A Brand-New Day
The citizens of New York still lived their ordinary lives, unaware of the undercurrents moving beneath the city. They pushed through robberies, shootings, and daily chaos, hurrying along the streets without even sparing a glance at Spider-Man swinging through the air.
For New Yorkers, superheroes had already become part of everyday life. Maybe you worked on one street while, five blocks away, some terrifying monster fight was breaking out. Every few days, you might see a certain arrogant playboy flying his suit over New York. Sometimes, you could run into Renzo while buying groceries, or meet Captain America during a morning jog in the park.
All in all, meeting superheroes was no longer difficult. Even news reports no longer used superheroes as cheap gimmicks, though superhero-themed comics still sold extremely well.
Cartel and Azazel had been getting along well recently. One had red skin, the other blue. Neither of them could change their appearance, and both had suffered discrimination and betrayal because of how they looked. After confiding in each other, it was inevitable that they would feel a certain sympathy and understanding for each other's experiences.
Cartel was dressed as Agent Venom. Renzo had given him the name and had Stark build him a set of equipment, including the laser gun on his back.
Stark had been shocked when he saw the blueprints. Equipment this sophisticated and advanced could not be created under Earth's current technological limitations. He anxiously asked Renzo where the blueprints and technology had come from.
"In my head," Renzo said with a smile, pointing to his temple. Before leaving, he had stored all of Xandar's technological equipment in his mind, even taking the design for an automatic flushing and cleaning toilet. He had left nothing behind for Xandar.
Now Stark followed Renzo around every day, shouting at him to hand over the rest of the technology. Otherwise, he would hire paparazzi to follow Renzo all day, freeze his bank cards, and even move to San Francisco just to become Renzo's neighbor!
Renzo had never imagined that this playboy could come up with such a sinister method, so he had no choice but to transfer all the technological data in his mind to Friday. Stark was now spending every day buried in research on alien technology.
Pepper complained about it constantly.
Azazel held a wine bottle and poured it into his mouth. Society was a little safer these days. After all, there were not many criminals left who dared to break the law openly, and Spider-Man was enough to take down most thieves.
His life had become much easier. In the past, when he followed Shaw, he was either killing people or on his way to kill people. When had he ever felt this kind of accomplishment?
Cartel held a piece of fried chicken and gnawed on it. Although Earth's technology was quite backward, the food was truly delicious! Fried chicken, fries, Coke, burgers... unhealthy food was so good!
"This is for you." Cartel tore off a chicken leg and stretched out his hand.
Azazel heard him and was just about to take it when Cartel turned around and threw it to the Venom on his body instead. A dark tentacle instantly swallowed the chicken leg. After shaking a few times, even the bone was digested.
Azazel's face darkened, and he withdrew his hand awkwardly.
"This one is for you." Cartel smiled slightly, tore off a small piece of chicken wing, and handed it to Azazel. The Red Devil took it and rolled his eyes at the Kree kid, which counted as forgiving him.
"New York hasn't been peaceful lately," Cartel suddenly said.
"How can you tell?" Azazel glanced at the kid in confusion. "Isn't everything fine? People who work go to work. Students go to school. There are no shootings or super criminals. The Avengers are all enjoying their lives."
"No." Cartel looked out the window. The sky had gone completely dark. Colorful lights shone across his face, making his indigo skin look suddenly melancholy. "A storm is coming. A bigger crisis is about to break out in New York."
He had an inexplicable premonition. Perhaps it was the spider-sense carried by Venom. Cartel's intuition had suddenly become very accurate. The sun shone on New York's great tree, while the shadows beneath it hid countless people enjoying the shade. Beneath the surface, undercurrents were surging.
"If even Stark isn't worried, aren't you being a little too nosy?"
"What they deal with are crises from outside Earth. This kind of smaller crisis doesn't require them to act." Cartel burped, wiped his mouth in satisfaction, and said with a serious tone, "This is our chance to show what we can do. The newest Avengers also need something to prove themselves."
Azazel fell into deep thought. Since joining the Avengers, he indeed had not carried out any mission that could prove himself. Although it was not obvious, Sam and Stark had always treated him a little differently from the others, more like an outsider than a member of the family.
Cartel slowly stood up, looked at the beautiful night scene in front of him, opened the glass window, and jumped out.
Azazel smiled, but his mind was still turning over Cartel's words.
"I have to clean up these chicken bones again."
...
"Did you bring it?"
"No one followed you?"
"Don't worry. This is old John's territory. No one dares follow me here."
An old white man with yellow teeth spat as he spoke and smiled obscenely. The blond man in a gray suit standing in front of him glanced at Old John with disgust.
"Then give me the thing."
Old John showed his disgusting yellow teeth and said in an unpleasant voice, "Then you have to..." He made a gesture asking for money.
"Greedy bastard!"
Hammer cursed the old man in his heart, but he had no choice. He needed this thing badly.
"Stark... I'll prove to you who the real genius is. Hammer Industries is not some cheap copy of Stark Industries!"
That was right. The person who had come was none other than Justin Hammer, the man who had developed a batch of imitation scrap-metal robots in Iron Man 2. Back then, a single bullet was enough to destroy one of those laughably unreliable machines.
Ever since the incident seven years ago, Hammer had been arrested by the FBI and imprisoned in a high-security facility for several years. After he came out, he found that the company's shareholders had changed, and the company had almost ceased to exist in any meaningful form. Without exception, all his former confidants had been fired by the new leadership. Hammer felt as if he had returned to a strange place. Although it was still his own house, the decorations inside had been completely changed.
Hammer was kicked out of his company. They gave him a large severance package and threatened to reveal all the shameful things he had done in the past if he kept resisting.
Hammer had no choice but to take the severance pay and leave Hammer Industries in disgrace.
It was the world's biggest joke!
Hammer wanted revenge. He wanted revenge on Stark. If Stark had not stolen the limelight, how could Hammer have ended up like this? Everything had started because of Stark.
After tossing and turning, he had finally found this man hiding underground. They had crossed paths before, but only once. Now, he urgently needed his help.
Old John looked at the thick stack of dollars Hammer took out, and the greed in his eyes was impossible to hide.
"Here!" Hammer casually pulled out a few bills and handed them to Old John. Seeing that the old man did not react at all, he followed his gaze, then shouted angrily, "Don't be too greedy! Watch yourself!"
"Haha..." Old John smiled disdainfully. What right did a stray dog have to say such things?
Hammer was furious but powerless. In the past, he would not even have glanced at such a person. Even passing by the entrance to this place would have made him feel dirty. Now, this old rat actually dared to climb onto his head.
How funny.
Truly funny!
But now Hammer had no choice. He shoved a wad of dollars into Old John's hand, almost snatched the item in the black plastic bag, glared fiercely at him, and kept cursing in his heart, wondering why the old bastard was not dead yet.
After Old John left, Hammer slowly took out the contents.
A USB flash drive.
A USB flash drive marked with a skull and tentacles.
Hammer held it excitedly. This was the key weapon for his comeback. With it, Tony Stark's armor would no longer be anything to fear.
The man slipped out of Old John's territory. He no longer wanted to stay in such a filthy, foul-smelling place. It simply polluted his dignity.
"Hand over the money!"
Hammer had barely taken a few steps when a sudden chill touched his neck. A cold blade gently pressed against his skin, scaring him so badly that he wet himself on the spot.
"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm the president of Hammer Industries! I can give you money!"
"Hammer Industries?" The robber sneered and punched Hammer on the head. "You dare lie to me? How would a CEO end up in Old John's territory? You can't even make up a proper excuse."
"Hand over all the money!" the robber yelled angrily. The knife in his hand pressed deeper, leaving a faint trail of blood on Hammer's neck. Hammer was so frightened that he took out everything valuable on him. Even the expensive suit he wore was stripped away, leaving him without so much as a pair of pants.
"What's that?" The robber had sharp eyes and noticed the black plastic bag in Hammer's arms. He immediately assumed it had to be something valuable.
If it was not valuable, why would Hammer hand over all the money but keep holding onto it?
The robber reached out to snatch it, but Hammer stopped him.
"You can't take that! You can't take this!" Hammer shouted. This was his only path back to the top of New York. It absolutely could not be taken away!
The robber grew angry. A man being robbed actually dared to fight back?
Pfft!
One stab.
Two stabs.
Three stabs...
The white blade went in, and the red blade came out.
The robber himself did not know how many times he stabbed Hammer. He only stopped when Hammer died completely and collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Hammer's eyes were full of unwillingness and anger, but even more than that, they were full of regret. Blood continued to flow from his abdomen, soaking into the dark, damp alley. Before he died, Hammer had only one thought.
If only I had never gone against Stark...
Hammer breathed his last and stared up at the sky. The summer night was actually so cold.
Bitingly cold...
The robber happily hugged several wads of dollars and the high-end suit, then hurriedly escaped from the alley.
After running a long distance, he arrived in Hell's Kitchen, a paradise for most criminals in New York.
The robber carefully returned to the door of his house. On the table was a photo of two elderly people, smiling brightly and happily.
Do not misunderstand. They were not the robber's elders, but the original owners of the house. Later, the robber had broken in and killed them.
"Damn it. A USB drive hidden that tightly? Poor bastard!" the robber cursed, insulting the dead Hammer while counting tonight's haul.
"Damn, this guy really was rich! These stacks of cash must be worth tens of thousands!" the robber smiled arrogantly. "There are so many fools these days!"
Boom!
Just as the robber was happily planning how to spend the money, the door was kicked open. A man wearing a hood burst in.
"Who's there?" The robber pulled out the knife placed on the cabinet. Unable to see the man's face clearly, he stabbed toward him the moment he saw him.
The hooded man smiled coldly and raised his hand.
That one movement was enough. The pistol in his hand frightened the robber half to death. The robber immediately threw the knife to the ground and knelt in fear.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" The robber trembled slightly with fear and pointed at the pile of money on the bed. "Don't shoot. I'll give you all this money! As long as you don't kill me!"
He understood the situation very well. Someone with a knife definitely could not beat someone with a gun. As long as the mountains remained green, there would be no need to fear a lack of firewood. As long as he lived, he would still have a life to spend money on. Once he died, he would lose everything. He understood such simple interests very clearly.
The hooded man paid no attention to the pile of money on the bed. In his eyes, those green bills were no different from waste paper. He had only one target—the Hydra USB drive.
The hooded man found the black plastic bag, but there was nothing inside.
"Where's the USB drive?" he yelled, pressing the pistol against the robber's head.
"The trash... the trash can!" The robber was terrified and pointed toward the trash can in the corner.
The hooded man hurried forward and rummaged through it. Sure enough, he found the USB drive.
"Did you look at it?" The hooded man checked it carefully and confirmed that it was the one he had been looking for. Then he turned to the robber and asked.
"No, no! I don't even have a computer. I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything..." The robber waved his hands repeatedly, explaining that he was not interested in anything except money. He only begged the hooded man to spare him.
"You're pretty sensible." The hooded man smiled and tapped the robber's head with the butt of his gun. The robber could only laugh dryly, kneeling on the ground with trembling legs. At least the money had been left for him. Tomorrow, he would take it and leave the country.
New York was too dangerous. Even criminals had to watch out for other criminals.
The hooded man left with a smile. The moment the robber heard the door close, his heart finally settled.
"It stinks..." The robber suddenly smelled a foul odor and looked around. Only then did he realize he had been so frightened that he had wet himself. Sweat had soaked through his clothes, and an indescribable stench was coming from his body.
"What a joke. He didn't want all this money, just a USB drive?" After calming down, the robber laughed at the hooded man. He gathered the dollars on the bed and shook his head. First, he needed to change his pants.
Boom!
With the sound of a gunshot, the robber fell to the ground. A small blood hole appeared on his forehead. His pupils were still filled with joy over the money, and that joyful smile was frozen on his face forever.
"The mission is complete. There was a small mistake in the middle, but it was still successful," Bullseye said into the intercom. Without stopping, he left the building and quickly finished changing his appearance.
"Well done," a dull, steady voice came from the other end of the intercom.
"With this, my empire will be complete..."
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