Boom!
The Butcher, whose head was directly struck by a heavy kick from Hawke, instantly became like a football, kicked flying with great force by Hawke.
With a loud crash, he smashed through a partition wall in the restaurant, accompanied by a sky full of dust and splattering green liquid, landing on the floor and even sliding several meters.
"Thud!"
Hawke landed steadily, then suddenly frowned: "Hiss!"
He looked down.
On his arm, a drop of green liquid clung, seemingly corrosive, emitting a sizzling burning sound.
In an instant.
Hawke's arm bled.
The next second!
The Growth talent rapidly activated, and the moment his arm bled, it instantly returned to its original state.
"What the hell?"
Hawke wiped the green liquid from his arm, frowning: "Green blood? Is he really not an Earthling?"
Just then.
From the Butcher, who lay on the ground with his head directly blown open by Hawke, a red orb that instantly caught Hawke's eye bounced out of the Butcher's corpse.
With a single bounce, the red orb directly collided with Hawke.
Instantly.
[Ding!]
[Strength +2]
[Constitution +2]
[Foreign Language: Skrull Language +1]
[Talent: "Skrull's Disguise", "Fragment +1"]
[Skrull's Disguise is one of the top talents in the entire Universe.
It not only allows you to easily disguise yourself as anyone, but also allows you to gain their short-term memories.]
[Collect ten fragments to successfully unlock the Skrull's Disguise talent.]
"Skrulls?"
Along with the information from the cheat system after confirming death, the moment the red orb entered his body, his strength increased by two points, his constitution increased by two points, and in his mind, a brand new language that sounded like a wild boar's grunt was added to the foreign language section.
But what surprised Hawke the most was the last talent, the disguise fragment.
The next second.
Hawke, having put his jacket back on and secured his beretta pistol, held his half-finished coffee and directly stepped towards the partition.
After walking past the broken partition, the first thing he saw was the Butcher lying on the ground, as if submerged in a pool of expired green watermelon juice.
Only...
What lay in the bad watermelon juice was not a human Butcher with a physique as strong as a small mountain; what lay in the bad watermelon juice was a headless corpse with greenish skin, a thin physique, and a height of only about 160 centimeters.
"Whoa!"
Hawke's footsteps involuntarily paused at this sight: "It really is a Skrull."
It was normal for there to be aliens on Earth.
After all, Mephisto, the Lord of Hell, a god, would occasionally display his divine power in bars in Texas, looking for people all over the World to lend money at high interest.
So, with gods on Earth, it was not surprising to have aliens.
But...
Hawke knew that Skrulls existed on Earth, just as he knew Mephisto existed on Earth; it was merely knowledge.
But seeing them with his own eyes, this was the first time.
An alien refugee, instead of living a privileged life under Nick Fury's protection, came to New York City to be an assassin?
What was he thinking?
Question marks popped up in Hawke's head one after another.
Just then.
Hawke came to his senses, turned his head, and looked.
Outside the restaurant, the New York Police Department had already assembled, ready to rush in, and he raised an eyebrow.
The next second.
Hawke took a sip of the coffee in his hand, turned back, stepped over the headless alien corpse beneath him, walked into the restaurant's kitchen, and then exited through the small door leading from the kitchen to the alley behind the restaurant.
"Go, go, go!"
"NYPD!"
"NYPD!"
"Put down..."
The moment Hawke left the restaurant through the kitchen's small door, fully armed New York Police Department SWAT officers roared their slogans, wearing bulletproof vests and carrying shotguns, and stormed into the restaurant.
But...
Everyone looked at the ruined but empty restaurant, somewhat dumbfounded.
Where are the people?
Where are the people?
Fortunately, the SWAT Captain quickly recovered, gesturing repeatedly, and then the SWAT officers behind him filed in rapidly, quickly surrounding the restaurant.
When several SWAT officers, working together, reached the partition wall, one sharp-eyed officer saw the green corpse lying in the bad watermelon juice, first stunned, then exclaimed: "Captain, body found!"
SWAT officers from other directions also sent signals.
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
"Clear."
Listening to his team members' reports, which indicated it was clear, the SWAT Captain, who had slightly relaxed his shotgun, heard the report of a body being found, looked at the officer who spoke, and walked over.
Like the officer who found the body, when the SWAT Captain saw the green-skinned corpse in the bad watermelon juice, his mind also struggled to comprehend, and he froze in place.
Ten minutes later.
The entire restaurant was completely sealed off by the New York Police Department, and even reporters who rushed over after hearing about a shootout in downtown Manhattan were driven far away from the restaurant.
Fifteen minutes later.
An unremarkable black Chevrolet SUV screeched to a halt beside the pulled caution tape.
In the sky, a helicopter roared, hovering in mid-air.
A man wearing sunglasses and a black suit, dressed like a Man in Black, stepped out of the black Chevrolet SUV, pulled open the caution tape, walked directly into the restaurant, took out his identification, and looking at the restaurant full of SWAT officers, said in what seemed to be a very arrogant tone: "Who is in charge?"
Detective George Stacy, who was talking to the SWAT Captain, turned his head, looked at the Man in Black who appeared at the restaurant entrance, frowned, and walked over: "I am, and you are..."
"National Security Agency!"
The Man in Black handed his identification to Detective George Stacy who walked over, took off his sunglasses, revealing a kind-looking face: "National Security Agency, Senior Special Investigator Phil Coulson."
Detective George Stacy glanced at the identification in his hand, then handed it back to the person in front of him who claimed to be from the National Security Agency, Senior Special Investigator Phil Coulson: "George Stacy, New York Police Department, Homicide, Detective Captain."
Phil Coulson retrieved his identification, his gaze falling on the green headless corpse that the SWAT had carried out of the bad watermelon: "I believe you've already received orders, Detective Stacy, the body found here is under my jurisdiction."
George Stacy nodded expressionlessly.
Seeing this, Phil Coulson didn't say much, but instead nodded to the two other agents dressed in black who had followed him in: "Go take possession.
Be careful, this body has been exposed to an unknown chemical attack and must be disposed of as quickly as possible!"
Having said that.
Phil Coulson smiled amicably at Detective George Stacy.