Kilgrave's reaction was visceral. His pupils dilated in shock, the pitch-black gun barrel consuming his vision like a black hole. His jaw hung slack, blood dripping down his chin. Beside him, Jessica stirred, her consciousness snapping back. She steadied herself, her eyes darting to Kilgrave's injuries before locking onto Hong Fei.
"Thank you," she said, her voice tight.
Hong Fei shrugged. "Don't mention it. It's only been ten seconds. Even without me, he wouldn't have had time to do much—though, I suppose that's debatable."
Kilgrave stumbled backward, his movements jerky. Jessica snapped into action.
Her leg swept out, knocking Kilgrave to the ground. She crouched over him, her knee pressing into his chest, her eyes blazing with icy fury. Kilgrave's skin began to purple as he released pheromones in desperation.
Jessica gritted her teeth, feeling the invasive tendrils of his consciousness clawing at her mind. Her lips trembled, her agitation palpable. "Kilgrave," she hissed, "did you ever think this day would come?"
Struggling for breath, Kilgrave let out a ragged laugh. "I imagined it, yes. But I never pictured you'd bring a man along to witness it."
Jessica's hand shot out, gripping his throat. "Keep your filthy thoughts to yourself!"
The pressure on his neck intensified. Kilgrave gasped, his face turning crimson.
At that moment, every door on the floor burst open. Men, women, young and old poured into the hallway, all armed with guns. Their faces twisted with unnatural rage and murderous intent—clearly Kilgrave's contingency plan.
Hong Fei's Psychic Power surged. With a subtle jolt, he freed their minds from Kilgrave's control. The smug gleam in Kilgrave's eyes vanished.
The hallway erupted with startled exclamations as people realized their state of undress.
Jessica glanced over her shoulder, catching Hong Fei's sideways look—one that practically screamed, You're an idiot.
"When you've decided to kill someone," Hong Fei drawled, "don't waste time monologuing. You can say all that to his corpse later."
Jessica's expression hardened. Kilgrave opened his mouth, but no sound escaped.
The sickening crunch of bone filled the air. Seconds later, Jessica withdrew her hand. Kilgrave's head lolled to the side, held only by a thin layer of skin.
Her breathing came in rapid, ragged gasps. Her body trembled violently before she collapsed to her knees, her face buried in her hands as sobs wracked her frame.
Hong Fei lingered in the doorway, unmoved. He almost considered lighting a cigarette.
Eventually, Jessica's weeping subsided. She turned her back, wiping her tears fiercely, then stood and walked toward him, her head bowed. "Let's go."
Hong Fei didn't speak; he handed the Gatling gun to her, then stepped forward and lifted Kilgrave's body.
Jessica shot him a puzzled look.
"When weeding," Hong Fei said, "you pull out the roots. His ability comes from a bodily mutation. Leaving the corpse risks someone else exploiting it. Never be careless."
The alleyway echoed with a deafening roar as Hong Fei hurled Kilgrave aside and ripped the Gatling gun from Jessica's grip. Three seconds of sustained fire—a thousand rounds spent in the time it took to blink. The muzzle flare died abruptly, leaving only the acrid tang of gunpowder and concrete dust. No blood. Just business. He turned and tapped Jessica's frozen cheek. "Go for a run."
"What?" Her voice cracked. "From here to my place. Now." "Why would I—" Hong Fei angled the smoking barrel toward her. "Better reason?"
Jessica choked out something between a laugh and a sob before pivoting on her heel. Her sneakers slapped pavement in uneven rhythm, leaving damp spots where tears hit asphalt. She needed this—the burn in her lungs, the night air swallowing her whole.
Across the street, the machine gun clattered into darkness. Three distinct impacts, then silence. A shadow peeled itself from the brickwork.
"You're under arrest for illegal firearms possession." Natasha's voice carried razor-sharp across the empty street.
Hong Fei offered his wrists with theatrical resignation. "Guilty as charged, Ms. Romanoff."
A gust sent a newspaper skittering between them. The instant it obscured Natasha's sightline—
Thwip!
Silver flashed through newsprint straight for Hong Fei's throat.
Natasha exploded into motion, covering ten feet in a blink. Her boot kicked a cylindrical device along the pavement as she flipped her combat knife to a reverse grip.
Hong Fei plucked the throwing knife from midair. A casual flick of his wrist sent the taser-device skidding into the curb, where it spat blue sparks against concrete.
Natasha was already airborne, blade descending in a killing arc. He sidestepped—cold steel whispered past his mask and torso. She twisted midair for a horizontal slash; he arched backward until his spine protested. Her follow-up axe kick met only pavement as he launched himself clear.
The Black Widow didn't pause. Moonlight danced along her blade as she pressed the attack, each strike precise as a surgeon's scalpel. Sparks bloomed where steel kissed brickwork.
After ten seconds of this lethal ballet, Hong Fei spoke between evasions:
"Fury send you?"
"How's that stab wound healing?"
"Did they cut your rations at SHIELD?"
Natasha forced him back with a vicious throat-slash feint before disengaging. Panting slightly, she stood haloed in slanting streetlight while he remained shrouded in shadow.
"Why do you do this?"
"You first."
"Did I say we were trading answers?"
Her knuckles whitened around the knife hilt.
"Relax. I'll play." Hong Fei spread his hands. "Which particular crime has you playing messenger girl tonight?"
Natasha's lips parted—then clamped shut. A calculated pause. "Why kidnap Tony Stark?"
Hong Fei's disappointed sigh ruffled his mask. "I expected better questions. You're slipping."
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
"Money." He shrugged. "Stark was useless back then—except for his bank accounts."
"That's it?"
"You saying nine figures isn't motive enough?"
"With your skills, earning money shouldn't be hard," Natasha remarked.
Hong Fei nodded. "True. That job was easy for me. I even enjoyed it a bit."
She hesitated, then added softly, "I meant through more... legal means."
"Ah," Hong Fei chuckled. "You're talking about becoming an agent, aren't you? Let me ask—what's your annual salary? Millions? Fury gets a hefty budget every year. What's your cut? A few percent? A few thousandths? Or maybe a few millionths?"
Natasha shook her head, avoiding the question. "What about Liberty Island?"
"Freedom," Hong Fei replied without hesitation.
She couldn't help but laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. I respect others' freedom to seek revenge. I even admire that spirit. So, I gave him a hand."
"And Tokyo Bay?"
Hong Fei fell silent.
Natasha looked troubled, wrestling with her words before finally saying, "I'm full."
"Cleaning up criminal gangs," Hong Fei said quickly.
"What?" Natasha blinked, disbelief etched across her face.
"That night, I did two things. You only focused on one." Hong Fei stepped out of the shadows, the moonlight catching the metallic gleam of his mask. "People see what they want to see. You ignored the other part, as if it didn't matter. But the truth was right in front of you. The question is—do you believe it? Or rather, does that dog Fury believe it?"
Natasha's cheek twitched at the mention of Fury. She wasn't used to hearing him spoken of that way.
"May I leave now?" Hong Fei asked.
Her blade flashed up instantly. "Whether what you said is true or false, it doesn't change the fact that you've committed crimes. Your actions have disrupted the world's order. New York, Tokyo, New Mexico—everywhere bears your mark. Every incident ties back to you. Do you really think you can deceive everyone?"
She paused, her voice firm. "Mr. Hong. You are a criminal." Her presence was commanding, almost intimidating.
"Well said," Hong Fei replied. A thick cloud drifted across the moon, casting his face back into shadow. "First, did I ever try to absolve myself? As for your evidence... good luck with that. And if I've truly disrupted the world's order, then I consider it an honor."
He leaned in slightly, his voice sharper. "By the way, this 'world order' you speak of—is it the one defined by this country? Or your precious S.H.I.E.L.D.? Natasha Romanoff, has your brain really been washed again?"
Her pupils dilated in shock. Without warning, she lunged, faster than before.
But Hong Fei didn't dodge. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Natasha retreated, but he matched her pace, never letting her gain space. She lifted her leg to strike, but Hong Fei anticipated it. He planted his foot on hers, pinning her down, then drove his shoulder into her, sending her off balance.
As she fell, he smoothly disarmed her, catching the knife's handle. Before she could recover, the cold blade pressed against her chin. She stared up at him, confusion in her eyes. "Why did you say that?"
Hong Fei didn't answer. He turned and drove the blade deep into the wall, leaving only the handle protruding. Before walking away, he left her with one final remark: "Do you think the Red Room has really disappeared?"
Hong Fei was determined to pry this corner loose.
The car sped beyond the city limits, plunging into a dense stretch of forest where no surveillance cameras reached. Midway through the trees, the vehicle's plates flipped to a fresh set—the paint job shifting colors in the same fluid motion. As Hong Fei guided the car up the winding hillside, Jessica's running form finally came into view.
Beep! Beep! The horn blared twice. Jessica whirled around, sweat-slicked face flashing surprise before she skidded to a halt.
"Don't stop now!" Hong Fei gunned the engine, roaring past her. But then—movement. A shadow streaked across the sky, overtaking them from behind. Hong Fei's foot jammed the brake pedal. The car screeched to a stop.
"Jessica?" He squinted upward, then burst out laughing. "You finally learned to fly! What, too scared to come down and face me?"
Without a doubt, the next step is to go head-to-head with S.H.I.E.L.D. for the first time. Hmm. Seems like half the readers saw this coming.