Chapter 151 Drunkards: The Little Captain America
From the very first time he met Steve Rogers, Green Morgan had been observing him.
Indeed, his code of conduct and conceptual benchmarks were very similar to the Captain America he was familiar with.
The same upright back, the same steady pace, the same habit of instinctively standing in the most dangerous position during chaos.
But he wasn't him; his eyes were much colder than that one's.
In that Captain America's eyes, there were warm embers left behind after idealism had burned out.
Whereas in this Steve's eyes, there was only cold ash left after the embers had been extinguished; he was more like a radical variant of Captain America.
No non-lethal code, no mental constraints. Rather than describing him with the righteous spirit of America, it would be better to call it... absolute justice.
A Punisher version of Captain America.
Green Morgan was confirming this.
"He can be considered alive," Steve spoke up.
"Under your control?"
"Yes, under my control," Steve gave an absolute reply.
"Uh... didn't Red Skull die?" Thor, who had been forced to learn, also knew some historical nodes, such as this famous executioner from World War II.
But soon he realized something and looked at Steve with some surprise.
"Wait—you are Captain America?"
His voice was a bit loud, causing several drunkards nearby to turn their bodies over.
The neon lights danced in red and green on their greasy faces, their hazy eyes scanning the three of them.
"Hey! You green-behind-the-ears weirdos, stop shouting about that old, toothless, washed-up character here. America's victory was all made by Soldier Boy."
One of the drunkards shouted at the top of his lungs, his tongue tying itself in knots before he finished the sentence.
"Me, washed up?" Steve laughed in anger.
"Yes, Old Man, I am very sure that's what he said. Look, this is the gap between failed propaganda and successful propaganda."
Green Morgan, not minding if things got out of hand, rested his hands behind his head.
"It's fine. At least you are well-liked by little girls, like Valkyrie, and me. Ahem, especially me. I even have your old recruitment poster stuck on my headboard."
Thor continued to twist the knife, though it sounded distinctly off when coming from his mouth.
"Hey! I'm talking to you guys!"
The drunkard stood up, swaying while holding a bottle of alcohol, walked to their table with unsteady steps, and slammed the bottle heavily onto the table.
With a bang, the alcohol splashed out from the bottle's mouth.
Several of his companions behind him also stood up, looking at them playfully.
"How rude."
Green Morgan looked down at the spreading alcohol stain on his cuff, stood up, grabbed the bottle, and cracked it over his head.
The sound of the glass shattering was as crisp as breaking a goblet.
The alcohol and blood mixed together and dripped down from the drunkard's temple. He froze for a second before finally feeling the pain, clutching his head as he crouched down and screamed.
"Let's go. Let's go see what your so-called 'under control' looks like."
Green Morgan tossed the broken bottle neck onto the table and walked away calmly.
"Fuck! Get them!"
Seeing this, the rest of them, emboldened by the alcohol, howled and rushed up. Steve resolved it in a few moves, breaking bones and legs. They lay all over the floor, their screams rising and falling.
"Now who is the washed-up one?"
Steve picked up the whiskey on the table and walked over to the drunkard Green Morgan had cracked open.
He crouched down, tilted the bottle, and poured the amber liquid onto the wound on the drunkard's forehead that was still seeping blood.
The pungent alcohol seeped into the wound, and the drunkard's scream went up an octave. His body writhed on the ground like a slug sprinkled with salt.
Steve stood up and glanced around.
The customers who had been watching the spectacle all lowered their heads in unison.
"A truly nice bar, even has entertainment."
Steve shook off the non-existent dust on his jacket and casually picked up the Mjolnir that Thor had placed on the table.
"Here, catch." He tossed it toward Thor, the hammer tracing a short arc in the air.
Thor, who had been providing moral support with his eyes the whole time, froze.
He looked at the hammer in Steve's hand, then at Steve's face, then back at the hammer...
"Th... thanks..." He took it hesitantly.
Steve didn't keep smiling at him like a nice guy.
He was a straight man.
He had no feelings.
He turned directly and calmly walked through the crowded room. No one dared to block his path.
The wind chime on the door jingled behind him.
"Gulp!"
Thor swallowed his saliva, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and swallowed the mouthful of noodles he hadn't finished chewing.
He picked up his beer mug, tilted his head back, and chugged, trying to swallow his shock. After putting the mug down, he buried his head to shovel in two more bites of noodles, then chased after him with his mouth full of grease.
"Wait for me!"
An abandoned factory had been converted into a private base.
The tin roof was covered in rust, and several skylights were shattered, revealing the gray sky outside.
The floor was piled with years of dust and machine oil stains. The air was filled with the mixed scent of metal, mold, and dried blood.
Crude, but fully equipped.
A row of weapon racks lined the wall, with everything from tactical knives to assault rifles neatly arranged. Magazines were inserted upside down in dedicated slots for easy access.
Ethernet cables hung down from holes in the ceiling, connecting to several modified surveillance computers. The screens were split into over a dozen small feeds, cycling through street views from different angles.
In the corner, some large machinery that hadn't been moved away was scattered about. Punch presses, cutting tables, and a rusted conveyor belt served perfectly as cover, distributed unevenly across the empty factory floor.
Inside one of the rooms, behind a shattered glass wall,
The lighting was dim and yellowish.
A man with a cold appearance and a military crew cut was administering a lynching to a captive in a chair.
He was wearing a dark tactical jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the tangled scars and blue veins on his forearms.
Frank.
"Tell me, who brought in those new drugs? Who is your supplier?"
His voice wasn't loud, even calm, but every word sounded like it had been ground out from between stones—dry, coarse, and without any warmth.
The gang member bound to the chair had his face already ruined.
His left eye was swollen to a mere slit, his mouth was split open, and blood scabs and bits of flesh were smeared along his jawline, making it impossible to tell which were new wounds and which were old.
His lips were trembling, his teeth clattering against the tip of his tongue.
"I don't know... really, I don't know... Even if I did, as long as you go cause them trouble, they'll definitely find me. They won't let a snitch go. Please... I have a wife, I have kids..."
Frank looked at him quietly for a few seconds, his gray-blue pupils devoid of any fluctuation.
Then he turned and walked away.
Seeing that he was about to let him go, the gang member quietly breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers, tied to the armrest, slightly opened and closed, as if confirming he was still alive.
Frank walked to the corner and opened a metal box.
Pliers, scissors, a bone saw, and a soldering iron were neatly arranged in foam grooves.
He took out the pliers and scissors, tightened his fingers on the rubber grips, and tested the grip.
"I don't care."
He turned and walked back. From the gang member's perspective, he was a devil who took pleasure in torture.
"No... No! Don't come over!"
"I will pull off your little finger first," Frank crouched down in front of him.
"The area is small, but it's painful enough."
The pliers pressed into the base of the gang member's left little finger. The metal bit into the skin and flesh. The cold sensation made that finger instinctively curl, only to be caught by the jaws of the pliers, unable to move.
"Then I'll move on to the other fingers, then sprinkle salt on them, then another dose of adrenaline, to ensure your nerves are sensitive enough while I cut off the flesh of your face."
"I will give you a mirror, watch closely."
There was no advice, no second question, and no intention of listening to the gang member's begging and wailing. Frank's palm was steady, and the grip of the pliers tightened bit by bit.
Beep, beep, beep—
The base's alarm system suddenly went off.
Frank didn't hesitate. He put down the tools and walked quickly to the monitor, leaning forward slightly, hands braced on the desktop, his gaze sweeping over the dozen or so screens that were cycling.
The blue light from the low-resolution screen reflected onto his cold face, casting deep shadows on his cheekbones.
"What the fuck?"
On the screen was the scaffolding walkway around the factory.
The gray-white metal structure crisscrossed like an exposed industrial skeleton.
Three people were walking along the walkway.
Walking in front was his cheap teammate Steve Rogers, followed by two men.
Regarding the black-haired Asian man, Frank's muscles subconsciously tensed as he watched through the screen, feeling that creepy sensation of being stared at by something from the shadows.
When the other blond, burly man passed the surveillance camera, he suddenly turned his head and shot a wink directly at the lens.
Frank, who had been focused, didn't dodge this in time, and it was so disgusting that his temples throbbed.
Where did Steve get this slutty guy from?
Chapter 152: It's Not a Misunderstanding
When Steve and the other two walked up to the entrance, the electric gate let out a dull hum and slowly rose, revealing Frank's sour face behind it.
He stood there, jaw tightened, corners of his mouth turned down, his entire face plastered with the words "I don't welcome anyone."
"I didn't expect you to be into this, Steve. A threesome?"
"You want in on it?" Steve also had a sour face.
"You guys go ahead and do each other, just don't drag me into it." Green also had a sour face.
"That's not entirely out of the question."
Only Thor was heartless and oblivious, looking left and right with clear eyes. Clearly, something strange had mixed into the quartet's dark superhero vibe.
"Keep looking around and I'll gouge your eyes out," Franksaid coldly, his gaze cutting into Thor's face like two blades.
"Me?" Thor pointed at himself, his expression innocent.
"Tch." Frank looked at this guy who lacked any self-awareness and became even more annoyed.
He blocked the doorway, his body slightly turned, left hand resting on the doorframe, right hand hanging at his side—or more accurately, resting on the quick-draw holster on the outside of his right thigh.
The holster's strap was undone, the black grip of the gun exposed, his thumb resting on the hammer, ready to draw at any moment.
He withdrew his gaze from Thor and let it fall onto Green, his eyes narrowing.
"Who is he? CIA? MI6? A killing machine secretly raised in some hellhole like the Red Room? Don't tell me he's the Terminator; his dick is so big his pants can't even hide it. I'm sure he's quite popular with high-society ladies."
"You know who I am." Green spoke, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the neck partially hidden by Frank's collar.
The scar, half-hidden by the collar, ran across half his neck, hideous like a centipede sewn onto his skin.
Frank raised his eyes. The scar on his neck throbbed inexplicably, as if someone had traced over it with a red-hot iron wire.
He quickly recalled the intelligence he'd gathered from gang members: black hair, Asian, fierce aura, standing there made people's backs go cold.
His eyes instantly erupted with killing intent. "You motherfucker, you're the Owl!!"
He drew his gun abruptly, moving as fast as lightning.
The moment the muzzle cleared the holster, his thumb had already disengaged the safety, and his index finger was on the trigger, the barrel pointed straight at the center of Green's forehead, less than two meters away.
"Hey! Frank!" Steve lunged forward, grabbing the barrel with his right hand and jerking it upward.
At the same time, Frank didn't hesitate for a second and pulled the trigger. Bang—bang—
Two bullets fired in quick succession, the muzzle flash blooming like two orange-red flowers in the dim factory.
The bullets grazed Green's temple, carrying a scorching gust of air that lifted a few strands of hair, before hitting the iron pipe rack behind him, sending sparks flying. The sound of metal clanging echoed through the empty factory.
Green didn't move. He didn't even blink, just stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at Frank with a half-smile, as if watching a performance whose ending he already knew.
Steve didn't give Frank time to act rashly. His right hand pulled the slide, ejected the chambered round, and dropped the magazine in one fluid motion, so fast that Frank's finger hadn't even had time to pull the trigger a third time.
His left hand reached out simultaneously, grabbing Frank's other hand, which was reaching for a knife. His fingers clamped onto Frank's wrist like iron pincers, the bones making a faint grinding sound in his palm.
His body, almost by muscle memory, pressed forward to maintain dominance, pinning Frank's hand between his own chest and Frank's.
With the neural reflex speed and physical prowess provided by the Super Soldier Serum, which far exceeded that of an ordinary human, even Frank, who had trained his body to the human limit, was forced to retreat two steps, his shoes scraping against the floor.
"What are you doing! I'm the one who brought him here!" Steve roared, his face pressed against Frank's. Their noses were almost touching, eyes locked, like two Beasts locked in the same cage.
Thor finally reacted, instinctively stepping in front of Green. His large hand pulled the short-handled hammer from his back belt, fingers gripping it tight, hammerhead facing forward, his face tense.
"Don't be nervous, he just wants to kill me, that's all." Green patted Thor on the shoulder.
"Besides, you weakling, standing in front of me just hinders my performance. And you're sticking your ass out, for fuck's sake."
"I... You... Fine! My mistake for being self-righteous." Thorwalked away, dissatisfied.
While the two bickered, Steve was also arguing with Frank.
"What's the situation with you?! Why did you lose control?!" Steve hissed, keeping his voice low.
"That bastard slit my throat from behind when he was working for a 'Hunting' club." Frank's eyes locked onto Green, staring past Steve.
"My friend was in there too, and I saw her corpse with my own eyes!"
It wasn't that he hadn't thought about finding him over the years, but whether he was going undercover in gangs or interrogating gang members, he couldn't get any leads.
Their fear of Green far outweighed their fear of their own deaths.
The name Owl wasn't something Green had given himself; it was because those people had seen dozens of corpses torn apart as if by a Beast, flesh ripped open, organs exposed, hanging from the iron beams like cured meat.
Furthermore, their heads would go missing, only to appear in public places frequented by their relatives.
Perhaps with just a turn of the head or a moment of distraction, the terrified face of their loved one would appear right in front of them.
As for other traces, they were even harder to track.
The Owl was like something that didn't exist, just a devil clinging to the flip side of reality, only summonable with gold coins.
"Oh~~ How terrifying~~ It sounds like I really am heinous." Green feigned self-loathing, pinching his own neck.
"Ugh... I'm dying, I'm really dying! Please~~ someone, a hero, save me."
"You fuck..." Frank was furious and tried to lunge at him, his body jerking forward, but Steve held him back tightly.
He didn't know how strong Green was, but he knew that if Frank dared to rush over, that guy with the seemingly twisted sense of humor would not hesitate to twist his head off.
But just because Frank didn't come over didn't mean Green wouldn't come to him.
He stood in front of Frank, his expression calm. "You're acting like you're some messenger of justice, come to judge my sins, Frank."
He leaned forward, staring into his eyes. The distance between them was so close that their noses were almost touching, close enough for Frank to see his own face, twisted with rage, reflected in Green's pupils.
"You're nothing but another manifestation of evil yourself. Don't dress up a vendetta and personal desire as something so heroic."
"I will kill you!" Frank stared at Green, every word squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Why?" Green tilted his head, his expression carrying a hint of genuine confusion.
"Just because you liked that woman? Because I slit your throat?"
"How do you think you survived? Do you really think those high-level animals wearing human skin would let a hyena that challenged their authority live?"
His voice lowered, barely audible to anyone else. "I was the one who saved your life."
Frank's eyes flickered.
"Are you going to kill your savior? Or is your hollow heart left only with hatred for sin and hatred for yourself?" Green raised his index finger and poked Frank's forehead.
"Then what is your motive for killing me? Have I fostered the growth of evil? But I've saved many people too, you know. I saved you, after all."
Frank struggled for a moment, but there was more conflicting hesitation in his eyes. He was a bit rattled.
"Let me go." Frank spoke, his voice much lower than before.
Seeing that his emotions had calmed down a bit, Steveslowly relaxed his grip.
Frank shoved him, annoyed, but Steve still stood between the two, glancing at Green with a look of annoyance, exchanging looks.
"Why didn't you say you had this kind of history with him?"
"Relax, look at how his eyes are practically stringing out when he looks at me. See how much charisma I have."
"...I don't know why, but I get the feeling he wants to pull your intestines out."
"That's charisma too."
Steve helplessly looked away. Fine, he felt Green was much more chaotic than Soldier Boy.
At least Soldier Boy's evil was out in the open—rude, arrogant, and dismissive of everyone.
Whereas Green's evil was hidden beneath his smile, like a blade wrapped in velvet; you never knew when you'd be cut, and you might not even feel the pain when you were.
"Even if you did save me, I won't be grateful." Frank stared coldly at Green.
"Doesn't matter. I'll just assume you're being a tsundere." Green shrugged.
"I just need you alive. With a troublemaker like you around, I get more orders. This is called creating market demand—a win-win." He made a peace sign and wiggled it, with a hint of malicious playfulness.
"I'll settle that score regarding Nano sooner or later."
"No need, we can do it now." Green continued to provoke him, shrugging his hands.
"I was the one who finished her off, after all. Those people don't like the boring way of just killing someone directly, and I feel absolutely no guilt."
"You... you son of a bitch!!"
Frank couldn't take it anymore. His eyes went red, and he strode toward Green, his hand quickly pulling a spare magazine from his waist, reloading, and racking the slide.
"Ah~~ I really am..." Steve was also speechless. Just as he prepared to intervene, Green casually brushed him aside.
Steve looked at Green in confusion. A playful, almost enjoying expression hung on his face. Steve's mouth twitched.
May he ask, as this bomb disposal expert, how is he supposed to stop a fire that's actively throwing itself onto the fuse?
And Frank, this brooding powder keg—didn't he lock his heart away after losing his family? Where the hell did this woman come from!
He hardened his heart and decided to just let it be.
Green met the muzzle Frank was pressing against his chin head-on. The dark barrel pressed against the base of his throat, the cold metallic sensation against his skin.
The finger on the trigger tightened slightly, but his usually decisive demeanor faltered now because Frank couldn't see any evil in Green's eyes, only composure.
"Hmm?" Green looked at Frank's slightly stiff, angry face and raised an eyebrow.
Was he afraid he would shoot? How could he be? He was just admiring—admiring the internal struggle of the person in front of him, filled with rage.
This had nothing to do with individual strength; it was a resonance of the soul. Green could feel it—pleasure.
After a few seconds of deadlock, "Tell me," Frank said.
"What?" "The things she didn't tell me." "What did she tell you?"
"She said she was targeted by a mysterious and powerful force. She would be hunted, and it would last for a few days until the final dawn."
"Uh-huh?" "During this time, she couldn't ask any official agencies or anyone for help. They were constantly monitoring her."
"That's it?" Green curled his lip. "Is there anything else?" "She didn't say a word about the reward."
Green tapped his head, as if digging up a dusty old file from the depths of his memory.
"I remember her now. She was very greedy. She only needed to survive for one day without being eliminated to get 20 million USD, but she chose five days—100 million USD."
"And of the thirteen hunters responsible for the hunt, you killed nine, which forced me, as the administrator, to enter the field."
He looked at Frank. On that stern face, the expression was shifting from anger into a blank look of bewilderment and disbelief.
"I'm very curious, how many times did she sleep with you, and how many positions did she try, to get you to help her?"
"As far as I know, she didn't just look for you; even one of the hunters was her accomplice, and she was the one who actively sought us out at the time."
Green observed Frank's expression, the corners of his mouth slowly spreading into a playful smile.
"No way, no way. Pure-hearted bro, you didn't even touch her?"
"Tsk tsk tsk." Green shook his head with a chuckle. "That's fine, otherwise you would have known how insatiable she was."
Green felt a bit of emotion. Under the instinct for survival, she could actually go all out.
Especially when he had his gun pressed against her forehead; she really used everything she'd learned in her life. But unfortunately, she still died at the very last moment before dawn.
Because Green... was also a hunter. Well, actually, she was about to choke to death, so Green just gave her a quick end.
But what he said now was heartbreaking enough. Frank's expression crumbled, his hands losing strength and dropping.
Even Steve cast a complex look at Green, mostly of awe.
You really know how to kill and demoralize the heart.
He was somewhat relieved that Green wasn't Soldier Boy. If it were that era, if Green didn't like him, he might very well do something to Carter...
"Good thing he isn't." Steve looked at Green gloomily.
He couldn't imagine that one day, when he went to find Carter for a battle report, he would hear strange sounds coming from Carter's private office through the door.
"No, what am I thinking!" He quickly shook his head.
As for Thor, he had already gotten used to Green's debauched yet inexplicably effective style. He and Valkyriehad even discussed having Green come over to give them some pointers.
Of course, for him, it would be begging on his knees, while Valkyrie would just have to shake her ass. One relied on what little face he had left, the other on her assets—a clear division of labor.
"It's okay, I forgive you." Completely unaware that he had broken the composure of the Steve duo, Green magnanimously patted Frank on the shoulder.
"Do you have any cold beer here? My throat is a bit dry from talking."
Chapter 153: Red Skull.Zip, Howard Stark Protocol
Entering the base.
"Don't you guys ever clean this place up?"
Thor, holding a chilled beer, wiped the glass shards and dust off the wall ledge with his sleeve before sitting on it, watching as Frank vented his helpless pain with punch after punch against that gang member.
Steve, however, did not dawdle.
He led Green toward the side of the base, pushed aside the green tarpaulin hanging on the wall used for camouflage to reveal the elevator behind it, pulled open the iron gate, turned sideways to let Green enter first, then followed, and pulled down the gate.
The elevator sank slightly, emitting a low groan from the metal bearing the weight, and then slowly descended.
"Oh my, our American Sweetheart has little secrets too." Green leaned against the iron railing.
"What are you hiding? A photo album of Carter? Or her black stockings? After all these years, do they still have a scent?"
"Can you just be quiet for a moment?" Steve followed behind him, his tone helpless.
"Who told you two to be so much fun." Green chuckled, taking a sip of beer.
"Being your enemy must be a painful experience; I suspect most of them were just angered to death by you."
"Not necessarily. I usually have very little patience for enemies, but we are friends."
"That's not much better!"
"Heh heh, just don't be so shy."
The elevator chains rattled overhead, moving down section by section.
Dim, yellow light leaked in through the gaps in the railing, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow on the two of them.
Thud—
The elevator stopped, the iron gate swayed slightly, emitting a dull metallic echo.
Everything before them was pitch black.
Steve groped in the darkness for the lever wrapped in black rubber, gripped it, and pulled the power switch hard.
The light tubes overhead flickered a few times, emitting a low buzzing sound, and cold white light poured down from the ceiling, illuminating the entire underground space.
The Underground Room was about the size of three basketball courts and was divided into two areas.
One side was a large open space, with server racks arranged neatly. Dense arrays of hard drives were embedded in the black metal frames, and indicator lights flickered with green and blue glimmer in the gloom.
At the end of the rack array stood a transparent cylindrical culture tank, about the height of a person.
A pale green nutrient solution filled the entire tank, and bubbles slowly rose from the bottom of the tank.
In the center of the culture tank floated a brain.
It was grayish-white, its surface covered with sulci and tiny blood vessels, like a shriveled flower soaked in Water.
Several electrode pads hung down from the interface on the tank lid, their needle tips piercing into different areas of the brain tissue. Silver wires were bundled together, extending along the outer wall of the tank, passing through the floor, and connecting all the way to the server ports.
The nutrient solution circulated slowly around it, causing those blood vessels to pulse slightly at a very low frequency, like something that was still alive and still dreaming.
"Is this... Red Skull?"
Green stood in front of the culture tank, leaning forward slightly, feeling somewhat amused, like seeing a rare specimen soaked in formalin at a zoo.
"Yes." Steve, behind him, nodded, arms crossed.
"He looks much more refined like this, even though only his brain is left." Green straightened up.
"Did you set this up?" He changed the subject.
"No, not just me."
"To be precise, it was built by us."
As the words fell, a computer terminal on the server lit up with a faint glow.
The screen woke from standby, pixels gathering, arranging, and forming a face familiar in history.
Howard Stark.
A square chin, neatly trimmed mustache, and eyes beneath the brow ridges that, even through pixels, carried that shrewdness bordering on harshness.
The words just now were also an electronic voice transmitted through the microphone; after compression and decompression of the digital signal, one could faintly hear his original voice.
"At the end of the war, we captured Zola and used some methods to make him help Howard perform an consciousness upload.
And afterwards, after my final battle with Red Skull, I crashed in the North Pole, but this was also part of our plan.
Howard was to re-thaw Red Skull, preserve his brain, add mental hypnosis, and transform him into the image we needed, but his will was very strong, and he self-sealed a lot of important information.
And I continued to sleep, waiting for the arrival of a new era, or after a certain period, Howard's backup plan would activate to thaw me." Steve continued.
"Reason." Green did not turn back, his gaze fixed on the brain.
"Because we felt that what we were doing was futile."
Howard's voice came from the speakers; the electronic tone stripped away the warmth of his original voice, leaving only a dry, data-driven statement.
"The World did not become better because the war ended; whether it is Supes, Mutants, or humans, desire and malice are still breeding."
The Howard on the screen blinked; the action, once pixelated, seemed somewhat eerie, like a painting making a face at you.
"The World needs watchers to maintain order." Steve took over, his voice resolute.
"Not politicians standing on high playing power games, nor those anarchist factions with messy slogans—it is us. We are the people, and protecting the people is our fundamental purpose."
"Hmm, how noble." Green turned around.
"So you plan to become Hydra yourselves?"
"There is no more Hydra, we never were."
"That's hard to say." Green scratched his nose.
But Steve and the digitized Howard clearly misinterpreted his meaning, or perhaps they chose not to delve into what was buried beneath that sentence.
"In summary, we are an anonymous organization that exists to maintain just order, not to destroy the existing order of the World. This is the inherent flaw and the shining point of human evolution, which, in my countless calculations, cannot be corrected."
On the screen, Howard's pixelated face tilted slightly, as if adjusting his viewing angle, shifting his gaze from Steve to Green.
"You and I—no, strictly speaking, you are very close to Howard's biological son, Tony Stark. You can join us."
"I'm not interested in the thankless profession of a vigilante." Green directly refused.
"Actually, in my calculations, you are one of the biggest unstable factors in the World, but regarding the judgment of your actions, the fluctuations between good and evil are also extremely terrifying, so I need to understand you more closely."
"So, what have you learned now?"
"Laissez-faire, cooperation, is the most beneficial."
"Your electronic brain can still turn, after all."
"Come."
Steve called out to Green, taking the initiative to walk toward another door.
He pressed his palm against the metal panel beside the door; the screen lit up, and the green light pattern of the fingerprint recognition spread from the center to the surroundings with a "beep."
"Did that era have such advanced technology?" Green followed behind him with some curiosity.
"Howard has always been active in the cyber World; he has been evolving, so of course he can modify the basehimself." Steve explained, removing his hand from the panel as the door hinges began to turn.
"Then why do you still seem so poor..." Green said, but his voice suddenly trailed off as he thought of something.
"Oh? You intend to have me provide convenience for your operations."
"Otherwise, why would we let you know our core secrets." Steve was also direct.
"How are you sure I will help you, instead of exposing you? A living sample of the Super Soldier Serum, plus a mature version of an artificial intelligence—do you know how valuable you are?"
"Then why haven't you acted yet?"
"I'm waiting for you to appreciate in value." Green grinned, that smile appearing somewhat childish in the cold white light, yet also making one's back feel cold.
"Hmph." Steve turned his head to look at him, a hint of a smile in the corners of his eyes, his ice-blue eyes under the hat brim softer than usual.
"You... really have a strange charm; you like to objectify the value of individuals, yet you respect their philosophies, and you don't hide placing yourself in an opposing position."
"Don't define me so solemnly, I'm just a small fry."
Green tilted his head back to finish the last sip of beer at the bottom of the glass, casually placing the empty bottle on a server rack he was passing.
He took a step, following Steve as he walked in.
A faint sound of a motor came from behind; a maintenance robot car slid out from a corner, its tracks turning. Its body was low, like a flattened suitcase.
Its mechanical arm extended, five claws opening, precisely gripping that empty beer bottle and gently lifting it.
Another mechanical arm popped out from the side of the car, holding a small piece of alcohol-soaked non-woven fabric, reaching toward the circular water stain on top of the server rack dampened by the beer, and wiped it clean.
Then, the robot car retracted its two mechanical arms with satisfaction, its tracks turned half a circle, and it slid away quietly, carrying the empty bottle.
On the other side, Green followed Steve inside, and the scene before him left him speechless.
Inside the closed cabin, Hulk was engaging in primitive breeding activities with another female Hulk.
Chapter 154: Green: I Only Speak Plainly
"Hiss—that's really an eyesore..."
Green watched until he was somewhat exhausted, turned his face away, and pressed his fingers against his temples.
Those two mountains of muscle roared as they slammed into each other, like two giant green slimes undergoing some kind of fusion experiment that shouldn't be written in any biology textbook.
"Where did you find this Pokémon?" He pointed at the female Hulk. Except for the obvious female characteristics, her appearance was almost identical to Hulk.
"He is a Skrull, an alien refugee. He was captured by Howard while trying to integrate into human society. It's not just his group; other ships flew to various parts of the World, but we haven't made contact with them."
"Over these years, through Howard's modification and cultivation, the limitations of their transformation have been further unleashed. They can mimic a target's partial strength, super abilities, and local deformation."
[Skrull: Can perfectly transform into any human or creature, copying voice, appearance, and even partial memories.]
"He?" Green only caught the key point.
"Yes, he." Steve did not avoid the term.
"There are very few of these Super Skrulls. His wife was played to death by Hulk, so of course, he's the one doing it."
"Heh, no test-tube breeding?"
"No, he seems to be involved with the mystical side and cannot survive; it can only be done through natural reproduction."
"That's too slow."
"That's why I have Hulk working twenty-four hours a day. The army formed with him as the genetic source will become my greatest asset."
"The Skrulls alone are enough for you to turn Americaupside down."
"Indeed, their abilities are too terrifying."
"With them, you don't need me. Just control them to infiltrate."
"I said, I'm not Hydra. I need your permission." Steve shook his head decisively and turned to face Green.
"You know I'm not the leader, right? I'm just an employee. That dead black guy is really your boss."
"But you can do it, can't you?"
"I won't." Green refused with a smile.
"Is that so?" Steve's voice dropped, though he wasn't very angry.
"Alright..." Before he could finish, Green continued.
"I won't tell you that my private contact point is at the Continental Hotel in New York, nor will I tell you that you can cooperate with the Life Foundation in my name. I also won't tell you that this card can log into the Vought Company intranet to query the registered information of all Supes."
He took a card out of his pocket and seemed to let it go unintentionally. The card slipped from his fingers and fell onto the ground.
"Oops, I'm so clumsy." Green lowered his head, feigning distress.
"Yeah, there are many cracks here; it's hard to find." Steve's expression was a bit strange as he lifted his foot and stepped on the card on the ground.
The two exchanged a look; a tacit understanding was reached.
Green didn't care what he did. In this funding, he was transparent, but he had to have a share of the results. That layer of window paper had been poked with a hole and then patched from the inside; everyone could see the hole, but no one would point it out.
"Actually, you could bring over Bruce Banner's female relative and inject her with Hulk's blood; the effect might be even better."
"I cannot harm innocent people; that is my bottom line."
"Is that so? Heh..." Green didn't say anything more.
The two stepped back into the elevator. The chains rattled as they wound up, swallowing the light of the Underground Room inch by inch into the darkness.
After they reached the base, Green finally lit a cigarette. It was better not to upset Howard in the machine room below; standing there was equivalent to standing inside his body, and smoking in his blood vessels wasn't very polite.
Frank was wiping his face with a towel draped over his shoulder, his knuckles bloodstained. He glanced at Green indifferently, without the violent reaction from earlier where he wanted to pounce and tear his throat out.
Green glanced at the interrogation room not far away. The iron door was half-open, and the man tied to the chair was no longer moving.
Venting anger only requires one life. No, the anger in this Punisher's heart wouldn't be extinguished; it had just faded. It was like charcoal covered by ash—no flames were visible on the surface, but if you reached out, it was still hot.
"Catch."
Steve walked to the refrigerator and pulled open the metal door. Cold air gushed out, condensing into a ball of white mist under the light.
He took out a few cans of beer and tossed them over without looking back. The cans traced several parallel arcs in the air.
Green reached out and caught one, his fingertips hooked on the tab, but he didn't pull it open.
He walked to the sofa next to Frank, sat down, crossed his legs with his ankle resting on his knee, his posture as lazy as if he were in his own home.
He held the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, squinted, and took a drag. The ember at the tip brightened and then dimmed; the grayish-white ash hung at the end of the cigarette, trembling but not falling.
"Hmm?" He turned his head and offered the cigarette.
Frank's eyes twitched. He hesitated for a few seconds, then threw the bloody cloth in his hand into a basin full of ice water and took the cigarette that was suspended in mid-air.
Frank lowered his head, held the filter between his lips, and took a silent drag. Smoke puffed out from his nostrils, dispersing into two intertwined, pale blue currents under the light.
Quietly, the tense atmosphere dissipated.
"Recently, the vampire side has also been causing quite a stir. They intend to mix a virus into a beverage factory and sell it." Steve cracked open a can and took a gulp, head tilted back.
"Did you stop them?"
"Of course."
"Then that means nothing happened."
"...You're really good at bringing people down."
"Uh-huh~" Green squinted, his expression somewhere between annoying and sincere.
"How did you protect me?" Frank suddenly asked.
Green turned his head, his gaze landing on his face.
"I put you on their future hunting list. Don't you dare run away, or it will really hurt my reputation."
"Pfft—Fuck!"
Frank had nothing to say. At least he was still alive.
A name on the list meant they wouldn't be cleared away casually because they were "stock"—reserved prey, targets that would only be put on the shooting range when the next hunting season opened. It wasn't protection, but it was better than protection.
This bastard held a knife to his throat and then told him, "This knife won't fall, because it wouldn't be fun if it did."
Thor sat on the sofa, holding a steak he had pulled out from nowhere.
The four people on the sofa smoked or drank, occasionally exchanging glances, but most of the time they just sat there in silence.
Beep beep!
Green took out his phone; the screen lit up, and the caller ID showed Lorna.
He pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.
"What's wrong?"
"Something is wrong with Gwen. You need to come back and take a look." Lorna's voice came through the receiver, carrying a hint of restrained anxiety.
Green's eyes narrowed.
"I'll be there soon."
He hung up the phone, stood up, and walked toward the exit.
Steve and Frank watched him leave; neither of them spoke.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, Green turned his head to look at Steve.
"By the way, Bucky is still alive. Did you dig this information out of Red Skull's mouth... or brain?"
"What did you say?!"
Steve bounced up from the sofa violently.
"It seems you don't know. Go have more contact with S.H.I.E.L.D.; you will find him."
Green turned back and strode out of the base.
Letting Steve and the others clash with the original cast of S.H.I.E.L.D. would give him the opportunity to continue climbing up.
Although he could seize power, that would be too boring and wouldn't gain the loyalty of those Agents.
"See you next time, Bro."
When Thor passed by Steve, he pinched a piece of paper from his pocket and stuffed it into Steve's back pocket, which was stretched tight by his jeans, and even gave it a pat.
"Remember to call me."
He grinned, then turned and quickly followed Green's back.
Steve was overwhelmed by the news about Bucky and didn't pay any attention to him at all.
Only one sentence echoed repeatedly in his mind:
Bucky is still alive...
"Wait..." Just as he was about to chase after him,
"If he doesn't want to say it, it's useless no matter how you force him." Frank's voice came from behind.
"It's obvious he has his own calculations; we've become pawns."
This time, it was Frank's turn to persuade Steve.
Steve's figure froze, feeling very frustrated.
"Fuck!"
Chapter 155: Gwen the Spider
A minute later,
In front of the street of the Green residence,
The wind howled fiercely.
Under the warm yellow streetlights, the shadow of a utility pole was momentarily covered by a massive dark silhouette, like a dark cloud drifting across the moon.
Green landed, his dragon wings folding from his shoulder blades; the membrane wings folded, retracted, and finally disappeared beneath the skin of his back, though his clothes were ruined.
A car owner passing by slammed on the brakes, the window half-open, his head tilted and mouth agape.
"Am I seeing things?"
"Wait, should I call the police?"
Green ignored him. He walked to the door, and before he could push, it opened from the inside.
"I've already told George and the others that Gwen is staying the night here."
Lorna stood behind the door, her expression even heavier than her voice on the phone. A shallow vertical line was etched between her brows, and her lips were pursed as she stepped aside to clear the doorway.
Green walked in without looking back. His voice drifted out from the crack in the door, reaching the ears of Thor, who had just landed after swinging his hammer.
"Guard the outside."
"OK..."
Bang!
Before Thor could respond, the door slammed shut. He stood frozen at the bottom of the porch steps.
"At least have a better attitude toward me, will you?"
Green walked straight into the room.
At the foot of the bed, Laura was keeping Gwen company. Gwen was wrapped entirely under the covers, curled up like a larva hiding itself in a cocoon.
Beneath the quilt, there was a prominent bulge at the position of her back.
It wasn't just one; there were several, arranged in a staggered pattern, as if many claws were being pressed under that thin layer of cotton, unable to be retracted or hidden.
"He's back." Laura looked up at Green, patted the back of Gwen's hand, then stood up and stepped aside, yielding the spot by the bed.
"Are you alright? My little pistachio."
Green approached and looked down at her.
She kept her head down, shielding herself within the thin quilt. Her forehead rested against her knees, and her long hair draped down from both sides, obscuring her face. Her shoulders were trembling slightly.
Green reached out and grabbed the edge of the quilt.
Gwen quickly raised her hand and grabbed Green's wrist.
Her strength was immense.
It was so great that Green was somewhat surprised. One could say that Gwen's grip strength right now was stronger than the Hulk's in his normal state.
Her five fingers clamped onto his wrist bone, her nails sinking into his skin, leaving several deep crescent-shaped indentations.
However, what surprised Green even more was her exposed hand.
It looked like a white, furry spider's hand.
This wasn't a metaphor; the surface of the skin was truly covered in a layer of fine, snow-white down, which emitted a soft, mother-of-pearl-like shimmer under the light.
There was a ring of sleeve-like fluff around her wrist, longer and denser than elsewhere, swaying gently like lace with the slight trembling of her wrist, carrying a strange beauty.
Green's hand felt as if it were glued to her palm—it could essentially be described as being suctioned.
Between the fine hairs, azure bio-electric arcs flickered, making faint crackling sounds.
"She started having adverse reactions during biology class this morning—blurred vision and a lost sense of direction. After that, she took leave to come home and rest, and later we found her unconscious in the bathroom."
"Then we discovered her body had grown spider-like features, and those features are continuously intensifying."
Laura said in a deep voice.
Lorna stood beside Laura with her arms crossed. Her fingertips emitted a faint, unstable green glow, like a lamp with a bad connection flickering incessantly.
Both girls' gazes were fixed on Gwen, worry hanging between their brows like a thin mist.
Green did not respond immediately.
He didn't speak, or even move; he just stood there, letting his presence act like a wall, shielding her from the rest of the World.
The roar of the Bifrost Bridge sounded from outside.
A few seconds later, Magik and Little Loki walked in.
Green had summoned them when he set out. It could only be said that Heimdall's signal had a delay.
As soon as they entered, the two of them deployed their methods.
Magik's pupils disappeared, her entire eyeballs turning into two glowing sapphires.
With a wave of Little Loki's hand, eerie green auroras gushed from his palm, stretching out in mid-air like ribbons, circling and weaving around Gwen's body.
"Just tell me the result," Green said.
"Her fate has connected with the Spider Totem." Magik's eyes returned to normal, the blue light fading, but a lingering watery shimmer remained in her sockets.
"I've studied related knowledge over at the Limbo Border. It can be said that her current change is a critical node in the fate of this parallel World."
"Her change is inevitable and irreversible," Little Lokiadded, habitually pinching his chin, his thumb rubbing back and forth along his jawline.
"In any parallel World, this is a random yet natural choice made by the World itself.
To put it simply, her current form is what the World has forced her into—a half-human, half-spider state—to deal with a disaster that will occur later."
He paused, his brow furrowing slightly.
"What's strange is that the totem on her is incomplete. It seems a portion was diverted to another chosen one, which is also why she hasn't fully stabilized yet."
After hearing this, Green chose not to pull back her quilt again.
He moved his hand from the corner of the quilt and placed it on the back of her furry hand that was still gripping his wrist.
His thumb gently brushed against her fluff, and an electric arc jumped at his fingertip like a startled firefly.
"Do you like looking like this?" His voice was very soft.
"You don't need to say you've become strong enough to help me, and don't be afraid that I will loathe you. Tell me your true thoughts."
Everyone's gaze turned toward Gwen.
But suddenly, they felt the pressure on her was too great and tacitly looked away.
Gwen remained silent for a few seconds.
A long few seconds.
Then, she shook her head firmly.
"That's enough then," Green said calmly.
Snap—
The duvet fell away.
Gwen's figure, like a strawberry-flavored marshmallow, suddenly lunged at Green and hugged his thigh.
The coin necklace around her neck swung out from her collar, flying and dangling in the air.
Her strength was still immense, so much so that Green's leg was forced half a step back by her embrace.
Yet her body was defenselessly soft as she pressed herself against his leg.
"I... need you."
The young girl's voice was mixed with a hint of a monster's eeriness—a high-pitched sound like wind blowing through the gaps in bones, carrying a metallic resonance that didn't belong to humans.
"I know." Green leaned forward, bending down slightly. He wrapped his arm around her waist, his palm cupping her lower back, and lifted her off the ground.
She was still very petite, even with eight extra claws.
The joints of the eight spider claws on her back, translucent like white jade, clicked pleasantly with the sweet heat of being held by her beloved.
The tips of the spider claws curled slightly, and the fluff at the joints shimmered silvery-white under the light, like a piece of meticulously polished, living jade.
The spectators on the side had turned their eyes back at some point, looking at Gwen in Green's arms with envy. The girls exchanged looks, smiles flitting through their eyes.
Except for the somewhat flustered Little Loki, whose gaze darted between Gwen and Green twice before he quickly looked away, the tips of his ears turning an unnatural shade of pink.
"How cool, now we're all 'lying' princesses."
Green chuckled and patted Gwen's back.
"But the position of the prince can't be vacant," he continued, looking down at Gwen.
Gwen lifted her face, and those pairs of compound eyes, as crystal clear as rubies, watched his eyes from several angles simultaneously.
Green's gaze remained gentle.
"Leave the cruel things for My Lord to handle."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
When his lips touched her, those eyes closed shyly.
"Mr. Green..."
Green didn't say anything more. He laid her on her side on the bed, his movements a bit clumsy.
He didn't know whether to have the claws facing up or down, whether to let them hang naturally or tuck them in, or whether she should lie on her side or flat.
His hands adjusted several times between her shoulders and waist before he found a posture that wouldn't press on the claws and allowed her to curl up comfortably.
Well, Green was also a bit at a loss when it came to caring for his monster girl.
"It's late, go to rest." Green straightened up, his finger sliding across Gwen's neck as he removed the coin necklace.
The pendant dangled from his fingers, swaying in the light, its silver surface still retaining the lingering warmth of her body temperature.
He held it in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the pattern of the coin, then turned his head to look at Lorna and Laura.
"You've been caring for her all day; you must be tired."
The two girls nodded subconsciously, their expressions relaxing at Green's words.
Green turned back again and glanced at Gwen.
The two of them shared a silent look.
Her pairs of crimson compound eyes were half-open, shimmering with a moist light in the shadows of the fluff, like gems that had just been rained upon.
"Sleep peacefully. When you wake up, everything will be as you wish in your heart."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Green didn't linger and turned to leave.
The others followed him out.
Gwen's gaze followed Green's back until the door closed with a soft "click," and the hem of his clothes disappeared behind the doorframe.
The light was left on.
The one by the bedside, a warm yellow light, not bright, just enough to illuminate the pillow area.
Gwen pressed her face against the mattress, her nose against the texture of the sheets, and held the hand that still carried his scent up to her face, her nostrils twitching slightly as she sniffed.
She closed her eyes.
It was precisely after she obediently fell asleep that her body began to change.
Fine white spider silk seeped from her fingertips, waist, and the gaps in her shoulder blades, wrapping around her body layer by layer, finally forming a translucent, lightweight cocoon with a silky texture.
Her silhouette was faintly visible inside, curled up.
The spider silk didn't stop; it spread from the bedside, and soon, the room was covered.
The outlines of the furniture were softened, corners were filled, and even the air became dense, as if the entire room had been packed into a giant cocoon.
Only the bedside lamp remained faintly lit, its light leaking through the gaps in the spider silk, casting tiny, flickering spots of light on the walls of the cocoon.
She would wait for the return of her big bear.
Endish - no new chapters for past 5 months