the muffled sound of running water echoed from the bathroom.

Natasha was showering, steam slipping out from the slight gap beneath the door.

Steve tried to ignore it, but he was still a man, and even he wasn't immune to the thoughts creeping into his mind.

After all, it had been a long night—

And he wasn't opposed to how it might end.

But his moment of distraction didn't last long.

DING DONG.

The sudden chime of the doorbell made his head snap up, pulling him out of his thoughts instantly.

His instincts sharpened, his body tensing slightly.

Meanwhile, far below, in the dimly lit streets of New York, two twisted, monstrous creatures rushed through the shadows, their purple, malformed bodies slithering like beasts on the hunt.

Their elongated noses twitched, their sharp claws clicking against the pavement as they followed the fading scent that led them toward the half-finished skyscraper where Spider-Man had met his end.

But they weren't the only ones on the move tonight.

In a darkened alleyway, just across from the luxurious hotel, Ali descended from the sky, landing with a graceful ease that barely disturbed the air around him.

His black cloak swirled behind him before vanishing entirely as he snapped his fingers.

In an instant, his entire appearance shifted.

His attire was replaced by a sleek, black tuxedo, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and sculpted physique perfectly.

His polished leather shoes tapped softly against the pavement as he stepped forward, exuding an air of wealth and authority.

To anyone watching, he looked like nothing more than a rich heir—a man born into power, strolling through the city without a care in the world.

With slow, deliberate steps, Ali walked toward the grand entrance of the hotel.

Two suited security guards flanked the doors, their sharp eyes scanning every guest—

Until their gaze landed on him.

The moment they saw him, their posture shifted instantly, stepping aside without hesitation.

They didn't even ask for identification.

A man like him didn't need to be questioned.

Ali didn't acknowledge them, didn't even spare them a glance.

He moved like he belonged there—because, in truth, he did.

He had spent years living in extreme luxury back on his Earth.

This?

This was nothing new to him.

Inside the elegant lobby, the polished marble floors gleamed beneath the warm golden lights, and the faint scent of expensive cologne and fresh flowers filled the air.

Ali strode up to the concierge desk, where a middle-aged man in a tailored black suit greeted him with a professional smile.

"Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?"

Ali returned the polite expression, his dark eyes calm and unreadable.

"I'm looking for a suite. What's available tonight?"

The concierge straightened his tie slightly.

"You're in luck, sir. We have an open suite on the ninth level. Would you like to book it?"

Ali reached into his pocket and slid six gold coins across the counter.

The concierge's eyes widened slightly, but his hands were already moving, scooping up the coins with practiced efficiency.

He wouldn't waste time checking their authenticity now—Not when a man like Ali was handing them over so casually.

"Gold works just fine, sir."

Ali's lips curled slightly.

"You're good at your job. Now let's see if you deserve a little bonus today…"

He flicked his fingers, and in a sleight of hand so smooth it looked like magic, two additional gold coins appeared between his fingers.

The concierge's greedy eyes locked onto them instantly.

"I always do my best to satisfy our customers, sir."

Ali smirked, flipping the coins toward the man, who caught them effortlessly.

Ali stepped into the elevator alone, pressing the button for the ninth floor, feeling the gentle hum as the lift began to ascend.

His expression remained neutral, but his mind was already focused on what came next.

He could have waited.

Could have slipped into their suite while they were asleep and ended them in their beds.

It would have been easy.

Efficient.

But where was the fun in that?

'To waste an opportunity to fight a man who carried the Super Soldier Serum in his veins? Never.'

A slow smile spread across Ali's lips as the elevator continued its ascent.

Up on the tenth floor, Steve Rogers stood, his brows furrowing slightly as he peered through the peephole in the hotel room's door.

Outside, a uniformed hotel staff member stood patiently, a silver cart beside him, covered in expensive cuisine and wine.

"Room service, sir."

Steve hesitated, his hand resting on the door handle.

They hadn't ordered anything.

But nothing about the man outside seemed suspicious.

Finally, Steve exhaled and reached for the key card, unlocking the door.

As soon as he looked down, Ali stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.

He moved with fluid, effortless precision, walking past the hotel staff member, barely even looking at him.

Instead, he flicked his fingers, pressing a single gold coin into the man's palm.

The staff member took it wordlessly, nodding in understanding before backing away toward the laundry room—

Just as Steve finished unlocking the door.

Ali's eyes gleamed.

'Time to see if the legends about Captain America on the internet were true.'

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