New York.

Manhattan Island.

Hell's Kitchen.

As a famous slum in New York City, a big city, crimes are happening here at all times. Chaos is the tone of this neighborhood, and crime is the basic survival skills of many residents here.

"I know it's messy, but I never knew it could be so messy? Isn't anyone going to take care of it?"

Because of his hard work and having too much hard work, Phil Colson, who was a little bald, looked at the two groups of people fighting in front of him in a daze. God! He just brought people here on a business trip to perform a mission. How long has it been in just a few blocks? He actually witnessed at least three waves of bullets with more than dozens of people.

It's still broad daylight!

"Who will take care of it? This place has long been a abandoned area." Crossbones Bullock Rumlo replied. His eyes were cold and he did not care about the seemingly fierce battle ahead. Instead, he seriously scratched the screen of the instrument in his hand, and carried out the next task deduction in his mind over and over again.

Even though he has done this process many times and has reached the point where practice makes perfect, he still doesn't mind continuing to be cautious.

"Police Department?" Phil Colson joked.

"It's rare to be a police station here, and you can't count on them too much." Brock Rumlow said, stopping, looking at the alley at the corner, pressing the earphones in your ear and making a few sounds, and then saying to Phil Colson beside you: "We're almost here."

"Okay, follow the process. The chances of something happening in this area have been too high recently." Phil Colson sorted out his suit, then walked into the alley accompanied by Crossbones Brock Rumlow, and stood in front of a dilapidated residential building deep in the alley.

Brock Rumlow waved his hand gently, and the fully armed agents behind him rushed in immediately and began to control the entire building. Three minutes later, Brock Rumlow, who received the feedback, made a gesture of inviting Phil Colson. The two of them walked up the stairs and stopped in front of a closed door.

Dongdongdongdongdongdong!

Phil Colson stepped forward and knocked on the door.

"Who?" The door was opened and the person was not exposed, but a dark double-mouthed shotgun had already pointed at Phil Colson.

"Don't be nervous, we are not bad guys." Phil Colson raised his hands very heartily when facing the muzzle that almost stabbed him in the nose, and Brock Rumlow, who was pressing against the wall, signaled to Phil Colson's eyes.

"Not a bad guy? Hahaha, this is the funniest joke I have ever heard in this ghost place. Who are you?" The people inside the door seemed to notice that there was only the thin Phil Colson, and his vigilance was relieved. He continued to stab the gun forward, and the person was exposed behind the door. However, Brock Rumlow and others were waiting for this moment. Before the other party continued to say anything, Brock Rumlow had already grabbed the other party's protruding arm, and then he made a few moves. Under a continuous scream, the other party no longer had the arrogance he had before and could only lie on the ground and hum.

"Who are you? Which boss doesn't like me? Is the wild wolf? I admit that I fucked him a lot two days ago, but that was not my intention. I am innocent!"

The owner of the house was tied to a chair with a bruised nose and swollen face, looking at Phil Colson and the others in panic.

"It's certain that things are here?" Brock Rumlow ignored the other party and looked at Colson and asked.

"If the information is fine," Phil Colson looked at the agents searching for the house and thrust his mouth.

"If the target was only him, I didn't need to take action, and I didn't even need my team. I just needed a few agents to achieve this mission perfectly." Brock Rumlow was a little dissatisfied, and his tone was unconcealed and contemptuous to the owner of the room, the unshaven, tall but very weak man.

"Those items have their own containment process, and we just do our business as usual." Phil Colson smiled.

"Fake! What are you looking for?"

The owner of the house was punched by Bullock as soon as he finished speaking.

"Put the key points." Brock slowly withdrew his fist as the other party vomited.

"Let me communicate with him." Phil Colson patted Brock's shoulder, pulled a chair and sat down in front of the owner, with a professional smile on his face: "Sir, you have caused quite a lot of trouble recently. Should I call you Schweier or the Magic Worder?"

"You know me?"

"You know more than you think."

"Did you come for that book?"

"Book?"

Phil Colson and Brock Rumlo looked at each other suddenly.

"Yes, a very evil book, you can hear the hazy whispers when you open it."

"What else?" Colson continued.

"It can give people strength as long as you are willing to listen to its whispers. But I don't recommend you."

"It seems you are deeply hurt by it sir."

"It can control people! It controls me! When I was asleep! It almost killed me! For safety, I haven't closed my eyes well for almost two days. Can you imagine that you wake up, not in your familiar and warm bed, but in the middle of a pile of corpses?" The owner Schweir looked frightened.

"Is this picture familiar?" Phil Colson took out a photo from his shirt pocket and placed it in front of Schwell. It was a picture that looked terrifying and evil, corpses, blood, and strange patterns, like a sacrifice of an evil god religion.

"I woke up on the pattern above, at the center." Schweiler was even more frightened.

"Where is that book?" Phil Colson said.

"It's on the table." Schwell looked at the messy table, one of the worn-out books with a black cover on it. "I've been scared these two days. I've tried throwing it away, but it always comes back on its own when I'm not paying attention. I want to destroy it, but there's no way. I can't tear it or burn it. If you have a way, please feel free to let it go. Just let it leave me."

"This is not difficult. We are professionally housed such things." Colson smiled professionally and signaled Brock Rumlow to put the books in the specially made silver suitcase he brought. Fortunately, the items were not big and there was not much danger, otherwise the subsequent containment would be a little more troublesome. Like this easy trip, there was no fierce battle and no combat reduction. Colson was very happy.

"Can you let me go?" Schweiler looked expectant.

Colson looked at him seriously, then shook his head: "You have to go with us, no one knows whether you are still controlled by it now, to be safe. We are very professional in this regard."

Schweil's face suddenly turned dead.

The house suddenly trembled, and Colson and Brock staggered. They were surprised to find that the entire wall, the whole room, no, the entire building was undergoing some kind of paradoxical changes. The ground was no longer the ground, and the room seemed to be pushed down. The silver suitcase containing the books was rolling and turning in the room, accompanied by the debris in the room, making a sound and moving.

A slimmer spark appeared in the void, and quickly appeared a regular circle in the air. The silver suitcase fell directly into the center of the fire circle under the angrily gaze of Colson and others. The moment the fire circle disappeared and closed, Colson and Brock could see a bunch of people in strange clothes standing outside the fire circle. There were several respite agents at their feet, one of whom was like the leader, who stepped forward and picked up the silver suitcase that fell at his feet, and glanced at them coldly.

The fire ring disappears.

The changes in the room like building blocks also stopped.
Chapter completed!