The castle loomed above them. Yelena lay sprawled on the ground, her black combat gear caked in dust. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing ragged and strained. Hong Fei stood three meters away, arms crossed, his tone tinged with disappointment. "Is that all you've got?"
Yelena's hands tightened around her daggers, knuckles whitening. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to push up from the ground. But just as she found her footing, Hong Fei struck again. In a dozen swift moves, he knocked her down with a single punch, leaving her sprawled once more.
Frank leaned against a nearby wall, raising an eyebrow. "Is this really necessary?"
"Passing out is better for resting," Hong Fei replied casually, turning his head. "Jessica, you're up."
Jessica stepped forward, her expression sour, but she squared her shoulders and summoned her focus.
Half an hour later, Jessica and Yelena lay side by side in the physical therapy room. Yelena, who had regained consciousness first, glanced at Jessica as she slowly stirred. Now she understood what Jessica had meant by "suffering."
Meanwhile, Hong Fei stood outside, a satisfied smile on his face. Two white cards—Jessica and Yelena had delivered. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that Antonia wasn't here. She had gone to Dr. Helen Cho's clinic for treatment. Her scars were severe, a testament to Dreykov's cruelty—no treatment, no restoration, perhaps even intentional neglect. Dr. Cho believed she could restore most of the damage, and Antonia had no reason to refuse.
Hong Fei turned his gaze to Frank. "Speaking of which, we haven't sparred in a while, have we?"
Frank's eyelid twitched. Without a word, he turned and walked away.
Hong Fei watched him go, hands clasped behind his back, then strolled back into the castle, lost in thought. "Let's see... I haven't fought Alexei yet. Melina... I'll let her off. Big Head and Ivan are due for another round. Oh, and Abomination—he should be more durable now."
He sighed, shaking his head. "I've been slacking on the skill cards. I shouldn't have!"
At that moment, everyone he'd named sneezed, as if sensing his thoughts.
The current era lacked the chaos and conflict he craved. Heroes and villains were too few and far between, leaving him with little to fight. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have killed them so cleanly back then," he muttered. "I should've locked them all up, kept them around to farm from time to time. Even if the drops repeated, it would've been worth it. A little imprisonment, feeding them for free—what's the big deal?"
But more pressing than skill cards was his energy level. His body had reached the second stage, but his energy lagged behind, still stuck at the first. This imbalance went against his long-standing philosophy of growth. It was time to do something about it—something bad.
Yet doing bad deeds wasn't as simple as it sounded. It wasn't about randomly targeting S.H.I.E.L.D. or blowing up the White House. In Hong Fei's mind, those were good deeds. No, bad deeds required organization, order, and skill—more so than good deeds.
He pondered his options. "Tony? Forget it. After all those beatings, he only dropped one skill card. Stingier than a stainless steel rooster. Thor? Asgard's too far, and I probably can't beat him yet—let alone Odin. Hulk? No chance. Natasha? She's practically one of us. Barton? Too easy. His wife and kids? Not worth it. Steve? No idea where he is. Peter? He's just a kid. HYDRA? They might end up taking a bullet for me someday—that'd be a good deed!"
The more he thought, the more convinced he became of his inherent goodness. "Have you ever seen a bad person put this much thought into doing something bad? It's usually second nature—one act and it's done."
Hong Fei sighed, shaking his head. "This is harder than I thought."
Professor Selvig was useless. Months with S.H.I.E.L.D., and still no progress. If only I could just raid their headquarters. And Number One—since I sent him after Ulysses Klaue, he's been drifting somewhere out there, no word, no return. All I know is he's still alive.
That evening, Hong Fei gathered the team. Frank, Big Head, Abomination, Ivan, Jessica, Yelena, Antonia. Five had grown to seven. Alexei was old now, worn down by Melina in her prime. When he found Frank, his legs shook like they might give out. He was barely holding it together leading those 120 elites.
Four men, three women—better balance, at least. "I'm planning something," Hong Fei said bluntly. The original five didn't blink. They'd known this was coming, even if he'd never said it outright. Yelena and Antonia, though, looked startled.
Even Dreykov, rotten as he was, would dress his schemes in lofty ideals or noble causes. Hong Fei didn't bother. "But I'm not sure what yet, so give me ideas." Silence. The group exchanged glances, but no one spoke up. Yelena thought the team seemed... off. Antonia wondered if Hong Fei needed therapy.
"Big Head, you're the smart one. You go first." Big Head shot him a resentful look. Do I really look like the villain here? What about the giant terror sitting next to me? "Uh, Boss," he cleared his throat, "how about messing with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Maybe steal a few quinjets?" Clearly, he'd been trying to guess his boss's desires.
The newcomers didn't know Hong Fei had a thing for quinjets. The others did. Hong Fei waved him off. "Good effort. Don't suggest it again." S.H.I.E.L.D. was reserved for the Tesseract. Acting now would only put them on high alert. No need to crank up the difficulty. "Ivan, your turn."
"Boss, I think we should hit the White House—" "Sit down." Ivan clamped his mouth shut. Ambitious, but not the right moment. "Abomination?" "Boss!" "Got something to say?" Abomination grinned, his face twisting into something grotesque. "How about a chat with General Ross?" Hong Fei's eyes lit up. Now that was a target.
Over in New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. had given up searching for Hong Fei—at least on the surface. General Ross, though, didn't care. He didn't have Fury's intel, but he was relentless in his pursuit. More importantly, Ross had dropped the Tank Manifestation card for Hong Fei.
A mortal, sure, but one with potential. If he could drop a fighter jet, a nuclear sub, or an aircraft carrier... though it was unclear if an Army general would yield such prizes. Still, ideas were just ideas. Reality required caution. Ross was weak, after all.
A general, yes, but kidnapping him wouldn't be hard unless Hong Fei decided to take on the entire Army head-on. And there was no need for that—yet. Stick to what's appropriate for the stage you're in. Hong Fei hadn't forgotten that principle. "Good idea, but the timing's off.
You can remind me the next time we meet, but there's no need to go hunting for him now." Abomination nodded. Hong Fei scanned the rest. Heads bowed, silence thick. He gave up and turned to Big Head. "What about the AI?"
At that, Big Head perked up, eyes gleaming. "Boss, it's close. Almost ready."
Hong Fei's frown deepened. "I recall asking you the same question six months ago at the New York manor. You gave me the same answer then."
"Uh, Boss, I swear, it's really soon this time!"
"How many days?"
"It won't take long before..."
"I'm asking you, how many days?"
Big Head blinked nervously and held up a hand. "Fifty..."
"Fine. Thirty days." Hong Fei's voice was cold. "If I don't see anything in thirty days, I'll send you to the construction site outside to move bricks."
Big Head's face fell instantly. Before he could recover, Hong Fei pressed again. "What about Abomination's serum?"
At the mention of the serum, Abomination turned his imposing gaze toward Big Head. Hong Fei was referring to the project he'd assigned long ago—a serum that would allow Abomination to temporarily revert from his monstrous form. Big Head had made little progress since taking over.
"Aiya, Boss, I'm really trying! But I've got too many projects on my plate right now—the AI, the Regeneration Cradle, the suppression serum... I'm stretched thin!"
"How long do you need?" Hong Fei demanded.
Big Head hesitated, then finally answered. "Two months. In two months, I can show you results for everything."
"Very well." Hong Fei's tone was icy. "If there's still no progress in two months, you'll move bricks during the day and carry cement at night. Don't worry, I'll make sure they pay you a salary. Once you've earned back those billions of mine, you'll be free."
The North Pole. The wind howled, bitingly cold, and heavy snow blotted out the sky. Under the dim, blurred light, a small team trudged stubbornly across the icy expanse. They had landed on the island not long ago, each person bundled tightly against the frigid air.
Their task was to find a suitable location to set up professional equipment, so a scouting team had been dispatched from the ship.
"Ed, I don't get you. Why do you always have to be the first one every time we land?"
Ed chuckled. "I've been on the ship too long. I just need to feel solid ground under my feet now and then."
"Bullshit. What 'ground under your feet'? You're just looking for trouble. If it were up to me, I'd stay on the ship and never come out! This damn weather—I'm freezing to death even with all these layers!"
Ed smiled but didn't respond. Toolman Number Five—he had a name now—silently followed at the rear of the team. As a veteran, he used the excuse of guarding the back to stay behind every time. It was a wise choice; in the snowy environment, he could keep track of everyone's position and ensure he could hit any—or all—targets in a moment's notice.
But like the countless searches over the past months, Ed held little hope this time. He'd accompanied this oil exploration team to too many islands. While the oil prospects looked promising, the thing the Boss had mentioned remained elusive.
The group pressed on through the blizzard, their steps slow but steady. Suddenly, the person at the front let out a startled cry. The others hurried forward, exclaiming in surprise as they approached.
Ed walked forward, his arm silently reaching into his coat. Through the swirling snow, an oval-shaped rock—or perhaps something metallic—stood abruptly on the ice field. Some rushed toward it out of curiosity, while others shone high-powered flashlights around.
Ed's spirit lifted, and he pulled out his gun. Finally, this damn North Pole trip was about to end.