Because he wasn't in space, Blaine didn't dare to run at full power, fearing that Earth's space itself wouldn't be able to withstand it. If flames and lightning tore across the sky and space cracked open along the way, then the end of the world wouldn't be far off. It would definitely make the news again—headline news, endlessly analyzed by all kinds of experts.
So Blaine deliberately slowed down. Even then, it still took a full minute. Otherwise, it probably would have taken only three to five seconds to reach his destination.
Looking at the vast sea stretching endlessly before him, Blaine suddenly felt his heart pound.
Standing on the ocean's surface and gazing into the distance, waves rolled forward in layers, crashing against rocks that jutted above the water, splashing high before falling back again. The surging tide was like thousands of armored cavalry charging violently toward the coast, roaring thunderously as they attacked. A boulder weighing a hundred catties on the shore could be flicked lightly and sink straight to the bottom of the sea.
Everything was white. Sky and sea merged into one, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. As the saying goes: the fog locks the mountains, the mountains lock the fog; the sky connects to the water, and the water's end connects back to the sky.
Even Blaine, who had seen outer space, had once thought that nothing on Earth could truly move him after witnessing such grandeur. Only after seeing the real ocean did he realize how ridiculous that thought was. Nature's uncanny craftsmanship was far beyond the understanding of ordinary people.
"Is this the Atlantic Ocean? Indeed… it is magnificent."
"That black stewed egg really knows how to pick a place."
Seen from the moon, it hadn't seemed this large. Standing here in person, Blaine had only one thought: fuck. He didn't know whether he should even say it out loud.
"Five hundred nautical miles north, with the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Eagle logo."
"That's right. This is the place."
Hawkeye spread out his awareness and followed Blaine as they scanned the surrounding sea. After a while, a "small island" appeared within their field of vision.
Looking closer, it turned out to be a massive nuclear submarine floating on the surface. It had to be said that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s equipment was incredibly comprehensive—from small pistol grenades to enormous aircraft carriers and nuclear submarines. No wonder they were willing to pour hundreds of billions into it. This kind of foundation was truly formidable.
When his mental power expanded, Blaine realized the submarine was enormous, probably as large as a small town.
"Good job."
All of a sudden, Blaine felt it was a bit of a loss that he had only taken fifty billion from Fury. That guy was definitely playing dumb.
Using his mental power to lock onto Fury, Blaine teleported directly—ciah—into his room.
A wet, salty sea breeze swept across the ocean's surface, and a figure vanished in an instant. Even the dolphins nearby, preparing to leap out of the water to hunt, were startled.
When Blaine arrived in Fury's room, he seemed to catch a faint sense of awkwardness in the air.
It was a sealed room with nothing but bare walls, more like an interrogation chamber. In the middle was a beach chair with a sun umbrella, and on a tall table beside it sat a glass of champagne. Two slices of lemon had even been carefully placed in the glass. Fury was wearing beach shorts and sunglasses, his chest hair on full display, lying there and enjoying himself to the fullest.
Blaine wondered whether this sort of setup wasn't supposed to be enjoyed on an actual beach. Was this the highest level of enjoyment? Facing a wall and masturbating?
After reading Fury's thoughts, Blaine finally understood. This guy had used S.H.I.E.L.D.'s high-tech systems to virtualize reality within an AI environment. At this very moment, Fury was lying on a beach, preparing to flirt with a futuristic beauty. No wonder he hadn't noticed Blaine appearing beside him.
"The director really knows how to live elegantly."
Blaine honestly couldn't hold it in anymore. Starting a conversation like this was truly low-level—and far too wretched.
"Oh? That was fast."
"Hey, for these boys, my heart really aches."
Last time, acting on nothing but a hunch, they'd spent hundreds of billions to protect them. This time, another fifty billion had gone into it, just to stop them from fighting…
Hearing a voice, Fury instantly shut off the projection, removed his sunglasses, and sat upright, alert. A clear sense of guilt showed on his face.
"I wonder what the director was doing, looking so happy."
"Uh… you saw all of that."
"The higher-ups told me to stay put and reflect. I can't go anywhere."
"Men always have to find some entertainment for themselves, don't they?"
As he spoke, Fury didn't even blush or stutter in the slightest. Blaine even suspected this definitely wasn't the first time he'd done something like this.
"Then I'll let everyone out so they can see what their director is like at home."
"Hey, hey—don't, don't—don't say that. If you've got something to say—"
"Don't rush. Let them keep you company for a while."
Because Fury had witnessed Blaine imprison tens of millions of people in Sokovia last time, and assumed Blaine possessed some kind of special containment ability, he wasn't particularly shocked.
However, before Fury could even stand up, the room suddenly became lively.
Seriously. I took down the entire Avengers over there, and here you are enjoying a beach vacation. A vacation is one thing, but you're even using such low-level, wretched methods to tease beautiful women.
There's a saying: Uncle can endure it, but Aunt can't—and Blaine definitely couldn't.
"Uh…"
"Where is this?"
"Hey, Mr. Stark, I have to go back and find Aunt May!"
"Why are we here?"
The first voice Blaine heard was Little Spider-Man's—the famous Marvel chatterbox.
Seeing him, Blaine suddenly remembered something. While he'd been observing the battle in the sky earlier, there had seemed to be someone lurking on a rooftop. Not an Avenger, but a former assassination target of his. Yes—That bastard Deadpool.
When Little Spider-Man had been knocked down by Ant-Man, on a nearby rooftop, Deadpool had been sitting at the edge with his legs dangling, sketching the scene below.
If Blaine's Hawkeye hadn't been monitoring the entire airport, he wouldn't have noticed that rooftop terrace hidden in the corner. The Avengers had been fighting too fiercely to pay attention to Deadpool at all.
When Deadpool finished the final stroke, he jumped straight off the roof. Just as Blaine was about to have Hawkeye check on him, Deadpool vanished in an instant. Blaine suspected his eyes had been playing tricks on him.
"How are you?"
"I'm doing fine. How about you?"
"I'm fine."
Before Blaine could think further, two gentle voices interrupted him. Vision and Scarlet Witch never missed an opportunity for public displays of affection.
Aside from those three, everyone else was unusually quiet, clearly unaccustomed to the situation, constantly glancing around.
"…Okay?"
"Director Fury… why are you dressed like this?"
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