The two Captain Americas looked at each other, holding coal and unsure of what to write, while Peggy beside Deathstroke also frowned, deep in thought about something.
Snowflakes continued to fall slowly in the night, with explosions and collapsing buildings occasionally heard from the distant city, while Deathstroke leisurely crossed his legs, tapping his knee lightly with a great sword.
After much deliberation, the Captain Americas realized time was running out and reluctantly wrote down the answers they believed to be correct.
"Contestants, please reveal your boards." Deathstroke professionally chimed in when he saw them stop writing.
On the inside of both shields, there was crooked English written in coal dust.
One said "Fury will not die," the other said "Fury can't die."
Deathstroke nodded indifferently and turned to Peggy, "What's your take, expert?"
"Isn't that the same answer?" Peggy looked puzzled, noting the grammatical differences but essentially the same meaning.
"I think Fury must have a plan if he's rushing towards the tank," one Captain America said. "He wouldn't trade his life for a tank; he doesn't have that kind of sacrificial spirit."
"Exactly, I guess that chicken leg must be some secret weapon, disguised as a chicken leg, perhaps his trump card." The other Captain America also nodded, smirking, "He's really dark, keeping secrets from me."
Then the two exchanged looks, with an unexpected sense of camaraderie.
"Fine, you both pass, now listen to the second question. As Super Soldiers modified by the SSS Serum, your next question is a biology one." Deathstroke's tone suggested he regretted not being able to kill them, though his face was hidden.
The two Captain Americas, having passed the first question, tensed up again upon hearing there was a second, especially since it was biology, a weak point for them.
"Wait, I'm not a biologist."
"Yeah, I only finished high school, and then it was all about fighting."
"Objection overruled, listen to the question!" Deathstroke swung his giant sword, leaving a deep trench in the ground, "In a resting state, a male's daily basal metabolism is generally between 1400-1800 kcal, while a female's is usually 1000-1400 kcal. Depending on age, height, and weight, these values can vary. Meeting the relevant range is considered healthy, whereas far above or below indicates increased risk of subhealth and chronic disease."
"In peacetime, Nick Fury spends his days eating and sleeping, his daily diet consisting of 500g of smoked bacon in the morning, 1000g of cured ham at noon, 500g of marinated sausages for dinner, and 500g of large intestine sashimi with mustard as a midnight snack. So, when... will Fury die?"
The eyes behind the Captain Americas' masks turned lifeless. Wasn't this supposed to be a biology question? Why did it become a question about Nick Fury's life and death?
And how much does Fury love meat?!
They wanted to resist, but seeing the large black sword drawing stick figures on the ground, they did not even erase the previous answer, directly revealing their 'answer boards.'
"Oh? It seems our contestants consistently believe Fury won't die. Can you share your reasoning?" Deathstroke glanced at Peggy before questioning the contestants.
"If Fury really does this, there must be a reason for it, and he must be able to ensure he doesn't die," one Captain America confidently stated, turning his shield around without erasing the answer, seemingly ready for the next question.
The other Captain also nodded, "Fury knowing these things and still doing them shows he believes his body needs this much energy. I trust he is aware of his health."
"Agent Carter, what's your take?" Deathstroke turned his head again to seek the advice of the female guest.
"I have nothing to add, but your question is just too absurd. Does this kind of Q&A have any meaning?" Peggy rubbed her forehead, looking helpless.
"Next, listen to the third question. It's a logic puzzle." Su Ming seemed unaware of the trio's silent resistance and continued his game, "Once, I asked Nick Fury; he said his future son would be called Nick Second Generation or Little Nick, and later I learned his grandfather was called Old Nicholas, and his great-grandfather was dubbed Old Old Nick. So, when... will Nick Fury die?"
"Clang..."
The two shields almost simultaneously hit the ground, the Captain Americas' mouths agape as if their souls had escaped from within.
Logically speaking, shouldn't it be asking what Nick's father was named?
Also, how much do you wish Fury would die?!
Just when they were reluctantly picking up their shields to reveal their boards, a mysterious figure hugged his arms and floated slowly from the other end of the broken street, upon closer inspection standing on a manhole cover.
Without any apparent power source, how could something fly? The Captain Americas couldn't understand, but it didn't stop them from immediately adopting a defensive stance because it was unclear if the newcomer was friend or foe.
Magnetic King eyed them briefly before losing interest in mortals, landing directly beside Su Ming.
"Finished killing, where's my intel?"
"Don't rush. This is just one city. Our prior agreement was about enemies invading all over the United States." Su Ming stood up as Magnetic King returned, signaling the end of the game.