Doctor Shinigami strolled over to slot number one, his hands behind his back.
Behind the glass is a work of art.
They were naked, suspended in a pale green, highly concentrated nutrient solution.
Her long hair spread out like seaweed, obscuring her graceful curves.
"It's so beautiful."
Doctor Shinigami extended his gloved fingers, tracing the outline of the woman inside through the thick glass.
"True fear often comes from the most inconspicuous corners. It's a whispered conversation on the pillow, an unexpected encounter on a street corner, or a trap called desire."
In this appearance-obsessed world, who would be wary of a hot, beautiful woman in black stockings?
"Zzz--!"
The sound of the air valves opening was perfectly synchronized.
The nutrient solution levels in the twelve culture tanks dropped rapidly, emitting a gurgling sound similar to that of some giant beast swallowing.
The sophisticated instruments attached to their spines, backs of heads, and limbs automatically detached and retracted into the bulkhead.
The hatch to compartment number one slid open.
There was none of that zombie screaming as it was unleashed.
The woman inside landed barefoot, her toes barely touching the ground, without making a sound.
She slowly raised her head.
It was an extremely exquisite face, with cold and aloof features.
Good morning, my daughters.
"From this day forward, you are Shocker's blades, the Grim Reapers walking beneath the neon lights."
Twelve female combatants simultaneously knelt on one knee.
Five minutes later.
When they arrived, everything had been transformed.
The black, tight-fitting leather clothes clung to their bodies like a second skin, perfectly outlining their exaggerated waist-to-hip ratio.
Her lower body was clad in black fishnet stockings with an eerie beauty.
Their masks were different from those of ordinary Shocker Combatant.
It was a black butterfly, its wings outstretched as if about to take flight, obscuring the upper half of its face, revealing only its alluring lips and pointed chin.
Mysterious, dangerous, and utterly erotic.
This is clearly the ultimate fantasy of a certain type of XP enthusiast.
"Go."
Doctor Shinigami waved his hand.
"Go to Ginza in Tokyo, to the West End in London, to the Champs-Élysées in Paris. Blend into the crowds, go into the shopping malls, and sit in a café."
"Let those well-dressed, civilized people understand one thing—there is no safe place in this world, and death is just around the next corner."
Tokyo, Ginza.
Night fell.
Exhausted office workers dragged their weary bodies into izakayas after work, while tourists waving banknotes formed long queues outside luxury stores.
A tall figure appeared at the famous intersection.
She was wearing a black trench coat with the collar turned up, and her long golden hair was flying in the wind.
Even in Ginza teeming with beautiful women, she was the kind of person who would turn heads throughout the entire street.
The men passing by instinctively inhaled and pulled in their stomachs.
His eyes lingered greedily over her, his mind already replaying a hundred episodes of a short film.
Hey, beautiful!
Two thugs with dyed yellow hair and reeking of alcohol urged each other to come closer.
"Are you alone? Are you lonely? Do you want your brother to take you somewhere fun?"
One of the thugs grinned and reached out to pull at the woman's trench coat sleeve, his eyes lewdly glancing into her neckline.
"Those legs... tsk tsk, I could look at them for a year and never get tired of them."
Another thug whistled.
Some passersby frowned, some were indifferent, but most were just watching the spectacle.
This kind of drama plays out every day.
The woman stopped in her tracks.
She tilted her head slightly, looking through her sunglasses at the dirty hand reaching towards her.
"Fun places?"
"Yes! Brother, I have..."
brush!
No one saw clearly what happened.
The thug felt something was off; why was the whole world spinning?
Why did he see his own back?
And what about that headless neck, where red liquid was gushing out like a fountain?
Blood stained the bright windows of the Tiffany jewelry store next door.
The head with dyed yellow hair rolled to the ground, eventually landing at the feet of an office lady touching up her makeup by the roadside.
The eyes on its head were still wide open, filled with confusion.
"Ah!!!"
The office lady was so frightened that she collapsed to the ground, shattering the powder compact in her hand.
"Murder... murder!!"
The headless corpse then swayed and fell to the ground, twitching twice before going still.
Another thug, his crotch soaked, scrambled to escape.
The woman unbuttoned her trench coat.
The expensive trench coat slipped to the ground.
Shocker's custom-made black bodysuit was exposed to everyone's view.
She lifted her long leg, which was encased in fishnet stockings.
"Bang!"
The fleeing thug flew through the air and crashed into a taxi that was waiting at a red light.
He was embedded in the windshield, with a large section of his chest caved in; it was clear he wouldn't survive.
The mournful wail of police sirens echoed in the distance.
The woman did not run away.
She stood in the middle of the intersection, surrounded by people fleeing in all directions and cars involved in a chain-reaction collision.
At the same time, in London, on the Piccadilly Line subway.
It was during the evening rush hour.
The carriage was crammed together like a sardine can, and the various body odors mixed together, making it suffocating.
"Excuse me, thank you."
A woman with a voluptuous figure squeezed into the connecting area between the carriages.
The train started moving and entered the dark tunnel.
The light flickered.
"Ah--!"
A piercing scream broke the silence.
Everyone instinctively looked over.
The masked woman had grabbed a burly man by the neck with one hand.
That heavily tattooed man, weighing at least two hundred pounds, was lifted off the ground by her with one hand, just like a little chick!
"Cough... cough..."
The burly man struggled desperately, kicking his legs wildly.
The woman tilted her head, seemingly enjoying his pain.
The fingers gradually tightened.
"Click."
The burly man's head slumped down limply.
The crowd surged frantically toward the other end of the carriage.
But this is futile on a speeding subway.
Trampling, shoving, crying out.
The woman simply let go and allowed the corpse to fall.
She pulled two daggers from the outside of her thigh.
"Babble--!"
She let out a strange scream and charged into the terrified crowd.
The car door won't open.
There is nowhere to escape.
This is a fast-moving metal coffin.
Around the world.
On the runway of Paris Fashion Week, a model suddenly jumped up and pierced the eye socket of a guest in the front row with the heel of her high heel.
In the lobby of the Burj Al Arab in Dubai, a beautiful woman playing the piano suddenly overturned it and used the strings to strangle the oil tycoon.
Backstage at Broadway in New York, a group of "dancers" massacred the entire cast and crew.
There was no prior notice.
There is no reason.
There are no political demands.
This is malicious killing.
The internet exploded.
Numerous videos of the scene were uploaded.
Blood, violence, and those beautiful yet deadly monsters.
The top ten trending topics were completely dominated by them:
# Shocker Banshee #
#Don't go out! Run away if you see black stockings!#
#Is this the end of the world?#
Where is our government?
This fear is more terrifying than an alien invasion.
Aliens may be far away from you, but these crazy women might be on your subway home, in your favorite coffee shop, or even just the stranger you passed by.
Everyone is asking: Will I be next?
"Madmen... this is a pack of complete mad dogs!"
Nick Fury's chest heaved violently.
The casualty figures are still rising.
Hill's voice was trembling.
"They have no fixed target! Our surveillance system is useless! Facial recognition is useless too! As long as they change their clothes, they're just ordinary people!"
"What did that old bastard Pierce say?"
Fury gritted his teeth and forced out those words.
"He plans to demand indiscriminate coverage strikes on all red-dot areas, and even... tactical nuclear weapons."
"Fuck! What is he trying to do? Blow up millions of people and these dozens of crazy women into the sky?!"
"Then Shocker will win!"
Fury knew this wasn't war.
This is a psychological game.
This forces them to make mistakes, forces the bureaucracy to overreact out of fear, and forces the public to completely despair of the existing security system.
When S.H.I.E.L.D.. can't protect ordinary people, and even sacrifices them to eliminate the enemy...
Order collapsed.
" Shocker..."
Fury's fingers were trembling.
He had a strong premonition that the Doctor Shinigami was holding an even bigger hand.