She reacted quickly, immediately turning around to pull out a thick stack of the latest supermarket special-offer brochures, the print quality no worse than a fashion magazine. With a warm smile, she handed them to Saitama.
"This is the newest, most complete supermarket discount guide for the greater New York area! I hope you like it!"
Saitama's face instantly bloomed into an unreserved, utterly satisfied smile. He hurriedly stretched out his dust-covered white-gloved hands and took that thick stack of flyers as if it were some priceless treasure.
"That's great! Thank you!" he said happily, his voice full of sincere joy.
As for that canvas bag stuffed with top-grade steaks and premium bread?
He didn't even spare it a glance.
"...You're welcome! It's the least we can do!"
The female agent forced herself to maintain professional composure, her smile dazzling. But inside she was howling:
How am I supposed to write the mission report?!
The core of the whole plan was the steak temptation and it completely failed!
The target only took a bunch of... ads?!
With the flyers in hand, Saitama was absolutely satisfied, as if he had obtained some supreme secret manual. He immediately squatted down and started flipping through them on the spot, mumbling as he read.
"East District Warehouse Supermarket... egg purchases limited tomorrow... but if you line up before eight in the morning you can get a raffle ticket... South District Discount Store... continued sale on napa cabbage..."
He was completely immersed in the ocean of newly acquired discount information, totally ignoring the other "lucky citizens" still standing in line and the "volunteers" whose smiles were on the verge of cramping.
The first contact operation — "Discount Breadbasket Action" — ended with the target taking only the least valuable item among the key props and completely ignoring SPC's carefully prepared main bait.
Effect: unknown.
The sole result: the target showed... an extremely high degree of enthusiasm for SPC-distributed supermarket special-offer brochures.
In the nearby communications van, General Ross, who had been monitoring the whole process live, stared at the screen. On it, the bald figure in the red cape was studying the ad pages in all seriousness, completely ignoring the top-grade steaks right beside him.
Ross bit his cigar so hard it almost snapped, then squeezed two words out from between his teeth.
"...Log it."
The last light of the setting sun barely managed to slip through the overlapping buildings of Brooklyn, casting a dim yellow glow beneath the bridge.
Saitama sat cross-legged on spread-out newspapers, fingertips sliding over a picture of discounted beef in one of the supermarket flyers as he planned out tonight's menu.
Then his finger paused.
He tilted his head slightly, a habitual frown gathering between his brows — his head, smooth and shiny like a freshly peeled egg, caught the afterglow and gleamed, making his expression seem even more serious.
The air seemed... to solidify for an instant.
Not the wind stopping, but something deeper and heavier pressing down, as if even the dust around him had frozen in midair for a heartbeat.
A faint, almost imperceptible low hum followed, like a dull drumbeat coming from somewhere deep underground.
He put the flyers down, stood up, and looked toward Brooklyn. Over there, just now, it felt like something had "tugged" at space itself.
At the same time, deep inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Triskelion building in Manhattan, shrill alarms began to blare.
On the holoprojection table, the map of New York was covered by large, eerie purple ripples, with the coordinates clearly locking onto the Brooklyn district.
"Energy readings spiking, Director Fury!" Maria Hill's voice carried a faint tension. "Unknown energy signature, not matching any known type. Source... underground! Intensity is still climbing!"
Nick Fury's single eye stared fixedly at the screen, his face dark and unreadable.
Another extradimensional event?
An alien incursion?
Or some crazy scientist's new disaster?
He pressed his fingers to his earpiece.
"Coulson, take an emergency squad and lock down the area around Brooklyn's Fourth Street. Evacuate all civilians within a five-hundred-meter radius. Is Banner in? Have him take a look at that energy spectrum— no, forget it, he's busy coordinating with the -other guy- right now.
Natasha, Barton, you two head to the scene for high-altitude reconnaissance. I want the target's shape and structure identified. Do not engage without authorization.
This thing... does not feel good."
(End of Chapter)
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