"A mysterious inheritance with no identifiable benefactor."
Melinda May closed the folder halfway.
"So?"
Her expression barely changed.
"If we’re talking about theft, robbery, or murder, that’s a job for the NYPD."
She shrugged.
"The FBI handles federal crimes. The Secret Service protects government officials. None of that falls under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction."
Coulson smiled faintly.
"I wasn’t interested in the inheritance either."
He pointed to another page.
"Check his medical history."
May flipped through the file.
Then frowned.
"...There isn’t one."
"No hospital visits."
"No prescriptions."
"No recorded illnesses."
"He has comprehensive medical insurance..."
"...and apparently never used it."
Coulson glanced at her.
"What does that tell you?"
"Either he’s incredibly lucky..."
"...or absurdly healthy."
A perfectly clean medical record was unusual, but not impossible.
Some people simply didn’t get sick very often.
Still...
Not a single visit?
Not even a childhood injury?
It was enough to stand out.
Coulson continued.
"He lives on Sixth Street in Brooklyn."
That finally caught her attention.
"Sixth Street?"
She quickly skimmed several pages.
"...Now that’s interesting."
Brooklyn’s Sixth Street had a reputation.
If Brooklyn were a body, Sixth Street was its untreated infection.
The Dead End Gang controlled the neighborhood almost completely.
Protection rackets.
Drug trafficking.
Robberies.
Illegal gambling.
Violence was simply part of everyday life.
Residents and business owners inevitably dealt with either the gang or the police.
Yet Evenson Richter’s records contained neither police reports nor emergency calls.
His shop had remained open for years without incident.
That ruled out one possibility.
If he’d been a timid victim quietly paying protection money, the Dead End Gang would have bled him dry before forcing him out of the neighborhood.
Instead...
His little curiosity shop continued operating without interruption.
He’d even hired four employees.
May flipped to the personnel photographs.
One enormous man standing nearly seven feet tall.
One strikingly beautiful waitress with an almost foxlike charm.
One taciturn overweight man.
One tiny, sharp-faced chatterbox.
And...
"...A husky?"
Coulson nodded.
"The dog’s paperwork is completely legitimate."
May blinked.
"The dog?"
"Vaccinations."
"Registration."
"Licensing."
"Everything."
She continued reading.
"The four employees..."
"...all have forged identities purchased through local human smugglers."
May couldn’t help laughing.
"So the dog is the only one with legal paperwork."
"Apparently."
She leaned back thoughtfully.
"The Dead End Gang."
"They’re the real target."
Coulson shook his head.
"No."
"If this were just organized crime, an ordinary tactical team could wipe them out in a day."
To S.H.I.E.L.D., the Dead End Gang barely qualified as a nuisance.
No.
If senior agents had been assigned, there had to be something much larger hiding underneath.
Perhaps connections to an international organization.
Hydra.
A foreign intelligence service.
Something worth unraveling.
"They’re clean," Coulson said.
"As far as we can tell, the gang has no connection to our investigation."
May slowly closed the file.
"Phil."
"Hm?"
"You’re one of my closest friends."
Coulson smiled.
"I appreciate..."
"If you die or end up in intensive care because you keep withholding information..."
She cracked her knuckles.
"...I’ll be extremely upset."
His smile vanished instantly.
"Right."
"No more suspense."
He raised both hands in surrender.
"The Dead End Gang has targeted Richter’s shop five separate times."
"And?"
"Every group disappeared."
"Completely."
"No bodies."
"No witnesses."
"No evidence."
He handed her his phone.
"This came from one of our informants."
"He holds a mid-level position inside the gang."
"He knew another collection crew was being sent to pressure the shop."
"Curiosity got the better of him."
"So he secretly hid a camera nearby several days beforehand."
May opened the video.
The footage was grainy.
Nighttime.
Poor lighting.
A young man stood with his back to the camera.
His face remained hidden in shadow.
In one hand, he effortlessly lifted a massive bald Black man by the throat.
The victim struggled violently.
It accomplished nothing.
The young man slowly raised his free hand.
Then...
Threads of violet light drifted out of the gangster’s body.
They streamed toward the outstretched palm like smoke being drawn into an invisible vortex.
As the final strands disappeared...
The struggling stopped.
The man hung limp.
Dead.
Before May could process what she’d seen, emerald-green fire erupted around the corpse.
The flames lasted less than a second.
When they vanished...
Nothing remained except drifting ash.
The video ended.
Silence filled the car.
After several seconds, May finally spoke.
"...What was that?"
She replayed the footage.
Soul-draining violet energy.
Green fire.
Complete incineration.
No conventional weapon could produce anything remotely similar.
"...A mutant?"
The word came reluctantly.
She already knew people with extraordinary abilities existed.
Bahrain had taught her that in the cruelest possible way.
A frightened little girl.
Power beyond her control.
A decision that still haunted every quiet moment of her life.
Now another impossible individual had appeared.
"So far..." Coulson said carefully, "...that’s our leading theory."
"But we can’t confirm it."
He tapped the paused image.
"The disappearances alone wouldn’t have justified Level Six clearance."
"This did."
"Our informant retrieved the camera after the gang vanished."
"The recording is genuine."
May’s expression hardened.
"We need backup."
She looked at Coulson with complete seriousness.
"If he’s a mutant... or possesses abilities on this level... the two of us may not be enough."
She glanced toward the busy streets outside.
"The shop sits in the middle of a residential neighborhood."
"If things go wrong..."
"...there’ll be civilians everywhere."
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