Chapter 63 The Joys of Life
The early morning sunlight had just spilled over the wall of the Villa, and Logan, wearing a simple black quick-drying shirt, ran out of the gate with Ares.
The big dog scampered excitedly in front, its tail whipping through the air with a whistling sound, occasionally turning back to wait for him a couple of steps, its muscle lines smooth and flowing, looking majestic.
Logan's strides were very steady, his breathing even. For a physique enhanced by Crimson Power, running a hundred kilometers made no difference from a stroll. Morning jogging for him felt more like walking the dog while aiding digestion—and incidentally reminiscing about the romantic allure in the hotel last night.
Michaela looked shy, but once she let go, she was quite bold. The warm touch and the citrus scent on the young girl seemed to still linger on his fingertips. As Loganthought about it, the corners of his mouth unconsciously hooked into a smile.
Along the way, the rate of people turning their heads to look was ridiculously high.
The elderly men and women out for their morning exercise slowed down their steps and secretly glanced over here.
A little girl in a school uniform clutched her companion's arm and shrieked in a lowered voice, "It's him! It's him! That's the Wolverine!"
Even the clerk at the roadside coffee shop poked their head out, secretly filming with a phone, their hand shaking continuously.
It was hardly surprising.
After the Expo, his background had been thoroughly dug up and laid bare.
Unarmed and bare-handed subduing Whiplash at the Monaco antique car race, freezing two hundred steel soldiers with a wave of his hand at the Stark Expo, even the old score of tearing down Tarasov's Villa in Long Island three years ago was dug up.
The nickname 'Wolverine' spread without wings. Magnetic Field Manipulation, Adamantium Claws, teleportation ability—online analysis threads built tens of thousands of floors, knowing more about him than he did himself.
What was even more explosive was his net worth.
Two percent of the group shares of Stark Industries, plus forty percent of the dry shares in Stark's biomedical sector—some people had crunched the numbers, conservatively estimating his net worth to be over five billion, and in U.S. dollars at that.
Although many people had long known about Logan's magnificent transformation from a gold-medal bodyguard to a partner, it was only when his net worth was solidly exposed that everyone realized this guy was actually so rich.
Rich, able to fight, handsome, with top-tier physique—even knowing he was a Mutant, passersby had nothing left in their eyes but adoration and curiosity.
After all, in this day and age, a Mutant who could reach out and save hundreds of people in a terrorist attack—let alone being harmless, even if he had a bit of a temper, everyone felt it was only natural.
The authorities could do nothing about him either—he was wealthy, hadn't broken the law, hadn't done evil, and had even performed meritorious service. With Stark Industriesbacking him up, and faint ties to Xaviers School as well, who would be bored enough to mess with this tough nut?
"Look quickly, he smiled!"
Not far away, two little girls covered their faces and shouted softly. Hearing them, Logan turned his head and raised his chin at them, which counted as a greeting.
The little girls instantly blushed and flurriedly waved their hands, only daring to hop and scream after he had run far away.
Ares barked twice, as if joining in the excitement.
"Show-off." Logan bent down to rub its head, scolding it with a smile. The man and dog ran back leisurely.
Returning to the Villa to take a shower, Logan wiped his hair as he walked to the living room, picked up his phone, and glanced at it. Six messages were lying securely in the notification list, each sender having their own unique style.
At the very top was Ororo, whose message was as short as a telegram: "The students want to see you. Come if you want, don't if you don't."
Logan chuckled, thinking that this woman still had a stubborn mouth. Clearly, she wanted him to go over and taste something, yet she had to phrase it like an act of charity.
He casually replied with "I'll go when I have time", guessing that the other party would roll her eyes again upon seeing it.
The second one was Jean, whose tone was gentle and soft: "The new kids at the school keep asking about you. If you have time, come over and sit for a while? The children all like you very much."
Logan's fingertips paused, and he replied with "Going in a couple of days".
Jean's personality was always so soft, even inviting people with cautious tenderness, completely different from Ororo's style.
The third one was Emma, with shrewdness exuding between the lines: "Your net worth is higher than mine now. When are you going to patronize my business?"
Logan raised an eyebrow and backhanded an emoji pretending to be poor.
The fourth one was Fox, concise and comprehensive: "The follow-up security report for the Expo has been sent to you. Take a look when you have time."
Just like her, ice-cold, without a single word of nonsense.
Logan didn't reply either. Anyway, Fox didn't care whether he replied or not; if there was something the matter, she would naturally find him again.
The fifth one was Maggie, full of warmth between the lines: "The shop freshly baked some cinnamon rolls, which go perfectly with coffee. If you happen to pass by, come in and grab two boxes. Helen asked about you yesterday too."
Logan smiled and replied with "Dropping by for free coffee this afternoon". Maggie's coffee shop was getting bigger and bigger, but her craftsmanship hadn't regressed at all; just thinking about the taste of the cinnamon rolls made one's mouth water.
At the very bottom was Michaela's, carrying a hint of just-woken-up laziness: "Good morning, I'm heading to the modification shop. If you have nothing to do, want to have dinner together tonight?"
Logan replied with "Picking you up tonight", and tossed the phone onto the coffee table.
Six girls, six temperaments, each with their own merits.
To call it ambiguous was indeed ambiguous; no one made things explicit, and no one forced him. Everyone was happy to maintain the current state.
Logan was not in a rush either. In this lifetime, he was not someone who would be tied down by relationships; letting nature take its course was fine.
He slumped on the sofa, casually turned on the television, pulled out a game handle, and clicked on the newly purchased "Metal Gear".
On the screen, Snake had just sneaked into the Base. Logan controlled the character to dodge the patrol guards, and after playing for two minutes, he clicked his tongue: "This infiltration is way too slow. If it were me, a single teleportation would get me to the place."
Saying it was complaining, his hands didn't stop, and he was quite engrossed in playing.
During this period, he had brushed through all the popular masterpieces on the market. "Assassin's Creed" had him climbing walls with endless joy, and "Metal Gear" had him sneaking around with great relish. Anyway, since he was idle anyway, wasn't playing games more comfortable than fighting?
After playing for half an hour, he tossed away the game handle and stretched, wondering in his heart what to do in the afternoon.
Ask Frank to go fishing by the lake? That guy spoke little, and was very quiet while fishing, which was quite comfortable.
Or go to John's place for a free meal? John's home-cooked dishes suited his appetite even more than restaurants outside.
Or should he go to Xaviers School? By the way, he could check out those little guys, sparing Jean and Ororo from constantly nagging.
Thinking about it, he even found himself amused.
It had been almost five years since he time-traveled over. When he first arrived, he used to think about the plot every day, thinking about accumulating points to level up, afraid that he would take a wrong step at any point.
Now look at him, days were spent even more leisurely than a retired old man.
There were four cars in the garage: a Lamborghini, a Shelby Cobra, a harley, and a Hummer he drove daily. He could drive whichever one he wanted.
Friends were not few either: Tony bickered with him every day but was reliable at critical moments; John spoke little but could provide a bottom line; Frank was a human gourd, but fishing was an expert skill of his; over at Charles's side, although they weren't deep friends, they could be considered half-allies.
Abilities were getting stronger and stronger, money earned was more and more, and life was becoming more and more comfortable.
Those crappy things before the time-travel—live streaming, group mocking, figuring out ways to make money, staying up late until going bald, and still being urged to get married by his parents.
Anyway, he wasn't an only child, so filial piety to parents wouldn't lack anyone, and the savings he left behind were not a few, enough for the family to live well. What was there to think about? The way it was now was pretty good.
Having wine to drink, fights to fight, dogs to walk, company to keep—even if the sky fell down, he could take a nap first before talking.
Just as he was pondering, the phone suddenly rang, Tony's name jumping back and forth on the screen.
Logan answered the phone, turned on speakerphone, and tossed it on the table: "Hey, Mr. Stark, what is it again? Did the laboratory explode?"
"Bullshit! Who are you cursing!" Tony's voice carried a bit of irritability and a bit of guilty conscience, "That… do you have time right now? Come to the Tower for a trip."
"No time, I'm playing games." Logan deliberately teased him, "Speak if you have business, otherwise I'm hanging up."
"Don't, don't, don't!" Tony immediately softened up, his tone carrying a hint of ingratiation, "Pepper is coming over to audit the accounts today, and the accounts for the Expo haven't been leveled yet. Come over tonight and help me cover. Just say… just say the research and development of the new armor reached a critical moment and I've been soaking in the laboratory busy with serious business, not messing around."
Logan almost laughed out loud: "So you got into trouble yourself, and you want me to take the blame for you? What about the benefits?"
"Eighteen-year-old whiskey, all you can drink! Pick whatever you want in the wine cellar!" Tony gritted his teeth, making a heavy investment, "Plus a Michelin meal, order whatever you want!"
"Fine, for the sake of the wine." Logan slowly stood up. "Wait, I'll be there in half an hour. Right, has mark vii been repaired? That piece of armor chopped off by Whiplashlast time, don't tell me it hasn't been patched yet."
"It was repaired long ago! Not only was it repaired, but the defensive coating was also upgraded!" Tony immediately perked up, "Wait for you to come over and let you try out the new features, guaranteed to scare you."
"Alright, I'd like to see that."
Hanging up the phone, Logan changed into a casual shirt, bit down on an unlit cigar, and whistled at Ares: "I'm heading out, behave yourself at home, I'll bring you a steak tonight."
Ares let out a howl, lying by the side of the sofa and wagging its tail, which counted as agreeing.
Logan picked up his car keys and went out. Instead of driving the sports car, he rode that modified harley.
The engine roared as it darted out of the residential area. The sunlight spilled onto his body, the wind brushed past his ears, feeling comfortable enough to make one want to whistle.
People on the roadside still frequently turned their heads, some took out their mobile phones to take pictures, and some whispered among themselves.
Logan didn't care at all, and even had the mood to raise his chin at the people on the roadside who recognized him.
Chapter 64: Reminding Fishing Buddy
Jessica Jones has been having a rather comfortable time lately.
Ever since Logan twisted her arm and pinned her against a shipping container at the abandoned shipyard last time, and she subsequently turned on her employer for double the price, she thought the matter was over. However, less than a week later, Logan's call came through.
The job was very simple: keep an eye on a family named Castle. No need to capture anyone or dig up dirt, just watch out for anyone looking for trouble and ensure the family didn't run into any accidents. One hundred thousand US dollars a month, paid monthly.
Jessica almost thought she misheard at the time.
Stake out, keep watch, and watch kids, one hundred thousand a month? Working herself to the bone as a private detective for over half a year, after deducting rent and utilities, she might not even have that much left.
She immediately dropped all the minor cases on her hands involving catching cheating partners, rented the top-floor room of the apartment opposite the Castle family's house, hugged binoculars by the windowsill every day, with pizza and beer placed on the table, living a life even more regular than having a regular job.
Privately, she had also checked out the background of this family: the male host Frank Castle, a retired veteran, currently doing some mediocre security work; his wife Maria was gentle and virtuous, daughter Lisa was pretty and sensible, and there was also a young son in boarding school who only came back on weekends. The family lived an ordinary life, and didn't look like they had provoked any desperadoes.
"It's best if it stays this ordinary forever," Jessica muttered, biting on a pizza slice as she squatted on the windowsill. "One hundred thousand dollars for free, who would want to look for trouble."
Unfortunately, heaven doesn't always grant one's wishes.
Starting this Monday, she found something was wrong. Across the street, there was an unlicenced black sedan parked every day in the shade of the trees at the intersection, and the people inside wearing sunglasses kept glancing towards the Castle family's house.
The next day, there were two more Irish guys wearing leather jackets hanging around the street corner for an entire afternoon, with their jacket hems bulging, obviously concealing hardware.
Jessica had been a detective for many years, with a nose sharper than a dog's, and she immediately sensed something was amiss.
She squatted for three days, following the clues to figure out the backgrounds of the three batches of people.
The Hellhound's thugs, the Irish Gang's punks, and the drug-dealing lackeys of the Mexico gang—the three groups did not interfere with each other, but they all orbited around the Castle family's house, obviously scouting out and waiting for an opportunity to make a move.
She didn't dare delay, and on that very day sent all the organized information to Logan in one go, adding a sentence at the end: "Three groups of people, all with substantial backgrounds, the trouble your friend has provoked is big enough. Risk doubled, gotta add money."
When the message was sent over, Logan was squatting by the suburban lake tying bait.
Although he promised Tony to go help cover for him, he hadn't forgotten that he had a fishing appointment with Frank today either.
Anyway, there was still plenty of time, and he could completely wait until Frank's problem was solved before going to find Tony.
Thinking of this, he unlocked his phone and glanced at it twice, raised his eyebrows, put the phone back into his pocket, and looked up at the man not far away.
Frank was still wearing that washed-out military-green jacket, his back straight, holding the fishing rod motionless, like a statue.
Logan pondered in his heart and didn't hide anything.
This guy was a straightforward person, and beating around the bush would easily cause resentment instead.
"Frank, I have something to tell you," Logan said, biting on an unlit cigar. His voice wasn't loud, drifting over with the wind just loud enough to be heard.
Frank didn't look back, his eyes still fixed on the fishing float on the water surface: "Speak."
"Your family has been a bit unrestful lately," Loganmuttered as he dragged his small stool closer to him. "Three groups of people, the Hellhound, the Irish Gang, and the Mexico gang, have been scouting near your house for almost three days."
Frank's hand holding the fishing rod suddenly tightened, his knuckles turning white, and he finally turned his head over.
His gaze was as sharp as an unsheathed blade, his brows knitted into a knot, and his tone deepened, carrying a bit of suppressed fiery annoyance: "You investigated me?"
No matter who had their family background snooped behind their backs, they wouldn't be happy.
Especially someone like him who crawled out of a pile of dead bodies; what he avoided most was having his privacy pried into.
"Don't get excited, it's not me investigating you, someone else is investigating you," Logan shrugged with an unflustered expression. "I hired a detective, originally just to keep an eye on the perimeter, afraid something might happen to you. As a result, we just happened to bump into it."
Frank stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes heavy. He had fished with Logan several times; he didn't talk much, but they could be considered familiar.
He knew this guy looked slick and unserious, with few proper words in his mouth, but he wasn't the kind of bored fellow who would dig into people's privacy when he had nothing to do.
After a long while, Frank withdrew his gaze, looked back at the lake surface, and his voice dropped even lower: "Do you know what they're coming for?"
"Not clear yet," Logan spoke the truth. "But three gangs gathering together definitely aren't here to visit. It's estimated to be related to your past affairs."
Frank fell silent.
He had done quite a few dirty jobs after retiring, and the enemies he made could line up from Queens to Brooklyn. He originally thought that after retiring and going into hiding, the matter was over, but he didn't expect people to come looking for him anyway.
"What do you plan to do?" Logan asked. "Just wait for them to find their way to your door like this?"
"What else can I do," Frank sneered, a bit of battlefield-hardened ruthlessness in the depths of his eyes. "If they come looking for me, don't expect them to walk back."
"Forget it, how many can you take on by yourself?" Loganscoffed, piercing through unceremoniously. "You don't care about your own worthless life, but what about Maria and the kids? How old is Lisa? Isn't your younger son on vacation at home this week? Are they going to shoulder it together too?"
These words accurately hit his Achilles' heel. The muscles on Frank's face twitched, his hand gripping the fishing rod tightening and loosening, loosening and tightening.
He wasn't afraid of death himself, having broken through hail of bullets and lived with his head on his waistband, but his wife and children couldn't.
The wind blew across the lake surface, stirring up layers of ripples, and the float wobbled, but he had no mind to pull the rod.
"I have a safe house in the suburbs, very covert, and the security is also in place," Logan leisurely tossed out his proposal, his tone casual. "You first send Maria and the children over there to hide for a few days, there's no danger. Wait until you investigate the matter behind the scenes clearly, and come back after you've resolved it."
Frank suddenly raised his head to look at him, his eyes carrying a hint of surprise.
Things like safe houses weren't something ordinary people could have. He and Logan weren't very close, but not strangers either; for someone to unprovokedly pull out this kind of trump card, this favor was too heavy.
"This isn't appropriate," Frank said in a deep voice, carrying the toughness of a soldier in his bones. "I can't afford to owe this favor."
"What a big deal, it's empty anyway," Logan waved his hand with an indifferent expression, intentionally making his words sound relaxed. "Do you think I'm giving it away for free? After you settle the matter, you'll accompany me to fish for three months later, the kind from early morning till late night, as rent."
He knew a person like Frank had a hard bone, and helping too straightforwardly would instead backfire.
Frank looked at him and fell silent for a long time.
The wind from the lake surface carrying water vapor blew over, flapping the corner of his jacket.
After weighing it for a long time, the safety of his wife and kids ultimately overrode his pride. He gently nodded, his voice very low, yet very solemn: "Thanks. I've noted down this favor."
"Just remember it, pay it back slowly in the future," Logansmiled, not taking it to heart. "Later I'll send you the address and keys, move tonight, don't wait for long nights to bring many dreams."
Frank didn't say anything more, only heavily grunted an "Mn."
Not long after, he reeled in his rod, abandoned the two bass in the bucket, and hurried away carrying his things.
Obviously, he was in a hurry to go home and arrange for his family's transfer.
Logan had no mood to fish anymore either. After packing up his fishing gear and leaning against the tree trunk, he dialed Jessica's phone.
The phone rang twice before it was answered. Jessica's voice carried a bit of annoyance, with the crunching sound of potato chips in the background: "What? Received the news? I'm telling you, it's not as simple as tailing anymore; three batches of desperadoes, risk doubled, the money has to double too."
"What's the rush, yours won't be short," Logan said unhappily. "Just right, I have a job for you, doing it or not? Let's say it first, you don't need to risk your life."
"What job? Let's make it clear first, I'm not going to gunfights," Jessica was extremely vigilant, chewing something in her mouth, and added vaguely: "If the money is too little, I won't do it either."
"You're the smart one," Logan scolded with a smile. "You follow Frank Castle, help him investigate who's behind the scenes together. You don't need to charge to the front, just help check clues and keep watch, report in advance if there's a situation, doing your old trade. Two hundred thousand a month, regardless of whether there's trouble or not, paid monthly."
The other end of the phone instantly quieted down, only the crunching sound of potato chips stopped, obviously weighing the options.
Jessica originally didn't want to wade into this muddy water; gang vendetta matters were the easiest to drag oneself into.
But two hundred thousand a month, this price was simply too tempting.
It was enough for her to pay rent for over half a year, buy plenty of good things, and even clear out the bar tab she had owed for a long time all at once.
"I'm only responsible for intelligence, if a real fight breaks out I'm not stepping forward," Jessica bargained. "That fellow named Castle looks just like a trouble magnet, no telling how big of a mess he'll stir up."
"You don't need to make a move, when a real fight starts he's there," Logan laughed. "You're just responsible for things matching your expertise. Doing it or not? If not I'll find someone else, there are plenty of people who want to earn this money."
"Do it! Who says I'm not doing it!" Jessica immediately agreed, afraid he would go back on his word, her speaking speed quickening considerably. "Two hundred thousand is two hundred thousand, monthly settlement, pay half the deposit first! Don't default on wages, I hate bosses who owe money the most."
"Money-grubber," Logan scolded with a smile. "Later I'll send you Frank's contact info, you coordinate yourself. Be sharp, don't expose yourself."
"No need to tell me, I'm professional," Jessica said stubbornly, pausing before adding another sentence. "Also, last month's one hundred thousand plus this month's deposit, hurry up and wire it to my account. Don't be like those clients who play dead after the job is done."
"Got it, yours won't be short."
After hanging up the phone, Logan put his phone back into his pocket.
It was originally just a convenient matter for him.
Frank was a good fishing buddy, and a reliable person too; watching his family ruined right before his eyes was something he couldn't bring himself to do.
Besides, spending a bit of money to hire someone to keep watch was better than cleaning up the mess after a real accident happened.
As for who was instigating the three gangs behind the scenes?
Logan narrowed his eyes.
Three factions that originally didn't get along coming together made it clear that someone was funding and instigating them behind the backs.
He picked up the fishing gear bucket, whistled, and leisurely walked towards where his car was parked.
Logan straddled the car, twisted the throttle, and sped away in the direction of Stark Tower.
Chapter 65 Relief
When Logan rode his harley speeding all the way downstairs to Stark Tower, Pepper's high heels were already clacking loudly at the laboratory entrance.
He pushed the door open and bumped right into Tonyspinning around like an ant on a hot pan. Seeing him walk in, Tony's eyes lit up as if he saw a savior, and he rushed over to grab his arm: " You're finally here! If you were a step later, I'd be swallowed alive by Pepper! "
" What's the rush, it's no big deal. " Logan slowly took off his helmet, shook his hair, sat on the sofa, picked up the whiskey on the table and poured a glass, " Isn't it just losing fifty million? Does Tony Stark still lack this bit of money? "
" Money is a minor matter! Face is a major matter! " Tonywaved his hands anxiously and lowered his voice, " Peppersaid if I dare to misappropriate the expo's money to develop armor, she will freeze all my credit cards. Help me cover for a while later, just say the new armor is part of the expo's security project, counted in the R&D budget, you hear me? "
" Alright, add another bottle of thirty-year Macallan as a benefit. " Logan raised his price on the spot, smiling with a punchable face.
" Are you robbing me! " Tony glared, but Pepper's footsteps could already be heard outside the door, so he quickly nodded, " Fine, fine, fine, one bottle it is! Don't blow our cover! "
Right after he finished speaking, Pepper pushed the door open and walked in, holding a thick ledger with a not-so-good expression: " Tony, I asked finance, the expo's maintenance budget has a thirty million gap, did you misappropriate the money to the armor project again? "
" How is that possible! " Tony stiffened his neck and cast a glance toward Logan, " This is a security upgrade, Loganknows too, right? "
Pepper turned to look at Logan with a hint of scrutiny in her eyes.
Logan put down his wine glass, wore a serious expression, and nodded like pounding garlic: " That's right Pepper, it's indeed a security project. After the incident at the last expo, Tony felt the existing security wasn't good enough, so he specially upgraded the armor's defense system just to react faster if there's a similar situation in the future. "
He spoke with utter seriousness, and Tony secretly breathed a sigh of relief beside him.
Just at this moment, the phone on Tony's desk suddenly rang. It was from the R&D department, asking straight away: " Mr. Stark, has the budget for the Mark 8's weapon system been approved? The suppliers are urging for payment. "
Tony was just about to reach out to answer when Pepperlooked over a step earlier, her gaze clearly saying " Go ahead and answer, I want to hear it ".
Tony froze in place, neither answering nor not answering, anxious as he made frantic facial expressions to wink at Logan.
Logan chuckled, reached out and picked up the phone, cleared his throat, and intentionally lowered his voice to fake Tony's tone: " Mhm, it's me. About the budget... Don't rush, tell the suppliers first to give us a few more days, the payment will be made once the expo security project passes inspection. "
He imitated it seven parts accurately, and Pepper stared at him with a frown without speaking.
However, the R&D department supervisor on the other end of the phone didn't notice and kept rambling: " But Mr. Stark, didn't you say last week that two modules need to be added to the Mark 8's plasma cannon? The supplier said adding modules will cost another eight million, look... "
Logan almost laughed out loud, paused deliberately, and said slowly: " Add, of course add. Isn't it just eight million? Do you, Mr. Stark, lack this bit of money? Just transfer it from the expo maintenance fund later. "
" Pfft—— "
Tony almost spat out a mouthful of soda, his face turning pale as he hurriedly lunged over to grab the phone.
Logan smiled and dodged away, adding another sentence into the phone: " That's it, busy right now, hanging up. "
He hung up the phone, turned around and saw Peppercrossing her arms, looking at the two of them with a half-smile: " Expo maintenance fund? Logan, why don't you two explain to me how armor R&D got charged to the maintenance fund? "
Tony's face turned green, and he glared fiercely at Logan, that look clearly saying " You did that on purpose, right ".
Logan held back his smile, put down the phone and spread his hands: " Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue. Just think about it Pepper, isn't Tony upgrading the armor also so he can handle it promptly if something happens to the expo again? When it all comes down to it, it's all for security. Family doesn't speak of two different families, why make such a clear distinction. "
" Who is family with him. " Pepper shot Tony a sideways glance, but didn't press the matter further, just placing the ledger on the table: " Let this time slide, not as an example. If there's a next time, the two of you can go drink the northwest wind together. "
After saying this, she turned and left, her high heels clacking further and further away.
Until the laboratory door closed, Tony finally breathed a sigh of relief, collapsed in his chair, pointing at Logan and unable to speak for a long time: " You brat did that on purpose, right? We almost blew our cover! Eight million coming out of the maintenance fund, why didn't you just say you sold me out! "
" What's the rush, didn't we avoid blowing our cover. " Logan smiled and took a sip of whiskey, " Besides, Pepperwasn't really angry in the first place, she just wanted to discipline you. If she really wanted to audit the accounts, would she have waited until now? "
Tony was stunned for a moment, then reacted, curling his lips: " Need you to tell me. "
In his heart, he certainly knew Pepper was showing mercy, but orally he just wouldn't admit it.
The two bickered for a few more sentences. Logan glanced at the time, estimating that Frank's side should be almost settled, and got up to leave.
Tony still wanted to keep him to try out the new armor's simulated combat, but was rejected by him on the grounds of having business to attend to.
After all, Frank's family matters hadn't settled yet.
When leaving Stark Tower, the sky was completely dark.
On the other side, on the mountain road in the suburbs, Frank was driving an inconspicuous black SUV, heading towards the direction of the safe house.
It was very quiet in the car. Maria sat in the front passenger seat, occasionally turning back to look at the two children in the back seat.
Lisa hugged a rag doll and curiously peered out the car window: " Daddy, where are we going? Is the house no longer good to live in? "
The younger son, little Frank, was only six years old, timidly leaning against his sister's side, also opening his round eyes to look at Frank.
" Going to a fun place to stay for a few days. " Frankgripped the steering wheel, his voice much softer than usual, " There's a lake and woods over there, Daddy will take you fishing this weekend, alright? "
" Great! " Lisa's eyes lit up, and she instantly became happy.
Maria wasn't that optimistic. She glanced at Frank and asked softly: " Is it... people from the past coming looking for you? "
Having lived with Frank for so many years, she more or less knew a bit about his past. Her husband didn't say, and she didn't ask too much, but she knew what was going on in her heart.
" Mhm. " Frank didn't hide it from her, giving a simple response, " You guys go hide in the safe house for a few days first, I'll pick you back up once I resolve things. Don't worry, the safe house is very safe. "
Maria nodded, reaching out to hold his arm: " Be careful yourself. "
" Rest assured. "
The car drove for nearly an hour before turning into a secluded forest path, ending in a detached Villa with a courtyard surrounded by trees, making it very concealed.
Surveillance cameras were installed at the entrance, and the courtyard wall was very high, looking as impregnable as a fortress.
Frank drove the car into the courtyard, got out carrying the luggage, and opened the door for the children.
Lisa ran in, spun around a circle, and shouted excitedly: " Wow! It's so big here! There's even a swing! "
Little Frank also ran in following her, and the timidity finally vanished from his face.
Maria looked around the furnishings inside the house. The furniture was complete, daily necessities were all there, and fresh ingredients were even prepared in the kitchen, obviously tidied up in advance. She turned to look at Frank: " This place... your friend's? "
" Mhm, a friend helped find it. " Frank didn't elaborate on Logan's matter, just putting the luggage into the bedroom, " You guys stay here with peace of mind, there's a security system in the courtyard, outsiders can't get in. I left a gun in the bedside table, call me if anything happens. "
After settling his wife and daughter, he checked the doors, windows, and surveillance cameras once more, confirming there were no problems before preparing to leave.
Lisa ran over to tug at the corner of his clothes, raising her little face: " Daddy, when are you coming back? "
Frank squatted down, maintaining eye level with his daughter, stroked her hair with his rough palm, and softened his voice significantly: " When you finish piecing together that box of puzzles, Daddy will be back. "
" Really? "
" Really. "
He ruffled his younger son's head again, exchanged a glance with Maria, nodded, didn't say much more, and turned to walk out the door.
The moment the car door closed, the SUV's taillights grew further and further away on the forest path.
Inside the house, Maria stood by the window watching the car disappear and let out a gentle sigh.
Lisa hugged the puzzle and sat on the carpet, meticulously piecing it together, while muttering " Finish piecing it together quickly so Daddy will come back " in her mouth.
Meanwhile in Hell's Kitchen, inside a smoky and chaotic bar, Jessica was sitting by the bar counter, twirling a glass of beer in her hand while her gaze calmly swept over the people around.
She had changed into a tight leather skirt and put on some heavy makeup, looking no different from a delinquent girl in the bar.
A plate of peanuts was placed on the table. She nibbled on one and chatted casually with the bartender: " Buddy, let me ask you something, why have people from the Irish Gang been hanging around nearby lately? My brother wants to do some business with them, but can't find the way in. "
The bartender was a burly man with a beard, glanced at her, and didn't take up the conversation.
Jessica smiled, took out twenty dollars and pushed it across, pressing it under the bottom of the wine glass: " Just inquiring about some news, no other meaning. My brother said, if it works out, your benefits won't be lacking. "
The bartender glanced at the cash, reached out and tucked it into his pocket, then lowered his voice: " Irish Gang? What are they, they're just masters who take money to do things. Not just them, Hellhounds, Mexico Gang, have all been busy with the same thing lately. Someone is paying a huge price to deal with a retired veteran. "
" Oh? Who is so generous? " Jessica raised an eyebrow, pretending to be curious, " How big of a grudge is it to spend so much money? "
" Who knows. " The bartender shrugged, " Word is it's an old grievance from the army back then, that boss has money and guns, playing for real. I advise your brother not to get involved, watch out for burning yourself. "
" From the army? " Jessica's heart stirred, but on the surface she remained unconcerned, chatted with the bartender for a few more sentences, and then left carrying her wine glass.
She walked out of the bar, turned into the alley next to it, took off the wig, wiped off the heavy makeup, and restored her usual chilly appearance.
" Army grievances, a boss with money and guns... " she muttered in her mouth, taking out her phone to search through information.
She had seen Frank's discharge record; he came from the special forces and had executed quite a few classified missions, so making enemies was completely normal.
But with three mutually non-interfering gangs making a move at the same time, the boss behind the scenes had considerable clout.
While walking towards her apartment, she sent a message to Logan, briefly explaining the clues she had found, and didn't forget to add a sentence at the end: " Clues are too few, investigating takes time, gotta add money. Otherwise I really can't guarantee when it can be found out. "
After sending the message, she tucked her phone back into her pocket, looked up at the night sky, and curled her lips: " Two hundred thousand really isn't easy to earn, had I known earlier I would have asked for fifty thousand more. "
On the other side, Logan had just mounted his harley when his phone vibrated.
He swiped to look at Jessica's message, smiled, and replied: " Finding it out clearly will have an extra bonus, yours won't be lacking. "
He stuffed his phone back, twisted the throttle, and the harley emitted a deep roar, merging into the traffic in the night.
Arms dealer, old army grievances.
Quite interesting.
Chapter 66: Going Upstairs for Coffee
When Logan strolled into the lab the next day, Tony was frowning at a stack of outsourcing bid proposals.
"What's wrong? Who upset our Mr. Stark again?" Logancasually grabbed a blueberry from the table, tossed it into his mouth, and leaned against the workbench, raising an eyebrow. "Are the Expo's accounts still not settled? That can't be. Didn't Pepper let you off the hook yesterday?"
"The accounts are settled, but the work isn't finished." Tonythrew the bid proposals onto the table and pulled at his tie in frustration. "The subsequent security upgrades for the Expo venues, plus a few peripheral projects for the biomedical division, have to be outsourced to someone. There's a pile of bids submitted, but barely any are reliable. Either their technology is lacking, or their quotes are like highway robbery."
He originally wanted his own team to grind through it, but the Mark Eight was at a critical juncture, and they simply couldn't spare the manpower.
If he hired an outside company, he was afraid their technology wouldn't be up to par. If something went wrong down the line, Pepper would definitely give him a hard time again.
Chewing on a blueberry, Logan glanced over the bid proposals and suddenly thought of Emma.
The White Queen owned quite a few companies, with ventures in security and biotechnology. Their technological foundation was rock-solid, far more reliable than the small fry on the market. Last time, she had even jokingly asked him to look out for her, so he could introduce her.
"I actually know someone who has a team and solid technology," Logan said slowly. "The price might not be cheap, but you get what you pay for. It's better than hiring some half-baked amateurs."
Tony's eyes lit up. "Who? Are they reliable? Don't let them be like that idiot Justin—all show and no substance."
"Emma Frost, the boss of Frost Industries," Loganshrugged. "They do both biomedical and smart security. She landed several projects on the West Coast before, and her reputation is decent. If you're interested, I can set up a connection for you."
Tony stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly flashed a mischievous grin, leaning in with a wink. "Emma Frost? That gorgeous blonde CEO? I say, Logan, you're keeping the good stuff in the family, aren't you? Bringing in one of your own—mixing business with pleasure, are we?"
"What do you mean, 'one of my own'? We just know each other." Logan rolled his eyes and kicked Tony's chair. "Take it or leave it. There are plenty of companies begging to partner with Stark Industries. I can't be bothered to waste my breath."
"I'll take them, I'll take them! Who said I wouldn't?" Tonyimmediately backed down, scribbling a few lines on a piece of paper with a pen. "Since you recommended her, the technology is bound to be good. Have her side draft a proposal, and if it's suitable, we'll sign a contract. But let me make one thing clear: if the work isn't done well, I will dock their pay, and don't come begging me for mercy then."
"Don't worry, even if she screws up, she won't ask me to beg on her behalf." Logan sneered, pulling out his phone to send Emma a message briefly explaining the project. "You two can coordinate directly later. I'm just acting as a middleman, so don't come to me for every little thing."
Tony curled his lip, still teasing, "I think you're quite happy to be this middleman. Who knows how she'll thank you later."
Logan didn't reply, only offering a smile.
There was no need to explain his relationship with Emmato Tony. The guy had a big mouth and would undoubtedly tease him endlessly.
Meanwhile, in an auto repair shop in Hell's Kitchen, Frankfound Billy Russo.
The two were old brothers-in-arms who had gone through life and death together in the same unit. After being discharged, Billy stayed here and opened an auto repair shop. He dealt with gangs under the table, making him extremely well-informed.
"Frank? What a rare guest." Wearing grease-stained overalls and clutching a wrench, Billy froze for a moment when he saw him walk in, then smiled. "What brings you here? We haven't had a drink together in a long time."
"I'm here to ask you about something," Frank said, getting straight to the point as he pulled up a chair and sat down, keeping his voice very low. "Lately, three gangs have been loitering around my place: the Hellhounds, the Irish Gang, and the Mexican Gang. You're well-informed—do you know who's funding them behind the scenes?"
Billy paused with the wrench in his hand, a look of surprise crossing his face. "Is that so? I haven't had much to do with them lately, so I'm not really sure. Why, are you in trouble?"
"Just some old debts." Frank didn't elaborate, staring into his eyes. "Help me ask around. I'll owe you a favor."
"Alright, I'll ask around for you." Billy nodded and patted his shoulder. "I'll let you know if I hear anything. Be careful, these guys play dirty."
Frank nodded, didn't stay any longer, and got up to leave.
As the door of the repair shop closed, the smile on Billy's face slowly faded.
He stood in place, hesitating for a long time, his fingers gripping the wrench so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
After weighing his options for a few minutes, he ultimately pulled out his phone and dialed an encrypted number.
"Hello, it's me." Billy lowered his voice, casting a wary glance toward the door. "Frank just came to see me. He asked who was paying to cause him trouble... I didn't tell him, just said I didn't know. Yes, he seems to have noticed something... Alright, I understand."
Hanging up the phone, he let out a sigh of relief and stuffed it back into his pocket. Just as he turned around, he saw a figure flash past the window.
Startled, he quickly walked over and pulled back the curtain to look. The outside was empty, with only fallen leaves swirled by the wind, and not a soul in sight.
"Damn it," Billy muttered, assuming his eyes were playing tricks on him. Dismissing it, he turned back to continue repairing his car.
He didn't see that behind the trash can at the corner of the alley, Jessica was crouching there, holding up her phone, with the newly taken photos and recording displayed on the screen.
"There really is a mole." Jessica curled her lip, stuffed her phone back into her pocket, and patted the dust off her pants. "Well, that afternoon of crouching wasn't in vain. Time to ask for a raise again."
She had originally just followed Frank to see who he was asking for information, but she hadn't expected to stumble upon an internal betrayal.
An old brother-in-arms turning traitor—now that's a melodramatic twist.
She pulled out her phone to send Logan a message, explaining Billy's situation and attaching the photos and recording. At the end, she naturally added: "Unearthed a key clue. I deserve an extra bonus, right? I took these at the risk of getting caught."
After sending the message, she whistled and strolled away from the other end of the alley.
In any case, the clue was already in hand, and the rest was Frank's business. She was only responsible for getting paid to do her job and had no desire to get involved in some melodramatic drama of old comrades turning against each other.
In the evening, Logan received a call from Emma, asking him to meet her at a rooftop restaurant downtown.
When he arrived, Emma was already waiting there.
The woman wore a white business suit, her blonde hair swept back to reveal her slender neck. Her red lips were vibrant, and upon seeing him enter, her brow softened instantly as she flashed a thoroughly charming smile.
"You're here? Have a seat." Emma gestured for him to sit opposite her and poured him a glass of red wine. "I looked over the project details. Thanks for keeping me in mind. At least you have a conscience and didn't forget about me."
"It was nothing." Logan sat down and took a sip from his wine glass. "It's mainly because your company's technology is up to standard. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have bothered to waste my breath."
"Oh? And here I thought you were giving me special treatment." Emma rested her chin on her hand, looking at him with a hint of playfulness in her eyes. "In any case, landing this project will bring in quite a profit for me. Tell me, how do you want me to thank you?"
She leaned forward slightly, revealing a hint of cleavage. Her gaze was alluring as she threw him a wink they both understood.
Logan smiled, a wicked and roguish grin. "Any way I want?"
"That depends on what you want." Emma took a sip of red wine, her tongue lightly brushing over her lips, her tone suggestive. "As long as you can say it, I might not be unable to afford it."
The candlelight fell upon her face, making her skin look luminously pale. Her usual sharp and shrewd aura faded, replaced by a touch of soft charm.
Looking at her, Logan felt a slight stir in his heart, but he didn't rush to speak, instead taking his time drinking his wine.
The dinner was filled with an intimate atmosphere. The two talked about the project and recent events, occasionally sharing a few jokes, keeping the boundaries perfectly balanced.
As they walked out of the restaurant after dinner, the evening breeze blew. Emma reached out to link her arm with Logan's and looked up at him: "It's so late. Aren't you going to invite me upstairs for a cup of coffee?"
Logan looked down at her. The woman's eyes danced with amusement—a clear, unmistakable invitation.
He smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist: "Sure, it's the perfect chance to taste those coffee beans you've been hoarding."
As the night deepened, the streetlights cast their glow upon them, stretching their shadows long.
The next morning, when Logan returned to the Villa, there was a message from Jessica waiting on his phone, along with a draft contract sent by Tony.
Leaning back on the sofa, he casually flipped through them and replied to Jessica: "Bonus will be paid with your salary at the end of the month." This so infuriated Jessica that she replied with several angry emojis, calling him a capitalist.
Logan laughed and tossed his phone aside. Ares trotted over and lay down at his feet.
He rubbed the big dog's head, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Billy Russo. Interesting.
Chapter 67: Lending a Helping Hand
For three consecutive days, Frank turned Hell's Kitchenupside down, but he still couldn't find even a single clue about the mastermind.
The three gangs seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Transactions were made in cash, the contacts used encrypted numbers, and even the low-level runners didn't know who their boss was.
He staked out for three nights and caught two thugs from the Irish Gang. He beat them black and blue, but only managed to get "someone paid us to do it" out of them. They wouldn't spit out another word.
That evening, he leaned against a tree opposite the safehouse, smoking a cigarette. He didn't even notice that the butt was about to burn his fingertips.
The phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. It was an unfamiliar number. Frowning, he picked it up and kept his voice very low: "Who is this?"
"Me, Logan." The voice on the other end of the line was leisurely, accompanied by the sound of a dog barking in the background. "I heard you've been investigating for three days with no progress? Don't waste your time. The guy you're looking for is Billy Russo."
The cigarette in Frank's hand dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
He froze for two seconds, his first reaction being that it was impossible.
Billy was a brother who had crawled out of the same trench as him. Back in Afghanistan, Billy had taken a bullet for him. They had a life-and-death bond; how could Billy betray him?
But as the words reached his lips, he swallowed them back down.
Logan had no reason to lie to him.
Besides, that day at the auto repair shop, Billy's eyes had been shifty, and his answers had been too quick and clean. Thinking back now, there were indeed too many flaws.
"Is the source reliable?" Frank's voice tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the phone.
"Whether it's reliable or not, won't you know once you go back and check?" Logan chuckled. "I have a recording here of him personally calling the mastermind. If you don't believe me, I'll email it to you."
Frank said nothing and hung up.
Not two seconds later, his email notification chimed, and an audio file along with several photos were sent over.
The person in the photos was indeed Billy, standing at the entrance of the auto repair shop making a call, his expression alert.
The voice in the audio was also correct. It was the familiar voice of his comrade of over a decade, quietly reporting his whereabouts.
"Fuck!"
Frank cursed under his breath, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and turned to head straight toward the auto repair shop.
The fury in his eyes was almost overflowing, and his steps were fast and heavy. The thugs on the street instinctively dodged to the side when they saw him like this.
The lights in the auto repair shop were still on. Billy was squatting on the ground repairing an old pickup truck, a wrench in his hand, humming a little tune.
When the door was kicked open with a loud bang, Billy was startled. Looking up and seeing it was Frank, he squeezed out a smile: "Frank? Why are you back? Is there news..."
Before he could finish, Frank's fist already smashed into him.
With a dull thud, Billy was sent flying backward, crashing heavily into the tool rack. Wrenches and screwdrivers clattered all over the floor.
He climbed up while clutching his face, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was both shocked and angry: "Frank! Are you crazy?!"
"I'm crazy?" Frank rushed forward, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him up, his eyes as cold as ice. "I'm asking you, who paid to kill my family? Who did you call?"
Billy's eyes darted away, and he stiffened his neck, stubborn. "What call? I don't know what you're talking about! Frank, don't listen to outsiders trying to drive a wedge between us. What about our friendship..."
"Friendship?" Frank sneered, throwing another punch into his stomach.
Billy doubled over in pain, his face turning pale.
"I treated you like a brother, and you traded my entire family for money?" Frank applied pressure, pinning him against the wall, his knuckles cracking. "Speak! Who is the mastermind? Tell me, and I can act as if this never happened."
Billy gritted his teeth and shut his mouth tight, refusing to spit out a single word.
He knew Frank's temper, but he knew the mastermind's methods even better.
If he spoke, his entire family would die.
If he didn't speak, he would get a beating at most. Frank, out of sentimentality, wouldn't actually kill him.
Frank stared at him, the anger in his eyes slowly subsiding, leaving only an icy coldness.
He raised his fist, hesitated for a long moment, but ultimately didn't throw the punch. Loosening his grip, he threw Billy to the ground.
"Get out." His voice was raspy as he turned his back. "Don't let me see you again."
Billy froze for a moment, then scrambled to his feet, clutching his stomach as he tried to run out.
"Just letting him go like that?"
A lazy voice came from the doorway, tinged with playfulness. "You let him go back, and he'll immediately snitch to the mastermind, and they'll find the location of your safehouse in no time. Frank, you're risking your wife and kids' lives for old times' sake."
Frank whipped his head around.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, unsure of how long he had been standing there.
Ares squatted at his feet, panting and wagging his tail, putting on a show-watching posture just like his Master.
"Why are you here?" Frank frowned.
"If I didn't come, how would I watch you release the tiger back to the mountain?" Logan stood up straight and walked in slowly, glancing at Billy, who was trying to stealthily climb up from the ground. "I knew you wouldn't be able to do it. An old comrade, after all, it's understandable. But understanding is one thing; you can't let Maria and the kids take the risk, can you?"
Frank remained silent.
He naturally knew that letting Billy go would bring endless trouble, but with over ten years of friendship, he couldn't bring himself to deal a fatal blow.
Logan rolled his eyes, stopped wasting words on him, and walked straight up to Billy.
Just as Billy was about to scramble up and run, Loganraised his hand and made a slight pointing motion. Before even touching his forehead, a Mental Illusion silently slipped inside.
Billy had barely managed to stand up when his eyes instantly glazed over.
A look of terror appeared on his face, his body trembling, and he began to babble incoherently, looking exactly like that low-level Vampire leader from last time.
"Don't... don't kill me... I'll talk... It's Rollins... William Rollins..."
"The Director of the CIA's Covert Action Division... The torture tape from back in Afghanistan... is in Frank's hands... He wants to silence him..."
"What?!" Frank's expression changed, and he took a step forward, his eyes terrifyingly sharp. "Torture tape? Rollins?"
Billy's eyes were hollow as he continued to speak to himself: "If the tape is exposed... Rollins is finished... He paid... to have three gangs do it... kill Frank's entire family... destroy the tape... I... I was just passing on the message... It has nothing to do with me..."
Logan withdrew his hand and snapped his fingers.
Billy's body went limp, and he collapsed onto the ground, fainting. Saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth, making him look like an idiot.
The auto repair shop instantly fell silent, leaving only the parts on the tool rack gently swaying.
Frank stood in place, his face ashen, his fists clenched tightly.
William Rollins.
Of course he remembered this man.
During the mission in Afghanistan back then, this Rollinswas the supreme Commander. He secretly conducted torture interrogations and made their Special Forces clean up his mess.
Later, he had secretly recorded it, intending to report it upon his return, but the mission's classified status was suppressed, and the matter was dropped.
He hadn't expected that after so many years, this guy would still be thinking about it, even wanting to weed them out completely.
"Figured it out?" Logan bit his cigar and kicked the unconscious Billy on the ground. "A government official has a lot of influence. What do you plan to do? Really go head-to-head with him?"
Frank looked up, without a shred of hesitation in his eyes, only the ruthlessness of a battle-hardened veteran: "It's either his death or mine. If he dares to touch my family, he must pay the price."
Not a bit of retreat, nor a bit of fear. A man who had survived a hail of bullets was never afraid of a head-on clash.
Logan smiled. He didn't advise him to stop, nor did he offer to help.
He knew that a man like Frank had his own way of handling things.
Since he had made a decision, he was surely confident he could get out in one piece.
There was no need for him to stick his nose into other people's business. When things truly became unresolvable, he could just lend a hand then.
"Alright, you've got backbone." Logan patted his shoulder. "If you need help, just speak up. Don't force yourself. Of course, if you can't handle it, my price for stepping in isn't cheap."
Frank twitched the corner of his mouth in a semblance of a smile and nodded. "Thanks. I'll remember this favor."
"Just remember it, you can pay me back slowly later." Logan waved his hand and whistled, and Ares came trotting over. "I've finished interrogating the guy for you. You handle the rest. I'm off, won't keep you from your business."
Saying this, he turned and walked out. When he reached the door, he stopped again and turned back to add: "By the way, remember to clean up Billy when he wakes up. Don't leave any loose ends. If you really can't bring yourself to do it, I'll help you dump him in Mexico, and the fee will be charged to you."
Frank said nothing, only nodding again.
Logan smiled, leading Ares out of the auto repair shop.
Night had already fallen, and the wind in the alley blew past, kicking up dust. With an unlit cigar in his mouth, he strolled slowly toward where his vehicle was parked.
He climbed onto his harley, put on his sunglasses, and the engine roared as he sped out of the alley, disappearing into the night.
In the auto repair shop, Frank looked at the unconscious Billy on the ground, then at the disappearing headlights at the doorway, his gaze slowly darkening.
He pulled out his phone and dialed an old number, his voice as cold as ice: "Hello, it's me. Help me look up someone. William Rollins, CIA Covert Action Division... Yes, I want all of his information, as well as his whereabouts."
The other end of the line acknowledged and hung up.
Frank walked to the window, gazing at the night outside, anger and killing intent surging in his eyes.
Rollins.
It was time to settle the score from back then.