Not long ago, Fury had still been fighting for his life in the hospital.
Now he had landed himself a "good friend" named Darcy.
One who sent an injured man to fight a monstrous musclehead.
The so-called dueling ladder was designed specifically for people who wanted to take shortcuts.
As the Snake Lady's most capable subordinate, Johnson naturally helped shoulder her burdens.
Eighty percent of the muscle-bound men in this gym had once been fresh-faced pretty boys with dreams of their own.
Under the guidance of Johnson, the ultimate musclehead, they had successfully turned over a new leaf.
The other pretty boys were one thing, but when Johnson saw the aging, faded Fury, he clenched his fists.
Not to worry. This was the Wizarding World.
Ordinary fractures and the like could be healed in half a day.
By the time Fury finally got to see the Snake Lady, he had to be carried upstairs.
Every bone in his body felt as though it had been broken. If Fury hadn't promptly explained that he was there to discuss business with the Snake Lady...
It probably wouldn't just have felt that way. Every bone really would have been broken.
Two muscleheads tossed him onto the carpet on the top floor.
Johnson stood at the elevator entrance, showing no intention of helping.
Fury, the esteemed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., could only pick himself up.
"Darcy, I swear I'm going to kill you."
Gritting his teeth, Fury staggered to his feet.
A long corridor stretched across the top floor.
Books lined the walls on both sides.
Clearly, the Snake Lady was an avid reader.
"This way." Wearing a stern expression, Johnson made Fury turn around after he headed in the wrong direction.
Unlike the department store below, there was also a place here that resembled