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Chapter 145: Don't Ask Me How I Drifted
Ever since Max joined the family, this area has been quite lively.
Occasional power outages, or a faint, harsh rumbling from underground, suggested some evil scientist was conducting a terrifying experiment. Residents nearby moved away one after another.
Rumor had it that this land was bought to develop military weapons, and it seemed the rumors were true.
“It's all Ross’s damned fault.” The residents who moved cursed under their breath, highly displeased, complaining everywhere, but no one paid them any mind.
The Old Bartender lay sprawled lazily on the lawn in front of the house, a bottle of wine predictably clutched in his hand. He loved to drink, and now he had a new hobby: lying lazily on the grass, soaking up the Sun, and occasionally taking a few sips of his wine.
Life was good.
No more wandering, no more hiding in Tibet. Every day he had ample time to sleep and enjoy his wine. He could spend as much family money as he wanted; Tony, that lavish spender, wasn't bothered about household finances, or rather, he deliberately wasn't bothered. Since the Old Bartender enjoyed good wine, he was free to spend as he pleased.
Because Tony also believed that the Old Bartender wouldn't be so lacking in propriety. If it were before, the Old Bartender might have acted wildly, but with more family members, the Old Bartender, who implicitly took on the role of butler, would undoubtedly be more vigilant.
He trusted the Old Bartender wouldn't disappoint him, and although they hadn't discussed this explicitly, some things didn't need to be stated outright.
There was such a thing as tacit understanding in this world.
A perfectly ordinary car slowly pulled up to the house.
The Old Bartender, lying on the grass, had a flushed face and hazy, drunken eyes. Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he was fixed intently on the car, and the occasional fleeting glint of cold light would secretly startle anyone who noticed.
Agent Melinda slowly stepped out of the car, her expression cold and emotionless as she walked towards the house. Her purpose was clear, direct and undisguised.
Concealed within her combat-ready black jumpsuit were various weapons, ready to become lethal instruments at any moment.
She walked directly past the Old Bartender, not even sparing him a glance.
“If you dare take another step, I'll take your life.”
Melinda abruptly stopped. The Old Bartender's voice seemed to ring right by her ear. The moment she turned, her dagger was already gripped in her hand, but in a flash, the Old Bartender seized her wrist, and a fierce side-kick struck her knee, sending Melinda down to one knee.
CRACK!
Melinda flung her wrist, and under the Old Bartender's astonished gaze, her entire wrist was actually broken! Her hand dangled, as if losing all support, seemingly connected only by skin and flesh.
The bones inside were indeed broken; the Old Bartender could tell that much.
This woman was truly ruthless!
Melinda gripped her dagger with her other hand, and without the slightest hesitation, lunged at him, leaving a gash on the Old Bartender's face as he swiftly dodged, a thin trail of blood following.
“Such skill clearly comes from rigorous training. Let me guess… you're that S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Tony met in Gotham City?”
The Old Bartender watched the cold, emotionless woman from a distance, a wary look in his eyes. Too ruthless. She broke her own wrist without hesitation just to escape and land a blow.
Melinda remained expressionless, and with a *crack* of bone, she forcefully reattached her broken wrist. The sound sent a slight shiver down anyone's spine, yet Melinda's face showed not the slightest ripple of emotion from beginning to end.
A highly trained Agent, a formidable killer.
“I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. to see Tony. I have some questions for him,” Melinda said coldly.
In her heart, her regard for the Old Bartender had risen a notch. Her act of ignoring him was originally a test. How could someone who survived being hunted by Vampires only know how to drink and idle his days away, and how could Tony trust him so completely?
Though, many times Tony did genuinely worry about whether this sometimes unreliable old geezer was truly dependable.
“Hey, he's employed by the Military, so of course he's working for the Military. He hasn't been back for a few days. You should look for him there. Can't S.H.I.E.L.D. even find out that much?” The Old Bartender casually wiped the blood from his face, scoffing.
“He's been in the Military Camp for three full days. I don't have time to wait outside the Military Camp every day,” Melinda said coldly, her tone carrying a rare hint of rage and displeasure.
She went to the Military Camp and waited for three full days, but didn't even see a shadow of Tony, as if Tony were deliberately giving her the runaround. Her request to meet Tony was also immediately rejected by the Military: Permission denied.
She herself was even expelled multiple times.
Her sharp instincts told her that something very unusual had happened. Over these three days, many high-ranking officials had also visited the New York Military Camp, then left in a hurry.
Including Tony, they were plotting something, but intentionally excluding S.H.I.E.L.D.
The Military didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to know. They wanted to completely cut S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tentacles out of the game, and prevent them from interfering or investigating. S.H.I.E.L.D. was, after all, a global organization, and even if it received high-level authority from the Five Great Powers, it theoretically had no right to meddle in a particular country's military affairs.
S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Military mostly cooperated rather than having a superior-subordinate relationship. Otherwise, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority would be too terrifying, and no one could restrain an organization that commanded global armies.
The Old Bartender chuckled, simply refusing to let Melinda enter.
Faintly, a deep rumble came from underground. Max's Electrokinesis Training had gone awry again.
Melinda's eyelid twitched. She gave the Old Bartender a deep look, then stood there stubbornly, not saying a word.
Although Max was training underground, he had already sensed the sudden appearance of a new Bioelectric Field. He hadn't encountered this Electric Field before; it was undoubtedly a stranger.
Max stepped directly out of the basement, looking at the strange woman with a scrutinizing gaze. His body, glowing with blue light, gave off a dangerous aura.
The instinctively sharp Melinda felt a prickling sensation on her back, sensing a deadly crisis. This blue Metahuman posed a fatal threat to her.
“Sir is not home, stranger. Please leave this place!” Max said in a deep voice.
The three of them stood in a standoff. Inside the house, Scarecrow and Talon were also stirring, ready to kill at any moment.
Even Melinda felt like cursing at this point. Tony's entire household were dangerous individuals, merciless when it came to killing.
Just then, a sleek, large truck roared as it crashed through the half-open large metal gate of the yard, stopping brazenly inside the yard. To make matters worse, it performed a stylish 360-degree drift—don't ask how this large truck managed it, but it just did. The neat lawn was left in a mess, deep tire tracks carved into it.
The beautiful lawn looked like it had been chewed by a dog.
The Old Bartender, who dearly loved his lawn, was so enraged he cursed a blue streak.
“What's wrong with your truck? How many tons does it weigh? How could it leave such deep marks, all my grass is dead because of you! You damned scoundrel!” The Old Bartender ranted and cursed, completely forgetting Melinda, the outsider, was present; he was truly furious.
(end of chapter)
Ever since Max joined the family, this area has been quite lively.
Occasional power outages, or a faint, harsh rumbling from underground, suggested some evil scientist was conducting a terrifying experiment. Residents nearby moved away one after another.
Rumor had it that this land was bought to develop military weapons, and it seemed the rumors were true.
“It's all Ross’s damned fault.” The residents who moved cursed under their breath, highly displeased, complaining everywhere, but no one paid them any mind.
The Old Bartender lay sprawled lazily on the lawn in front of the house, a bottle of wine predictably clutched in his hand. He loved to drink, and now he had a new hobby: lying lazily on the grass, soaking up the Sun, and occasionally taking a few sips of his wine.
Life was good.
No more wandering, no more hiding in Tibet. Every day he had ample time to sleep and enjoy his wine. He could spend as much family money as he wanted; Tony, that lavish spender, wasn't bothered about household finances, or rather, he deliberately wasn't bothered. Since the Old Bartender enjoyed good wine, he was free to spend as he pleased.
Because Tony also believed that the Old Bartender wouldn't be so lacking in propriety. If it were before, the Old Bartender might have acted wildly, but with more family members, the Old Bartender, who implicitly took on the role of butler, would undoubtedly be more vigilant.
He trusted the Old Bartender wouldn't disappoint him, and although they hadn't discussed this explicitly, some things didn't need to be stated outright.
There was such a thing as tacit understanding in this world.
A perfectly ordinary car slowly pulled up to the house.
The Old Bartender, lying on the grass, had a flushed face and hazy, drunken eyes. Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he was fixed intently on the car, and the occasional fleeting glint of cold light would secretly startle anyone who noticed.
Agent Melinda slowly stepped out of the car, her expression cold and emotionless as she walked towards the house. Her purpose was clear, direct and undisguised.
Concealed within her combat-ready black jumpsuit were various weapons, ready to become lethal instruments at any moment.
She walked directly past the Old Bartender, not even sparing him a glance.
“If you dare take another step, I'll take your life.”
Melinda abruptly stopped. The Old Bartender's voice seemed to ring right by her ear. The moment she turned, her dagger was already gripped in her hand, but in a flash, the Old Bartender seized her wrist, and a fierce side-kick struck her knee, sending Melinda down to one knee.
CRACK!
Melinda flung her wrist, and under the Old Bartender's astonished gaze, her entire wrist was actually broken! Her hand dangled, as if losing all support, seemingly connected only by skin and flesh.
The bones inside were indeed broken; the Old Bartender could tell that much.
This woman was truly ruthless!
Melinda gripped her dagger with her other hand, and without the slightest hesitation, lunged at him, leaving a gash on the Old Bartender's face as he swiftly dodged, a thin trail of blood following.
“Such skill clearly comes from rigorous training. Let me guess… you're that S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Tony met in Gotham City?”
The Old Bartender watched the cold, emotionless woman from a distance, a wary look in his eyes. Too ruthless. She broke her own wrist without hesitation just to escape and land a blow.
Melinda remained expressionless, and with a *crack* of bone, she forcefully reattached her broken wrist. The sound sent a slight shiver down anyone's spine, yet Melinda's face showed not the slightest ripple of emotion from beginning to end.
A highly trained Agent, a formidable killer.
“I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. to see Tony. I have some questions for him,” Melinda said coldly.
In her heart, her regard for the Old Bartender had risen a notch. Her act of ignoring him was originally a test. How could someone who survived being hunted by Vampires only know how to drink and idle his days away, and how could Tony trust him so completely?
Though, many times Tony did genuinely worry about whether this sometimes unreliable old geezer was truly dependable.
“Hey, he's employed by the Military, so of course he's working for the Military. He hasn't been back for a few days. You should look for him there. Can't S.H.I.E.L.D. even find out that much?” The Old Bartender casually wiped the blood from his face, scoffing.
“He's been in the Military Camp for three full days. I don't have time to wait outside the Military Camp every day,” Melinda said coldly, her tone carrying a rare hint of rage and displeasure.
She went to the Military Camp and waited for three full days, but didn't even see a shadow of Tony, as if Tony were deliberately giving her the runaround. Her request to meet Tony was also immediately rejected by the Military: Permission denied.
She herself was even expelled multiple times.
Her sharp instincts told her that something very unusual had happened. Over these three days, many high-ranking officials had also visited the New York Military Camp, then left in a hurry.
Including Tony, they were plotting something, but intentionally excluding S.H.I.E.L.D.
The Military didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to know. They wanted to completely cut S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tentacles out of the game, and prevent them from interfering or investigating. S.H.I.E.L.D. was, after all, a global organization, and even if it received high-level authority from the Five Great Powers, it theoretically had no right to meddle in a particular country's military affairs.
S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Military mostly cooperated rather than having a superior-subordinate relationship. Otherwise, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority would be too terrifying, and no one could restrain an organization that commanded global armies.
The Old Bartender chuckled, simply refusing to let Melinda enter.
Faintly, a deep rumble came from underground. Max's Electrokinesis Training had gone awry again.
Melinda's eyelid twitched. She gave the Old Bartender a deep look, then stood there stubbornly, not saying a word.
Although Max was training underground, he had already sensed the sudden appearance of a new Bioelectric Field. He hadn't encountered this Electric Field before; it was undoubtedly a stranger.
Max stepped directly out of the basement, looking at the strange woman with a scrutinizing gaze. His body, glowing with blue light, gave off a dangerous aura.
The instinctively sharp Melinda felt a prickling sensation on her back, sensing a deadly crisis. This blue Metahuman posed a fatal threat to her.
“Sir is not home, stranger. Please leave this place!” Max said in a deep voice.
The three of them stood in a standoff. Inside the house, Scarecrow and Talon were also stirring, ready to kill at any moment.
Even Melinda felt like cursing at this point. Tony's entire household were dangerous individuals, merciless when it came to killing.
Just then, a sleek, large truck roared as it crashed through the half-open large metal gate of the yard, stopping brazenly inside the yard. To make matters worse, it performed a stylish 360-degree drift—don't ask how this large truck managed it, but it just did. The neat lawn was left in a mess, deep tire tracks carved into it.
The beautiful lawn looked like it had been chewed by a dog.
The Old Bartender, who dearly loved his lawn, was so enraged he cursed a blue streak.
“What's wrong with your truck? How many tons does it weigh? How could it leave such deep marks, all my grass is dead because of you! You damned scoundrel!” The Old Bartender ranted and cursed, completely forgetting Melinda, the outsider, was present; he was truly furious.
(end of chapter)
