Initially, Leon thought about giving those four guys a good beating. After all, nighttime was typically when criminals went to work. These punks were clearly not part of any organized group; they didn't seem like the type to accomplish anything big.
Surprisingly, while they weren't doing well in life, they had good instincts—they ran! Although Leon could have easily caught up with them, he considered himself to be in the "Chaotic Neutral" camp, at least in his own mind.
If he caught them, then what? Kill them? There's no need for that—he's not a murderer or someone with psychological issues. Beat them up? What is he, five years old? It wasn't worth it.
So, Leon just stood there, frustrated, as he watched the four guys dash away. He was wearing Rorschach's mask, so no one could see his frustration anyway. Feeling irritated, he decided to leave. Just as he was about to use his flight ability to head home at full speed and get some sleep, the woman in the red dress unexpectedly spoke up.
"Hi!"
Huh? Leon turned around. Now she wasn't afraid of him? As a doctor, he always carried dissection tools with him—it was only reasonable! Could she show him some respect?
"Um... thank you for saving me!"
It seemed she had realized that Leon meant no harm and was probably just an eccentric or someone else with a peculiar personality. In any case, Leon had saved her, and that was a fact.
"I'm Barbara."
Only then did Leon take a good look at the "damsel in distress" who was wandering the streets in the dead of night, impersonating a movie star. She had dark golden hair styled in big waves, a red checkered short-sleeved shirt, black denim shorts, and black open-toed high heels. Her makeup and metallic handbag hinted she had just come from a bar.
But the real question was: Why would a normal person be on the streets of Hell's Kitchen at this hour?
Leon? Is Leon a normal person?
Maybe his silence and the way he was sizing her up reminded the woman calling herself Barbara that she was standing in front of a strange man.
She took two steps back and stared at Leon.
"I'm a doctor!"
The sudden self-introduction startled the woman. She quickly raised her bag in front of her.
"Leicester Freud."
"You can call me Doctor Leicester!"
"Interested in cosmetic surgery? Our clinic has a strong team of physicians and offers fair prices. We've even won the sixth prize in fire safety training and have experience winning lawsuits against eight patients' families simultaneously."
"Top-notch advertising! Second-rate renovations! Third-rate equipment!"
"We serve patients sincerely; you judge our advertising by the results!"
"Professional medical aesthetics! Helping you become a real man!"
...
After rattling off for over 20 seconds, he felt avenged for being at a loss for words earlier. By the time Barbara processed the bizarre connection between third-rate equipment and becoming a "real man," she already had a pen and a contract in her hands.
"Come, sign the contract! Get surgery today, return to work tomorrow. In just three minutes, all accidents will be a thing of the past."
It was as if she had grabbed a burning hot iron; Barbara quickly dropped the pen and contract. With a swift side-step and elbow strike aimed at Leon's neck, she then rolled away to create more distance between them.
Leon, of course, dodged her attack—not because of any technique but because he had suspected something was off about this woman from the start. The timing of her appearance and the location were both unusual, but those were minor details. Most importantly, she wasn't afraid of Leon, even though he was a man wearing a black trench coat, a mask, and a wide-brimmed hat late at night. Sure, Leon knew he was handsome enough to pull off this look, but his face was covered by the mask!
Now that he thought about it, something was also off about those four punks. As a group of broke, confused, and awkward individuals, they had been surprisingly sharp. They knew when to cut their losses and had good situational awareness—unusual for their type.
Leon shook the blank contract paper lightly in front of her and then laughed as he threw it on the ground. Seeing her fake indifference, though she was clearly tensing her jaw, Leon thought that maybe tonight wouldn't be so dull after all.
She kicked off her high heels, took out two metal batons from her bag, and transformed from a seemingly ordinary woman into a warrior, looking very professional.
"I'm exposed, sir," she said softly, seemingly to herself, but in reality, she was reporting the situation to her superior through a communication device in her ear.
Seeing the batons and this familiar scenario, Leon finally remembered who this "Barbara" was.
Barbara Morse. Agent 19 of S.H.I.E.L.D., codename Mockingbird. She was one of Fury's most trusted operatives and had once been sent on an undercover mission by Coulson. Yes, her real name was Barbara, though she later changed it to Bobbi.
Leon didn't know much about her, but he did remember her from watching the *Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.* TV series, where she had made an appearance in the second season.
Now that he recognized the woman in front of him as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, it was clear what this encounter was all about.
"Ahhh!"
Leon let out a strange shout, clapped his hands, and yelled, "You're here to take a dump, aren't you?"
Barbara considered rushing over to hit him with a baton, but the order in her ear made her suppress that urge.
"Mr. Leicester, I think we can have a proper conversation."
Leon didn't respond but instead asked, "If I catch you now, will they negotiate with me, or will they attack us both?"
Upon hearing this, Barbara took another small step back and lowered her stance even further.
"Hahaha, don't be so nervous—I'm just kidding," Leon said, still with a carefree attitude. "How about you let your superior come out, and we have a real talk?"
Barbara didn't reply, knowing her superior could hear everything. She waited for orders through her earpiece.
A moment later, Barbara nodded, signaling her agreement.
As Barbara spoke, a dozen fully armed tactical team members emerged from the surrounding alleys and buildings. Leading them was a short, bald white man in a black suit.
Oh, it's an old acquaintance! Isn't that Phil Coulson?
"Hello, Doctor," Coulson said, removing his sunglasses despite it being late at night. He let his hands hang naturally at his sides and greeted Leon with a harmless smile.
In the midst of the tactical team members raising their guns and shouting commands, Leon suddenly floated in mid-air, sitting cross-legged. He waved and returned the greeting.
"Interested in getting a hair transplant at our clinic?"
"Government employees get a 20% discount!"
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