In less than three minutes, the thick fog came and went quickly, and the airport control tower staff were still unconscious; fortunately, there were no flights in the middle of the night.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel witnessed a rather unforgettable scene: over twenty armed individuals lying on the ground.
Their positions indicated that they had initially moved in a group, in a straight line.
As they moved, people were constantly attacked, and those who fell formed a straight line.
After the group failed, the remaining individuals decided to scatter and flee, but this also ended in failure, with the scattered people falling in an irregular circle.
Therefore, from an aerial view of the airport, all the fainted individuals were arranged in the shape of a lollipop.
Oh, this!
It really wasn't Mike's dark humor.
After knocking out Ares, Mike left directly and informed Winston of the result.
Winston expressed satisfaction and also reminded Mike that the High Table would soon issue a high bounty, and all the assassins in New York would go crazy.
How soon?
Winston stated: The High Table has a complete set of procedures for doing things, but it will not exceed twelve hours.
Only when the survival of the organization is at stake will the emergency mechanism be activated.
The mere 'Judicator' and a team of elite 'Shadows' mysteriously disappearing would not trigger the emergency mechanism.
"Headquarters is suspecting you now, aren't they?" Mike asked.
An elite squad disappearing without a trace most likely meant there was an inside White.
"Of course they suspect, but they have no evidence."
"Do criminal organizations need evidence to act?"
"No, unless they want to use force.
Without evidence, they can only remove me from my position.
Use force? Heh heh... I'm not made of clay, to be molded as they please."
That's right, Winston had operated the Continental Hotel his entire life; how could he not have his own armed forces?
Headquarters did not trust Winston but had to rely on him, a typical case of a powerful dragon not suppressing a local snake.
After the call, Mike headed towards the Continental Hotel.
The moment he left, the S.H.I.E.L.D. motorcade immediately stormed the airport, tying up the unconscious armed individuals, checking their physical condition, and then discovering the mildly unconscious airport security guards, control room staff, and private jet crew.
The most severely injured was the Mutant Chameleon.
He kept trying to attack Mike's kidney, and Mike, in a fit of pique, ruined one of his kidneys.
His life was not in danger, but whether his *function* would be affected in the future was unknown.
However, for a long time to come, he would spend it in a S.H.I.E.L.D. special prison, where strong *desire* would instead be a torment.
Grant looked at the armed individuals being loaded onto the prison vehicle, his confusion not resolved, but rather growing.
Some of these armed individuals were familiar faces, the kind that appeared on global wanted lists.
These people gathered together could definitely turn New York upside down, and the New York Police would be powerless against them.
To eliminate these people, at least a company of special forces would need to be deployed, and they would have to be prepared to pay a significant price.
To defeat these people in less than three minutes, whether as an individual or a team, was definitely a force that could not be ignored.
And HYDRA knew nothing about this, which was a bit serious.
Grant did not follow Coulson.
For a seasoned spy like Coulson, there was no possibility of him letting anything slip.
Any intelligence obtained from him was either something you were allowed to know, or something he wanted you to know; otherwise, it was either false or a trap.
Grant followed Fitz and Simmons.
Simmons: "Although the fog was so thick before, the air humidity was not abnormal.
It's related to the special energy in those fogs, and it's possible that these fogs are creations of that special energy.
When the special energy disappears, the fog disappears with it.
Hmm! This makes sense."
Fitz: "And look—the traces of grenade explosions, craters!
It indicates that a fierce battle took place here, but we were a hundred meters away and heard almost no sound.
This means~"
Simmons nodded: "I understand."
Grant: (O_O)? You understand? What does that mean?
Just say it.
"What does it mean?" Grant pretended to be curious.
Fitz was simple-minded and explained: "It means that special energy can counteract vibrations and eliminate sound.
Simply put, the area of the fog is a silent domain; we just don't know if this domain is indiscriminate or controllable."
Grant imagined himself in the fog: no vision, no hearing, not knowing from which direction the enemy would attack.
Even if the enemy made no moves, for an ordinary person in such an environment, a mental breakdown was only a matter of time.
And this was actually just a technique in the application of silent assassination.
Grant still had a question: "Wouldn't the thick fog also affect their own people?"
Fitz nodded: "That's right.
A modified thermal detector should work very well in the fog."
Simmons thought for a moment: "When conditions are simple, you can use high-power fans to disperse the wind, or design an instrument that can absorb or eliminate special energy."
"Ho, good idea!" Fitz's eyes lit up, then he said to Grant: "However, I don't think he used any special instrument.
This question should be explained by an expert.
Please welcome the expert, Simmons~~~"
Simmons smiled, showing her gums, but slightly crouched, performing a demure lady's curtsy, "Thank you, expert in mechanical engineering, Fitz."
Grant watched the two bookworms flatter each other, speechless.
Simmons explained: "The activity of the special energy is extraordinary, just like tentacles extending from the human body, touching every inch of your skin, your every move is within its perception... Super fun, right?"
Fun my ass! It's super terrifying!
Facing such an ability, Grant felt a sense of powerlessness.
Fortunately, in this World, there are geniuses and science, finding flaws in various seemingly unsolvable abilities and creating corresponding instruments.
Corner near the main entrance of the Continental Hotel.
"Jo, what a coincidence... How's your girlfriend?"
"She's good." Jo was almost in tears.
Last time he was smoking in the back alley, he ran into Mike.
This time he changed to outside the lobby, and he ran into Mike again.
Why was this plague god here again?
"Can you be gentler?
Last time I woke up, my neck hurt for a long time."
"No problem."
Mike offered a free gentle hand chop, then transformed into Jo's appearance and infiltrated the hotel again.
It hadn't been long since the last incident at the hotel, so logically, the hotel should have been heavily guarded.
However, the situation was no different from usual; perhaps the hotel was trying to reassure people, or perhaps Winston was making it easier for Mike to infiltrate.
The entire process of infiltration and data theft went very smoothly, after which Mike quietly left.
Hotel bar.
Winston sat on the sofa, elegantly sipping red wine.
His trusted black manager, Charon, walked over, hands crossed in front of him, standing by, waiting for Winston to speak.
"He left?" Winston asked.
"Yes."
"Did he touch anything else?"
"No," Charon replied.
"Hmm."
Winston was very satisfied with Mike's integrity.
The corners of his mouth curved slightly, revealing a charming, old-man smile.
The offline server contained more than just the information Mike wanted; if the archives stored there were exposed, the entire United States would probably be in an uproar.
After all, those who needed to hire assassins and could afford the price were mostly American politicians or wealthy businessmen.
This information could not be presented in court, but anyone with a discerning eye would know its authenticity.
With this information, if used well, one could completely command influence in high society.
If Mike used these leverage points to go White, within a year, he would surely become a rising star in New York politics.
If he went Shadow, within five years, within the New York area, he could contend with Kingpin—this was even excluding Mike's personal strength.
If he directly eliminated Kingpin, within a year, he could inherit all of Kingpin's legacy, becoming the new... or rather, surpassing the Shadow Emperor.
However, Mike was not interested in these things.