Fury said, "You are the only one in the entire Western Hemisphere who has a super prison. If you don't accept him, do you want Prince Lock to tie him to his waist? Otherwise, why don't you explain it to Prince Lock yourself?"
General Ross was so angry, Are you using Prince Lock to suppress me? ...Okay, fine, I'll hold him.
"But you can't just throw someone in casually. Without classification, skill level, or degree of harm, how can I achieve targeted detention?"
Superhumans have too many strange abilities. If they are not imprisoned in a targeted way, they may escape, or worse, cause death.
For example, to imprison the Hulk, all one needs to do is find a cell strong enough, though such a thing hasn't been found yet.
Some mind-control criminals must be locked in cells that block psychic power, and anyone entering must wear a mind-suppressing helmet to avoid being controlled.
Fury thought in his heart: I just hope this guy has some powers so I can explain to the public. If he weren't anything special, I wouldn't have sent him to you.
But the words that came out of his mouth were: "Don't worry, it's fine, just find a place and lock him up."
The perfunctory tone made General Ross's veins bulge, and he roared angrily: "Why the hell are you asking me to imprison someone casually? This is a super-criminal captured by Prince Lock himself. If anything happens, are you responsible?"
"Okay, okay, nothing will happen. Don't worry. I'm busy, that's it."
The line went dead.
General Ross stared at the phone in disbelief, furious in his heart. How did Fury even become Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. with such irresponsibility? How is he supposed to protect the Earth like this?
But Ross couldn't afford to be perfunctory.
So he activated the highest-level cell in the super prison and locked the smuggler inside.
The trafficker had committed evil all his life, always expecting to die badly. He imagined ten thousand possible deaths, but he never thought he would end up like this—a fate worse than death.
He was strapped into the cruelest restraining devices, barely able to move, and thrown into the most heavily guarded cell. When he was put inside, his eyes were blindfolded.
Except when eating, his mouth was never unsealed to prevent him from spouting poison gas.
Even when he farted normally, guards came in with gas masks to check, in case it was some kind of super-attack.
...
Lock, after checking up on the hostage rescue, stopped paying attention and continued to search other dens. The professionals could handle the rest.
Now every day, he was either spending time with Black Widow or studying the Tesseract. Isn't that pure?
After the Wormhole War, the impact spread. People not only knew there were alien threats in space, but also that superheroes were incredible.
And some people started thinking: why not become a superhero themselves?
For example, with an Iron Man suit, even an ordinary person could become the second Iron Man, or another War Machine.
So the rich and talented began tinkering with strange equipment.
Some sought mutation like Blonsky once did, dreaming of becoming the Hulk.
As for Captain America's serum, seventy years had passed, and countless top labs had secretly researched it. Some effects were replicated, but the perfect serum was never reproduced.
Still, the more people tried, the more partial results appeared. And in the West, "responsibility" was rarely the first thought. With any little power, they wanted to make waves.
Very soon, super-crime cases skyrocketed.
Though most of these criminals were half-baked, far weaker than someone like Black Widow, they were stronger than police or soldiers, and hard to contain.
So Black Widow, one of the few heroes Fury could call on, started appearing more and more.
The advantage of being with a woman like Black Widow is that she isn't clingy. The disadvantage… is also that she isn't clingy.
Tenderness in one moment, a mission the next. With a quick "I'm going out to work," she was gone.
Lock often felt like he was being used, which made Fury grind his teeth in frustration.
That morning, Black Widow received another mission. But instead of leaving directly, she leaned in, kissed Lock awake, and said softly:
"Lock, see if this mission is related to you?"
Lock took the tablet. The suspect was a rough man named House. His crime: selling super protective gear, creating a wave of super-criminals.
Though these people were ordinary themselves, with the gear, their destructive power exceeded normal soldiers many times over.
In America, many dared to rob a store with a broken pistol. Now with super-gear, their ambitions swelled.
Very soon, crimes involving the same type of equipment spread.
S.H.I.E.L.D. tracked the source and quickly found House.
Black Widow showed a photo: "Is this the mark of Asgard? I saw this in Jane's research. Every set of armor House sells has this mark."
Lock, as Asgard's new prince, had studied their lore. He immediately recognized it—this was indeed an Asgardian symbol, used everywhere in their kingdom.
So House was Asgardian?
If so, why was he still on Earth instead of returning through Heimdall?
If true, Black Widow might be in danger if she faced him alone.
Lock nodded: "It's indeed the mark of Asgard. I'll go with you. As a prince, if an Asgardian does wrong, it's my duty to punish them."
Black Widow was delighted. Instead of her combat suit, she put on casual clothes and held Lock's hand like they were going on vacation.
After all, if Lock was with her, she just had to drink milk tea and wait for results.
With S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intel, House's location was quickly tracked.
He wasn't tall, but thickset, with a curly beard and wearing suspenders. He looked like a simple worker.
At that moment, he was eating fried chicken at McDonald's.
When he saw Lock and Black Widow enter, sipping milk tea, his eyes went wide. Then with a weird "Ah—!" he threw away the chicken, crashed through the glass door, and bolted like a rabbit.
Black Widow frowned: "Did he recognize you?"
Lock shook his head: "I don't know him. But maybe he knows me."
After all, all Asgardians recognized their new prince. But Lock didn't know every Asgardian.
"Ignore it for now. We'll know once we catch him."
At close range, Lock sensed the bloodline aura—House was indeed Asgardian.
Lock took Black Widow's waist and leaped, crossing ten meters at a time, chasing slowly.
House panicked, pulled a tattered hammer from his belt, and smashed forward—cars, walls, nothing stopped him.
Lock frowned. If this continued, innocents might be hurt.
He released Black Widow and, in a flash, blocked House in a remote alley.
Lock placed a hand on his shoulder—suddenly, House froze, crushed under an invisible weight.
House swung his hammer desperately at Lock's chest. Lock caught it with his other hand.
The hammer looked ordinary, not dazzling like Mjolnir, just like a simple tool. But it weighed over a hundred kilograms, with traces of magic; no wonder it smashed so much.
When House saw his weapon fail, he knew he'd met a monster.
"Brother, wait! Do you want money, or gear? Just let me go and we can talk!"
Lock smiled: "I don't want anything. Someone else will interrogate you later."
House paled, panicked: "Brother, you can beat me, kill me, but don't hand me to Black Widow! Please!"
Just as he said that, Black Widow arrived behind Lock. House screamed "Ah—!" again in terror.
"Brother, if you won't let me go, then kill me! Anything but falling into her hands!"
His whole body glowed faintly with divine power, as if burning his last strength.
But Lock didn't allow it. A simple squeeze scattered the divine glow instantly.
House collapsed, begging through snot and tears: "Brother, anything you want, just don't hand me to the Black Widow! I'm terrified of her!"
Lock frowned. A hulking man, begging like a child.
Was Black Widow really that scary?
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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