"Alright then." Seeing Scott's firm attitude, Colin let go of his shoulder.
"Nice strength." Scott moved his newly freed body, adding, unwilling to show weakness, "I spent the last three years in prison working hard to improve myself. You're the first person who's given me a tough time."
As he spoke, Scott threw a punch into the air, as if to prove he wasn't as easily defeated as he might have just seemed.
Colin didn't say much in response, simply watching him perform quietly.
"Ahem..." After a moment, feeling a bit awkward, Scott coughed a few times, lowered his fist, and changed the subject.
"Out with it. What do you want from me?"
"You're sure you want to do this here?" Colin asked, gesturing toward the ice cream machine behind Scott.
"Dell, can you take care of the customers for me? I have to step out for a bit. Thanks." Colin's reminder made Scott realize that an ice cream shop was indeed not a suitable place for their conversation, so he called out to his coworker.
Scott then led Colin into the Baskin-Robbins bathroom.
*Click—* He casually grabbed an 'Under Maintenance' sign and hung it on the bathroom door. Scott then locked the door from the inside, took a deep breath, and turned to Colin, asking:
"Now, can you tell me your purpose?"
"We need your help," Colin replied immediately to Scott's inquiry.
"We?" Hearing Colin's choice of words, Scott raised a hand to express his confusion. "Sorry, I don't know who this 'we' you're talking about is, but if you're looking for help, you've definitely got the wrong guy. I'm just an ordinary employee at Baskin-Robbins, and my daily work is just making ice cream. The only way I could help you, or 'you all', is by adding a little extra jam when I make a smoothie..."
From Scott's reaction, it was clear he wanted no part in the "help" Colin was talking about.
"Tell him Dr. Hank Pym sent us." Just then, Nick's voice came through the micro-earpiece under Colin's ear.
*Actually, I can hear you even without the earpiece,* Colin thought to himself. On the surface, however, he acted as if he had just received the message, repeating to Scott: "Dr. Hank Pym sent us to find you."
"..." Upon hearing the name Colin mentioned, Scott immediately fell silent.
After a few seconds of silence, he finally looked up at Colin and asked, "What do you want me to steal?"
...
Main World, New York Grand Central Station.
With the roar of the train, the latest EP-3 box-cab electric locomotive manufactured by General Electric slowly decelerated as it pulled into the platform.
Roy Disney stepped off the locomotive, carrying a suitcase.
Passing from the train platform into the station's main hall, Roy gently adjusted the fedora on his head and hitched his suitcase up a bit higher, avoiding the ill-intentioned hands in the crowd.
Emerging from the bustling train station, Roy let out a long sigh of relief.
He hailed a cab, got in, and told the driver his destination: "Second Avenue, 96th Street, Bybo Land Publishing House."
...
New York, Messenger Newspaper.
Harry Donenfeld took off his hat, revealing his receding hairline. He shed his overcoat, hanging it on a nearby coat rack, and then looked at the busy staff in the Messenger Newspaper office, saying: "The distribution for the second issue of *Messenger Comics* is even more astonishing than the Inaugural Issue. Many newsstands in New York City sold out almost as soon as they received the comics. Our delivery personnel have already heard demands for more stock from more than one newsstand owner."
The roaring sales of the second issue of *Messenger Comics* were clearly and closely tied to the contest Colin had included on the comic's final page.
This was evident right inside the Messenger Newspaper office: one could tell from the mountain-like stacks of envelopes piled in front of Little John and the others.
In the past, although the Newspaper Agency also received an endless stream of letters every day, they were at least manageable. This time, however, the number of fan letters had increased by a staggering two to three times.
It was said that the letters from Superman readers participating in the contest had completely filled the delivery personnel's truck. The delivery personnel had to put in a great deal of effort just to get the full truckload of letters into the Messenger Newspaper office.
"Mr. Harry, you're finally here." Peeking his head out from behind the letters, Little John looked at Harry, who had just arrived at the Messenger Newspaper office, a stiff smile forced onto his weary face.
He had never imagined that one day he would be reading letters from Superman readers until his head spun.
Moreover, for these letters, he not only had to open them but also collate them one by one, recording their contents for Colin to choose a winner for the next serialized comic in *The Messenger Newspaper*.
Since early morning, Little John had already processed fifty or sixty letters, and this was merely the tip of the iceberg of the mountain of mail before him.
Looking at the letters piled high in front of Little John, Harry understood why Colin had insisted on printing only three hundred thousand copies.
With the current staff at the Messenger Newspaper office, they simply couldn't handle any more letters. And with the publication date for the next issue of *The Messenger Newspaper* fast approaching, there wasn't much time for them to process everything.
Of course, they could choose to ignore these letters and simply cheat by picking a few at random to get it over with.
But clearly, Colin had no intention of doing so.
At this thought, Harry rolled up his sleeves, walked over to Little John, and proactively picked up a small stack of envelopes. "How many are left to process?"
"After we finish these, we should be about done." Seeing Harry's initiative, Little John gave him a grateful look.
He then glanced over toward Colin's desk. "Actually, Mr. Colin is the one working the hardest. The reader mail on his desk is more than double mine."
As he said this, Little John's tone was a mixture of admiration and helplessness.
Who do you complain to when your boss outworks you?
Following Little John's words, Harry glanced in Colin's direction and saw a pile of letters on his desk even taller than the small mountain in front of Little John.
Yet, faced with this massive volume of mail, Colin's movements were exceptionally skilled. It was as if the mountain of letters before him didn't even exist.
(end of chapter)