Five o'clock in the afternoon.
Lorien Su murmured to himself, "Check in."
[Check-in successful, reward obtained: Super Explosive Jumping Candy ×10 packs!]
"..."
He was used to it by now.
The next moment, with a crisp click of the lock, Lorien and Stephen stepped out of the office together.
Before they reached the elevator to the underground parking garage, Stephen glanced back at the office door, then checked the time on his watch.
"Are you always this punctual?"
"Of course." Lorien gave him a look. "Even if the world were ending at 4:30, I'd still do my best to leave at five sharp."
Stephen raised a brow.
"And how exactly would you survive that extra half hour?"
Ding~
The elevator doors slid open. Lorien stepped inside, turned to face Stephen, and replied,
"By sheer willpower — never leaving early, never being late."
"..."
...
Woo! Woo! Woo~!
With the roar of an engine, a black Lamborghini shot out of the North Tower's underground garage and sped toward the banquet's location.
The car was Stephen's. Being one of the world's top surgeons — and an American doctor at that — buying a Lamborghini was nothing to him. On this so-called land of freedom, as long as you had the skills, you could make money. For better or worse.
The only reason Lorien wasn't driving his own car was simple: when you don't have a car, you want one; once you have it, you can't be bothered to drive. Especially when your net worth could buy any production car in the world... the motivation just wasn't there.
The Lamborghini cruised down the road without a hitch. Stephen's right hand gripped the wheel while his left arm rested against the window.
"If you don't take your Ferrari out soon, the dust on it's going to be thicker than a pizza," he remarked.
Wearing sunglasses, Lorien leaned lazily into the seat and replied,
"First of all, my car's in a VIP spot. Someone cleans it every day.
Second, could you do something about these seats? They're way too uncomfortable."
Truth be told, Lamborghini seats weren't exactly built for comfort, but they were good enough in terms of ergonomics — designed to make you feel like you were in a race.
Stephen just shook his head at the complaint.
"No, I'm not changing it."
"Modifying it would be like putting a passenger seat and footrests on a racing motorcycle, or installing air conditioning in an F1 car."
Alright, so Stephen did understand sports cars.
If a sports car were comfortable, it wouldn't be a sports car anymore. In the eyes of a sports car designer, performance came first — if it didn't make your body feel the strain, could it even be called a sports car?
And so, Stephen kept driving his Lamborghini with Lorien in the passenger seat.
Suddenly, a breaking news alert came from the car's onboard system.
"At 5:20 p.m. New York time, the Avengers are engaged in battle with an unidentified terrorist force in the country of Sokovia.
Including Iron Man and Captain America.
The battle has caused the country of Sokovia to become a floating island, now thousands of meters above the ground."
"How will the Avengers respond to this crisis?"
"How can they ensure the safety of the local residents' property?"
Wow.
The news named two big-shot heroes right off the bat, then immediately started asking questions — about property, of all things.
What about lives? Don't they care about lives?
And wasn't this basically the plot of Avengers: Age of Ultron? The Avengers were fighting in Sokovia, Quicksilver — Wanda's brother — was the only one who died, and in the end Wanda was left with… well… some trauma. Not a huge one, but it was there. Not that the movies ever brought it up again.
When Stephen heard the report, he shook his head helplessly.
"This world is getting too chaotic. I've even started wondering how much longer I'll be able to keep doing surgery."
Good question.
Lorien thought for a moment, then said jokingly, "Maybe less than a year?"
Stephen glanced at him. "Then your career as a psychologist should only get better."
"True. PTSD cases have been popping up everywhere lately."
"Fuck you."
After that jab left Stephen speechless, the two of them stopped paying attention to the broadcast and continued toward the banquet.
As for the Sokovia incident, Lorien had no intention of getting involved. Why should he? There was no benefit, and if he exposed his abilities, it would only bring him trouble.
For Lorien, it was enough to live well and maybe look out for a few close friends.
In the words of a certain Taoist, "No matter how bad the world gets, I can still protect myself, my family, and my friends."
Everything else? As long as the Earth wasn't on the verge of destruction, why should he care?
Who decided that having power meant you had to save the world? Who?
He was just an ordinary psychologist with a few special tricks. Well… maybe with two hobbies — slacking off and beautiful women.
...
Fifteen minutes later, Stephen pulled the Lamborghini up to the banquet entrance, handed the keys to the valet, and got out with Lorien.
The moment people saw the Lamborghini, they recognized it immediately. When they caught sight of Lorien stepping out — even more handsome than Stephen — they quickly gathered around.
Some greeted them warmly, some wanted pictures, others tried to start conversations.
Lorien wasn't a fan of this kind of scene.
But scanning the crowd with his sharp memory, he spotted a familiar face — a young, beautiful woman with smooth golden hair, following behind a group.
Gwen Stacy.