Chapter 646

The experiment was over.

Moira and Soldier: 76 were washing the blood from their hands.

The baptismal font, which was supposed to hold holy water, was now spattered with crimson. The blood belonged to a monster, and the people washing it from their hands weren’t exactly saints themselves.

Luthor approached, glancing down at Kilgrave.

"What are we doing with him?"

It was difficult to describe Kilgrave’s current condition. If Luthor hadn’t known there had once been a human being lying there, he might have had trouble identifying what the bloody heap on the floor was supposed to be.

And yet, thanks to Moira’s exceptional emergency medical skills, Kilgrave was still barely alive.

Unfortunately for him.

Moira dried her hands with a handkerchief, then sprayed them with disinfectant. It was always strange to watch her switch between states. During an experiment, blood and bodily fluids didn’t bother her in the slightest. The moment the experiment ended, however, she became so meticulous about cleanliness that she could have passed for someone with severe OCD.

"So," Luthor said, rubbing his chin. A wicked smile slowly spread across his face.

His eyes flicked toward one of the church’s statues.

"I was thinking we strip him naked and nail him to the wall."

He still hadn’t forgotten the humiliation Kilgrave had inflicted on him by running around naked in public.

"Please. This is a church," Moira said, rolling her eyes. "That’s incredibly disrespectful."

She paused.

"And besides, even if you’re still looking for revenge over that... particular incident, I don’t think he has anything left to run around with."

Luthor’s expression twitched.

"Then what do you suggest?"

Soldier: 76 suddenly spoke up.

There was a peculiar edge of displeasure in his voice.

Moira either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.

"The experiment specifically involving you is finished," she said. "Mine hasn’t even started."

She turned toward Luthor.

"Take him back alive and put him on my operating table. I still have quite a few theories I’d like to test."

A surgical knife suddenly appeared in her hand.

Its edge gleamed beneath the church lights, matching the sinister smile curling across her lips.

"Science requires practice. Lots of practice."

Luthor stared at the knife.

"Uh..."

He didn’t move.

"Why did you pull out a knife while saying that?"

Moira froze.

Then she smoothly slipped the knife away.

"Why are you so concerned about every little detail? I thought it gave the speech more impact."

"...Sure."

Luthor accepted that answer.

Then he tilted his head and peered behind her.

"Then why’d you put the knife—"

"I have a little pouch at the small of my back. That’s where I keep my surgical knives."

Moira’s temple throbbed.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"Could you please stop obsessing over completely irrelevant details and get to work?"

"Of course, of course."

Luthor smiled brightly and nodded several times.

The two of them didn’t exactly get along. They were perfectly professional when it came to work, but in private, Luthor took a certain amount of pleasure in making Moira’s life difficult.

"Wait."

Jessica Jones, who had been watching the entire exchange, suddenly jumped toward Kilgrave.

Actually jumped.

She cleared the more than twenty meters between them in a single casual bound without so much as a running start.

Jessica was a superhuman, though her overall abilities were nothing extraordinary. In a straight fight, she wasn’t even as strong as Captain America.

Her jumping ability, however, was ridiculous.

At least two Captain Americas worth of jumping power.

That was how she’d once managed to leap higher than Luthor while holding a motorcycle, and more than once, even her friends had mistaken her for someone who could actually fly.

"Hm. Excellent jump."

Moira’s eyes gleamed with interest as she looked down at Jessica’s long legs.

"I could study those for a year."

Then she smiled casually.

"Don’t worry. I’m joking."

"Heh..."

Jessica gave a strained laugh.

Her legs tightened instinctively.

She’d just seen what Moira’s idea of "studying" something looked like.

Joke or not, Jessica decided it might be wise to stop jumping around this woman.

"Is there something you wanted, Ms. Jones?" Moira asked casually.

"I did promise that if we ever put this man on an operating table, I’d let you make the first cut. But considering his current condition, allowing an amateur to operate on him would be extremely dangerous. I’m afraid I’ll have to break that promise."

Her gaze drifted toward Jessica’s legs again.

"And I doubt you’d want to visit my laboratory anyway."

"No. I really don’t want to go anywhere near your slaughterhouse."

Jessica’s legs trembled, but she forced herself to stand straight.

Then she slowly raised her right foot and aimed it at Kilgrave’s neck.

"Is he really so close to death that even a little force could kill him?"

"Hm."

Moira gave her a knowing look.

"So you’re determined to take revenge yourself?"

Her eyes dropped to Jessica’s raised foot.

"Or are you trying to show him mercy?"

"I... don’t know."

Jessica’s expression remained flat.

"Maybe both."

She hated Kilgrave.

She hated him enough to want to kill him with her own hands. She’d even dreamed about it once, dreaming that she was standing on a dock, her hands wrapped around his neck as she snapped it.

She could kill him herself.

She could turn him over to the authorities and make him pay for his crimes.

She could beat him half to death and then finish the job.

But what Moira had done to him had gone beyond torture. Beyond anything Jessica considered remotely human.

It had crossed a line.

Jessica wasn’t a saint, but she wasn’t evil either. And no matter how much she hated someone, there were things she simply couldn’t watch without feeling sick.

"I hate him," Jessica said, looking up at Moira. Her eyes were hard and unwavering. "I won’t feel safe until he’s dead."

She swallowed.

"But I also know that if I do nothing right now, I won’t be able to live with myself. I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have stopped this."

"Your conscience?"

Moira scoffed.

She genuinely couldn’t understand it.

Of everyone present, Jessica had the strongest reason to hate Kilgrave. Yet somehow she was the one objecting to what had happened.

"If you really cared about your conscience, Ms. Jones, you would’ve landed on his head instead of standing here talking."

Jessica lowered her gaze.

Kilgrave’s face was barely recognizable anymore.

Under his control, she’d committed countless crimes. She’d even killed Luke Cage’s wife.

After breaking free, Jessica had spent years walking back and forth across the edge of the law.

But choosing to kill someone of her own free will was different.

Actually doing it was harder than people liked to imagine.

That was the problem with most people.

Plenty of people talked about destroying worlds or killing without hesitation. When the moment actually came and they had to do it themselves, their courage often vanished.

Jessica hesitated.

Click.

The sound of a hammer being cocked snapped through the room.

McKenna had stepped beside them, pistol raised.

"Back away slowly, Ms. Jones."

His eyes shifted toward Luke Cage.

"Oh, big guy. You want to see what this Colt can do?"

Golden runes began glowing along the barrel of his revolver.

"Even you would die if you took a round from this."

Luke stepped between McKenna and Jessica.

Luke Cage was bulletproof, but he was nowhere near the Hulk. One shot from that enchanted weapon would trigger its instant-kill effect.

Luke knew it.

McKenna knew it.

And Luke still didn’t move.

He supported Jessica’s decision.

He believed she was doing the right thing.

Maybe that was part of why she’d fallen for him in the first place.

The standoff stretched for a heartbeat.

Then—

Bang!

A deep gunshot echoed through the church.

Everyone flinched.

But McKenna hadn’t fired.

Jessica hadn’t been shot.

Kilgrave had.

His head had been blown apart.

At last, he was dead.

Moira spun around.

Soldier: 76 stood there with his pistol still raised, a thin ribbon of smoke curling from the barrel.

He looked almost apologetic.

"Sorry. I missed."

Moira stared at him.

Then she looked at Kilgrave’s ruined head.

Her eyes flickered with thoughts no one else could quite read.

Finally, she sighed.

"Fine."

She gestured toward the blood-soaked room.

"As punishment for missing, you can clean everything up."

Soldier: 76 raised an eyebrow.

"Everything?"

"Everything. The body, the blood, all of it. I don’t want a trace left behind."

Compared with what he’d expected, that barely qualified as punishment.

"Understood."

Soldier: 76 happily went to work.

"Ms. Jones..."

Moira turned her attention back to Jessica.

She walked toward her.

Then suddenly reached behind her back.

Jessica’s eyes widened.

She instantly jumped backward.

Thirty meters.

"Ah!"

She landed in a crouch.

Then, realizing what she’d just done, Jessica immediately straightened.

"What just happened?"

She blinked innocently.

"I don’t really remember."

She thought for a moment.

"Oh, right. I heard that humans can unlock incredible potential under extreme pain. Your experiment must have stimulated Kilgrave’s powers and pushed them beyond the limits of sound."

Jessica nodded solemnly.

"So I must have been under his control just now. If I did anything inappropriate, please don’t hold it against me."

The man was already dead.

She hadn’t killed him.

There was absolutely no reason to keep pretending she was brave.

When survival demanded cowardice, Jessica had no problem being practical.

Moira stared at her.

"Could you make that act any less convincing?"

She waved Jessica over.

"Come here."

Jessica cautiously looked at what Moira was holding.

It wasn’t a scalpel.

It wasn’t a syringe.

It wasn’t any other horrifying instrument of human experimentation.

It was a black business card.

Jessica slowly approached, practically dragging her feet the entire way.

She accepted it with extreme caution.

"I think you’re an interesting person," Moira said with a smile.

"And your profession as a private investigator could be quite useful. So I’d like to develop you into a new informant for the Blackwatch division."

Her smile widened.

"Don’t refuse my kindness."

"Okay..."

Jessica’s mind raced.

Then she nodded.

"Okay."

What else could she do?

Refuse to become Moira’s informant and risk becoming one of her research subjects instead?

That seemed like a poor career choice.

"Don’t worry."

Moira noticed her hesitation and offered what she apparently considered reassurance.

"We in Blackwatch are always very measured in our actions."

She paused.

"Unless the target is particularly... exceptional."

Her expression hardened.

"And unless they’ve committed truly vile crimes against innocent people, we generally don’t go this far."

Jessica said nothing.

Moira’s lip curled.

"People who actively prey on children, rape people, and manipulate innocent girls into murdering their own parents..."

She glanced toward Kilgrave’s corpse.

"Even if we did nothing, prison wouldn’t exactly be kind to someone like that."

Jessica remained silent.

She wasn’t about to argue the point.

A man like Kilgrave would probably have a miserable time in prison.

But there was a difference between being beaten to death with a mop handle and what Moira had done.

Especially when Moira’s preferred method involved keeping someone alive, fixing them up, and doing it all over again.

"That’s enough."

Moira suddenly turned and surveyed the others.

"I hereby declare this operation officially complete."

She glanced toward Soldier: 76.

"Once 76 finishes cleaning the scene, I’ll file the mission report."

And with that, the operation was over.

Meanwhile, their boss, Evenson Richter, was sound asleep in bed.

He couldn’t exactly complain about having nothing else to do.

Claire had become obsessed with reading lately and spent every night returning to Kamar-Taj’s library.

Without her around, Evenson had no reason to stay awake.

Unfortunately, his peaceful sleep was about to be destroyed.

His phone rang.

Evenson groggily reached for it and checked the caller.

The Eredar twins.

At this hour.

That was never good.

He answered.

The reason for the call was bizarre.

The company’s bathroom had exploded.

Evenson stared at the ceiling.

If he hadn’t known perfectly well that he couldn’t beat those two women in a fight, he might have started swearing.

The bathroom exploded, and they called him?

Call a plumber!

Why were they calling him in the middle of the night for something like that?

Then he paused.

Middle of the night...

Plumber...

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

Something about this didn’t add up.

"Got it. I’m on my way."

He practically sprang out of bed.

A few minutes later, he had rushed into the bathroom, washed himself properly, dried off, and teleported straight to the company.

He arrived expecting some kind of elaborate emergency.

Instead...

He stared at the scene in front of him.

"Holy crap."

The bathroom had actually exploded.