Unfortunately, this was Marvel.
In Marvel, no matter how insane or reckless you were, it was never enough.
You also needed a tragic past, a shattered family, and to bury several friends and relatives with your own hands.
Only then would fate give you cheats.
Someone like Pierce, with a happy family and secure status, was destined to lose.
Like now.
He had just made an utterly deranged decision and was preparing to use nuclear weapons.
When the rows of floor-to-ceiling windows in the conference room shattered all at once.
Dozens of dark figures burst inside, rolling across the floor with the glass shards to bleed off their momentum.
Blinding sunlight streamed in behind them, spilling across the tiles and shattered glass.
Some wore fitted black suits, others elegant black gowns or black nun's habits.
After landing, they swiftly rose and went on guard.
The Hydra agents outside heard the commotion and rushed in.
Only to be shot in the head one after another by these women in black.
The firearms moved in their hands as naturally as limbs.
Every shot was fired with such elegance.
Like black roses blooming one after another, carrying an air of despair.
Every bullet was a kiss of death.
All the Hydra agents who rushed into the conference room were killed in a single exchange.
Once the threat had been cleared.
The Men in Black spun their overheated pistols in neat flourishes and smoothly holstered them.
Only then did the representatives from various countries get a clear look at their faces.
They were a group of girls ranging from their teens to their early twenties.
They all wore black outfits, and every movement they made was crisp and efficient.
Each of their pretty, indifferent faces held both deadly killing intent and lethal charm.
"Y-You...