Now the balance was broken, allowing the virus to gain the upper hand.
John cut open his own palm, and blood with a golden tint dripped from his palm into Martha's mouth. The wound quickly stopped bleeding, and John took out a bottle of green potion and poured it in.
Martha's face rapidly lost color, becoming as pale as a corpse that had been dead for days. Something was being squeezed out of her pores. Soon the place became foul-smelling.
The wand danced, creating a whirlwind to expel the odor. John lifted her eyelids to observe her pupils.
"The magic-inhibiting effect is truly domineering."
Putting away the remaining magic-inhibiting blood, John knew the vampire curse was being suppressed. Vampire curses had always been a major problem in the magical world. If not for the domineering suppression of all magic by the magic-inhibiting blood, John would have had no way to remove it.
By the time the sky showed the pale light of dawn, Martha stopped convulsing and fell into a deep sleep.
"The magic-inhibiting blood and curse cancel each other out. It seems magic inhibition isn't completely unsolvable."
After checking Martha's condition, John reached this conclusion. Fortunately, Martha had always restrained her desires and never fed on human blood, making the vampire curse and virus extremely weak within her body. After starving for so many days and then receiving such a strong dose, even the vampire curse was stunned.
Congratulations to Martha for becoming the first person in vampire history to escape the vampire curse.
There was a time difference between Britain and America. While John was solving Martha's vampire problem, a theft occurred at a military base in Washington across the ocean. What was stolen was a set of equipment called the Falcon.
The ones who planned this operation were Steve's trio. Sam, having obtained the equipment, officially became the ace pilot Falcon. With Falcon's help, they were ready to begin another plan—to get the real purpose of Project Insight from Sitwell.
At this time, Sitwell was protecting a congressman. Coincidentally, this congressman had publicly insulted Tony a few years ago. Later, due to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s influence, he had to present Tony with a medal in front of the entire nation.
But no one knew that this man was telling Sitwell about his one-night stand with a hot 23-year-old voter. Next time he'd have to ask the voter to trim her nails shorter, since his back was scratched and hurt a bit.
The congressman hugged Sitwell goodbye, whispering in his ear, "Hail Hydra."
After seeing off the congressman, Sitwell received a phone call. The phone showed it was from Alexander. He signaled his subordinates to leave first, then answered the call.
However, what came through wasn't Alexander's voice, but someone else's.
"Hey, Agent Sitwell, how was lunch? I hear the crab cakes here are quite good."
Hearing this voice, Sitwell's face darkened. Obviously Alexander wouldn't speak in this tone. He asked coldly, "Who are you?"
"Ten o'clock, the handsome guy with sunglasses."
He looked over. Hmm, no one there.
"The other ten o'clock."
Sam, observing from a distance, secretly despised him. Some agent, can't even get ten o'clock right. Now Sitwell finally saw who it was. Sam waved.
Sitwell remained calm and asked, "What do you want?"
He knew Sam wouldn't just be greeting him.
"Turn right at that corner, there's a gray car in the second parking space. Let's go for a ride."
"Why should I listen to you?" Sitwell sneered. He was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent after all.
Sam said calmly, "Because that tie looks expensive, and I don't want to get it dirty."
As soon as he finished speaking, Sitwell looked down and saw a red dot had appeared on his white polka-dot tie. Now he couldn't maintain his composed demeanor. Faced with life and death, even a Hydra agent felt fear.
He had no choice but to follow the instructions, leave this place, and get in the car. As soon as he opened the car door, he saw the person he least wanted to see.
Steve said, "Need me to help you in?"
Sitwell forced a smile and looked into the car. Natasha didn't have a good expression for this former colleague either. Sam walked over from behind and patted Sitwell's shoulder. Sitwell could only accept his fate.
The car took him to a stop under a building. He was carried away by Steve like a little chick. Sam unhurriedly began putting on his equipment.
Steve brought him to the rooftop and threw him in, then pressed forward step by step, pushing Sitwell to the edge and grabbing his collar while glaring at him fiercely.
Sitwell laughed, "Going through all this trouble to tell me you can throw me off? That's not your style, Rogers."
He thought he had Steve figured out. As a paragon of justice, Steve would never do such a thing. He was indeed right.
Steve let go and straightened his wrinkled suit, smiling, "You're right, it's not my style." He stared into Sitwell's eyes and said, "It's hers."
Steve gracefully stepped aside, and before Sitwell could react, Natasha had already kicked out. Sitwell was kicked directly off the rooftop, his screams echoing on the platform.
The two weren't flustered at all, even having the mood to joke about Steve's girl from accounting. Too bad that girl was quite nice, but Steve couldn't accept lip piercings. Who knows what that girl's reaction would be if she knew she missed Captain America because of a lip piercing?
While the two chatted, Sitwell was in free fall. At this height, he wasn't Thor, much less Hulk. Even Steve would be crippled without his shield. Sitwell, an ordinary human, no longer had his previous composure.
As he got closer and closer to the ground, he almost wet himself. His mind flashed to the cemetery salesman he'd encountered a few days ago, whom he had actually scolded. He should have pre-ordered one if he'd known.
What faith, what organization—all worthless in the face of death. Sitwell stopped being cocky.
Just as he vowed in his heart never to be cocky again, a big fluttering moth—no wait, a black hawk with wings—no, a falcon appeared in the sky. Sitwell was grabbed and flown upward.
In just a few seconds, he was back on the top floor, thrown onto the rooftop. In the familiar position, Sitwell no longer dared to be tough.
When Steve and the others approached, he confessed everything.
"Zola's algorithm is a program! It selects targets for Project Insight!"
Seeing how honest he was, Steve silently withdrew his foot that was about to kick him off and asked, "What targets?"
"You! TV anchors, Deputy Secretary of Defense. Some kids from London orphanages, an actor who made vampire movies. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange. Anyone who threatens HYDRA, now or in the future!"
Sitwell said it all in one breath, and his inner terror finally dissipated somewhat.
"Future?" Steve stared at him sharply. "How does it predict the future?"