"Get lost! Don't point that peashooter at me! The place that got smashed is where I work!"
Jessica Jones shoved the New York cop blocking her path aside, sending the two-hundred-pound man rolling twice across the ground and covering him in mud.
"Stop! Take another step and I'll shoot!" Another cop drew his Glock and aimed at Jessica with trembling hands.
"Go ahead. You'd better aim well." Jessica sneered. Instead of stopping, she strode forward and grabbed the barrel.
A teeth-grating screech of twisting metal rang out. In Jessica's hand, the steel pistol was crushed into a corkscrew as easily as modeling clay.
The cop dropped onto his backside in terror, his face deathly pale, and scrambled backward.
"Everyone, stand down."
A mild yet unmistakably authoritative voice came from behind the police cordon.
A middle-aged man with a worrying hairline and an immaculate suit walked over, followed by several fully armed agents in black.
"Sir!" The cops stepped aside as though they had just been granted a reprieve.
The man in the suit approached Jessica with a professional smile. "Miss Jessica Jones, correct? I'm Phil Coulson, an agent with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
"What kind of bullshit agency is that? That name could stretch all the way around Manhattan." Jessica rolled her eyes and folded her arms.
"I don't care what department you're from. All I know is that this place belongs to my boss. Now it's been smashed into a crater, and as an employee, I have the right to go in and see how many office supplies are left."
Coulson's smile remained unchanged. "You can call us S.H.I.E.L.D. Miss Jones, we mean no harm. In fact, we want to find out what happened here even more than you do."
Jessica narrowed her eyes warily.