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Chapter 23 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 04:07:15 +0000 UTCNot a second later, the call was successfully transferred.
"Explain," said a calm, commanding voice on the other end of the line. The kind of tone that didn’t waste a single word—and didn’t tolerate any nonsense.
"Sir, Agent Coulson made contact with the target today. He brought back three individuals," Agent Grant Ward reported. "All of them displayed the same ability as the target—shadow manipulation."
There was a short pause.
"What’s your point?" the voice responded, but now with a faint tone of curiosity.
"Sir, I believe this power can be replicated," Ward said. His voice lowered slightly, as if he was revealing a classified secret. "According to our interrogation, these individuals gained their powers by summoning a being known as the 'God of Shadows'—through a blood-drawn totem."
There was silence on the line.
Then came a more animated tone. "Are you certain? And what about Luke? Did he also gain his abilities this way?"
"Almost certainly," Ward replied.
"We recovered a similar blood totem at a warehouse in Port Jefferson. We believe that’s where he first made contact and gained access to that power. I also suspect the strength of the powers granted is directly related to the size of the totem. The larger the ritual... the greater the power. Which explains why Luke is far more powerful than the others."
Heavy breathing came from the other end.
"Excellent... Excellent work! This is huge, Agent!" the voice said, no longer trying to hide its excitement. "Nick Fury is still out there trying to recruit this guy, but we’ve already figured out where his power comes from!"
"With this knowledge, we can create an entire army of shadow-powered soldiers. Just like him. Maybe stronger."
"And once that happens... we won't need to stay hidden anymore."
"Every head of Hydra will rise from the shadows."
"Hail Hydra."
"Hail Hydra," Ward responded solemnly.
……
At the same time, while Hydra’s hidden operatives moved in secret, Luke had returned home.
He placed the dimensional doorway—one of the Rotunda of Gateways—against one wall in his apartment, watching the frame pulse faintly with residual energy.
As he stepped back to admire his setup, the doorbell rang.
He opened the door and was surprised to find Kingpin standing there, dressed sharply, flanked by a quiet, polite man with glasses—likely his lawyer or assistant.
Both of them carried two heavy-looking suitcases.
"Sir," Kingpin said, bowing his head respectfully the moment he saw Luke. The once-feared crime boss now stood humbly like a servant.
"Come in," Luke said, stepping aside.
The two men entered quickly.
Without needing instruction, they found a spot in the living room and gently placed the suitcases down.
Kingpin took care to align the cases perfectly, as if worried any mistake might offend his host.
"Ten million dollars," Kingpin said, opening one of the cases to show crisp stacks of bills. "Plus some valuable jewelry."
He reached into his pocket and produced a rolled-up document.
"Also... I heard you were renting this apartment. I took the liberty of purchasing it for you. You now own it. The deed is in your name."
He handed over the property certificate and continued carefully, "And don’t worry about property taxes. I’ll cover those every year."
As he spoke, Kingpin kept glancing up at Luke, trying to read his reaction,
Seeing that Luke had no objections, Kingpin carefully placed the property deed on the table.
"..."
Luke remained quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. His tone was flat, but carried weight.
"We agreed on a million a month. So what’s with the ten million upfront?" he asked, eyeing the suitcases. "You trying to get me to do something extra for you?"
"Of course not," Kingpin replied quickly, forcing a stiff smile. "This is just a small gesture. A token of gratitude. Please accept it."
He tried to sound calm, but Luke could tell he was nervous.
Kingpin had seen glimpses of the Second Battle of New York—the one where a mysterious figure fought off demon-possessed creatures with terrifying power.
Others didn’t know who that was, but Kingpin did. The 'Demon Slayer' was Luke.
In a world like Marvel's, filled with gods, mutants, and monsters, only the truly smart survived. And Kingpin? He knew exactly who not to mess with.
"You really know how to play both sides, huh, Fisk?" Luke said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’ll be honest with you. The only reason I didn’t erase you earlier was because I thought you might still be useful."
He paused, letting those words hang in the air.
Luke had considered using Kingpin as part of a demonic summoning—maybe as a sacrifice.
But now, with the system's upgrade, he no longer needed rituals or offerings. The demons came at his call.
"But now... I don’t really have a reason to keep you around, do I?"
Kingpin’s face twitched slightly. Panic set in.
"Wesley," he said quickly to his assistant, "wait outside."
As soon as Wesley left, Kingpin dropped to his knees with a loud thud.
"Demon Slayer, there were too many eyes out there. Let me show my respect properly now."
"???"
Luke blinked, caught off guard.
This man...
You could say he had no dignity—groveling like that.
But then again, he was smart enough to dismiss his assistant before doing it.
Maybe that was the trick all along.
Luke suddenly remembered something Kingpin had once said in a warehouse: "What do you think I relied on to climb this high?"
Now he knew.
One word: Patience.
Kingpin lowered his head, his voice steady but low. "I don’t beg often. But I know power when I see it. Let me be of use to you. My resources, my network—they’re yours. You won't hear a complaint from me. I only ask for your mercy."
He knocked his massive head against the floor.
With his size, it looked like a mountain bowing to a god.
"..."
Watching this scene unfold, Luke couldn’t help but laugh a little.
He hadn’t planned to deal with Kingpin anymore.
But here he was, kneeling like a dog.
"Alright, get up," Luke finally said. "I’m not interested in your business."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"If you really want to help, just send money. Set up a card and wire some cash every now and then."
Luke wasn’t looking for new allies. Especially not ones with baggage like Fisk.
They were adults, after all.
A healthy distance with a steady cash flow? That worked just fine.
"Oh, one more thing," Luke added, glancing around at the mess in his apartment.
"Find me a couple of cleaners."
This place—and the New York Temple—were both his current place of residence.
Luke don’t have time to sweep floors, hiring someone to clean it from time to time would be a huge help.
The next day.
Luke stood at the edge of the living room, arms crossed, eyeing the two "cleaners" Kingpin had sent his way.
He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
"Is this guy serious...?"
The first cleaner: Elektra Natchios. Former assassin for the Hand.
The second: Felicia Hardy.
Better known as Black Cat—infamous thief, top-tier seductress, and once ranked higher than Black Widow on the Marvel comic book 'hot lists'.
Luke narrowed his eyes. Neither of them looked like they’d ever held a mop for honest work.
And yet, here they were.
Whatever Fisk had promised them—or threatened them with—had apparently worked.
Both women were present, dressed... quite differently.
Felicia, in particular, was wearing a fitted maid outfit that left little to the imagination.
She walked over, hips swaying, holding a feather duster like it was a prop from a burlesque show.
"Sir, the house is spotless," she purred, a playful grin dancing on her lips. "Is there anywhere else you’d like me to... tidy up?"
Her gaze lingered on Luke.
Luke sighed.
"Yeah."
He knew exactly what she was doing—and didn’t care to play along. Her partner, Elektra, was the total opposite.
No costumes, no flirting. Just quiet efficiency. She moved like someone who could kill you with a spoon—and wouldn’t say a word while doing it.
"You like cleaning? Good. Follow me," Luke said to Felicia, turning toward a peculiar door in the hallway.
The door looked like it belonged to another world.
The ornate symbols etched into it glowed faintly, and the image carved into the wood matched the New York Sanctum.
Felicia had clearly noticed it before.
So had Elektra. But they hadn’t dared approach it—probably because Kingpin had warned them not to meddle much.
Luke opened the door without hesitation.
"Let’s go."
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped through.
Felicia hesitated, then followed.
In the blink of an eye, they were inside the Sanctum’s main hall.
It was quiet, mystical, and filled with ancient energy.
The kind of place you didn’t want to trip over the wrong object in.
"Every tile. Every window. Clean it all," Luke instructed.
"And don’t touch anything in the display cases. If you set something off, I’m not babysitting you. Some of those things turn people into... weird stuff. Like frogs. Or worse."
Felicia’s smug look faltered slightly.
Luke gave her a light shove into the room.
"You’ll be fine. Probably."
Then he turned and vanished.
Felicia stood frozen in the middle of the hall, broom in one hand, dustpan in the other.
Around her were ancient masks, strange relics, bones strung like wind chimes, and statues that seemed to watch.
"Okay... magician's world. Totally normal. This isn't creepy at all," she muttered.
Despite herself, she started moving—on tiptoe, like a cat burglar casing a museum.
She neared a glass display case and peered inside.
"Huh...?"
Inside was a red cloak, folded and floating mid-air, with no visible strings or hangers.
"How is this even hanging...?"
She leaned in closer, nose practically touching the glass. Her breath fogged up the surface.
Suddenly—tap!
A corner of the cloak curled up into a little fist and knocked on the glass from the inside.
Felicia jumped three feet in the air.
"AAAAHHHHHH!"
The scream echoed through the Sanctum.
…
Meanwhile, Luke stood at the temple entrance, calmly sipping his coffee, completely unfazed.
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