Black Widow and Clint were more concerned with the angle, speed, and trajectory of Mike's blade.
Killing four birds with one stone, it's worth studying.
Fury and Coulson, on the other hand, were concerned with how Mike identified the assassins. He acted without any hesitation, wasn't he afraid of misidentifying and harming the innocent? Based on his past deeds, from a moral standpoint, those Mike killed either didn't deserve to be human, or simply weren't human, unlike those who would harm the innocent.
Different positions naturally lead to different angles of thought; this is called where your butt sits determines your head.
As for how Mike identified the assassins?
Firstly, he had to have a good memory. In the information Winston provided, the pregnant woman, the couple, the white-collar worker, and the beggar were a group of assassins, skilled at disguising themselves as various professions. Although they were made up, Mike felt their faces looked familiar the first time he saw them.
Secondly, his five senses were keen, like Mike's; he was practically a human lie detector.
To be honest, these people were good actors: the pregnant woman's cautiousness, the couple's sweetness, the white-collar worker's competence, the beggar's confusion and helplessness, all portrayed vividly… They even hired an unwitting hooligan to distract Mike. Unfortunately, when Mike appeared, they couldn't suppress their inner excitement, and their heartbeats accelerated.
After a comprehensive judgment, Mike decisively took the initiative to strike first… He wasn't a superhero who had to wait for criminals to come to his door and pull out weapons before he could act.
That's too frustrating!
Killing four with one strike intimidated the other assassins. Letting go of the hooligan and the beggar also sent a signal: it's not too late to leave now.
Some assassins sobered up from the temptation of thirty million and left dejectedly. More wanted to stay and try their luck, thinking they might snatch a leftover. What's the difference between a person without a dream and a salted fish?
When people die in the street, it causes a commotion no matter where it is. A mother holding her son screamed at a high decibel, hugging him tightly, protecting him with her body.
The child, however, seemed unaware of what was happening, twisting his body, trying to break free from his mother's embrace.
People further away saw the fallen bodies, Mike's blade—blood dripping from the blade. As residents of Hell's Kitchen, they were experienced; while screaming, they quickly sought cover or entered buildings, then, catching their breath, clearly and logically called the police.
When the call connected, they calmly and quickly explained the situation. However, the callers didn't know that the communication in this area had been hijacked by hackers. The calm and reassuring voice of the female dispatcher was actually a staff member of the Continental Hotel. They told the callers not to worry, that the police would arrive very soon, and that the NYPD was confident and capable of protecting public safety, asking them to hide in a safe place and patiently wait for support.
Why not just cut off communication? It's less difficult than hijacking, right?
It's simple: if the emergency calls go through, the callers won't act recklessly. Afterward, when these people are interviewed, they will definitely complain about the police's low efficiency and slow response.
Then the NYPD, feeling wronged, because they didn't receive any emergency calls at all.
Then investigations, bickering, settlements… The public's attention would be diverted, and the Continental Hotel's cleanup work would be much easier. Of course, the premise was that the assassins could kill Mike; otherwise, talking about cleanup would be meaningless.
Bang!
A gunshot came from the side and behind. The gunman, James, chose a very peculiar sniping position. The advantage was avoiding being sniped by other assassins, ensuring that the sniping angle and range were small. Once he missed, he would have to move to find the next opportunity.
The question is, would there be a next time?
"Heaven helps me!" James's heart almost leaped out of his throat with joy. The place where Mike and the assassin group clashed was exactly within his optimal range.
Excited, James's hands and feet were as steady as an old dog's, and he pulled the micro-trigger.
The moment the bullet left the chamber, he became even more excited: "This shot, I got it!"
Like shooting a basketball or kicking a football, at the moment of action, there's often a strong premonition like "This ball is going to outer space" or "This ball is a sure thing." Assassins' premonitions are particularly strong and accurate.
James remained motionless, waiting for the scene of red and white splatter in his scope.
Blood and brains splattered. James, however, was dumbfounded. In his vision, Mike suddenly tilted his head, dodging the bullet aimed directly at the back of his head. The bullet hit the forehead of the young mother holding the child.
A coincidence?
That would be too much of a coincidence.
Suddenly, he saw Mike turn his head, their eyes meeting across several hundred meters.
"Not a coincidence." James felt his heart gripped by fear.
Hurry and leave, or you'll die… This was James's new premonition. The next moment, he didn't even bother to pack up his sniper rifle and hurried away along his planned retreat route.
"What a pity." Mike regretted. He had sensed the gunman's position, but he lacked ultra-long-range attack methods. To kill the gunman, he would have to chase him personally or with a clone, which wasn't worth it.
Mike used Observation Haki to remember the assassin's aura, looking forward to an unexpected encounter in the future.
Yes, he's that vengeful.
Is that not allowed?
Someone shot at your head, is it wrong to hold a grudge? Should you be magnanimous just because you didn't die?
Anyway, Mike felt that revenge must be exacted, and only after that could forgiveness and tolerance be discussed.
The moment Mike turned to look at the assassin, the child in the arms of the dead young mother looked up, and under his baseball cap was an adult's face—he wasn't a child at all, but a dwarf.
So… the so-called "young mother" was naturally also fake.
The dwarf didn't feel much anger about his partner's Death. He was an assassin, an existence who killed his own kind for money. For him, if a partner died, he could just find another, and it wouldn't be difficult. People are always less vigilant around children, and the dwarf's defect became an advantage in the assassin trade.
He bit a blowgun, the dart coated with the sap of the Upas tree, which would instantly kill upon contact with blood.
Whoosh!
The dwarf blew the poisoned dart.
However, Mike didn't even turn his head. With a flick of his blade, the poisoned dart that had flown out of the blowgun turned around and flew back the way it came, at an even faster speed, piercing through the blowgun into the dwarf's tongue.
"Now he's dead."
Upas tree, also known as "blood-sealing-throat," with the poisoned dart stuck in his tongue, the dwarf's tongue immediately went numb. He knew all too well how potent the poison was. Under normal circumstances, the poisoned person's heart would paralyze, and blood vessels would close and coagulate, leading to suffocation. Within twenty minutes to two hours of poisoning, only the Red-backed Bamboo Grass could detoxify it. Not only that, he had added various chemical toxins to the poison, shortening the fatal time to… ten seconds.
The dwarf struggled to get the antidote hidden in his belt. After taking out the small bottle of antidote, he was already having difficulty breathing, and his limbs were paralyzed. His hand became unsteady, and the bottle rolled away.
"Can't move…" The dwarf looked at the antidote less than ten centimeters from his palm, his heart filled with despair.
Tick-tock, tick-tock… The dwarf heard the Death countdown, as if he saw the God of Death beckoning to him.
And the appearance of the God of Death gradually overlapped with Mike.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. operations command center was silent.