At that moment, all of Uchiha Sasuke's movements and combat techniques were being broadcast via surveillance directly to Madam Gao.
Seeing the three of them utilize the Substitution Jutsu, witnessing Sasuke's Shurikenjutsu, and noting their Asian features and attire, Gao's voice held a note of uncertainty. "Are they... ninjas too?"
Her tone quickly turned icy. "Nobu, take all the ninjas downstairs. Eliminate the two younger ones."
"Bring the one who is clearly the team leader back to me. I want him alive."
The ninja, Nobu, bowed his head. "Yes." He stepped out of Gao's office, leading a contingent of Hand ninjas down into the belly of the building.
Despite the trio tearing through her security like a hot knife through butter, Gao wasn't worried yet. She was busy speculating on their origins. In Japan, aside from the Hand, only the Chaste possessed genuine ninjas. However, these three showed no trace of the Chaste's style. The Substitution Jutsu they used was particularly intriguing.
Could they be from a new lineage developed by the Iga or Koga clans?
As she mused, the phone on her desk rang. She slid it open to answer.
"Leader, it's bad! Our factories in Hell's Kitchen are being swarmed by unidentified hostiles. They look like New York hitmen—"
A sharp cry of pain cut the speaker off, followed by an eerie silence.
The call wasn't disconnected. In the factory, Earl had just finished off the informant. He stepped over the body to take a photo for evidence—he'd need it when Charlie from the Continental arrived to collect the bodies so he could claim his bounty. Noticing the phone was still active and labeled "Leader," Earl picked it up.
"Hey! Where are you? I'd love to meet you in person," Earl barked. He saw the "Leader" title as a walking jackpot of prize money.
Madam Gao didn't bother responding. She simply slid the phone shut, ending the call.
On the other end, Earl slammed the phone onto the ground, swearing. "Bastard!" He felt like a prime piece of meat had just slipped through his fingers.
The Bowery King walked over. "Hurry up with the photos. If Charlie's too busy, have our men deliver the bodies to the Continental personally. There's so much killing today, they might not be able to keep up."
Earl nodded and signaled his men to begin clearing the corpses while he led a group of elites toward the next stronghold.
Meanwhile, before Madam Gao could even process the first report, her phone began ringing incessantly. One after another, her outposts reported they were under siege. She finally realized this wasn't just a simple intrusion—something much bigger was happening.
Back at the Shiranui Agency, Ginny was deep in the War Room. Using her credentials as an Adjudicator, she pulled the Hand's activity files from the High Table Archives, cross-referencing them with the building data the Bowery King had provided to narrow down the targets.
Hayate sat in the lounge, listening to soothing music and sipping the vintage whiskey Fisk had gifted him. He was waiting for Sasuke and the others to deliver Madam Gao.
Hell's Kitchen was currently a vortex of chaos. However, with both the High Table and the Kingpin having smoothed things over with the authorities, the NYPD remained conspicuously absent—with one condition: the violence stayed within Hell's Kitchen. If it spilled over into other districts, the police would be forced to respond immediately.
In stark contrast to the burning streets of Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan remained a picture of peace and luxury.
Tony Stark, having long since finished his press conference, stood in the lobby of Stark Industries, staring at the massive Arc Reactor display.
Obadiah Stane arrived shortly after. Having learned from Happy that Tony was inside, he swiped his card and entered. Puffing on a cigar, he looked at the giant reactor. "Look at that. Beautiful work."
"Should I just paint a bullseye on my forehead?" Tony quipped.
Obadiah took the cigar from his mouth and walked toward him. "Your head? Try mine. How much do you think the stock is going to drop tomorrow?"
Tony looked at the reactor. "To be optimistic? Forty points."
"At least forty," Obadiah agreed. "Tony, we're weapons manufacturers."
"Obadiah, I just—" Tony started. "I don't want the body count to be our legacy."
"That's our job," Obadiah cut him off.
"It's my name on the building," Tony countered. "We can do better. We have to find another way."
"And do what?" Obadiah asked. "Make baby bottles?"
Tony's face turned serious. "We should re-evaluate the value of the Arc Reactor technology."
Obadiah laughed. "Forget it. That's a gimmick, Tony. It was just something to keep the board happy."
"It's not a gimmick," Tony insisted.
"Right, it's a science project that never paid for itself. We both know the research hit a dead end thirty years ago."
Tony tilted his head back, looking up at the glowing reactor. "Maybe it did."
"We haven't had a breakthrough in decades," Obadiah added from behind him.
Tony turned around, his face glowing with pride. "No. I had a breakthrough."
Obadiah froze. "What? You had a breakthrough? Show me!"
Tony unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the miniature Arc Reactor embedded in his chest. Obadiah's eyes lit up with a predatory glint. He quickly reached out to help Tony button his shirt back up, his voice turning smooth and fatherly.
"Listen to me, Tony. We're in this together. If we work as a team, we're unstoppable—just like your father and me."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Tony said quietly.
"I'll handle the press and the board," Obadiah smiled. "We're going to play a completely different hand this time. But you have to promise me—keep a low profile for now. Stay quiet."
Without Rhodes there to leak the secret this time, Tony had voluntarily shown his greatest invention to the very man who wanted to take it from him.