Unveiling Darkness: Confronting Supernatural Threats

Early the next day, a group of people boarded a return flight.

Noah wasn't worried that S.H.I.E.L.D. would target their sub-base in the Middle East.

As long as the higher-ups of S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't collectively become brain-dead before finding the nonexistent Foundation headquarters, they wouldn't make a move to alert the enemy.

As for what to do after they establish their own headquarters?

Would the Foundation still need to bow down to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority?

After returning to his villa, Noah dismissed Coulson and May, leaving only Natasha behind. And the reason?

Of course, he needed personal protection.

After taking a refreshing bath, Noah sat on the couch wrapped in a towel, enjoying a massage from the top-tier Marvel spy, while watching the news on television.

The news on TV was about Tony Stark's rescue.

"On behalf of Stark Industries' Chairman, I hereby announce that Stark Industries will close all weapons manufacturing departments starting today and terminate all arms deals!"

As the final sentence was uttered, the live interview reached its climax.

The stock of Stark Industries, which had been on the rise, plummeted unprecedentedly.

Noah wasn't interested in any of this. When a conglomerate reached the level of the Stark family, even if Stark Industries went bankrupt, Tony would still be the richest man in the world.

At that moment, the butler walked over with a satellite phone and respectfully said, "Young Master, you have a call! It's from the seller."

"The seller's call?"

Noah immediately thought of the seller who sold nuclear warheads.

"What about my money? It's been half a month, and you promised that the payment for the nuclear warhead would be transferred to my account within half a month."

A deep voice came through the phone.

Hearing this, Noah raised an eyebrow.

If the other party hadn't brought it up, he would have almost forgotten that he still owed someone a nuclear warhead.

Noah replied expressionlessly, "Apologies! Our group doesn't do that business anymore. As for the nuclear warhead you want? You can provide an address, and I'll have someone deliver it to you later."

Upon hearing Noah's words, the person on the other end of the line exploded.

"Damn it! It's already this late, and you're telling me you're not doing it anymore? What do you think this is? Shopping at a market?"

"Listen here, kid. I know your damn father is dead, and you're having some trouble taking over the smuggling group, but that's not a reason for you to screw me, Obadiah! Now, all I want is money! Listen carefully! I just want the money!"

"If the payment for the nuclear warhead isn't transferred to my account within three days, I'll come and get it myself. But by then, things won't be so simple anymore. I'll crush you, and it won't be any harder than squashing a bug!"

After Obadiah finished his angry tirade, he hung up the phone.

Due to Tony's impulsive decision to close down Stark Industries' weapons division, the stock of Stark Industries plummeted. To stabilize the stock market of Stark Industries, Obadiah had to continuously pour money into it.

But the problem was that the money he had earned over the years was simply not enough to stabilize the stock market. So Obadiah thought of the recent nuclear warhead transaction.

Although it was only 10 billion, it was still a significant cash flow!

"Obadiah?"

Natasha, who was massaging Noah from behind, raised an eyebrow upon hearing the name.

It seemed like she had stumbled upon another highly valuable piece of information.

Obadiah Stane, the CEO of Stark Industries, was involved in arms smuggling, and he even mentioned nuclear weapons!

Noah, also deep in thought, didn't expect that his seller would turn out to be this major antagonist from Iron Man.

"Things are getting more and more interesting."

Noah narrowed his eyes, enjoying Natasha's service.

The loyal and devoted butler worriedly asked from the side, "Master, what should we do? We can't afford to offend the Stane family."

If there were rankings for arms dealers in America, the Stane family would undoubtedly be in the top ten, or even the top ten globally.

A family as formidable as that couldn't be provoked by a mere smuggling group.

Noah reassured confidently, "Don't worry! I'll handle this matter. It's simple."

"Besides... that old guy shouldn't have a chance to trouble us anymore."

Noah smirked with profound meaning.

'Just a nuclear warhead? No big deal. I'll return it to you in a couple of days.' Noah thought with narrowed eyes.

Noah didn't believe that Obadiah would have the time to bother him at this moment, and even if he did, Noah wasn't afraid.

"Alright, you can step back for now. I'll go to my bedroom and take a nap."

Noah waved his hand to Natasha behind him and then returned to the bedroom alone.

Once he arrived at the villa, he immediately opened the system and saw a SP balance of over 2000. Noah couldn't help but smile.

S.H.I.E.L.D. this organization was truly amazing!

'Not only are we using them as cannon fodder, but they also made me an employee, and even paid a salary (in SPs).'

This was such a good-hearted organization that he felt a bit reluctant to scheme against them.

Thinking of this, Noah couldn't help but shed a few crocodile tears.

With the arrival of the superhero era, the Marvel Universe would completely enter a chaotic age. In order to survive better in this chaotic era, Noah decided to accelerate his growth.

Even if this acceleration came at a price!

"System, Use random summoning!"

[Ding~ Random SCP summoning in progress…]

[Ding~ Congratulations, host, for successfully summoning SCP-096, the 'Shy Guy'!]

[Ding~ Congratulations, host, for successfully summoning SCP-173, the 'The Sculpture.']

[Ding~ Congratulations, host, for obtaining Foundation Class C armed personnel × 10,000.]

[Congratulations, host, for obtaining Class A Special Agents × 10 (excellent investigators who can locate SCPs more quickly and accurately, and are more likely to identify the characteristics of SCPs)]

[Congratulations, host, for obtaining a medium-sized facility (with a total of 5,000 personnel, including 2,000 combatants, 3,000 support staff, 5 Class A researchers, and 1 Class S researcher)]

[Ding~ Congratulations, host, for obtaining a Mobile Task Force (MTF) consisting of blind operatives (7 operatives per group, lacking eyesight but surpassing those with eyes)]

[Ding~ Congratulations, host, for obtaining a Mobile Task Force (MTF) consisting of individuals who never blink (7 operatives per group, individuals who never blink!)]

Due to the overwhelming number of elements, Noah stared blankly at the summoning list.

"System, what I meant was to spend 1,000 SPs to summon one SCP, not spend all of my SPs!!!" Noah exclaimed in frustration.

Fortunately, luck was on his side this time, and he didn't summon any major threats. Otherwise, things would have turned out quite badly.

Noah complained about the unreliable system while opening the SCP navigation map.

Hmm!

Very good!

The SCPs were very close to him, which meant the residents of New York were in luck.

Noah didn't plan to deal with the newly summoned SCPs right away. After all, the danger posed by both SCP-173 and SCP-096, while slightly high, hadn't surpassed the level of a city-level threat.

These kinds of SCPs were Noah's favorites at the moment, as they were perfect for farming SPs.

SCP-096, 'The Shy Guy', was a humanoid creature with no pigmentation or hair on its skin, and its lower jaw could extend to great lengths. Once someone saw the facial image of SCP-096, SCP-096 would immediately sense the person's presence, overcome any obstacles, and proceed to kill them.

Afterward, SCP-096 would return to its habitat, restoring its calmness. Just as its name suggests, SCP-096 is a very shy SCP. It dislikes anyone seeing its appearance. In order to prevent feeling shy, SCP-096 will kill anyone who sees its face. This behavior of preferring to be active rather than troubling others is truly touching. Noah vividly remembered this SCP.

As for SCP-173, 'The Sculpture', it was even more interesting. SCP-173 is a concrete statue with a lifelike appearance and aggressive tendencies. It will snap your neck when you least expect it, but as long as your gaze is fixed on it, it won't move. Unlike SCP-096, SCP-173 enjoys attracting attention.

One likes to be observed, the other dislikes being observed. These two random summonings were truly fascinating.

Luckily, both of these SCPs posed a low level of danger. As long as nobody does something foolish like publicly exposing SCP-096 on the internet, then the problem should be manageable. Noah decided to leave these two SCPs alone for now. He thought it would be good for them to experience the culture of New York while brushing up on SPs.

Putting aside the issue of the SCPs, Noah realized he faced an even more serious problem. He had summoned too many people, and he might not be able to sustain them all. A medium-sized facility could accommodate a maximum of around 20,000 people.

The medium-sized facility that the system provided came with enough food supplies to sustain 5,000 people for a month. Now, with an additional 10,000 people, the military base's stockpile was running short. Just the thought of having to feed 20,000 mouths made Noah's scalp tingle.

"Fortunately, I had the foresight to find a benefactor for the Foundation."

Knock, knock!

Just as Noah was celebrating his foresight, rhythmic knocking on the door interrupted him.

"Young Master, Dr. A167 has new information to report to you."

Looking at Natasha at the door, holding a satellite phone, Noah raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you have Dr. A167's satellite phone?"

Noah looked at Natasha strangely.

Is this the level of a super spy? Their social skills are simply beyond comprehension.

"I am your personal bodyguard and part-time assistant. If there's anything, of course, it would be relayed through me."

Natasha replied without leaking any information.

Noah didn't dwell on it and took the satellite phone from her hand.

"Sir, we have discovered a new SCP, but we can't determine its exact location yet. We can only confirm that it's somewhere in the Hell's Kitchen area of New York. I have sent the images of the victims to your computer. Please review them promptly."

After reporting, Dr. A167 hung up the phone, seemingly busy.

Noah's mouth twitched slightly as he listened. Sometimes when subordinates are too capable, it's not a good thing. He had actually planned to let the two SCPs roam freely outside.

"Bring me my computer."

After hanging up the phone, Noah commanded Natasha, who was next to him.

Soon, Natasha brought the computer over.

Just as Noah was about to start receiving the files, he suddenly stopped and said to Natasha, "Ahem! Hold on, bring May back here."

Natasha, who was about to turn on the computer, looked at Noah in confusion, unable to understand what he was up to.

Hastily, May, dressed in a suit, rushed back.

"There's a file here, it should be some photos or something. After you finish looking at them, describe the content of the photos to me."

Noah pointed to the computer.

May: "???"

You called me back in a hurry just for this?

Natasha was equally perplexed, unable to understand why Noah was making a fuss.

Wasn't it just to look at some photos? Why did he specifically call May back to see them?

Noah certainly couldn't tell the two women that the reason he didn't dare to look at the photos was because he was afraid of being struck by an opening thunderbolt.

SCP-096 was very shy. If someone saw his face through a photo on the internet, the scene would be too beautiful, beyond imagination.

Natasha, after receiving the information, turned out to be photos of deceased individuals, not images of SCP-096. These photos all shared a common feature: the cause of death was the same, their necks were snapped.

Looking at the photos of the deceased individuals with their necks twisted 90 degrees, Noah breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, Dr. A167 didn't send photos of SCP-096.

The guy would kill you if you saw his picture on the internet...

Natasha analyzed the photos professionally and said, "Based on the condition of these victims' deaths, it seems that they were attacked from behind and their necks were snapped."

Noah nodded and said, "Have Coulson and his team investigate it. Also, remind them that this SCP seems to enjoy attacking people from behind, so they should be careful."

Natasha: "..."

It was evident that Noah intended to use Coulson and his team as cannon fodder to investigate the new SCP's capabilities.

However, Natasha didn't resist and dutifully conveyed the order to Coulson.

Upon receiving the information about a potential SCP in New York, Coulson's expression turned sour. New York was not the Middle East; if a SCP appeared there, the impact would be difficult to estimate. If a SCP that could grow stronger by devouring people showed up, the consequences would be even worse.

Realizing the severity of the situation, Coulson didn't hesitate and immediately rallied his own people, heading towards the general location provided by Noah.

...

At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Fury received the new intelligence and looked at the photos in his hand with frustration.

"A peculiar hobby of breaking people's necks from behind. What a strange preference."

"But... Coulson is indeed quite exceptional. He infiltrated the enemy's ranks in such a short time and became an officer. Moreover, he used his position to send more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents into the Foundation. That move was simply brilliant."

With these thoughts, a daring idea emerged in Fury's mind.

That is the S.H.I.E.L.D. Parasitic Plan!

By utilizing Coulson's officer status, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could infiltrate the Foundation in large numbers, gradually gaining control from the bottom up. Perhaps they could easily take control of the Foundation without shedding a drop of blood.

Thinking of this, Fury gave himself a mental pat on the back for his wit.

Lost in his thoughts, Fury immediately shared his idea with his superior, Alexander Pierce.

Pierce, who was pondering how to strengthen HYDRA in his office, looked at the excited Fury.

He couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. What if Fury had already discovered HYDRA's infiltration plan?

Pierce nervously watched Fury, ready to reach for the gun hidden in the drawer with his right hand.

That bastard! What if he had found out about HYDRA's plot?

Pierce was on edge, but he didn't panic because within S.H.I.E.L.D., 80% of the departments and organizations were already infiltrated by HYDRA.

Even if Fury suspected HYDRA's conspiracy at this moment, it would be completely futile.

Maintaining a calm composure, Pierce cautiously inquired, "Um... What does this so-called S.H.I.E.L.D. Parasitic Plan mean?"

Unaware of his superior's odd demeanor, Fury enthusiastically explained his plan and goals.

After listening, Pierce secretly breathed a sigh of relief and then gave Fury a blank look, criticizing him, "Next time, just deliver a document to me. There's no need for all the drama! If I wasn't so patient, I would've blown a fuse just now."

Of course, Pierce only muttered the latter sentence in his mind.

"The S.H.I.E.L.D. Parasitic Plan, huh?"

Pierce felt somewhat lost.

He was no less interested in that mysterious organization, the Foundation, than Fury was.

He also wanted to grasp it in his hands.

When it came to this so-called parasitic plan, Pierce had to admit that Fury's plan was truly flawless.

Most importantly, this plan aligned perfectly with HYDRA's expertise.

Isn't it just infiltration and seizing control?

That's right up our alley in HYDRA!

The two individuals, each with their own hidden agenda, began discussing the S.H.I.E.L.D. Parasitic Plan.

At this moment, the HYDRA agents within S.H.I.E.L.D. were unaware that they were about to undertake a triple-agent role, becoming legendary triple agents.

...

My name is Johnson, a double agent for both S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA. However, that title isn't accurate anymore because just a day ago, I was officially promoted to a triple agent.

Today, my bald superior hastily summoned us.

It was said to be an investigation into a supernatural anomaly.

To be honest, I was very interested in this mission.

After all, I had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA for almost 10 years and had never faced supernatural enemies.

As someone who loves challenges, I was excited about this mission.

But as soon as I received the briefing from my superior, my enthusiasm for the mission vanished.

A mysterious entity that enjoys twisting people's necks from behind? Isn't that something the police should handle?

Isn't it just a slightly more twisted serial killer? And one who doesn't like using guns, at that.

Such an entity shouldn't require the intervention of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

With these thoughts, my opinion of the Foundation dropped a few notches.

What a joke, claiming to be a great organization guarding humanity on the front lines, yet they're stealing the police's job.

Disgusting!

We in S.H.I.E.L.D. know better than to encroach on the police's territory.

Nevertheless, I was reluctantly brought by my superior to Hell's Kitchen.

It was a very chaotic place, known as the slums of New York. The neck-breaking murders had taken place here.

Under the orders of my bald superior, we were commanded to search for suspicious anomalies separately.

My partner and I searched for a long time and arrived at an abandoned building, where an old warehouse stood.

...

"This is a storage room? This place is a dump, covered in three feet of dust. There shouldn't be anyone here, right?"

Johnson stood in front of the underground warehouse, looking at the dusty surroundings with disdain.

Hearing Johnson's complaints, Mike tried to console him, "Take it seriously. The boss said that the thing is in this area. It's possible it's hidden here, considering how secluded and dark this place is."

"Huh? What an ugly statue?"

Just then, Mike shone his flashlight on a humanoid statue.

It was an ugly statue made of concrete and steel, with traces of spray paint. If it were reduced in size and became a bogeyman, it might actually look better.

"No wonder it's hidden all the way back here. Who could appreciate something as ugly as this?"

Mike kicked the statue in front of him, full of disdain.

Outside the warehouse, Johnson, becoming impatient, urged, "Mike! Are you done? Let's move on to the next location!"

Upon hearing his partner's call, Mike was about to respond when a chilling sensation spread throughout his body.

It was the instinctive reaction the body produces when being targeted by a predator. As an elite agent trained in the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, Mike had honed this instinct to a level where he could predict danger.

With his body slightly stiffened, Mike quickly drew his pistol and cautiously scanned his surroundings.

"Huh? What the hell!"

Frowning, Mike noticed that the statue seemed to have moved and was now closer to him.

Cautiously, Mike lightly tapped the statue in front of him.

After the statue produced a series of "thud thud" sounds, Mike relaxed his guard.

It really is just a statue, not a person disguised as one. Seems like I was just being paranoid.

Mike shook his head and turned to leave.

Clack.

Suddenly.

A crisp sound of bones grinding together echoed, and a sharp pain shot through Mike's neck. Startled, he quickly turned around to catch a glimpse of his killer, the peanut-shaped statue, just inches away.

Fear filled Mike's eyes.

How could this be? It's just a statue made of concrete...

"Sta... tue..."

Realizing he was about to die, Mike tried to convey the terrifying and unbelievable information before his demise.

But unfortunately, his neck had already been snapped, preventing him from uttering even two complete words.

Listening to the sounds coming through the communicator, Johnson's face paled.

From the crisp sound of bones grinding and his comrade's last difficult words, Johnson realized that something had happened to Mike.

Maintaining his composure as a trained agent, Johnson didn't rush in. Remaining calm in the face of danger was a required course, and he had it down.

"Reporting to the commander, we've been attacked. The location is the underground warehouse at 173."

Upon hearing his subordinate's report, Agent Coulson, who was conducting the search with his team, immediately shouted, "Stay there and don't take any action. I'm bringing my team over!"

After giving the order, Coulson loudly commanded over the communication channel, "Gather at the underground warehouse at 173."

The responsive agents quickly assembled in front of the warehouse.

"Reporting! Assembly complete. We were supposed to have 14 people, but only 10 are present!"

"What do you mean, missing 4 people?"

Coulson furrowed his brow.

Johnson replied, "Pike and the others haven't arrived. They were supposed to be searching the streets, but it seems something happened to Mike, which is why I called for help."

Just as Coulson was about to inquire further, a panting voice came through the communicator.

"Sir! We're at 96th Street, and we're under attack by a monster!"

"It... Ah!"

The sound of screams gradually faded, replaced by a busy signal through the communicator. Coulson's face turned pale as he looked at his team of agents.

"Wait, what's going on? Didn't you say the monster was here?" Coulson glared at Johnson, his scalp tingling with unease.

With an awkward smile, Johnson replied, "Sir... Is it possible that there might be two monsters we're looking for?"

Coulson didn't believe the explanation for a second and clenched his teeth. He turned to his team and ordered, "Forget about everything else for now! Activate the remote cameras. Let's go inside and take a look."

Led by Coulson, the team cautiously squeezed into the warehouse.

Deep inside the warehouse, Coulson found Mike lying on the ground.

At this moment, Mike's neck had been forcefully snapped from behind, his eyes widened in a look of disbelief.

After examining the cause of Mike's death, Coulson became even more concerned.

"His neck was broken... But how..."

If the person in front of him was truly killed by the SCP, then what was the creature that massacred his subordinates in 96th Street?

Inspect the surroundings and look for anything suspicious.

After Coulson's order, he also started scanning the area. Soon, his gaze fell upon a nearby statue.

"What an ugly statue."

Coulson looked at the statue with a hint of disdain, echoing the same sentiment as the deceased.

Johnson reported, "Captain, we haven't found anything out of the ordinary. We've searched both inside and outside the warehouse. The only thing that resembles a person is this statue in front of us."

"Nothing found?"

Coulson nodded.

Then let's retreat for now and go check out 96th Street.

Perhaps due to the constant focus on the statue, the SCP-173 hadn't attacked Coulson and his team.

"Not very professional!"

Observing everything through the remote cameras, Noah smirked.

If it were true members of the Foundation, that warehouse would have been dug up from top to bottom. Even a brick would have been taken back to the Foundation for examination.

After all, SCPs come in all shapes and forms.

Considering the unique nature of SCP-096, Noah ordered, "Spread the command that Coulson and his team don't need daily follow-up anymore. We'll wait for him to return alive and report the progress."

After speaking, Noah glanced at Black Widow and casually warned, "And... if there's nothing urgent, don't look at the work reports they send back. Some photos can be fatal."

Natasha nodded in confusion, wondering why Noah specifically mentioned this to her.

...

After arriving at 96th Street, Coulson saw his three colleagues lying in a pool of blood.

The injuries on the three bodies varied, but they all seemed to be inflicted by the same creature.

Johnson quickly crawled to the bodies and began examining them.

"The target should be over two meters tall, using claws for the attack. These three were killed by someone head-on, and they even attempted to resist."

"By the way, the cameras on their helmets were still recording when they died. Perhaps we can extract useful information about the attacker from the footage."

Johnson continued to report.

With bloodshot eyes, Coulson fiercely said, "First, preserve their bodies. Then, let's try to recover the footage from their helmet cameras and recreate the appearance of the assailant."

"But..."

Johnson hesitated and looked at Coulson.

"Just now, the Commander issued a new order, stating that we don't need to document the mission progress with any images. Instead, we should report the results orally."

Coulson reminded with a meaningful tone, "I know! I'll follow the Commander's arrangements. But... you should understand that we're not working for the Foundation."

Coulson thought the agent in front of him wasn't particularly bright. As a dual-agent, why would you stick to your principles like this? It only invites trouble.

That's how the hastily concluded mission ended, and the team returned to their temporary base.

After returning, Coulson pointed at the bodies and said, "Keep the bodies for now. Let's find a way to recover the video."

Eager to show off, Johnson confidently volunteered, "Leave it to me!"

After volunteering, Johnson quickly dismantled the cameras with his professional skills and extracted the videos of the victims' final moments using a computer.

Once everything was done, Johnson curiously opened the videos.

"I want to see just how suspicious your deaths were."

In the footage...

The victims arrived at a dead-end alley. As they were about to turn around and leave, they noticed a figure huddled in the corner, resembling a homeless person.

"Hey! Hello, may I ask..."

Curiously, one of the victims approached and tapped the person's shoulder.