Chapter 13: Everywhere
In the West District of Hells Kitchen, Fisk Tower stood. This building was once a library in the eighties, but after changing hands several times, it was purchased by Kingpin, renovated into apartments, and further refurbished into a hotel, becoming his private little kingdom.
At this moment, this little kingdom had entered a state of total lockdown because of a top-tier hunter who had maintained a zero-failure record since starting their career.
Streets were blockaded, and within a one-kilometer radius, every jewelry store, pawn shop, Whole Foods Market, and security camera had become Kingpin's eyes and ears.
At the street corner, a beggar wrapped in a tattered down jacket curled up against a pillar. In the tin can in front of him, instant spaghetti was boiling, bubbling away.
Puddles on the ground held reflections, which were shattered one after another as vehicles roared past.
In the back of a pickup truck, gang members held up AKs and howled, unable to contain their excitement.
The reward Kingpin offered this time was high; merely guarding a location and keeping an eye out for someone felt like free money to them.
"It is 10:24 AM," the beggar raised his left wrist. His sleeve slid down, revealing a precision mechanical watch underneath, its second hand ticking rhythmically as the gears engaged.
"Time since the order was issued... two hours, forty minutes, and twenty-three seconds."
"Hehehe... I wonder when that 'Owl' will show up. His intelligence is highly sought after, after all."
He lowered his hand nonchalantly, continued humming a vague tune, and slowly stirred the pasta in the can.
A strip of dark fabric was inadvertently exposed at his waist, with the small handle of a gun vaguely pressed underneath.
A single-shot pocket pistol, 25-round magazine, with a silencer. The effective range was only twenty meters—useless on a battlefield, but in a close-quarters assassination...
Who would pay attention to a foul-smelling beggar?
Moreover, he was far from the only one eyeing this place.
Many factions had long since caught wind of the situation through their own intelligence networks.
They waited with bated breath, wanting to see just how much flesh that 'Owl' could peck off Kingpin, and how much they could snatch for themselves in the process.
At the entrance to the hotel lobby, a tall, burly man with an unusually broad forehead was pacing irritably.
He was wearing an ill-fitting blue suit with shoulder pads, his brows tightly knitted, muscles on his forehead bunched into ridges; his entire being exuded an irrepressible air of violence.
"Hey, Harold, got a light?"
A voice suddenly cut in.
The blonde man who walked out of the hotel pulled a cigarette from a metal case.
"James, what exactly did the Boss say? I could go out right now and twist Green Morgan's head off, instead of waiting here like an idiot!"
Harold's voice was loud as he pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette.
"Aren't you?" Kingpin's personal assistant, his white glove, James Wesley, leaned in to take the light, rubbing his ears that had been rattled by the noise, thinking to himself,
Anyone with eyes could see that a head-on collision with a prepared Green Morgan was pure suicide.
Even the Boss's monstrous physique had its muscles slashed by a single blade, and now he could only barely stop the bleeding with special medical staples.
"You only had a titanium alloy skeleton implanted in your head, not your neck and heart replaced. Being stubborn won't save your life." James took a drag of his cigarette.
"Given Green Morgan's style, you might be blown into nothing but a piece of scrap metal before you even see him."
"I only know how to fight." Harold grunted.
"That's why Kingpin is having you do what you're good at. Green Morgan's target isn't you, or rather, he doesn't even bother to kill you, as long as you aren't unlucky enough to run into him at the same intersection."
James flicked the cigarette ash.
"Now go and drive out the 'Judas Gang' that's taking advantage of this to grab territory. Damn these insidious dead squids; they usually put on a show of praising God, but they're the ones stealing the most silverware from the church!"
Even James couldn't help but curse.
"Then who's going to watch this place?"
"Thompson will take over for you." James was referring to 'Tombstone', another territory boss in Kingpin's criminal empire.
He had gained a superhuman physique and skin that was nearly invulnerable due to experiments. He was cold-natured and in charge of Kingpin's drug and arms business.
"What?!"
"James, you know he—"
"Shut up!" James lowered his voice, interrupting Harold, and stepped forward abruptly, grabbing his tie and pulling him close.
"Do you think the Boss doesn't know Thompson has ambition? That's exactly why he must be kept under our noses. Do you really think these firing points around here are all just to guard against Green Morgan alone?"
Upon hearing this, Harold subconsciously raised his eyes to scan the surrounding buildings.
The rather dull morning light spread across the scene, and the wind was lifting several curtains.
Behind the curtains were the vague silhouettes of gun barrels, and at the edge of the higher rooftops lay the tactical sniper team that Kingpin had brought in from the Transigen genetic company,"
He withdrew his gaze and quieted down.
James poked his chest hard with his finger.
"In other words, the Boss trusts you, which is why you are his fist on the outside."
James let go and straightened the tie he had pulled askew.
"Don't lose the fight and make us come save you, understand?"
"...Understood."
"Go on."
Harold huffed heavily, turned around, and gathered his men to get in the cars and leave.
"Whew..." James let out a sigh of relief and straightened his suit, which had wrinkled from the movement.
Actually, there was half a sentence he hadn't said.
Kingpin wouldn't mind if Harold died out there; faced with blatant provocations to his territory, he had to respond. Once perceived as weak, more gangs would swarm in to suck his blood.
"Everything alright? Harold looked terrible, though he doesn't usually look much better."
A gravelly voice came from inside the hotel entrance.
The Eastern European man walking over was dressed like a biker. His exposed skin had an unhealthy pinkish-white hue, his scalp was thinning, and an old red scarf hung loosely around his neck.
"Everything is going smoothly." James walked past him with a casual tone.
"Tch, show-off."
Thompson rubbed the oil on his nose, sneered, and walked toward the entrance.
He tilted his head toward his subordinates, who immediately brought over a folding chair and a large bucket of buttered popcorn.
He sat down carelessly, grabbed a handful, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed with a crunching sound.
With so many people, he didn't understand how they could lose. In his view, Kingpin was just scared.
On the fourth floor, in one of the suites,
"Do you like these, son? There are plenty more."
Kingpin knelt halfway on the floor, smiling gently at the boy in front of him, looking like a completely different person from the ferocious crime lord outside.
At this moment, he was just a father trying to please his son.
In front of them were piled various electronic devices, replica firearms, and limited-edition The Seven dolls—gifts that a boy of this age could hardly refuse.
The replica firearms were the hardest to get; heaven knows how those brutes who usually held real weapons managed to get them.
"Uh... actually, you already gave me a whole set the year before last." The boy raised his head hesitantly.
"Besides, how am I supposed to play by myself?"
"Uh..." Kingpin was momentarily speechless.
"Richard, you know Daddy is very busy."
The beautiful black-haired woman beside them spoke up at the right moment. Her long hair had a noticeable streak of white, and her voice was gentle.
"But I remember that girl you mentioned a few days ago, her name is Lucy, right? You could ask her."
"Hey, Mom! That's our secret!" The boy blushed instantly and shouted shyly.
"Oh, sorry." The beautiful woman pursed her lips in a pretended apologetic smile and pressed his shoulder.
"Hmm~ Richard," Kingpin raised his eyebrows, looking as if he understood everything.
"Looks like we need to find some time to have a real talk about men's issues."
"Stop! We're just friends!" Richard shouted as he ran back into the bedroom.
The two watched their son's retreating figure and smiled at each other.
But soon, the smile on the beautiful woman Vanessa's face faded.
Kingpin noticed it immediately, and his mouth turned down as well.
"Wilson, I've told you not to involve these things at home, especially Richard."
Kingpin opened his mouth, but in the end, just sighed.
"I know."
"This time is really serious, right?" Vanessa asked softly.
She could smell the lingering scent of blood on him, and she could also see that his eye, which looked normal, was actually hollow and lifeless—it was a prosthetic eye.
In her memory, Kingpin had never been this badly injured.
"Of course not," he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
"It's just a localized storm, I can handle it."
"Don't forget, I still have to go to your art exhibition, my dear Vanessa." He patted her back gently and turned to walk out the door.
Vanessa watched his retreating figure, a flicker of dark light passing beneath the surface of the worry in her eyes.
He didn't look back, and naturally, didn't see his lover's strangeness.
At this moment, the boy couldn't help but run out.
Vanessa lowered her eyes and gently pulled him to her side.
"Say goodbye to Daddy."
"Goodbye, Daddy."
"Hmm." He turned around upon hearing this, nodded with a smile, then bent down, holding onto the door frame, and carefully squeezed out through the door that was too narrow for him.
Outside the door, a pair of Supe twins from the Transigen company were guarding.
To be precise, they were originally triplets,
The youngest one met Green Morgan during a mission last year and was literally spiced to death by him using capsaicin.
Yes, spiced to death,
That person's ability was possessing a sense of smell and taste far surpassing ordinary people, capable of distinguishing and recording pheromones that humans couldn't detect, but because of this, he was extremely allergic to irritating substances.
Green Morgan had fed him about five hundred 'Grim Reaper peppers' at the time; one could imagine how painfully he died.
So, this pair of twins in front of him were also here for revenge.
"Watch them well." He turned his head and ordered in a deep voice.
"Twenty-four-hour rotating guard posts in groups of four, with people stationed in the rooms above and below. The sniper on the opposite rooftop is ranked ninth in the World, and I," the one with a more mature demeanor said with a serious expression,
"can see through things and monitor the indoor situation at any time. I understand your concerns; please rest assured, the mission comes first."
"There's no need to 'monitor' constantly, and don't 'look' too deep."
Kingpin's fists clenched slightly. Faced with this Supe who could easily pry into his wife's privacy, his tone carried a clear warning.
"I respect the employer's privacy, but I will also conduct necessary observations according to professional instinct."
"It better be that way." Kingpin felt it was necessary to carefully review their files afterwards.
He turned and left.
"Whew—this guy is even scarier than expected." The other twin finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Shut up, he hasn't gone far." The older one scolded in a low voice.
"Yes, yes, you're the boss."
"Don't forget how Black died; that 'Owl' might already be here."
"Understood~ I'm not afraid of peppers."
Looking at the hidden hatred in his younger brother's stubborn eyes, the older one felt a surge of helplessness.
Back then, the three brothers went out to make their way in the World, didn't join Vought Company, and instead stumbled into a cult.
Later, they encountered Green Morgan, who held complete intelligence, and the entire cult was wiped out overnight. They survived by luck because they were sent out on a mission.
To be honest, he didn't hate Green Morgan too much.
He hated himself more for not leading his brother down the right path back then.
"Focus on the work."
"I know."
The older one turned and gripped the doorknob, his eyes moving, instinctively wanting to probe the indoor situation, but then he stopped.
He nodded to Vanessa, who was leaning against the wall. She forced a faint smile,
He opened the door and stepped out sideways.
At the very last moment as the door hinge turned and his line of sight was about to be completely blocked, he didn't see Vanessa's relaxed posture suddenly tense up, with undisguisable horror rising in her eyes.
As the door gap narrowed, the shadows were peeled away inch by inch.
A tall figure was gradually exposed in the light, a cold and stern face slowly emerging at the boundary of light and shadow. Those eyes were staring fixedly at the frozen Vanessa and the boy.
He blinked, pressed his index finger to his lips, and held up a tranquilizer gun with his other hand.
"Shh—"
Chapter 14: Stealing the Home
Click! The door crack closed. Pfft, pfft! The anesthetic darts shot out from the muzzle. The soft sound of the door closing perfectly masked the noise of the suppressed gunfire.
Green strode forward, reaching out to catch the two limp bodies as they collapsed.
The anesthetic hadn't fully taken effect yet; their eyeballs trembled, reflecting the figure of this man in their field of vision. Fear spread along with their dilating pupils, but soon, they calmed down.
Only then did Green slowly exhale, his heartbeat gradually returning to steady. But the next second, he held his breath again.
He remembered the twins outside the door. He vaguely recalled that one of them had exceptionally keen hearing; a heartbeat that was too fast, or an extra breath, could potentially be detected.
As for how he found this place, it was nothing more than using a bit of money to exchange for real-time intelligence online while enjoying brunch. Then, by following the dispatch routes of the underlings of Kingpin's henchmen, he had locked onto this location in advance.
However, if a few henchmen hadn't moved gaming equipment into the room after entering the hotel, he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the room number so accurately.
Green remained silent, moving lightly as he slowly placed the two on the floor.
He took two brooch-sized discs from his tactical belt and attached them to the back of their necks.
The discs sprang open, extending six thin claws that pierced the skin, latched onto a spinal nerve, and released a faint electric current.
He raised his left hand and swiped his fingertips across the device on his wrist. A mini screen lit up, displaying 3D holographic models of the two. A blue light flashed from a micro-camera on the side, and a semi-transparent command keyboard unfolded in the air.
Green entered a command into Vanessa's model: "Spread legs."
The next second, the Vanessa on the floor responded. Her legs suddenly split apart without any flexible cushioning, her muscle lines instantly tightening to form a standard, rigid split.
At the same time, her right leg exerted force, kicking the boy beside her away a short distance.
Throughout the entire process, neither of them closed their eyes. Their gazes were cast emptily toward the ceiling; their consciousness was imprisoned, leaving only their bodies to execute the commands.
"It's quite handy."
This disc was called a "Spinal Control Unit," built with an independent network cluster and equipped with black technology used by high-privilege S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents. With Green's Level 1 field Agent clearance, it would be impossible for him to have it, or even know about it, but Hill had it.
At first, she refused to hand it over, and only after she was nearly suffocated was she forced to surrender it.
"So, what's next... Should I fight my way out, or vanish Batman-style?" Green rubbed his chin and chose the latter.
"I have an idea."
"Alright then, the 'Madou' short film directed by Green is about to begin."
...
Downstairs, Kingpin had no idea that he had been 'home-invaded' by some guy lying in wait.
He walked to the door. The subordinates scattered around, smoking or chatting, instantly fell silent. A hush descended.
Tombstone, who was dozing on a lounge chair, sensed the familiar pressure approaching and immediately opened his eyes and stood up.
"Boss." He bowed his head slightly.
Kingpin did not respond immediately. His gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds before he pressed his giant palm heavily onto his shoulder.
"I trust you, Thompson." "That's why I entrusted my family to you to guard. Don't let me down."
The palm tightened, knuckles sinking into the muscle. Tombstone felt his shoulder bone faintly groaning, and cold sweat seeped from his temples.
"I... understand." He squeezed the answer out from between his teeth.
Kingpin did not let go immediately but maintained the gripping posture. After what felt like several drawn-out seconds, he slowly released.
"Very good." He turned and left, leaving Tombstone standing there with his hands hanging down, his shoulder still aching with a dull pain and an invisible weight.
"Watch the door well, heh." James, who was following behind, chuckled as he brushed past him.
Not until the sound of the car engine had completely faded did Tombstone raise his head, his eyes churning with ruthlessness and humiliation.
He rubbed his nearly numb shoulder and kicked the lounge chair to pieces.
"Who the fuck said this monster was injured? Fuck!"
The car carriage swayed slightly as it drove. Kingpin's massive body sat on the floor, leaning against the seat, his head tilted back.
James pulled over a medical lamp with a bulb, the harsh light shining directly into his bloodshot prosthetic eye.
He carefully touched the edge with forceps, but his movements were not professional enough, carrying a kind of stiff hesitation.
"Ugh..." A suppressed groan rolled out of Kingpin's throat, his fingers twitching uncontrollably.
There weren't many people he trusted, and James was one of them, so he had to endure this necessary roughness.
In the corner, Bullseye was hooked up to an IV drip. Surprisingly, the gruesome wound on his waist had basically been sutured; the stitches could even be called fine. That unlicensed black-market doctor he knew really was quite skilled.
"Your eyeball is showing a moderate inflammatory response, and your body has started to run a low fever. You need systematic treatment."
He dropped the removed, cloudy prosthetic eye into a cleaning solution with a 'plop.'
"I don't have time." Kingpin's voice was hoarse. He reached out and grabbed the whiskey from the small ice bucket nearby, unplugged the bottle, and tilted his head back to take a large gulp.
The cold, strong liquor slid down his throat, bringing a brief moment of numbness, attempting to suppress the waves of brain-digging pain deep within his eye socket.
"I need to make an appearance to show those jackals outside that I'm still alive. Relying on Harrow alone won't keep the situation under control."
"Maybe we could try the bio-prosthetic eye from 'over there'." James cleaned his tools and suggested.
"'Clairvoyant'?" Kingpin used a wet cloth to carefully wipe away the viscous pus seeping from his hollow eye socket, his movements somewhat distorted due to the pain.
"I don't think he'll install one for me for free without side effects. It's more likely he'll install a remote detonation device. I don't want to shove a micro-bomb next to my brain, even if it's just a possibility."
He paused and threw the dirty cloth into a small trash can in the corner. "How is the 'Weapon X' project that Olivia is in charge of? Are there any that can be put into use immediately?"
"There are four 'finished' Supes who have passed the basic tests." James pulled up a brief report.
"But according to our agreement with the Transigen company, they have priority, and they have named a very high price for this 'deployment of forces'."
"Greedy bastards." Kingpin cursed under his breath and pressed the embedded electronic screen on the car wall.
A blue light flashed, and the image of a woman with thick samba braids and an astonishing amount of hair appeared.
She didn't look at the camera, her gaze fixed on the data streams on multiple monitors to the side, her ten fingers tapping on the keyboard, leaving afterimages.
Four slender, white, octopus-like auxiliary tentacles stretched flexibly, adjusting instrument parameters, passing tools, and some were even brewing coffee, each performing its duty, dizzyingly efficient.
"Speak, what is it?" She pushed up the glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, her peripheral vision finally glancing at Kingpin.
"How much longer for the development of the metal restraints?" Kingpin subconsciously covered his chest, where the knife wound left by 'Owl' was still throbbing under the thick bandages.
"I must cut off that pair of wings of his."
"About another twelve hours." Olivia spoke at lightning speed, one tentacle enlarging a 3D model.
"We are lucky; we previously intercepted a batch of A.I.M. prototype equipment. We just need to modify it and enhance the electromagnetic output power."
"Then do it as soon as possible."
"When exactly do you need it?"
"Tonight." Kingpin looked at the blurry streetscape flying backward outside the car window. A strong sense of foreboding swirled in his heart. He didn't know where Green was hiding now or what he was plotting, but he had to prepare countermeasures first.
"Ah~ alright then." Olivia drew out her tone.
"I'll rush it a bit more. Also, Boss, you need to catch my little wolf girl back; I still have many experiments I haven't done on her. Her tracking chip signal shows she's active in your nearby area... However, looking at the coordinates, you are moving further and further away from her."
"That's not urgent; she can't escape."
"That's fine then." Olivia closed the communication.
Kingpin turned to the silent Bullseye.
"I've arranged a luxury cruise ship to the Caribbean. Take enough money and go play for a few months to lie low. Don't stay here and be a target."
"As you wish, Boss." Bullseye touched the wound on his waist, not daring to say more.
Soon, the vehicle stopped in a secluded spot. Bullseyepulled out the needle, picked up the bulging black travel bag on the seat, pushed the door open, and quickly got into another waiting car.
The door closed again, and the vehicle continued to drive steadily.
"Keep an eye on Bullseye." Kingpin was silent for a moment, looking out the window, then suddenly spoke.
"...Understood." James nodded.
Kingpin's meaning was clear: if the situation deteriorated to the point where someone had to draw fire or bear the consequences, then Bullseye was the pre-prepared sacrificial lamb.
Kingpin's gaze lowered. "That person, have you contacted him?" He spoke again.
"Yes, he has agreed to step in."
"Hmm..." Kingpin reached into his suit's inner pocket and carefully pulled out a photograph with slightly worn edges.
The background of the photo was a park. His massive figure stood in the back, Vanessa snuggled by his side, holding Richard, who was still in swaddling clothes, smiling brightly. He himself wore an honest smile on his face.
Kingpin stared at the photo, his eyes becoming incredibly soft. He used his thumb to gently stroke the faces of his wife and son in the photo.
"I will not let anyone disturb our happiness."
He held this pose for several seconds before carefully tucking the photo back into the inner pocket close to his heart and pressing it gently. When he raised his head again, his eyes had returned to their habitual, deep-pool-like calmness and hardness, as if the softness of that moment had never existed.
Chapter 15: Evacuation
Outside the hotel room, right on time to check on the employer, the second brother removed his noise-canceling earmuffs.
His hearing was too sensitive; he usually had to rely on this soundproofing to avoid being drowned out by the noise of the World.
He leaned sideways, pressing his ear against the door panel, holding his breath, but what he caught was a series of abnormal movements.
"Luca." He signaled to the eldest brother beside him.
Luca nodded slightly, his gaze turning to the door.
His visual penetration quietly activated; the wood grain gradually faded from his field of vision, and the scene inside the room emerged as if developing a photo.
Vanessa, the boy...
Hiss— Luca's pupils contracted, and he sucked in a cold breath.
His gaze seemed stuck, lingering for a split second before moving away.
When he turned back, his expression was complex.
"What's wrong?" The second brother noticed his odd behavior and reached out to push the door open.
"Don't!" Luca clamped onto his wrist.
"What is your situation?!" The second brother shook off his hand.
Luca fell into a mental storm.
Professional ethics required him to protect the employer's privacy, but humanitarianism dictated he should open the door and intervene immediately.
"Just a mother over-indulging her child, made a little mistake." He finally heard himself say.
"If she wants to feed him, let her feed him; if she wants to hit him, let her hit him."
He chose the former, planning to subtly remind Kingpinlater and ask for an extra fee for mental damages.
After all, the scene was just too shocking.
"...What?" The second brother was dumbfounded, thinking his brother had gone crazy from work stress.
"It means you have to listen to me, Sika."
Luca snapped the noise-canceling earmuffs back onto his head and turned away himself.
However, his gaze contained a hint of indescribable trance.
I really want to try...
Outside the door, Sika did not wear the earmuffs properly; he quietly loosened one side.
Suspicion had already sprouted in his heart.
"Hmm... looks like the plan was a success; there's time to move."
From the crack in the door came faint arguments and the sound of the doorknob turning and stopping.
Green rose from behind the single sofa and switched commands; the two people on the single sofa stopped moving.
ugly treasure vomited out the Inverted Spear of Heaven.
He gripped it in a reverse hold and pierced the floor, smoothly drawing a circle to lift the entire slab of stone.
Then, his figure dropped, crashing onto the poker table in the room below.
The curtains were drawn, and the room was lit by only a single incandescent bulb.
A group of people were sitting around the table smoking, playing Texas Hold'em.
The smoke was thick, and the marijuana mixed in the tobacco made them think Green was just a hallucination brought on by the high.
"Is this... the God of Gamblers?!"
This thought occurred to all of them simultaneously.
Green glanced casually at the hand of the person closest to him.
"Tsk... trash hand."
The person commented on was the first to get agitated.
The others reacted almost in the next second: isn't this the target from the photo on the phone?!
"Hum—" Arc Light swept in a circle.
The light bulb swayed with the cold wind that had whipped up, the light and shadow passing over their suddenly frozen faces.
Lines of blood appeared simultaneously on their necks; beads of blood seeped out, and heads rolled.
Green raised his hand to catch the two people jumping down from above, casually stuffing them into the room service cart nearby, and walked out of the door calmly.
At the end of the corridor, patrol personnel had just passed.
Green pushed the cart, walking unhurriedly toward the trash chute where he had tied a descent rope in advance.
He had observed that the area near the trash cart was a weak point in the defense.
He whistled the tune that the female assassin in "Kill Bill" whistled in the hospital, the wheels of the cart making a rhythmic clacking sound.
At this moment, in the corridor, Sika took off his noise-canceling earmuffs and hung them around his neck, turning to leave.
"Where are you going?" Luca shouted from behind.
"Pee." Sika didn't turn his head.
"Hurry."
"Got it."
What Luca didn't see was that Sika's expression was ferocious.
He had heard it—that extremely brief, almost imperceptible ringing of a blade.
Although it was fast, he had caught it.
The opponent must have chosen a stealthy evacuation due to a numerical disadvantage, and this gave him the perfect opportunity.
He would find him, and then, empty all his bullets into his back!
Rounding the corridor corner, Sika's pace grew faster and faster, from a brisk walk to a jog, and finally into a sprint, heading straight downstairs.
That whistling! That whistling!!
Sika had never told Luca that at the scene of that tragedy, he had found a tape used to record the cult's chorus.
The tape was recorded halfway through when the Carnageoccurred.
After all the screams, wails, and the deathly silence of pain, the only thing clearly preserved was this whistling.
Moreover, the whistling became clearer at the end, indicating that the opponent had approached or even picked it up and intentionally left it behind.
Why? Just for fun?!
He sprinted, rushing to the corridor.
The whistling coming from the other corner was exactly the same as in his memory.
He lunged forward, pulling out his pistol.
Sweat sliding down his brow blurred his vision, but he didn't care.
The whistling was getting closer and closer.
His index finger was pressed hard against the trigger.
This red-carpeted corridor was about fifty meters long, but for the first time, he felt it was so long, as long as the tongue lolling from a demon's grin.
His heartbeat was heavy, his vision swayed violently with his running body, and his breathing was burning and rapid.
As soon as he reached the corner, he quickly twisted his body, poked his head out, and raised his gun, pointing it at the corridor, but it was empty.
"Why..."
"Are you looking for me?"
A light, casual male voice sounded behind him without warning.
Sika's blood seemed to freeze throughout his entire body.
A cold, sticky killing intent, like deep-sea seaweed, drilled through the gaps in his combat suit's fibers, wrapping around his skin, slithering along.
It was in this extreme terror that his brain became clear instead.
An absurd question surfaced in his mind: What was he doing?
Hunting a... monster?
"I'll kill—"
Sika's reaction was extremely fast.
While lowering the muzzle, his body completed a twist, and he delivered a standard tactical kick with full force toward the center of the chest of the person behind him, attempting to create distance.
Click.
The trigger movement ceased abruptly; Green had jammed the trigger with just the second joint of his index finger.
Facing the incoming kick, he had no defensive or force-dispersing movement.
Thud!
The dull sound of impact was like kicking a solid concrete block.
The massive recoil exploded back from his sole all the way to his calf; Sika's entire right leg went numb.
His vision blurred, and the light before his eyes suddenly darkened as if pressed by some heavy, inhuman presence.
"Did I kick a mountain?"
Green was still standing there, his figure towering in the swaying field of vision, blocking the light.
He just stood there, without even the rise and fall of breathing.
"A fish that slipped through the net actually swimming back to the butcher voluntarily; this is the first time I've seen that. You're very brave."
Green smiled and swung his blade.
Sika felt a chill on his right wrist, and his right hand, still holding the gun, slid off from the wrist along a smooth diagonal line.
"...Ugh!"
Sika arched his back, using his left hand to clamp down on his bleeding severed wrist, his teeth chattering and grinding.
Every inch of muscle on his face twisted in pain.
Green tossed the severed hand, which was still holding the gun, in his hand.
"Look up."
The voice was very light, but Sika didn't dare to resist and tilted his face up.
The tip of the blade pressed against his brow.
"Hah... hah..."
Sika opened his mouth wide in terror, gasping for breath like a stranded fish.
Warm blood flowed from the wound on his forehead, streaming down his brow bone and soaking his right eye.
His vision was a sea of crimson.
He looked at Green through that red veil, no longer with hate, only primitive fear remaining.
"I killed your brother. It has nothing to do with right or wrong; it's just a result."
"The fact that you are still alive proves that my mission back then was not ideal."
"So, don't make me regret this decision, okay?"
He stuffed Sika's severed hand back into his jacket and took his walkie-talkie while he was at it.
The tip of the blade left his forehead.
Sika froze in place, Green's back gradually blurring and shrinking in his field of vision.
He just stood there, his mind blank.
In the upper corridor, Luca frowned, as if by telepathy.
Sika had been gone for a while.
He grabbed the walkie-talkie.
"All units on alert, there's a situation, stand by with weapons."
After speaking, he ran toward the direction his brother had left.
"Unit One received."
"Unit Two received."
"Unit Three... Unit Four..."
The communication channel responded one after another, but Luca could no longer hear them.
He slammed on the brakes at the corner.
Sika was standing at the other end of the corridor, facing him sideways, motionless.
"Hey! Bro!"
Luca disengaged the safety on his gun handle.
Sika slowly turned his head.
Luca's breath hitched.
He saw a grotesque expression frozen on his brother's face: the corners of his mouth were instinctively turning up due to surviving, yet bending painfully downward due to the "life" bestowed by his enemy.
His whole face looked as if it were being torn by two opposing forces.
"Why didn't he kill me..."
Sika's voice was trembling uncontrollably.
Luca was stunned for two seconds, then suddenly understood.
Sika had encountered him, but the opponent had let him live.
This in itself was a message, a choice.
If he reported it now and mobilized everyone for a siege, perhaps there was a chance, but what if they failed?
If he survived the siege, what would he do?
More importantly, since the opponent had appeared here, it meant the target upstairs had already been secured.
The sudden abnormal behavior of that mother and child earlier now had an answer.
Luca leaned against the wall, hand supporting his forehead, suddenly feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.
He hadn't even seen the opponent, yet he had already been forced to make two choices.
The opponent was too good at playing with psychology.
He hesitated for a moment, then picked up the walkie-talkie.
"Crisis averted, all units continue to stand by."
"Received."
A brief response came from the channel; no one asked a single extra question.
Luca lowered his arm, looking at his brother in the distance, who was lost in spirit, and smiled bitterly.
"Looks like we have to run again, brother."
The corridor ceiling light buzzed twice, casting a silent shadow between the two.
Chapter 16 Laura
Hiss——
A zipline swayed inside the hotel's external garbage chute.
Green carried two people with one hand, while the other gripped the deceleration device, landing softly on the foul-smelling pile of trash.
He casually ripped the walkie-talkie from Sika's waist, crushed it in his grip until it burst, and parts fell to the ground with a rustle.
He had heard Luka's words. Since the other party chose silence, there was no need to hunt them down further.
Green stepped out of the dumpster, flies buzzing and swill flowing everywhere.
Several Black men patrolling the alley turned at the sound, their faces turning pale.
"Damn it, we ran into him."
"What the f*ck?!"
"You guys go first, I'll cover the rear."
Someone turned and fled; not everyone dared to face Green head-on.
The remaining ones had just drawn their guns when they caught a glimpse of an afterimage flashing by, a crimson line bloomed on their necks, their bodies went limp, and their heads rolled away.
Those who had fled a few steps were also caught up to and taken down in an instant.
Green dragged the bodies back one by one and threw them into the dumpster.
Then, expressionless, he dug out the equipment he had hidden under the trash beforehand: a large, pink suitcase.
He tore open the waterproof bag, changed into the jacket and shoes from inside the case, stuffed the two unconscious people into it, and zipped it up.
The case stood upright, and the handle was extended.
Green casually straightened the green felt hat he had taken from one of the corpses and closed the dumpster lid.
He pulled the suitcase, rolling it over puddles, pried open a sewer manhole cover with a prepared crowbar, descended the stairs into the underground, and replaced the manhole cover before leaving.
The underground drainage tunnel had no light, save for the beam of a portable flashlight illuminating about four or five meters ahead, with countless dust motes floating in the beam.
Green dragged the pink suitcase along the edge of the sewage, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the tunnel, as if stepping into a labyrinth that led to nowhere.
Rats peered from unseen corners, rustling and emitting wary squeaks.
Green was very familiar with this place.
His experiences had never been smooth; he often had moments of near-death. In severe cases, he would die for a few seconds, and then he would live again.
Whenever that happened, he would hide underground, quietly licking his wounds like an injured Beast.
Although he had more comfortable safe houses all over the World, he always felt this place was the most reliable.
Just like these rats that survived in the darkness.
They knew where they could live and where they should hide.
Moreover, vaguely, he could feel something following him. He did not know if it was scent tracking or something else, but it would be perfect to resolve it here, where he wouldn't even need to dispose of the body.
Green deliberately slowed his pace.
He tapped his fingertips lightly against the flashlight's body, listening intently to the splashing sounds.
He pushed the suitcase aside, raised the light, and turned around.
The beam cut through the darkness but could not pierce the chaos further away.
Then there was no need to look.
With a click, he turned off the light, his figure suddenly sinking into the darkness.
The next moment,
Ding!!
Blade and claws clashed fiercely, the sparks bursting like a momentary lightning bolt, illuminating the other's face.
A wild, untamed, and youthful face was stained with grime, and disheveled hair clung wetly to her forehead.
She was wearing only a thin, white lab coat soaked in sewage, hunching her back, baring her teeth, and holding off Green's blade with a pair of wolf claws.
"Tsk." Green turned sideways and delivered a low kick to her waist.
The girl let out a muffled grunt as she was kicked away, her back shattering a large patch of decaying wall plaster before she slid to the ground.
She struggled to climb up, but a cold blade tip was already pressed against her eye; just half an inch further, it would pierce her eyeball and enter her skull.
She froze.
Click,
the flashlight's beam suddenly lit up, shining directly onto her face.
The girl turned her head away, stung by the bright light, and raised a hand to shield her eyes, but she still stubbornly looked up at Green through her fingers.
Amidst her wet black hair, those eyes appeared exceptionally clear in the halo of light, like an abandoned wolf cub.
Green's gaze swept over her temple; the control instrument was gone. He did not know if it had been destroyed during their previous encounter or if she had torn it off herself.
But it was certain that all her actions at this moment stemmed from her own will.
"Why are you following me?" His voice sounded exceptionally cold and hard in the empty sewer.
She did not answer, only slowly opening her tightly clenched right hand.
In her palm was half a chocolate bar, already melted and deformed by her body heat, with sticky brown syrup coating her fingers and palm.
"For me?"
The girl nodded vigorously, watching him without blinking.
"...Is it good?"
She nodded again, the movement very slight.
Green stared at her silently for a few seconds, then finally leaned down and retrieved that half-piece of chocolate from her sticky palm.
His fingertips inevitably became stained with the sweet, sticky grime.
He lowered his eyes to look at it, then casually tossed it into the sewage nearby.
The next second, the girl lunged out without warning, completely disregarding the blade still held before her.
The sharp blade tip sliced a bloody mark on her cheek, and warm beads of blood splattered onto the back of Green's hand.
He subconsciously turned his blade horizontally to protect himself, thinking she was attacking.
But she only stumbled into the knee-deep sewage, leaning down and fumbling eagerly, as if that half-melted chocolate were some irreplaceable treasure.
Green stood where he was, watching her unguarded back, the water washing deeper stains onto her thin lab coat. He slowly sheathed his blade and walked closer.
Very quickly, she fished the half-chocolate from the sewage, murky filth dripping down through her fingers.
She kept her head lowered, staring at the deformed brown mass in her palm, her eyes filled with an obvious, childlike reluctance to part with it.
Turning her face, she glanced at Green with a resentful look.
"It's all gross now." Green slapped away her filth-covered hand.
The girl let out a low, threatening sound from her throat, making as if to lunge, but when she saw him pull out a brand-new, packaged chocolate bar from his pocket the next moment, she abruptly halted her movement.
"If you want to eat, eat the good stuff." He tossed it casually.
She caught it nimbly, clutching the intact chocolate bar, forgetting to react for a moment.
Green turned and stepped out of the sewage, picked up the suitcase, and continued walking toward the depths of the darkness.
The girl's gaze followed his back until his silhouette was about to be swallowed by the darkness, only then did she lower her head, looking at her own clean palm and the chocolate wrapped in shiny foil.
Green walked ahead.
"Patter, patter..."
The sticky, wet footsteps rang out stubbornly in the drainage tunnel, like an inescapable shadow.
Green stopped abruptly, and the sound behind him ceased instantly.
He turned back and saw that thin figure standing five steps away, clutching the newly given chocolate bar, tilting her head to look at him.
On her dirty face, the wound previously sliced by the blade had already healed as if it had never been there, leaving only a faint pink mark.
Those black-and-white eyes stared at him fixedly, unblinking.
"Can't you just go away? Do you want me to send you to an orphanage?!" Green was very annoyed.
The girl had no reaction, as if she did not understand, or as if she simply did not care.
He turned and continued walking, and the footsteps immediately followed again.
"Get lost, or I'll kill you!"
Green spun around suddenly, leaning forward, trying to intimidate her into backing off.
The girl stopped, but still looked up at him, not retreating half a step.
"Damn it! You really want to follow me?"
She nodded, very vigorously.
"I don't keep useless trash."
The girl's hands "clanged" as she unsheathed her silver-bright wolf claws, lifting her chin, stubbornly proving herself.
"Fine, f*cking fine, do whatever you want."
Green turned around, not looking back this time.
"Patter, patter, patter..."
The footsteps immediately followed, closer than before.
He could feel her gaze on his back, carrying a Beast-like focus, her nostrils twitching gently from time to time, as if carefully tracing his silhouette in the darkness, memorizing his scent.
A wolf's intuition would not be wrong.
He had conquered her.
Although Green himself was completely unaware of this, in the girl's perception, which had not yet been tamed by civilization, this man had already become the "Alpha Wolf" she had chosen for herself.
Following him, she could have a different life.
Chapter 17 Tracking Removed
She didn't know how long they had been walking; Lauraonly remembered Green stopping halfway to send a message, after which he tacitly allowed her to sit on the suitcase.
Just as she was about to fall asleep leaning against Green's arm, a burst of unusual footsteps suddenly reached her ears.
She woke up instantly, leaped off the suitcase, popped out her wolf claws, and vigilantly stared into the darkness beyond the beam of light.
Another beam of light lit up from the opposite side and rapidly expanded.
"Wow! Green, when did you start having a little Supesidekick?" Accompanied by the amused teasing, an upright-walking green turtle appeared from the shadows.
It wore a purple bandana, carried a bulging backpack on its thick shell, wore somewhat exaggerated scientific goggles over its eyes, had particularly prominent front teeth, and sported a head-mounted flashlight.
"You talk too much, Donatello." Green leaned against the damp, slippery wall and lit a cigarette.
This green-shelled turtle was Donatello, the tech expert from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
As a long-term resident of the underground World, Green had dealt with them a few times.
He wasn't sure if Laura had a tracker installed on her, and since Donatello had recently been obsessed with takeout from a certain pizza shop in Hells Kitchen, he was likely nearby to eat it while it was still hot.
So, he just sent a message to summon him.
"Alright, Green is shy." Donatello teased as he pulled a scanner from his bulging backpack, adjusted the frequency, and walked toward Laura.
Laura stared at this talking turtle.
"Can it be eaten?"
"No." Green seemed to read the thoughts in her eyes.
"Why do I suddenly feel a bit cold? Has my physical condition declined?" Donatello shrank his neck and pressed the switch.
"Beep—"
The scanner lit up with a green light and slowly moved down from Laura's head.
When it scanned her chest, the indicator light suddenly turned red.
Donatello confirmed it repeatedly, then finally settled on it.
"There is only one signal source here. The implantation site is very dangerous, right on the surface of the heart. It requires surgery to be removed safely."
Green walked over, shoved Donatello aside, and stood in front of Laura.
"Two choices: dig it out right here, right now, and then take you to eat, or come with me to a safe house and have it removed with proper medical equipment."
"Now." Laura's voice was a bit rough, but very clear.
"So you aren't mute." Green twitched the corner of his mouth and gestured with his chin toward Donatello.
"Are you sure? The medical equipment I brought isn't exactly..."
"Just give me the 'bottle opener'."
"Fine." Donatello rummaged around, handed over a strangely shaped metal instrument, turned around consciously, and couldn't help but mutter,
"Truly, like boss, like sidekick. This must hurt so much."
Green took the instrument, and with his other hand, he ripped open Laura's thin lab coat with a "rip" sound.
The girl's body was very thin, her skin covered in marks of varying depths—white scars left by laser cutting intertwined with other, paler areas.
Green's gaze paused.
He remembered that in Logan, there was always a Nursebeside Laura protecting and teaching her.
"Has anyone ever taken care of you?"
"Yes."
"Dead?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Green's large hand pressed onto her thin shoulder.
Laura's body instinctively tensed, and she looked up at his focused face.
Green ignored her reaction, gripped the "bottle opener" backhanded, aimed it at her chest, and plunged it in without hesitation.
Fresh blood gushed out instantly.
"Ugh—!" The excruciating pain made Laura instinctively pop out her wolf claws, her body struggling due to the stress response, but Green restrained her with one hand.
"Retract them."
He pressed the button at the end of the instrument, and the four metal petals at the tip spread outward, tearing the flesh and revealing the faint outline of her heart beating slightly beneath her ribs.
Laura gritted her teeth, her wolf claws slowly retracting, her knuckles turning white from the force.
Green reached in with two fingers, groping between the slippery, warm tissues, then suddenly exerted force; a blood-stained microchip was forcibly peeled off the surface of her heart.
Without even looking, he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger.
Pulling out the instrument, he glanced at Laura; the girl's lips were pale from pain, yet she stubbornly remained silent.
"Hey, Donatello, clothes."
"Huh? Oh..." Donatello reluctantly pulled a neatly folded T-shirt from his backpack; this was a limited edition.
Green took it and tossed it to Laura. She caught it, subconsciously sniffed it first, and then put it on.
The clothes were way too big, so she popped out her wolf claws and "swish, swish" neatly cut off the excess parts.
Donatello watched the falling fabric scraps and bared his teeth in heartache.
"Just go buy another one." Green casually tossed a bundle of U.S. dollars over.
Donatello caught it, his spirits lifted; this was much more than what he and his brothers earned from odd jobs online.
"Actually, I have other collectibles; do you want..."
"Get lost."
Green tossed another bundle over.
"Alright!" Donatello really did shrink into his shell and rolled into the dark side tunnel; after all, he was a turtle, and rolling was quite smooth for him.
"Also, send me Bullseye's real-time location." Green added.
"Got it." The voice echoed back through the winding sewer.
"Let's go." Green pulled at Laura's collar to confirm the wound on her chest was healing rapidly, then let go and turned around.
"Yes." Laura followed, her footsteps as quiet as a Shadow.
Turning the corner, an iron ladder extending upward appeared in front of them.
Green pushed open the heavy manhole cover with one hand, and the sounds of the city instantly flooded their ears.
The electronic sound of subway announcements, the whistling wind of trains, and the faint whispers of the crowd.
They climbed back to the surface from underground.
Under the cold white light of the subway station, the crowd was like silent statues.
White-collar workers in suits wore headphones, eyes cast down, standing neatly behind the yellow warning line, waiting for the next train.
No one took a second look at these two people who emerged from the maintenance manhole.
Green dragged the suitcase up expressionlessly, and Laurafollowed closely behind, climbing out.
He hooked his foot, and the manhole cover fell back into place with a "clang," the sound drowned out by the roar of the arriving train.
He walked straight to the convenience store next to the platform. When he came back out, Laura had changed into a pair of well-fitting black trousers and clean canvas shoes.
She looked down at her feet and tapped them gently on the ground; her skin was wrapped in socks, and the shoes felt warm and solid.
The corners of her mouth lifted unconsciously, almost breaking into a smile.
She immediately raised her head and trotted to catch up with the figure that had already walked away.
Ding-dong—
The subway doors slid open, and Green dragged the suitcase, leading Laura inside, where they found a corner seat to sit down.
The carriage was quite full. Laura sat next to Green, her eyes scanning the surrounding crowd vigilantly, though not many people were willing to get close to this cold, tough-looking man.
The train began to accelerate, and the tunnel lights stretched into flowing ribbons of light outside the window.
At the other end of the carriage, a young man with a guitar was singing hard, while several female students next to him leaned against the railing, holding up their phones to film, with laughter coming over from time to time.
Laura looked at a mother and daughter in the seats opposite.
The baby in the swaddle was curiously staring at her. Laura deliberately bared her teeth to look fierce, but instead, it made the baby laugh.
The young mother also curved her eyes in a friendly way toward her.
But when the mother's gaze shifted to Green, that smile faded.
Green's arm rested across the back of the seat, his head leaning against the train window, his eyes narrowed into slits, and with his expressionless face, he really didn't look like a gentle character.
Laura didn't notice; she lowered her head with a bit of envy and silently shifted closer to Green.
At this moment, the TV screen at the front of the carriage lit up with a news broadcast.
"This morning, the famous entrepreneur Tony Stark was successfully rescued after being missing for three weeks. According to him, this operation benefited from the timely and accurate intelligence of S.H.I.E.L.D., as well as the rapid support of Homelander."
"Currently, Stark Industries Vice President Obadiah Stane has publicly thanked both parties and stated that they will deepen cooperation and provide technical support..."
"Tsk tsk, what a good actor."
Green stared at Stan's face on the screen, which was filled with "sincere excitement," and the corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.
The other party's call would probably come soon.
Chapter 18: Lunch
The subway arrived. Green led Laura through the crowd, squeezing out of the turnstiles, and climbed the stairs back to the surface.
On the street, pedestrians were walking hurriedly, eager to fill their stomachs at noon.
The overwhelming number of strange faces and bodies constantly brushing past her made Laura feel an instinctive discomfort.
She subconsciously gripped the corner of Green's clothes, quickening her pace to let her shadow overlap with his.
"What should we eat～"
Green, suffering from decision paralysis, scanned the shops along the street.
Bright convenience stores, fragrant cafes, ramen shops glowing with warm yellow light... Finally, his gaze settled on that red and white sign.
"Let's just make do."
Five minutes later, the two pushed open the glass door of KFC and walked out.
"Ding-ling——" the doorbell chimed softly.
Green carried a bulging kraft paper bag, the warm scent of fried chicken wafting faintly through the paper.
Laura was sipping on a cup of iced cola and had also swiped a pair of cartoon sunglasses.
The two sat down on a park bench and began to enjoy this late lunch.
Green ate his burger, while a larger one was placed in front of Laura.
She mimicked Green, dipping her fries into ketchup before putting them in her mouth. Beside her were a few taro pies.
Green's gaze casually swept over the park scenery but stopped on a couple not far away.
The man in the white shirt who looked a bit cowardly made him feel a faint sense of threat.
"Wait, that face... Bruce Banner?"
Just then, an unusual low roar of engines and the heavy sound of tracks crushing the pavement came from the distant street.
Several dark green army armored vehicles were driving in this direction, the antennas on their roofs gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Laura's pupils constricted. The burger in her hand dropped to the ground with a "splat," scattering the patty and lettuce everywhere.
Her body arched.
Green's hand pressed onto her shoulder almost at the same time.
"Don't be nervous, they aren't coming for you. Even if they were, with me here, you won't be in any danger."
Laura turned her head to look at Green.
There was no expression on his face, nor was there any deliberate comfort or affection in his tone; he was just stating facts calmly.
But strangely, the fear she had long been accustomed to was extinguished bit by bit by these plain words.
She took a breath and slowly bent down, wanting to pick up the ruined burger.
Green, however, stretched out his foot and kicked it aside.
"Don't eat it if it's dropped. I have money, we'll just buy another."
Laura looked at the kicked-away burger, then at Green, and finally nodded.
"Okay."
She sat up straight again, took another whole burger from the paper bag, and took a small bite.
Her feet, dangling off the bench without touching the ground, began to swing unconsciously as her mood lifted.
The armored vehicles didn't stop, rudely smashing into parked cars on the street. The tracks rolled over the sidewalk and charged straight into the park lawn.
Bruce Banner, not far away, saw this and his expression changed drastically.
He quickly said something to his girlfriend beside him and turned to run toward the library building next to the park.
The armed forces were still assembling, with a steady stream of infantry pouring out of the following vehicles, quickly forming up and sealing off every exit.
This was clearly a long-planned manhunt.
Just then, a figure in the infantry ranks suddenly accelerated like a cheetah!
He crossed through the crowd of soldiers in a few steps, his movements so swift they exceeded the physical limits of an ordinary person, his face wearing a kind of fanatical, liberated joy.
"Bronski, now is not the time! Stop!" Inside a command armored vehicle, General Ross roared into the walkie-talkie.
"Officer, just watch," an excited, panting response came from the walkie-talkie.
"What happens next will be very interesting."
"God damn it!" General Ross smashed the walkie-talkie hard against the vehicle's radio console.
"That monster's serum has fried Bronski's brain! He dares to disobey orders!"
Before he could finish, the command vehicle he was in slammed on the brakes.
On the vehicle's monitoring screen, a gentle-looking woman was blocking the front of the vehicle.
It was the girlfriend who had just been talking to Bruce Banner, also General Ross's daughter, Betty Ross.
This identity made the surrounding soldiers hesitate to step forward and stop her.
"I know you're in there," Betty's voice came through the external speaker, filled with pleading.
"I beg you, General."
"Dad!"
The adjutant beside General Ross looked at him with an inquiring gaze.
The General's expression was hesitant; he remained silent for two seconds before finally pressing the control button.
The rear hatch of the vehicle unlocked hydraulically, and he stepped down, holding onto the door frame.
"Dad, I beg you, let him go." Betty immediately stepped forward, her eyes red.
"You don't understand, get back in the car." General Ross's tone softened subconsciously, but he immediately stiffened his face, trying to maintain his authority.
Betty tried to argue.
"Officer, the target is over there!" A soldier's report drew everyone's attention.
Their gazes crossed the lawn and turned toward the suspended skybridge in the middle of the library building.
Bruce Banner's figure was running inside it, but both ends of the bridge had already been sealed off by soldiers.
"Fire tear gas, two canisters, force him out." General Rosspicked up a new walkie-talkie, his voice cold and hard.
The order was given. With two muffled thuds, the tear gas canisters shot into the skybridge, shattering the glass.
Dense white smoke filled the narrow space. Amidst the swirling smoke, Banner's figure could be vaguely seen.
He quickly took off his jacket to cover his mouth and nose, but was still choked by the intense irritation, bending over with one hand pressed against the glass wall beside him.
"Dad!" Betty cried out, wanting to rush over, but was held back by two soldiers.
Hearing his daughter's tearful cries, General Ross gritted his teeth, his fingers gripping the walkie-talkie turning white. A complex, sharp look flashed in his eyes.
Anger, resentment, and perhaps a trace of frustration at not being understood.
"Tsk tsk tsk," not far away, Green leaned against the park bench, sipping his strawberry milkshake, watching General Ross's expression with great interest.
"The cabbage you grew yourself has been rooted by a green pig; the old father is about to cry from anger, isn't he?"
Almost at the same time his words fell, a violent explosion came from the direction of the skybridge!
A load-bearing stone pillar was casually shattered by an unreasonably brutal force, and large chunks of rubble flew outward like cannonballs!
Nearby soldiers scrambled to dodge. A broken stone pillar slammed diagonally into the lawn, sinking deep into the soil.
Amidst the rolling smoke, a massive green figure crashed to the ground!
It was a mountain of flesh nearly four meters tall, landing on all fours in a Beast-like posture, sending soil and grass flying.
Then, he slowly stood up, the contours of his knotted muscles looking like cast bronze in the sunlight.
He turned his head, his eyes glowing with green light scanning the surrounding soldiers and armored vehicles, a low growl rolling in his throat.
"Beast and beauty, standard configuration." Green commented and turned back.
The surrounding citizens had long since run away, leaving only him and Laura surrounded by soldiers, their gun barrels pointing coldly at them.
"Oh my, I surrender. Be careful not to misfire." Green pressed one hand on Laura beside him and raised the other half-heartedly.
Not far away, General Ross received the report and strode over.
"I don't believe a butcher like you showed up here just for a picnic."
General Ross shouted as he walked, his gaze sweeping over the suitcase at Green's feet. Based on his understanding of this guy, it was either filled with arms, cash, or people.
"What do you want?" His tone was hostile.
"A picnic, General. Don't soldiers need to eat at noon? Or is the military budget not enough?" Green looked amused, his gaze sweeping over the tense soldiers around him.
In the background behind him, Hulk had already begun tearing apart an armored vehicle with his bare hands, and balls of fire from explosions rose one after another.
"Don't point your guns at your taxpayers. Or is it that... you're used to brutal law enforcement?"
"Cut the crap." General Ross's finger almost poked Green's nose, but remembering the other party's strength and style, he forcibly pulled his hand back.
"I want you to take a contract to stop that green monster."
"Wow, I'm truly flattered," Green covered his mouth with exaggerated pretense. "But this sounds more like an order than a contract, and you know I'm very expensive."
"I'll pay you after it's done, tax-free! Now, move immediately!"
General Ross looked at the armored vehicles being overturned and blown up in the distance, his face livid. He was solely responsible for this operation, and all losses would be deducted from his budget while other departments watched the joke.
"No, you didn't understand what I want, General Ross."
"Then how much do you want, damn it?! Speak! You bastard!" General Ross, regardless of his composure, leaned into Green's face and roared, his spit almost splashing onto the other party's face.
Green leaned in slightly and, in a volume only the two of them could hear, chuckled and spat out a few words.
"Ross, I want to sleep with your daughter."
"...You bastard!" General Ross suddenly reached out to grab Green's collar but froze the moment he touched the other party's mocking gaze.
This person was not only entangled with the Vought Company but was also rumored to have connections with Tony Stark.
Some unspoken rules cannot be broken.
"Don't let me catch you in a trap," General Ross pulled back his hand and lowered his voice, every word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Otherwise, I will plaster your international wanted poster on the big screen in Times Square, playing on a 24-hour loop."
"Hmm～ then remember to make me look handsome; after all, I'm quite photogenic."
At this moment, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
Green took it out and glanced at it; it was from Donatello, Bullseye's real-time location.
He stood up and simultaneously released his hand from Laura. She glared viciously at General Ross.
"I should go back and take a nap. Good work, everyone."
Green brushed aside General Ross's hand, which was still frozen in mid-air, stuffed the phone back into his pocket, gave a casual, non-standard military salute, and then pulled his suitcase and turned to leave.
Having taken only two steps, he paused as if remembering something, turned back, and added,
"Oh right, this KFC tastes pretty good, it's yours."
Before he finished speaking, a figure was kicked flying from a distance by Hulk, plowing a deep trench into the grass like a skipping stone.
Finally, it smashed into a nearby tree. The "crack" of breaking bones was clearly audible, and then it slid softly to the ground—it was Bronski, who had been so arrogant just a moment ago.
"If you can still stomach it." Green looked at that pile of "mush," shrugged, and revealed a smile.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
He didn't linger any longer and turned to leave.
Laura adjusted the birthday cake sunglasses that had slid to the tip of her nose, took one last look at the livid-faced General Ross, and quickly caught up with Green. The two crossed the street and sat in the back seat of an empty taxi.
"Manhattan cruise terminal." Green said to the driver.
"Yes, sir." The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes hiding scrutiny, but Green seemed completely unaware, lowering his head to continue playing a mobile game.
The driver shifted gears, released the handbrake, pressed the accelerator, and the vehicle smoothly merged into the lane.
Laura had been staring at Green since getting in the car, the expression behind her sunglasses unreadable.
"Everyone has selfish motives but needs help due to their own limitations. A paid contract is the fairest transaction—voluntary principle, both sides benefit." Green explained without lifting his head.
"Does 'paid' also include mating? Do you like this?"
"I hate orders, especially those delivered with a rude attitude, so I retaliated. But generally speaking, I do like it." Green finally moved his gaze away from the screen and looked at her.
"I am a man, and I am strong. Since I have the capital, why not enjoy carnal desires? But it's not limited to that; it depends on what I want, and whether I can achieve it."
He pouted, with a touch of playful arrogance, "But so far, there hasn't been a contract I couldn't fulfill."
Laura did not listen to the rest of his words.
She lowered her head, her grease-stained fingers unconsciously twisting together, remaining silent, not knowing what she was thinking.
But Green didn't care.
Outside the car window, the city flew backward. The distant sounds of explosions and propellers gradually blurred, soon swallowed by the bustling daily life.