After disguising Colin's injuries and covering any potentially revealing evidence with dust using psychic force, William made one final mental sweep of the safe house. Just as police sirens began to howl in the distance, he teleported back to London.
Not long after, the police arrived at the scene. They discovered Tobin was still alive, carefully gathered the bodies, and secured the area—completely ignoring the poor soul still buried under broken concrete: Colin.
Two hours later, the operating room was finally ready. Dr. Strange arrived by helicopter, and Tobin was gently placed on a stretcher and sent to the hospital.
But Colin, unconscious and bleeding under a pile of rubble, remained forgotten.
Meanwhile, White Ghost had already boarded the backup Kun-class fighter and, now cloaked, was en route to Asia.
William turned his attention to the question of whether the "Big Green Guy"—the Hulk—had already emerged. He had Sunday scour every record for traces of the chaotic battle in the American desert depicted in the first Hulk movie.
But there was nothing.
Bruce Banner existed, but he hadn't been seen in public for years.
That left only one viable lead: General Ross. William was now eagerly waiting for Ross to access the two microchips—whose contents Sunday had copied and which had been carefully planted on Tobin.
As soon as either chip was read inside Ross's base, William would instantly pinpoint its location.
And once he had that? Well, getting into it would be easier than accessing his own backyard. He could teleport spider drones in and track down Hulk-related intel.
Finally, a full day later, someone discovered Colin.
His brutal injuries had a silver lining: he was immediately ruled out as a suspect. Once he recovered, promotion and a raise were practically guaranteed.
Meanwhile, Dr. Strange had spent seven grueling hours removing the throwing knife from Tobin's skull. Though the patient miraculously survived and regained consciousness, he was little more than a vegetable.
That outcome enraged General Ross, who had flown in personally, expecting to extract vital intel from Tobin.
Still, he managed to restrain himself and didn't take it out on Dr. Strange.
The CIA, on the other hand, kept their mouths shut under the cold stares of Ross's dozen armed guards.
Ross fumed internally but eventually calmed down. Despite his disappointment, his tone toward Strange was... firm but respectful—enough that the doctor felt he was being shown due regard.
One look at the three stars on Ross's uniform collar, and Strange figured telling a lieutenant general was safer than dealing with the CIA.
"Doctor. Dr. Strange."
"Ah—sorry, General." Snapping out of his thoughts, Strange looked up.
Ross asked, "What are the odds Tobin will regain coherent speech?"
"Zero," Strange replied without hesitation. "During the operation, I noticed his brain was filled with micro-hemorrhages. While the shape of the organ seemed intact, the interior was a mess.
Honestly, the knife wasn't even the main cause. Also…"
Strange paused and glanced toward the CIA agents standing five or six meters away.
Ross instantly understood the implication. "Doctor, may I examine the prisoner myself?"
"This..." Strange faked a glance at the CIA officers, feigning hesitation—only for Ross to seize his arm and steer him toward the ICU. The CIA agents were stopped at the door by Ross's guards.
Inside the room, Ross narrowed his eyes. "Doctor, did you find something?"
"Yes," Strange said nervously, still not used to such cloak-and-dagger affairs. He led Ross to the bed.
"The surgery was successful, but the patient remained unresponsive. So, as protocol dictates, we conducted a full-body scan before transferring the case.
Then, half an hour ago, a CT scan revealed a foreign object in his waist area.
I didn't trust the CIA, and I had no idea what they might do—so I kept quiet."
"Foreign object?" Ross squinted at the X-ray. Strange pointed to two small dots.
"Do you know what they are?"
"Sorry," Strange shook his head. "But based on their shape, they're definitely artificial."
"You didn't examine them yourself?"
Seeing Ross's doubt, Strange quickly explained, "I don't want any trouble. The items are still embedded in subcutaneous fat. If you want, any medic could remove them."
"No," Ross said coldly. "You do it—right now. The fewer people who know, the better."
"This…"
Strange hesitated, then offered, "Want me to show you how? You can do it yourself."
"It's simple. Just make a shallow incision and retrieve the objects. No stitches required."
Without another word, Ross slipped on gloves, grabbed a scalpel, and made two quick cuts. Using tweezers, he extracted two one-centimeter-long micro storage chips.
After rinsing them in clean water, he held one up to the light and immediately recognized it for what it was.
Thrilled, Ross turned his attention to Tobin's other hip.
Strange, anticipating this, said, "There's an old scar there, already healed—at least a week old."
Ross inspected it himself and nodded. "Who else knows about this?"
"Relax. The other two doctors just knew there were foreign objects. I can explain it away as parasitic cysts or something."
"Excellent. Very good, Dr. Strange." Ross shook his hand. "Though I can't publicly recognize your contribution, we won't forget what you've done.
You might want to consider joining our classified research project."
"No, thanks…" Strange began, but upon seeing Ross's stern expression and remembering he was stuck in Africa, he corrected himself.
"Okay, I'll consider it."
Privately, he thought, Once I'm back in the States, I'm done with these people.
But once he saw the Super Soldier Program… he might just change his mind.
As the two men exited the ward chatting, CIA Director David rushed over. But if he thought he could wrest anything from Ross, he was dreaming.
By the time Ross boarded his plane back, he had no device capable of reading the chips onboard—
and he didn't intend to let anyone know what he was holding anyway.
Back at his base, Ross finally accessed the data and was ecstatic.
He made several calls, leveraging the chips' contents to gain CIA support and stabilize his slipping influence within the military.
He even began making moves to take over Sector Seven, the emergency response division dealing with the Transformers.
But just as Ross was reviewing his plans in his office, his phone rang.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Good evening, General Ross. This is William Devonshire."
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.