American Comics : God Of Avengers

The thrill of discovery had vanished.

What replaced it was a creeping, gnawing unease. The smell of blood in the air was thick and unmistakable now—no longer just a hunch or an imagination. It clung to their nostrils, heavy and metallic. The sound that continued beyond the iron door—a repeated wet slicing—only intensified their growing dread.

Still, the three intruders tried to convince themselves otherwise.

"Maybe... maybe someone's just butchering meat?" one muttered, attempting to soothe his nerves. "Like beef. Could be lamb or... or chickens."

No one answered him. They all felt it—the wrongness of this place.

Though a warm light glowed faintly from the crack in the door, it didn't bring comfort. In fact, it only added to the gloom, casting warped shadows against the walls and floor. The corridor, silent aside from the sounds ahead, had become suffocating.

Their eyes met, and for the first time since entering this house, they all acknowledged the fear in one another's gaze.

But then, the thin man's expression changed.

A fierce gleam flashed in his eyes. He growled through clenched teeth, "There's money in there. I don't care if it's guarded by the devil himself—nothing's stopping me from taking it!"

With that declaration, he pulled out his pistol, thumbed off the safety, and chambered a round with a click that echoed like thunder in the silence.

Bang!

He kicked open the door.

The heavy iron door swung inward with a slow creak.

What they saw on the other side froze them in place.

A man stood calmly in the center of the dim room, clad in a white apron that was now soaked in blood. In front of him lay an operating table—on it, a man bound tightly in leather restraints, shirtless, blood streaming from open wounds along his torso and arms.

His biceps had been peeled open with surgical precision, muscles exposed like a human anatomy exhibit.

And the one performing this cruel dissection... was the "fat sheep" they thought they'd rob.

Nathan didn't even flinch when the door slammed open. He calmly finished slicing the tissue, wiped the scalpel, and turned his head slightly toward them.

"You finally arrived," he said coldly. "Took you long enough to find the hidden room. You really worked hard for it."

The three men stood frozen, their faces pale.

He knew. He had been expecting them.

Nathan continued in that same, measured voice, "I was actually going to go out tonight to look for new test subjects. But lucky me... you delivered yourselves. Free samples."

He smiled as if this were the best surprise he'd had in days.

The thieves couldn't respond. Their eyes widened further when the restrained man on the table turned his head toward them. His face, despite being soaked in sweat and pain, showed something else—pity.

That look of sympathy for them shattered their remaining courage.

In truth, Nathan had known about them the moment they began tampering with the hidden door.

His private surveillance system, rigged into every corner of the estate, had alerted him the moment they entered the perimeter. Facial recognition cross-referenced them instantly—they were the same group who'd tried to steal his car a week ago.

Persistent. But foolish.

Rather than chase them away, Nathan decided to give them an opportunity—an opportunity to become part of his next experiment. One of his clones was already prepped for gene splicing research, and now, he had three additional live samples.

The thin man snarled, forcing courage into his limbs. "Who the hell do you think you are?! You think you're stronger than bullets? I'll blow your freaky head off!"

He raised the pistol.

But before his finger touched the trigger, a cold flash cut through the air.

Thud.

"Aghhhh!"

The thin man dropped to his knees, howling in pain. A scalpel was embedded cleanly through the top of his hand, pinning it to the concrete floor. Blood poured from the wound as his gun clattered uselessly away.

Nathan hadn't even moved more than a step.

The other two didn't even see how he did it.

Their instincts kicked in.

Panic.

They spun around and sprinted toward the spiral stairs. One of them reached the door, gripping the handle.

Bang!

The exit slammed shut, locking them in.

They pounded on it with fists and elbows, screaming, "LET US OUT! PLEASE, GOD, LET US OUT!"

Nathan remained still.

"You shouldn't have come here," he murmured as he slowly approached.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the enclosed space, deliberate and steady.

The other two cowered, frozen. The thin man whimpered, trying to pry the scalpel free from his hand with his left.

Whoosh.

Another flash.

"GAHHH!!"

The man's left hand was stabbed, too. Now both palms were pinned down, immobilized.

The others collapsed, trembling.

One of them, driven mad by fear, let out a guttural scream. "SCREW IT! I'M GONNA FIGHT!"

He lunged with a wrench, swinging wildly.

Nathan sidestepped gracefully and slammed a boot into the man's ribs, sending him flying across the room. He hit the wall and slumped, coughing blood.

The last one turned to run again but didn't make it more than three steps.

Nathan swept his leg low, tripping him.

Bang.

Now, all three were down.

A short while later, the same three thieves were now tied naked to workbenches, stripped of their weapons and dignity. Their hands and feet were bound in leather restraints.

"Please!" one of them sobbed. "We were wrong! We're sorry! Let us go!"

"We'll never come back! I swear!"

"Just… please, don't kill us!"

Their desperation echoed through the room, but Nathan didn't even glance at them.

His eyes were on a slip of paper he had just pulled from one of their wallets. It had been cleverly folded and hidden in a compartment behind the ID slot.

It contained a date and an address.

A dock location, one week from now.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

The thin man, despite his bleeding palms, tried to lift his head. "L-let me go… and I'll tell you everything about it."

Nathan responded not with words, but with motion.

Swoosh.

The surgical knife in his hand sliced open the man's thigh, exposing raw muscle.

"AHHHHHHH!"

The scream bounced off the walls like thunder.

Nathan turned toward the others, saying nothing.

One of them broke immediately. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! That note—it's from the Hand Association!"

Nathan's eyes narrowed.

Another man added, "The Japanese gang! They're bringing something big into New York next week for the Hand! We were just hired to keep watch, assess the security around the docks!"

Nathan stood in silence, examining the trembling men.

"And what exactly are they transporting?"

The man shook his head frantically. "We don't know! Swear to God, we were just the scouts! The cargo details—that's for the higher-ups only."

Nathan studied their faces. The fear, the panic, the pleading—none of it seemed fake.

He took a deep breath.

The Hand Association.

He'd heard the name before. An ancient, underground ninja organization involved in forbidden experiments, assassinations, and dark mystical arts. If they were planning something in New York, it wouldn't be trivial.

And now, he had a lead. One delivered to him wrapped in a bloodstained ribbon.

Nathan turned away from the bound thieves and walked back toward his medical table, already thinking ahead.

"Looks like I have a date at the docks next week."