Marvel: Kakashi Of The Sharingan

The alley reeked of blood as bodies of Hand ninjas and their gang victims lay scattered.

Two Hand operatives emerged from the darkness, their steps cautious as they surveyed the carnage.

One knelt beside the body of Madame Gao, her small frame crumpled unnaturally, her cane lying broken beside her. The operative's gloved hand checked for a pulse, his face grim.

"Madame Gao's suspicions were right," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Someone's targeting the entire Hand."

The second operative, younger, with a nervous edge to his movements, scanned the alley for threats. "You think it's another of the Fingers?" he asked, referring to the Hand's elusive leaders.

The first shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "If it was one of the Fingers, they'd have made sure Madame couldn't come back. They know her… resilience. And it's not just us—other Fingers have reported their cells being hit across New York. Whoever this is, they're targeting entire hand without worrying about any retaliation."

The younger operative crouched, inspecting a kunai embedded in a gang member's chest. Its design was unfamiliar, too precise for common street weapons. "This isn't the Chaste," he said, almost to himself.

"They don't have this kind of skill. Taking out Madame Gao and an entire squadron? Whoever we're dealing with is a chi user that's for sure. A damn skilled one."

The older operative said, "Skilled, No Madame Gao is skilled. Someone who took her and an entire squadron down must be a monster. Look at her body, There are no wounds apartment from her heart being crushed. This means that there was no struggle and she was taken out in a single attack."

He stood, lifting Madame Gao's body with care. "Let's hope she has answers when she wakes. We need to move before the cops show up." He glanced around, unaware of a small puppy tucked in the shadows, its keen eyes tracking their every move. The pup's ears twitched, then it darted down the alley, vanishing into the night.

The puppy sprinted through the maze of New York's backstreets, its tiny paws silent against the pavement. It reached a larger dog, a grizzled bulldog with a scarred muzzle, waiting under a streetlamp. "Woof woof woof!" the pup barked, its tone urgent.

The bulldog nodded, as if understanding, and loped off to find another dog—a lean hound with sharp eyes. The chain continued, a network of canine couriers passing the message through the city's underbelly until it reached Pakkun.

The ninja dog sat atop a dumpster in Hell's Kitchen, his pug face scrunched in thought. "So, the Hand's spooked," he muttered, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Boss'll wanna hear this. Time to report." With a final glance at the city skyline, Pakkun vanished, heading for Kakashi.

---

Meanwhile, in the heart of SHIELD's New York headquarters, Nick Fury stood before a wall of screens, each displaying profiles of mercenaries, detectives, and agents from across the globe.

His single eye scanned the data. Tony Stark's disappearance had thrown the world into chaos—Stark Industries' stock was plummeting, and whispers of the Ten Rings' involvement were growing louder. Fury didn't trust whispers. He needed facts.

"Is this everyone you can find?" Fury asked, his voice a low growl as he turned to Agent Phil Coulson, who stood at attention with a tablet in hand.

"Yes, sir," Coulson replied, his tone crisp. "Each of these individuals has a reputation in their respective fields. Mercenaries with proven combat records, detectives with a knack for uncovering secrets, and agents with connections to global intelligence networks."

Fury's gaze lingered on the screens, his eye catching a name: 'Hound'. The file was sparse but impressive—vouched for by three reputed handlers, with a string of flawless missions in just six months.

Espionage, theft, assassination, even a rumored solo takedown of a Mexican cartel. 'Interesting,' Fury thought, but he didn't linger. There were bigger fish to fry.

"Give the mercenaries the mission to find information about Ten rings and eliminate anyTen Rings members that they come across," Fury ordered, his voice firm. "And have them dig for any intel on Tony Stark's whereabouts—if he's still alive. The detectives and investigators? Put them on Stark's trail, too, and tell them to scrape up anything they can on the Ten Rings. Names, locations, motives—I want it all."

Coulson nodded, tapping notes into his tablet. "Understood, sir. Anything else?"

Fury leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "We can't let that genius die on us, Coulson. Stark's too valuable—his brain, his tech, his potential. If he's alive, we find him at any cost." He paused, his eye narrowing.

"And these Ten Rings… they've been operating since before World War I, maybe earlier. There's more to them than meets the eye. They're not just terrorists—they're playing a deeper game."

"Yes, sir," Coulson said, his voice steady but laced with agreement. He turned to leave, already issuing orders through his earpiece.

Fury then turned to Agent Hill, "Did you find trace of Bruce Banner?"

Hill replied, "No sir, but we have narrowed it down to him being in Brazil. We are not moving openly since General Ross is keeping an eye on our moves. He knows that we are looking for Banner too."

Fury gritted his teeth,"Damn that Ross, first he unleashed a monster on the world and now he is not letting us contain it. Keep me updated on Bruce's situation. Keep track of Gamma radiation in Brazil too."

Fury's gaze returned to the screens, lingering on Hound's file. 'Three handlers, no failures. Sounds too good to be true.' He filed it away, his instincts telling him this mercenary would cross his path again.

----Author Notes---------

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