The next day, morning.
Mike looked at Coulson speechlessly. The latter sat at the dining table, a napkin tucked into his collar, looking a bit out of it. On the white plate was rosemary bacon potato pancakes.
Mike quipped, "I feel like we should just convert the supermarket into a restaurant."
Old Earl raised both hands in agreement, "Business would definitely be booming."
"Forget it," Mike said. He was just talking. Old Earl could handle the supermarket by himself now, but running a restaurant would require hiring chefs and waiters.
Recently, the supermarket's business had improved significantly. Because it was safe, nearby Chinese people preferred to take a detour to buy things there. Some first-generation Chinese grandmas still retained the habit of matchmaking and wanted to introduce Mike to blind dates. In the eyes of the Chinese, someone like Mike was considered handsome.
However, Mike's original intention for opening the supermarket was not to make money, but to have access to Heavenly Dynasty goods anytime, anywhere.
It wasn't that U.S. goods were bad; some things, once you got used to them, you couldn't change.
It's like how some people, after making money, can smoke expensive cigarettes without stress, but still prefer cheaper brands in private.
It's like how some people can afford to eat at grand hotels but still enjoy roadside stalls.
It's like how some people have the means to watch legitimate content... well, this one should be dragged out for an hour.
—No other reason, just habit.
Good business meant hiring people, which Mike didn't like. So, the hardworking Peter Parker was often pulled into the supermarket to help recently. Peter didn't mind; he was even happy because he was paid by the hour, and sometimes, at mealtime, the boss would add an extra pair of chopsticks for him.
"They are truly good people. If anyone dares to rob us, I'll break their legs!" Peter pondered how to repay them, but the public order on this street was almost unbelievably good. The arrogant thugs from outside became as docile as bunnies when they came to this street.
"Yesterday he was as tired as a dog, today he's as energetic as a dog."
"Aren't they both dogs?"
"Yesterday was a neutered golden retriever, today is a husky in heat. Are they the same?"
Coulson: "I feel like punching you, if only I could beat you."
"Haha, that's exactly it... wanting to kill me, but being helpless."
"Stop messing around, did you brush your teeth?" Skye wore a red and white checkered kitchen apron, holding a plate in each hand.
Mike kissed her, the minty taste of toothpaste lingering on her lips, proving with his actions that he had brushed his teeth.
"Good boy!" Skye kissed him back, giving off the feeling of an old married couple.
Coulson: "..."
The potato pancakes suddenly lost their flavor, tasting like dog food.
Coulson had almost finished eating. After Mike finished, he began to speak about serious matters.
"The Continental Hotel certainly won't let this go. What are your plans?" Coulson asked.
Mike: "I have an inside man at the Continental Hotel. They should issue a high bounty."
"And then?"
"After handling this wave, I'll find the organization behind it and have a talk."
How to talk?
With fists, of course.
Coulson: "S.H.I.E.L.D. can provide a safe house and help protect Skye, Old Earl, and Chloe."
True killers are usually ruthless and will stop at nothing. Skye and the others currently had no self-defense capabilities, which indeed was Mike's weakness.
"No need," Mike said. "But thanks anyway."
Letting S.H.I.E.L.D. protect them felt like sending them into a snake's nest.
Mike planned to ask Stark for help with this matter. At Mike's suggestion, Stark was currently renovating Marbury Mansion. You can imagine in the movie, a helicopter carrying two missiles blowing up Stark's home.
It's a wonder how Stark, with so many enemies and such a high profile, survived until the Infinity War.
If Mike were Stark's enemy, Stark's grave grass would definitely be three feet high by now.
The renovation project included satellite pre-warning, missile defense, 360-degree dead-angle-free high-power energy cannons, structural solidification of the residence, surface material reinforcement, and so on. According to Stark, the goal was to defend against nuclear bombs and mechanized heavy troop attacks.
The statement might be a bit exaggerated; Stark, after all, was good at turning his boasts into reality. The renovation was only partially completed; most of it still existed only in theory and on blueprints.
But with the Iron Man Suit and strategic and tactical support from Jarvis, Mike didn't believe any assassin could kidnap people from Marbury Mansion.
To Mike's request, Stark immediately agreed without a word, and even offered to lend Mike his Mark II.
Mike thought for a moment: "Can it be cashed out?"
"Fuck!"
Stark immediately cursed, and gave him the middle finger.
Coulson stayed for half an hour, eating until his mouth was dripping with oil, and left with the annoying face of someone who had eaten and drunk for free.
Mike roughly explained the situation to Skye.
"I'm not leaving!" was Skye's first reaction. She was anxious, thinking Mike had run into big trouble.
"Uh... how should I put this, I just offended some people, and they might try to hurt me by hurting you. As long as you all are safe, I..."
"So... we're holding you back then?" Skye joked.
"Uh."
Skye's tone was indeed light, but if not handled well, it could make her overthink. At this point, denial or comfort were not good choices. The best way was to—blame himself, "It's all my fault. I put you all in danger. You shouldn't have to go through something like this. I'm sorry..."
Skye immediately grabbed Mike's hand, "Don't worry, we'll protect ourselves well. It's you who faces the danger, you must be careful, okay?"
"Mhm, don't worry, I'll be fine."
After putting Skye and the others into the car, sending them to Stark Tower, and watching them fly to California, Mike returned to the supermarket alone.
He stayed bored alone until noon, and thinking that the high bounty could be released at any time, Mike decided... to eat lunch.
After lunch, Mike opened his computer, which contained information on the more famous assassins in NY.
In a metropolis of over eight million people, too many dark demands arose. Where there were demands, there were commissions. With many commissions, a large group of mercenaries naturally gathered.
"There are so many masters; masters are among the common people, indeed."
Mike felt a little pressure, so he decided... to take a nap.
In the evening, his phone rang. It was Winston's call.
"Thirty million U.S. dollars!" Winston said the amount after connecting.
Winston seemed a little excited, "Do you know what this means?"
"It means a lot of people are crazy about trying to kill me?"
"Uh, that's not wrong to say. *cough* *cough*, this is the highest bounty from the Continental Hotel so far."
"So, I should feel honored?"
Winston felt the conversation couldn't continue. Their values were too different. "Alright, I just wanted to remind you. I estimate that all Continental Hotel members in NY have seen the bounty by now. Half of them are heading to Hell's Kitchen, and the other half are preparing to leave, so... don't die."
"Oh, got it."
Thirty million U.S. dollars. Don't think it's not much just because an Iron Man Suit costs over a hundred million. For the same amount, if the target were the U.S. President, assassins would still rush forward one after another.