SHIELD’s central laboratory was usually one of the quietest places in the Triskelion.
Scientific research tended to favor concentration over chaos. On a typical day, the loudest sound was a researcher celebrating a breakthrough.
Today was anything but typical.
The lab had been transformed into something resembling a construction site.
Its unprecedented assignment was simple to describe and infuriatingly difficult to accomplish:
Open Abomination’s skull.
Pneumatic hammers rattled. Industrial drills screamed. Bone saws spat showers of sparks while technicians swapped out ruined blades as quickly as they broke them.
The only thing missing was a foreman shouting encouragement.
"I still say we should’ve used shaped charges," one researcher grumbled, holding up an oversized bone saw fitted with yet another shattered blade. "That’s number five."
The telephone rang.
A young female researcher hurried over and picked up the receiver.
Nick Fury’s voice came through immediately.
"Still not open?"
Judging from his tone, this was far from his first call.
She lowered her surgical mask and answered carefully.
"We’re making progress, Director. We should complete the procedure as soon as possible."
"So you said half an hour ago."
Fury sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
He had been waiting in his office with Alexander Pierce. At first, both men had expected the operation to take thirty minutes at most.
Then an hour passed.
Then another.
Curiosity gave way to impatience, impatience to irritation, and eventually to complete exhaustion.
Fury was still awake.
Pierce had long since begun nodding off on the sofa.
The researcher sighed.
"Director, Abomination’s cranial structure is far harder than anything we’ve encountered. We’ve used every cutting tool available, and none of them have made meaningful progress."
The statement wasn’t an exaggeration.
An RPG could hit Abomination in the face without even breaking the skin.
Across the room, the frustrated researcher mounted yet another fresh blade onto the saw. With several assistants helping to steady the machine, he leaned into Abomination’s skull.
The saw shrieked.
A cascade of sparks sprayed across the laboratory floor.
Listening to the deafening noise through the phone, Fury rubbed his temple.
"Borrow a laser cutter from Tactical Operations."
He paused.
"Not one of the portable units. Get the industrial model. It’ll be faster."
He hung up.
Pierce stirred at the sound.
"Any results?"
"Not yet."
Fury leaned back in his chair.
"I told them to bring in an industrial laser cutter. Hopefully that finishes the job."
"Mmm."
Pierce lowered his head again and was asleep within seconds.
While SHIELD waited for the autopsy report, New York was descending into controlled chaos.
The battle between Hulk and Abomination had left behind a staggering number of casualties.
Where tragedy gathered, unrest inevitably followed.
Demonstrators filled the streets demanding answers from the government. Others demanded justice for the victims or criminal investigations into those responsible. Opportunists slipped into the confusion hoping to profit from looting and disorder.
Thanks to the combined efforts of the police and city officials, the situation remained barely under control.
There had been no major outbreaks of violence.
Not yet.
If the public ever learned the full truth behind the disaster, that fragile restraint might vanish overnight.
Sometimes the truth carried a price few societies were prepared to pay.
The largest crowds gathered around the battle sites themselves.
Civilians, police officers, and soldiers had all died in the collateral damage. Memorials began appearing almost immediately.
Flowers.
Candles.
Photographs.
But the mourners never reached the actual scenes.
Police barricades stopped everyone at a safe distance.
The official explanation was straightforward.
Both monsters had emitted dangerous radiation during the battle, contaminating the area with radioactive blood. Specialists needed to decontaminate the sites before civilians could enter.
Ironically, that wasn’t entirely a lie.
Hulk’s blood and Abomination’s blood could grant extraordinary power under incredibly rare circumstances.
For almost everyone else...
They were lethal toxins.
The authorities wanted neither another monster nor a city full of poisoned civilians.
Cleanup crews wearing fully sealed hazmat suits worked behind the barricades, convincing most people that the warning was genuine.
No one wanted to attend a memorial today only to have someone else attend theirs next week.
Most of the battle sites looked much the same.
Except one.
The place where Evenson had entered the fight.
Several strangely dressed figures wandered silently through the restricted area.
Each wore flowing yellow robes with deep hoods that concealed nearly the entire face.
What made them truly remarkable wasn’t their clothing.
It was that no one seemed to notice them.
Police officers continued directing traffic.
Hazmat teams carried on with their work.
Civilians stared toward the ruined streets.
No eyes lingered on the robed strangers, as though they simply weren’t there.
The group eventually stopped before a patch of black ash.
It was all that remained of the car destroyed by Evenson’s stray Demonbolt.
The leader crouched.
He scooped up a handful of soot, rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingers, lifted it to his nose, then closed his eyes.
For several silent moments, he simply listened.
Finally, he let the ash fall back to the ground.
"Master?" a woman behind him asked. "Did you find something?"
He nodded slowly.
"A profoundly dangerous spell."
His expression remained grave.
"I’ve never encountered magic like this."
"A black mage?" she asked.
"Possibly."
He hesitated.
"Or something even darker."
He looked once more at the scorched remains.
"The spell carries a terrifying level of destructive intent. It doesn’t merely kill. It seeks to erase life itself."
He shook his head.
"This is beyond the work of an ordinary practitioner of dark magic."
"Can we trace the caster?" the woman suggested.
"I don’t think so," another sorcerer answered before the Master could speak.
"The concealment was flawless."
He surveyed the battlefield.
"A magical battle of this scale should have flooded New York with arcane disturbances."
"It didn’t."
"We sensed nothing until long after the fighting had already ended."
The Master nodded.
"Not long ago, the New York Sanctum detected an unfamiliar psychic presence."
"Our wards began searching immediately..."
"But whoever it belonged to withdrew the moment the scan began."
"He is extraordinarily cautious."
The woman frowned.
"Should we inform the Sorcerer Supreme?"
The Master considered the question before shaking his head.
"No."
"If every threat required the Sorcerer Supreme to intervene personally, there would be little purpose in the rest of us."
He looked across the devastated street.
"This happened in New York."
"So the New York Sanctum will handle it."
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