Chapter 15: Professor Curt Kneels and Sings "Conquer", God-Tier Mystery Box Opened Again
In the sewer, wastewater was still churning.
Curt Connors knelt in the ankle-deep muddy water.
He stared blankly at his right hand.
The arm that had been amputated due to wartime surgery was now connected to his shoulder, good as new.
He suddenly thrust his right hand into the black sewage.
His fingers grabbed a handful of foul-smelling mud.
The cold, slick tactile sensation traveled clearly along his nerve endings into his cerebral cortex.
It was real.
It wasn't a dream, nor was it a beastly hallucination from when he mutated into a monster.
Connors raised his mud-stained right hand and covered his face.
"Wuwu..."
Suppressed crying leaked out from between his fingers.
The top biologist in his fifties cried like a child who had lost a toy.
Tears mixed with the muddy water on his face, splashing onto the surface of the sewer water.
He had endured contempt at Oscorp for ten years.
For this hand, he had risked his life and limb, and almost even turned all the citizens of New York into cold-blooded reptiles.
In the end, all that madness wasn't worth as much as this bottle of blue potion right in front of him.
Aaron stood two meters away.
He didn't go to help him up.
The smell of ammonia in the sewer was too pungent, and he didn't want his pure white battle suit to get any more grime on it.
"Have you cried enough, Professor."
Aaron's voice was very calm.
Connors shuddered all over.
He abruptly raised his head, his red, swollen eyes looking at the mysterious person wearing white clothes.
Awe crawled over his heart like vines.
He crawled over on his hands and knees.
Disregarding the dirty water on the ground, he slammed his head heavily against the concrete floor.
"Thank... Thank you." Connors's throat was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing together.
"You gave me a new lease on life, and you stopped my crimes."
Aaron moved his mind.
A black long trench coat flew out of the system space.
With a smack, it landed on Connors's bald head.
"Put it on. It's windy in the sewer."
Connors flurriedly pulled down the trench coat and wrapped it around his shivering body.
He clutched the collar tightly, like grabbing a straw to save his life.
"Oscorp won't let you go." Aaron crossed his arms and looked down at him condescendingly.
"You messed up Norman's most valued cross-species genetic engineering, and you smashed this Canary device."
Hearing Norman's name, Connors shivered.
That mercenary madman would definitely throw him into the Hudson River to feed the fish.
"Come work for me." Aaron cut straight to the point.
Connors was stunned.
He wiped the muddy water off his face. "Work... for you?"
"Dismantle this machine. Destroy all data archives." Aaronpointed at the two-meter-high metal instrument.
"Starting tomorrow, Curt Connors is already dead. He turned into a lizard monster and was shot to death by the Police in the sewer."
Connors swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
He was a smart scholar and immediately understood Aaron's meaning.
Faking his death to escape and moving into the shadows.
"What can I get?" Connors asked tentatively.
"The top underground laboratory in all of New York."
Aaron's tone was calm as he dangled the bait.
"Unlimited research funding. And biological genetic technology decades ahead of this era."
Aaron paused and added a sentence.
"The condition is that you sell your life to me."
Connors didn't hesitate for a single second.
He had been a dog at Oscorp for ten years, only in exchange for Norman's exploitation and coercion.
Now, a god-tier figure who could casually produce a perfect genetic serum was willing to recruit him.
Only a fool would refuse.
He placed his newly grown right hand on his chest and bowed deeply.
"Boss. My brain and this hand will listen entirely to you from now on."
Just at the moment that the word "Boss" landed.
Hum.
Deep in Aaron's mind, a high-frequency synthesized electronic sound erupted.
[Ding!]
[Detected that the host has completely subdued the key villain "Professor Lizard".]
[Peter Parker's first formidable enemy's destiny line has been cleared.]
[The World's causality has significantly deflected, and a god-tier mystery box has been issued.]
The air in front of Aaron twisted slightly.
A translucent light screen that only he could see popped open.
In the center of the light screen floated a mystery box emanating a purple-golden glow.
The box was engraved with complex occult runes, with light flowing across it, exuding a bizarre aesthetic that did not belong to the side of science.
Aaron raised an eyebrow.
The grade of this reward looked even more special than the last time's Superman physique.
"Open." He chanted silently in his heart.
The purple-gold mystery box didn't burst.
It dissipated silently like the sand in an hourglass.
Transforming into a circle of translucent golden ripples.
The ripples magnified in the light screen and lunged fiercely towards the center of Aaron's eyebrows.
Sizzle.
Aaron felt a slight numbness coming from deep within his brain.
It was just like gulping down a whole bottle of iced soda in the middle of summer.
The cool sensation quickly spread along the central nervous system to the entire cerebral cortex.
Finally, on the outermost layer of his soul, it solidified into an invisible, hard barrier.
[Reward obtained: Mental Immunity Aura (Passive).]
[Skill description: The host's brain domain and soul have been transformed into an absolutely closed singularity.]
[Effect: Absolute immunity to all levels of telepathy, memory reading, mind control, and prying from magical dimensions.]
Aaron let out a long breath.
He licked the roof of his mouth, feeling all comfortable.
This thing came at just the right time.
In this damned World of Marvel, muscle-heads who could shatter Planets with their fists weren't scary.
What was most annoying were those guys hiding in the shadows playing with brains.
For example, that bald Professor pushing a wheelchair in X-Men.
Or that horse-faced sorcerer hanging the Time Stone in Kamar-Taj.
No matter how well one could fight, having one's memories altered or bottom cards seen through meant one could only end up as a marionette.
With this aura.
In the perception of those psychic bigshots, Aaron was just a non-existent mass of air.
Charles's Cerebro couldn't scan him.
Strange couldn't see through his causal threads with magiceither.
True absolute safety.
Aaron closed the system light screen.
He felt out an unregistered Swiss bank black card from the pocket of his battle suit.
With a flick of his finger.
The black card spun twice in the air and precisely landed into Connors's trench coat pocket.
"The password is six eights."
Aaron turned around.
"Clean up your tail. Tomorrow night at ten, come find me in the top-floor suite of the Queen Hotel in the Upper East Side."
The white battle suit gradually melted into the shadows of the sewer.
Connors pinched that sharp-edged black card.
Nodding heavily toward the direction where Aarondisappeared.
In the sewer, only the monotonous churning sound of the exhaust fan remained.
...
The next day.
Seven-thirty in the morning.
The hallway of Midtown High School was bustling with noise.
The air was mixed with the scent of cheap perfume, body odor, and freshly fried french fries from the cafeteria.
Aaron yawned.
He rubbed his somewhat sore neck.
Tossing and turning until late last night, he went home, took a shower, and it was almost dawn.
Although Steel Body wasn't tired, the mental fatigue was still there.
Leaving in too much of a rush, the gray hoodie he casually slipped on still had its neckline tag uncut.
The rough fabric kept rubbing against the back of his neck, itching uncomfortably.
He reached back and scratched his neck twice, leaving two red marks.
Not far away by the water cooler.
Peter Parker was holding a paper cup and drinking water.
The purplish-red bruise on his left eye socket had faded quite a bit.
It was just that he looked like an eggplant beaten by frost, listless.
Last night in the forest, he had been scared out of his wits by that alien monster.
His web shooter was also broken.
Coupled with Gwen's attitude yesterday, this little spider was currently at a low point in his life.
Aaron didn't go to disturb his desk mate's melancholy.
He walked over to his iron locker.
He reached out and pinched the metal dial of the old-fashioned combination lock.
Three turns to the left, stopping at five.
Two turns to the right, stopping at twelve.
Click.
The iron locker door popped open in response.
The locker was very messy.
The top book, Modern American History, fell out with a snap because it lost support.
It smashed onto the upper of Aaron's canvas shoes.
Aaron sighed and bent over to pick up the book.
Just the moment he picked up the book and hadn't yet had time to straighten his waist.
A strong scent of perfume suddenly drifted over along with the draft in the hallway.
That was the scent of Bulgarian rose mixed with a bit of wild musk.
Directly overriding the fried french fry smell in the hallway.
Aaron straightened his body.
Before he even turned his head to see clearly who had come.
A fair arm reached out without any warning.
Slender fingers painted with bright red nail polish naturally rested on his right shoulder.
The palm was warm.
The force wasn't big, but it carried a familiar sense of intimacy.
A head of fiery red wavy long hair smoothly brushed past Aaron's nose tip.
The strands of hair brushed against his neck, tickling somewhat.
Mary Jane.
That woman who had entangled with Peter Parker for half her life in the original work.
Today she was wearing a tight-fitting black cropped leather jacket.
Underneath, she paired it with a white halter top that exposed her midriff.
On the lower half was a pair of stone-washed faded skinny jeans.
Over half the weight of her body leaned against Aaron's shoulder.
The pair of Martin boots on her feet were crossed casually.
Her red lips parted slightly, chewing a piece of pink bubble gum.
"Hey, Aaron."
Mary Jane turned her head sideways, looking at Aaron's profile.
She blew a round, pink bubble.
Pop.
The bubble burst.
She rolled the gum back to the tip of her tongue and blinked at Aaron with those cat-like eyes painted with heavy eyeliner.
"Didn't you sleep well last night?"
She reached out her free left hand and stroked right below Aaron's outer eye corner without any avoidance.
"You even have dark circles out. What bad things did you go do?"
At the other end of the hallway.
Peter Parker, who was holding a water cup, had a tremor in his hand.
Most of the warm water spilled all over his old jacket.
Peter widened his eyes.
Staring fixedly at the two people leaning together in front of the lockers.
That was the neighbor girl he had a crush on for a long time, MJ.
Now, she was hanging on his desk mate's body like a lazy red cat.
Chapter 16: Mary Jane Takes the Initiative to Strike Up a Conversation, Gwen's Jealousy Boils Over
The scent of Bulgarian rose perfume drifted straight down Aaron's collar into his nasal cavity.
Mary Jane's fingers were still lingering below the corner of his eye.
Her fingertips carried a slightly rough texture of foundation particles.
Aaron leaned back half an inch.
The back of his head bumped against the metal locker door, producing a muffled thud.
"Staying up late to watch the ball game." Aaron shoved the copy of United States Modern History in his hand back into the locker.
"Manchester United lost in a complete mess."
He casually brushed away the hand MJ had rested on his shoulder.
He didn't use much force.
A dozen steps away.
The paper cup in Peter Parker's hand was completely crushed flat.
The remaining half cup of warm water flowed down between his fingers and dripped onto the floor.
It wetted the uppers of his pair of old canvas shoes.
His mouth was open, and his swollen eye sockets looked even more comical.
That was, after all, the red-haired goddess he peeked at from his windowsill every night.
MJ didn't pay attention to the unlucky guy at the other end of the corridor at all.
Chewing gum, she moved half a step closer to Aaron.
The zipper of her tight leather jacket was half open.
"How boring is watching a ball game." She drew out the end of her sentence.
"On weekend nights, there's an underground rock party over near Broadway."
Her fingers drew circles on Aaron's sleeve.
"The lead singer of my friend's band is sick. I managed to get two VIP wristbands. Going or not?"
The girl's wildness was completely written on her face.
She was the kind of cat that could keenly sniff out the aura of an alpha male.
She had seen the big news in Times Square yesterday.
Although she didn't recognize the person in White, she just felt that starting yesterday, this transfer student who usually loved to sleep had an extra sense of oppression that made people's legs turn to jelly.
She wanted to figure out what this was.
Aaron closed the iron door of the locker.
With a "clack".
Before he even had time to speak.
From the other end of the corridor came a burst of brisk footsteps.
The footsteps came to an abrupt halt three meters away from them.
The rubber soles scraped a short frictional sound against the floor tiles.
Gwen Stacy stood in the middle of the corridor.
Today she was wearing a light blue knitted cardigan.
Cradled in her arms were three thick hardcover reference books.
Her long golden hair was casually tied into a low ponytail with a black hair tie.
The rich scent of rose perfume in the air collided with a faint hint of vanilla.
Gwen's gaze swept back and forth between Aaron and MJ.
Her line of sight finally landed on MJ's tight camisole.
The reference books held in her arms were squeezed tightly.
The corners of the books pressed against her chest, leaving a crease on the light blue knitted shirt.
Her finger joints turned white from exerting force.
"Aaron."
Gwen broke the silence in the corridor.
Her voice was very crisp, carrying a slightly deliberately suppressed tension.
She strode over, stopping abruptly right between Aaronand MJ.
Her shoulder even intentionally or unintentionally brushed against MJ's leather jacket.
"You left in too much of a hurry yesterday."
Gwen tilted her head up and looked into Aaron's eyes.
"You forgot to take the cookies on the kitchen counter. I brought them in a crisper box today."
Freeing up one hand, she patted the canvas bag slung across her side.
The plastic crisper box made a crisp clattering sound inside the bag.
This sentence was overwhelmingly lethal.
MJ's chewing gum motion stopped.
She narrowed those cat-like eyes painted with heavy black eyeliner, looking Gwen up and down.
"Been to his house?"
MJ popped the bubble in her mouth, her tongue tip rolling the gum back into her mouth.
"I can't tell at all. The all-A top student of Midtown High School actually goes to a boy's house to deliver cookies on a weekend night."
Her tone carried undisguised banter.
Gwen's chin lifted slightly.
"Because I am his academic tutoring subject."
She told a little white lie, forcefully reversing the fact that Aaron tutored her.
"The midterm exams are coming up soon. I have to be responsible for him."
Aaron touched his nose.
The uncut tag of that hoodie was scraping the skin on the back of his neck again.
He felt two gazes hitting his face like searchlights.
On the left was a ball of Fire. On the right was a block of Ice.
This was even more intoxicatingly overwhelming than the smell of ammonia in the sewer last night.
"Tutoring schoolwork?" MJ let out a short sneer.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, her leather jacket was stretched into a dangerous arc.
"I saw his math test paper in the corridor. Full score."
MJ pressed forward a step closer.
"Stacy, he can even write out the Schrödinger equation from memory on a scratch paper. What do you need to teach him? Teach him how to bake butter cookies?"
Gwen bit her lower lip.
Her teeth pressed a row of white marks on her pink lips.
Yesterday at the desk, she was indeed crushed by Aaron's problem-solving train of thought.
But this didn't prevent her from asserting her sovereignty now.
"At least I've stepped into his living room." Gwen didn't back down at all.
She shifted the reference books in her arms to hold them in her left arm.
"I also know there's a wo..."
Midway through her words, Gwen stopped abruptly.
That silver-haired woman wearing a black and white maid outfit was a thorn in her heart.
She would never uncover her own scars in front of this red-haired woman.
"There's a what?" MJ sharply grasped the half-sentence.
"Nothing. It's still better than going to an Underground Room to hear those ear-shattering, shoddy heavy metal music."
Gwen retorted with a cold face.
"Aaron likes quiet." She added.
"Oh? You know him very well?"
MJ smiled, revealing two sharp canine teeth.
"I don't think a boy who eats two Big Mac burgers for lunch would like a boring library."
The two girls stood in front of the lockers.
The distance was less than half a meter.
The students in the corridor slowed down one after another, glancing over here like watching a monkey show.
Peter Parker, holding that crushed-leaking paper cup, stood like a stone statue beside the water dispenser.
His heart had shattered into glass shards.
Aaron leaned against the metal locker.
Both hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.
His Steel Body endowed him with Super Hearing.
He could hear Gwen's intense heartbeat, pounding like a flustered fawn.
He could also hear that combative, hurried sense brought out in MJ's breathing.
This Shura field was quite interesting.
But if they kept arguing like this, the dean of students would be coming over.
That fat man with a Mediterranean hairstyle loved catching puppy love most.
Aaron straightened his body.
The locker door made a soft click.
He raised his hand and pressed onto Gwen's slightly trembling shoulders from excitement.
His other hand blocked in front of MJ's leather jacket as she prepared to continue pressing forward.
"That's enough."
Aaron's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable force.
The noise in the corridor seemed to quiet down for half a second because of these two words.
Both women stopped arguing simultaneously.
Gwen turned her head, her eye sockets a little red.
MJ, on the other hand, raised one eyebrow, waiting for what he had to say next.
"That newly released space sci-fi movie. The rating is quite high."
Aaron looked at Gwen, then looked at MJ.
"The movie theater is too noisy."
He pulled his hand out of his pocket, took out his phone, and shook it.
"My apartment's media room just happened to update its holographic projection equipment."
"After school, come to my place to watch a movie. All the popcorn you can eat."
The air froze for three seconds.
The preparatory bell for class came from the end of the corridor.
The hurried electric bell ring pierced through this brief dead silence.
Gwen looked at Aaron, then stared fiercely at the red-haired girl opposite her.
There was still a silver-haired maid in that apartment. She must never let this red-haired one take advantage of the situation again.
"I'm going." Gwen's voice was crisp as she hugged those three reference books tighter.
MJ spat the tasteless chewing gum from her mouth into the wrapper.
She casually threw it into the trash can nearby.
She licked her lips, a spark of excitement igniting in her eyes.
"Alright then."
MJ flashed Aaron a wink.
"I like spacious leather sofas."
The two girls exchanged a glance.
There was no backing down, only thick hostility and an unyielding fighting spirit.
An even bigger storm was brewing in that eight-hundred-square-meter penthouse luxury mansion.
Chapter 17: Damn! My Apartment Turned Into a Superhero Girl Base!
Upper East Side, Manhattan.
The private direct elevator emitted a faint hum.
The four walls of the car were inlaid with smoothly polished black walnut, and the warm yellow ceiling lights shone down on the three of them.
The air was very quiet.
There was only the faint sound of the exhaust fan spinning.
Gwen stood on the left.
Her hands tightly clutched those three heavy hardcover reference books.
Because she was exerting too much force, her knuckles were pale and bluish-white.
She didn't look to the side, her gaze fixed straight ahead on the jumping floor numbers.
Mary Jane leaned against the brass handrail on the right.
Her tight black leather jacket made a slight friction sound with her breathing.
She was chewing bubblegum in her mouth at a fast frequency.
The toes of her Dr. Martens tapped irritably against the carpet.
Aaron stood right in the middle.
He had both hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, feeling a little itchy on the back of his neck.
That uncut clothing tag was scraping his skin again.
He reached back and scratched twice, leaving a red mark.
The two girls hadn't said a single word since entering the elevator, and the atmosphere was stifling enough to squeeze water out of.
"Ding."
The number jumped to 80.
The elevator doors slid open silently.
Aaron walked in front, kicking up a draft.
The retinal scanner outside the door lit up with a blue light.
The heavy double brass doors automatically retreated into the walls on both sides.
The door had just opened a crack.
A faint citrus-scented fragrance drifted out.
That was the built-in aroma of the mansion's fresh air system.
"Welcome back, Master."
A lazy, overly sweet female voice with a thick nasal tone sounded in the foyer.
The main door opened completely.
The bubblegum in Mary Jane's mouth was only half-blown before it popped with a smack.
The pink gum stuck to her lips.
She forgot to wipe it away, her eyes wide as saucers.
On the Persian rug in the foyer.
Felicia Hardy was standing there gracefully, holding a silver fruit platter.
She was wearing that traditional black-and-white British maid outfit.
The skirt hem was short enough to just cover the Base of her thighs.
White strap stockings hugged her slender legs tightly, squeezing out a hint of fleshiness.
The most fatal part was that she was still wearing that black half-face mask on her face.
Paired with her flowing silver-white long hair.
A strong sense of contrast and temptation directly struck the faces of the two high school girls outside the door.
Mary Jane's breathing stopped for half a second.
Having grown up on the streets of Queens, she considered herself to have seen all kinds of scenes.
But she really hadn't seen this kind of scene before.
"You..."
Mary Jane pointed at Felicia, her voice stuttering slightly.
She turned her head and looked at Aaron like he was a monster.
"You usually play this wildly at home?"
Gwen's complexion turned pale instantly.
She bit her lower lip, her teeth pressing a deep white mark onto her lips.
Last night she had only glanced at it hastily across the screen.
Now standing solidly in front of this silver-haired woman, the oppression of that mature woman made her somewhat unable to breathe.
She hugged the reference books in her arms even tighter.
Felicia looked at the two green high school girls at the door.
The eyes hidden behind the mask curved up.
Little girls whose feathers hadn't even grown in fully yet wanted to fight her for territory?
She intentionally twisted her waist into an exaggerated curve and stepped forward in high heels.
"Master, your slippers have already been warmed for you."
Felicia completely ignored Gwen and MJ.
She held the silver fruit platter with one hand and bent slightly at the waist.
Her neckline exposed a large expanse of snow-white skin.
Aaron kicked off the canvas shoes on his feet and changed into slippers.
"Go turn on the projector. Cut some fruit."
He took off his hoodie and casually threw it on the coat rack in the foyer.
Underneath, he wore only a thin white short-sleeved shirt.
Felicia nodded obediently and turned to walk toward the open kitchen.
Her high heels stepped crisp clacking sounds out on the marble floor.
"Come on in, planning to be door gods?"
Aaron turned back, looking at the two girls still standing stupidly outside the door.
Mary Jane snapped back to her senses.
She forcefully pulled off the chewing gum on her lips and threw it into the nearby trash can.
She took a deep breath.
Even if she lost, she wouldn't lose her bearing. She puffed out her chest, left her leather jacket open, and strode into the mansion.
Gwen took two deep breaths.
She changed into slippers and closely followed behind Aaron.
The apartment was ridiculously spacious.
Outside the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows was New York's dazzling night view.
In the center of the living room sat a set of pure white handmade genuine leather sofas covering a dozen square meters.
Aaron walked to the very middle of the sofa and sat down heavily.
The soft genuine leather immediately sank into a pit.
Gwen didn't hesitate, sitting directly on Aaron's left.
There was less than half a fist's distance between the two of them.
Mary Jane snorted coldly.
She walked to the right side of the sofa, kicked off her Dr. Martens, and sat down cross-legged.
Her thighs almost touched Aaron's knees.
The hidden holographic projector on the wall activated.
A pale blue beam of light shone into the center of the living room.
A realistic 3D image directly emerged in mid-air.
A newly released space sci-fi movie. A huge interstellar spaceship was slowly docking with a space station on the screen.
The surround sound speakers emitted a low engine roaring sound.
Felicia walked over carrying the fruit platter.
She didn't sit on the sofa.
Instead, she knelt directly on the shaggy rug between the coffee table and the sofa.
Right in front of Aaron's legs.
The fruit platter was filled with washed green grapes and sliced honeydew melon.
Felicia stretched out her fingers painted with black nail polish.
She picked up a grape.
Unhurriedly, she peeled off the grape skin.
Transparent juice flowed down her fingertips.
She held up the peeled grape meat and brought it to Aaron's lips.
"Master, have a taste. It was just flown in."
Her voice was cloyingly sweet.
Aaron leaned back against the sofa backrest and opened his mouth.
He bit into the grape.
The juice burst in his mouth; it was indeed very sweet.
Gwen's breathing grew hurried.
She grabbed a cup of ice water on the coffee table and took a huge gulp.
The ice water irritated her throat, and she forcibly shifted her attention to the sci-fi movie in mid-air.
"The physics engine of this movie is done too poorly."
Gwen pointed at the spaceship docking in the holographic projection.
Her voice was tense.
"The space station's angular momentum doesn't support this angle of entry at all. The hull will disintegrate directly."
She wanted to use her field of expertise to pull Aaron's attention back.
Mary Jane rolled her eyes.
She reached out, grabbed a piece of honeydew melon from the fruit platter, and took a fierce bite.
"Who watches sci-fi movies to learn physics?"
She pointed at the male lead wearing a tight spacesuit in the projection.
"Look at these muscle lines, look at the special effects. Stacy, do you have to bring a calculator when you go to the cinema?"
"This is common sense," Gwen retorted, her cheeks flushed red.
"If the basic settings don't even conform to logic, this movie is insulting the audience's IQ."
"Movies are meant for relaxation."
Mary Jane threw the honeydew melon rind into the trash can and leaned closer toward Aaron.
"Aaron, what do you think? Isn't she too rigid?"
Gwen refused to show weakness either, turning her head to stare at Aaron.
"Aaron got a perfect score on yesterday's math test; he definitely knows that Lorentz force calculation was wrong."
Their gazes intersected once again in front of Aaron.
Like two invisible knives.
Aaron was chewing grapes in his mouth.
He looked at the stubborn top student campus belle on the left.
And then looked at the provocative street wildcat on the right.
Finally, he lowered his head.
Felicia had just peeled the second grape, holding it up with flirtatious, charming eyes.
Aaron felt that this life was simply fantastic.
In this New York City full of flying aliens and mutated monsters, other people ran around every day just to stay alive.
Yet he sat on the genuine leather sofa of a mansion, enjoying the Shura field of three top-notch beauties.
"The male lead's muscles are CG-synthesized."
Aaron swallowed the grape and gave a fair piece of nonsense.
"Besides, that spaceship's engine nozzle design is indeed prone to oil leaks."
The corners of Gwen's mouth were just about to curl up.
Mary Jane slapped the sofa armrest with a palm, shaking the leather cushion back and forth.
"So boring. You science students only have formulas in your brains."
Felicia chimed in at the right time.
"Master is already very tired going to school usually, and should enjoy himself properly when he comes back."
She used a tissue to wipe the juice off her fingertips.
"High school homework must be a lot, right? Don't the two little younger sisters need to go home and review?"
The three words "little younger sisters" were bitten down heavily.
Gwen's fingers instantly clenched tightly around her trouser legs.
Mary Jane's eye twitched, and she directly grabbed a throw pillow and smashed it onto the coffee table.
"Watch your own hands, maid auntie."
The temperature in the living room seemed to rise by ten degrees instantly.
The voices of the three women intertwined together.
From movie plots arguing to clothing collocation, in the end even the placement angle of the fruit platter on the table could become a battlefield.
The spaceship explosion sounds in the holographic projection were all covered up by the sound of their arguments.
Aaron rubbed his glabella.
The central air conditioning temperature was set at twenty-four degrees.
But the heat and fragrance emanating from the three girls baked the sofa area like a steamer cage.
A bit stuffy.
The air wasn't circulating.
Aaron tugged at the collar of his pure white short-sleeved shirt.
He stood up from the sofa.
He avoided the third grape Felicia was handing over.
"You guys keep watching. I'll get some fresh air."
He walked over to the nearby constant-temperature wine cabinet.
He took out a crystal goblet.
He poured a shallow layer of red wine.
Aaron stepped barefoot on the Persian rug, walking toward the huge panoramic floor-to-ceiling window at the edge of the living room.
The glass was very cool.
Getting close to it, he could feel a trace of faint coldness.
In the Manhattan night sky outside the window, snowflakes had started fluttering down at some point.
Large flakes of snow swirled in the wind.
The street lamp's halo was chopped into pieces by the snowflakes.
Pedestrians on the street shrank their necks, hurrying along in a rush.
Aaron swirled the red wine glass in his hand.
The dark red wine liquid left a viscous wine leg hanging on the wall of the glass.
He took a light sip.
His gaze pierced through the wind and snow, looking toward the roofs of a few old apartment buildings two kilometers away.
The super-vision of the Steel Body was like daylight in the dark night.
Amidst the wind and snow filling the sky.
A thin red-and-blue figure was running wildly and struggling across the snow-covered rooftop.
Peter Parker.
That old grey hoodie on his body couldn't block the wind at all in the snowy night.
He was shivering all over from the cold, his movements stiff.
The patched-up web shooter on his wrist jammed again.
A section of web shot out was blown apart by the cold wind in mid-air.
Peter let out a miserable scream.
The whole person lost balance, headfirst downward.
He slammed solidly into a huge dumpster between two buildings.
Splashing up kitchen waste and dirty snow water all over the sky.
Aaron stood inside the warm-as-spring mansion.
Behind him were the chattering noises of three supreme beauties, carrying the vitality of youth and wildness.
Ahead of him was his miserable seatmate struggling to climb out of the dumpster amidst the wind and snow.
Aaron swallowed the red wine in his mouth.
The bottom of the glass tapped against the windowsill, making a soft sound.
Chapter 18: Peter swings in the cold wind, while I drink red wine in a luxury mansion
The glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows was a full three layers thick.
The howling wind of the Manhattan night sky was completely shut out, and not the slightest sound could be heard.
The crystal goblet in Aaron's hand tilted slightly.
The dark red wine swirled around the rim of the glass, moistening his lips.
The extraordinary vision of the Steel Body encountered no obstacles in the pitch black of night.
His gaze pierced through the swirling, fluttering snowflakes all over the sky.
Two kilometers away, in an old, dim alley in Queens.
The scene was as clear in Aaron's eyes as if it were pressed right up against a camera lens.
Peter Parker was stuck upside down in a green dumpster in a comical posture.
His two legs were kicking wildly in mid-air.
Encased on his legs was that pair of faded old jeans.
The pant legs had rolled up to his calves due to his violent struggling.
The cold wind poured down the pant legs, causing those two legs to shiver uncontrollably from the cold.
The snow was falling heavier.
Peter finally managed to prop himself up against the edge of the sheet metal and pull himself out.
"Pui."
He spat out two pieces of rotting vegetable leaves stuck to his lips.
Over his red and blue tights, he wore that grey hoodie.
The hoodie had long since been soaked by the snowmelt and sewer water, clinging heavily to his ribs.
He stood beside the dumpster, his whole body curled up into a ball.
He rubbed his arms alternately with both hands, trying to regain a bit of body temperature.
Peter raised his right wrist.
Aiming at a rusted streetlamp pole three meters away, he pressed hard on the web shooter.
"Hiss——Puff."
The high-pressure valve emitted a muffled, leaking sound.
A small ball of sticky white waste liquid sprayed out.
It fluttered twice in the wind, and with a smack, directly plastered itself onto Peter's own mask.
His vision was completely blocked.
He anxiously reached out to wipe it, only for it to smear even worse.
It jammed.
Peter anxiously slapped his wrist repeatedly.
As a result of using too much force, he smacked his palm right against the exposed sheet metal parts.
"Hiss!"
He jumped straight up and down in place from the pain, clutching the back of his hand and sucking in cold air.
Immediately afterwards, he abruptly sneezed loudly.
Mucus was smeared all over the fabric mask.
Aaron withdrew his gaze.
He swallowed the red wine in his mouth and exhaled a breath of hot air carrying the fragrance of grapes.
He turned around.
In the living room behind him, the temperature was constant at twenty-four degrees.
In the artificial fireplace at the bottom of the wall, virtual flames danced, blowing out comfortable heatwaves.
In the leather sofa area, the war among the three women not only hadn't stopped, but had instead heated up.
"The pressure resistance index setting for this spacesuit is too absurd."
Gwen held the remote control, pointing at the male lead walking in space within the holographic projection.
"The pressure difference in outer space would instantly make blood boil, yet he didn't even fasten his safety buckle tightly."
Her serious demeanor was like a Professor giving a report in a laboratory.
"Why do you care so much! It's enough that the male lead is handsome."
Mary Jane snatched the remote control away.
She crossed her legs, her tight leather jacket tightening with the movement.
"Look at these muscle lines. Stacy, bringing a calculator while watching a movie, don't you feel tired?"
Gwen gritted her teeth as she went to snatch the remote control back.
The two hands collided in mid-air.
The spaceship in the holographic projection emitted a deafening explosion.
This sound was quickly covered up by the arguments of the two high school girls.
Felicia didn't pay any attention to these two arguing little girls at all.
She knelt on the plush carpet.
Both hands held a steaming white towel.
"Master, wipe your hands."
She raised her head. That eye not covered by the eye mask was full of ingratiation.
The neckline of the maid outfit was at just the right low cut.
Aaron walked over.
His cotton slippers stepped on the fringe at the edge of the Persian carpet, and his soles slipped slightly.
Two drops of red wine splashed out of the cup, hitting the carpet and blooming into red stains.
He steadied his body.
He took the hot towel from Felicia's hands and leisurely wiped his fingers.
Felicia reached out her hands and skillfully kneaded Aaron's calves.
The strength was neither too light nor too heavy.
Aaron felt the muscles that had ached from standing for a long time instantly relax.
He sat down at the very edge of the sofa.
To his left was MJ, exuding a wild musk scent all over her body.
To his right was the top student campus belle with a serious face debating physics equations with you.
Kneeling at his feet was a hot-bodied thief maid.
Placed on the table were sliced cantaloupe and iced grapes.
Aaron raised his head, his peripheral vision sweeping once again towards the pitch-black night sky outside the window.
Thinking of the comical appearance of Peter freezing like a stray dog in the snow just now.
And then looking at his own current situation.
He drank the remaining half cup of red wine in one gulp.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
"Being a superhero is so miserable," he muttered softly.
"What did you say?" Gwen turned her head, her golden ponytail brushing across Aaron's arm.
"It's nothing. I said the male lead of this movie is really miserable."
Aaron handed the empty wine glass to Felicia.
Felicia submissively took the glass, her fingertips intentionally scratching lightly against the back of Aaron's hand.
...
The next day.
The snow in New York stopped.
The sky was so blue it was almost white, and the sunlight shone on the accumulated snow, dazzling people to the point where they couldn't open their eyes.
Midtown High School's outdoor basketball court.
The snow plow had just cleared the area in the morning, and half-meter-high mounds of black muddy snow were piled at the edges.
The cold wind swept across the wire mesh, making a wailing, strange sound.
The physical education teacher wore a thick knitted hat and blew a whistle in the distance.
Students gathered in twos and threes on the court.
Aaron sat on the lowest layer of concrete steps of the bleachers.
He unscrewed a bottle of blue sports drink in his hand and took two gulps.
The cold wind blowing on his face had no effect whatsoever on his Steel Body.
But his deskmate beside him was a different story.
Peter Parker was wrapped in a thick black down jacket.
The zipper was pulled all the way up to his chin, hiding a little over half of his face inside.
His nose was frozen red.
The bruise on his left eye socket hadn't completely dissipated yet, and today a pair of heavy dark circles were added.
"Achoo!"
Peter suddenly sneezed a big sneeze.
His body arched like a shrimp, shaking the snow on the steps so that it kept falling down.
With trembling hands, he pulled out a crumpled ball of facial tissue from his down jacket pocket.
He blew his nose hard.
"Last night's snow... was too heavy."
Peter sniffled, his voice nasal, like he had a bad cold for a week.
Last night, he repaired that broken shooter by the dumpster until two in the morning.
When he ultimately couldn't fix it, he could only walk home on foot.
The snowmelt in his shoes turned into ice water, almost freezing his toes to the point of amputation.
Right now, even standing made him feel weak in the legs.
Aaron screwed on the bottle cap of the sports drink.
The plastic bottle made a clicking sound.
"A reminder for you." Aaron pointed toward the center of the court.
"What?"
Peter rubbed his glowing red nose and looked over following Aaron's finger.
His gaze passed through several boys practicing basketball.
In the center of the court.
Flash Thompson wore a short-sleeved red jersey, with a pair of loose athletic shorts below.
The muscles on his arms and legs were well-defined.
A hot-blooded sports major didn't care about this bit of cold wind at all.
In his hand, he single-handedly grasped a dark brown hard-leather basketball.
Flash turned around.
His gaze crossed half the court, directly locking onto Petersitting in the bleachers.
The day before yesterday in Osborn Tower's biology laboratory.
Peter shattered those two test tubes, causing the supervising teacher to scold him along with everyone else who had just crowded around to watch.
Coupled with Peter's usual timid and spineless appearance.
Flash had been holding in this nameless anger in his heart all along.
Seeing Peter wrapped up like a zongzi, constantly sneezing and looking utterly miserable.
Flash let out a cold snort from his nostrils.
His lips parted, pulling into a malicious, sarcastic sneer.
He heavily dribbled the ball forward two steps.
The basketball struck the hard concrete ground with two muffled thuds, stirring up a few patches of thin snow.
Flash abruptly stopped sharply.
His right hand supported the bottom of the basketball, while his left hand protected the ball.
His waist and abdominal muscles instantly tightened and exerted force.
He wasn't aiming at the distant basketball hoop at all.
Both hands shoved forcefully forward.
That hard-leather basketball stained with snowmelt and mud, carrying a piercing whistling wind sound.
Like a solid cannonball just fired from the barrel.
It flew straight towards the direction of the bleachers.
The aim was locked on tightly.
It smashed straight toward Peter Parker's frozen red face.
Chapter 19: Flash Thompson looking for trouble? I don't even need to lift a finger, the Black Cat will take him down in a second.
A leather basketball came hurtling through the cold wind.
It was moving so fast that it produced a sharp whistling sound.
Peter Parker froze on the concrete steps.
He was still clutching that tissue full of snot in his hand.
The Spider-Sense in his head was screaming frantically.
A needle-like stabbing pain exploded at the back of his head.
But his severe cold-addled body simply couldn't keep up with his neural reflexes.
Wrapped in two layers of thick down jackets, he felt like he was wearing a heavy burlap sack.
He could only watch helplessly as the basketball stained with black mud rapidly magnified in his field of vision.
Aaron was sitting nearby.
He didn't budge an inch.
Only the toe of his canvas shoe on his right foot lifted slightly, ready to kick the ball right back into Flash's face.
Before he could throw out his leg,
a gust of wind carrying a strong perfume scent suddenly swept down from above the stands.
A tall, dark shadow leaped directly out from behind Aaron.
Landing on one foot, she firmly stood in front of Peter.
Bam!
A dull, heavy thud rang out.
It sounded like a heavy hammer slamming into a sandbag.
The high-speed spinning leather basketball stopped abruptly in mid-air.
It was only ten centimeters away from Peter's nose tip.
A fair hand painted with transparent nail polish clamped tightly onto the side of the basketball like a hydraulic clamp.
The rubber on the surface of the basketball was pinched slightly inward.
The powerful kinetic energy was channeled down that slender arm into the ground.
On the concrete steps beneath the girl's feet, a thin layer of snow was shaken scattering all around.
Peter gasped in terror, drawing in a sharp breath of cold air.
The cold air choked his windpipe, and he clutched his chest and began to cough violently.
Aaron withdrew his foot.
Looking at the back figure blocking in front, he raised an eyebrow.
Felicia Hardy.
Today, she was wearing Midtown High School's yellow and blue contrast school uniform jacket.
The zipper was open, revealing a tight white sweater underneath.
On her lower half, she wore a black pleated skirt and thickened black leggings.
Her silver-white long hair was tied into a high ponytail, swaying slightly in the cold wind.
To prevent her from causing destruction in the mansion every day, Aaron spent fifty thousand dollars to have the principal process her transfer student paperwork.
Under the guise of "experiencing a normal person's life".
Clearly, this top-tier Master thief's understanding of high school life was a bit too barbaric.
In the center of the court,
the sneer on Flash Thompson's face froze.
He had expected to see the miserable sight of Peterbleeding profusely from the nose, but the ball was caught with one hand by a newcomer girl.
And it was with the absolute strength of a one-handed catch.
The few boys practicing nearby stopped their actions and looked at each other in dismay.
Flash felt he was losing face.
He gritted his teeth and strode over toward the stands.
His oversized basketball shoes stepped into the slush, making a squelching sound.
"Hey! Newcomer."
Flash pointed at the ball in Felicia's hand.
"Throw the ball over. Mind your own business."
Felicia ignored him.
Holding the basketball in one hand, she slowly turned around.
Not wearing that black half-face mask, she revealed a striking face carrying a hint of danger.
She lowered her head to look at Peter, who was still coughing.
Then she glanced at Aaron sitting nearby.
Aaron motioned to her with his chin.
Meaning, you started this trouble, you solve it yourself.
Flash had already walked to the bottom of the stands.
With his height of 1.9 meters, coupled with his muscular physique, he stood there like a wall of flesh.
"I'm talking to you, are you deaf?"
Impatiently, Flash stretched out his thick arm and directly reached for the basketball in Felicia's hand.
His movement was huge, carrying obvious rudeness.
Felicia's gaze turned cold.
Having spent years rolling around in black markets and Hells Kitchen, she found idiots courting death most annoying.
She didn't let go.
Instead, facing Flash's arm, her shoulders suddenly sank downward.
Flash grabbed empty air.
His palm slid past the slick surface of the basketball.
His body leaned forward due to momentum.
Right in this half-second gap,
Felicia dropped the basketball.
Her right hand shot out like a viper, clasping Flash's thick wrist.
Her nails dug deep into his flesh.
Flash only felt a piercing pain shooting from his wrist, as if bitten by a pair of pliers.
Just as he wanted to exert force to break free,
Felicia's left foot had already stepped between his legs.
Her waist was as flexible as a fully drawn spring.
Her left hand smoothly passed under Flash's armpit, pressing firmly against his shoulder.
Turn.
Drop shoulder.
Exert force.
All in one go.
It was a standard judo shoulder throw, but mixed with the lethal force-exerting techniques of street underground boxing.
The two-hundred-pound athletic major's feet left the ground completely.
Flash's massive body traced a semicircle in mid-air.
Back facing down, head facing up.
Boom!
A loud crash sounded.
Flash was solidly slammed onto the concrete ground below the stands.
The black mud and slush on the ground were splashed everywhere from the impact.
Dirty water splashed onto the wire fence at the edge of the court.
Flash's eyes rolled back white, and his mouth was open wide enough to fit a fist.
The air in his lungs was knocked completely clean by this blow.
Like a fish out of water, he lay in the muddy water gasping frantically.
His entire face rapidly turned a purplish-red from suffocation.
His back spine emitted a few teeth-grating cracking sounds.
The entire outdoor basketball court instantly fell into a dead silence.
In the distance,
the stainless steel whistle in the gym teacher's mouth dropped into the snow with a clatter.
He rubbed his eyes, completely forgetting to walk over and stop it.
The few boys practicing with the ball were so scared that all their balls dropped, rolling into the drainage ditch with a rumbling sound.
No one expected that this tall-looking transfer student would flip the school's strongest bully over in one go.
Sitting on the steps, Peter stopped his sniffling action.
He stared blankly at Flash on the ground.
The dizziness brought by the heavy cold was forcefully shocked awake by half.
"Goodness..."
He muttered softly and shrank his neck.
Felicia patted the dust off her hands.
She hadn't even caught her breath yet, merely straightening her slightly wrinkled school uniform jacket.
"Next time you pass the ball, aim better."
She looked down at Flash, who was still twitching on the ground, her voice as cold as ice shards.
Flash had tears swirling in his eyes from the pain.
Clutching his lower back with both hands, he wriggled in the slush like a giant caterpillar.
How could he dare talk back?
The few boys who usually acted as his lackeys finally reacted and hurried over.
Working together, they hoisted him up from the ground.
Flash steadied himself with the help of his companions.
His legs were still trembling.
He glared fiercely at Felicia, wanting to drop a harsh line to regain some face.
But meeting those murderous eyes, the curse words in his throat were stubbornly swallowed back down.
"Let's go... to the infirmary."
Gritting his teeth, Flash was hoisted away by his companions, limping as they fled the court.
His retreating figure looked as pathetic as a beaten stray dog.
Crisis averted.
Felicia turned around, and the cold ruthlessness from just moments ago completely vanished.
She stepped up the steps and walked in front of Aaron.
With her hands behind her back, her body leaned slightly forward.
Her silver ponytail brushed across her shoulders.
Her eyes were sparkling, staring straight at Aaron like a cat that had just brought a dead mouse to its Master to claim credit.
Watching her like this, Aaron sighed.
On her first day as a transfer student, she sent the school bully to the infirmary; this trouble probably wouldn't be small.
But he didn't say anything.
Aaron reached his right hand out from his pocket.
He rubbed Felicia's soft silver-white hair not too heavily nor too lightly a couple of times.
"Good job."
Aaron withdrew his hand.
A trace of blush appeared on Felicia's cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes in satisfaction.
She smoothly sat down next to Aaron, occupying the other half of the bench's space.
Completely treating Peter beside them as air.
Peter wrapped his down jacket tighter around himself.
He shifted his butt to the side, moving a bit further away from this terrifying new girl.
He turned his head to look at Aaron, then back at Felicia.
He always felt that the atmosphere between these two people was bizarre enough to make his whole body uncomfortable.
...
Outside the wire fence at the edge of the court,
the cold wind blew the wire fence, making it creak.
a school custodian wearing dark blue overalls was pushing a red push lawn mower.
In winter, only withered yellow grass roots and accumulated snow were left on the lawn.
The lawn mower wasn't started at all.
The custodian's brim was pulled very low, blocking more than half of his face.
Standing behind a bare maple tree, his gaze crossed the wire fence, staring intently at the three people on the stands.
To be exact, he was staring at Aaron and Felicia.
He had stood there for a full ten minutes.
Watching the entire process of the shoulder throw.
The custodian took off the coarse cloth glove on his right hand,
revealing a hand covered in calluses, with firearm wear marks at the web of the thumb.
From the snug pocket of his overalls, he pulled out a black communicator with no brand.
This wasn't a commercially available mobile phone.
There was no interface on the screen, only a string of bouncing green encrypted code.
Skillfully pressing a few buttons, he entered a special frequency band.
Bringing the communicator close to his mouth,
the custodian lowered his voice, his tone cold and mechanical.
"Officer."
"A high-risk abnormal target has been discovered at Midtown High School."
"Confirmed to possess supernatural physical strength and is closely related to the target Aaron Parker."
A faint static interference sound came from the other end of the communicator.
Three seconds later,
a female voice sounded in the communicator.
"Continue monitoring. Do not alert the snake."
"I will be right there."
Chapter 20 S.H.I.E.L.D. Notices Anomalies in New York
A finger pressed the send button.
The green encrypted data packet transformed into a silent radio wave.
The signal penetrated the clouds and refracted through three low-Earth-orbit military satellites.
Washington, D.C., on the banks of the Potomac River.
The Triskelion building stood like a grey sharp sword, piercing straight into the gloomy sky.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Director's office on the top floor.
The air constantly carried a sour smell of black coffee, mixed with the dry ozone odor emitted from the server room.
The blinds were drawn tightly shut.
Nick Fury pressed his hands against the desk.
His single eye stared fixedly at the large LCD screen that occupied the entire wall.
The screen was divided into three sections.
The left side showed footage that had just been transmitted back ten minutes ago.
The outdoor basketball court of Midtown High School.
The camera shook violently, blocked in the foreground by bare maple tree branches.
In the video, the silver-haired girl abruptly thrust her left foot between the school bully's legs.
She turned, dropping her shoulders.
The exertion of force was smooth and done in one go.
The two-hundred-pound stalwart carved a semicircle in mid-air and heavily slammed into the black muddy snow on the ground.
Water splashes splattered against the wire fence.
Fury pressed the pause button on the console.
The image froze.
He dragged the mouse to enlarge the stands in the lower right corner of the screen.
The pixel grains became blurry and rough.
But the contour of Aaron Parker sitting on the steps wearing a grey hoodie remained clear.
He was unscrewing a bottle of sports drink, watching the tragic state below the steps without any surprise on his face.
It was just like watching a boring pantomime.
"This is not a high school fight," Fury said in a hoarse voice.
His rough index finger tapped rhythmically on the black desktop, producing a dull thumping sound.
"This woman's method of exerting force is meant for killing. Clean, and every move is fatal."
Deputy Director Maria Hill standing beside the desk nodded.
She wore a dark blue uniform and held a tactical tablet in her hand.
"Facial recognition has been run," Hill swiped the screen. "We can't find this girl's background in the global archives. The forged enrollment procedures for Midtown High School are airtight."
Fury didn't pick up the thread.
He clicked on the middle screen.
An overhead view of Times Square.
The image quality was even worse, extracted from an ATM camera at the street corner whose casing had been shattered.
A pumpkin bomb detonated.
A white figure blocked the soaring flames.
Subsequently, the Green Goblin's glider swooped down with sharp blades.
In the footage, that figure in white merely waved a backhand very casually.
A sonic boom noise came out of the speakers, stinging the eardrums painfully.
The Green Goblin's heavy armor flew sideways, shattering a thick load-bearing pillar.
Fury rubbed his right eye socket.
The muscles around his eyelid grew sore from nerve tension.
"Has the technical department issued an analysis report?" he asked.
"Three versions have been issued," Hill looked down at the tablet and swallowed.
"The moment the white-clothed person waved, the air around the forearm was compressed into Mach rings. The impact force of that slap is preliminarily estimated to exceed sixty tons."
Sixty tons.
Fury's teeth ached slightly from biting down.
The weight of a heavy main battle tank was casually batted away by a person with the back of their hand.
He turned his head sideways to look at the third screen on the far right.
An infrared thermal imaging footage from deep within the sewer.
A blind spot captured by a S.H.I.E.L.D. miniature drone.
A six-meter-long cold-blooded giant lizard opened its huge mouth and bit toward the white-clad person.
The footage had no sound.
But one could clearly see the monster's jaw dislocate and its teeth shatter all over the ground.
Subsequently, the white-clothed person forcibly pried open the monster's mouth and poured in a tube of unknown potion.
A few minutes later, the giant lizard S-Rank into a bald man.
He knelt in ankle-deep sewage and kowtowed to the white-clothed person.
Fury clicked on synchronous playback.
Three recordings of different scenes pulsed simultaneously on the wall.
"Director, are you sure this person in white is related to Aaron Parker?" Hill's brows furrowed together.
She tossed the tablet on the desk and pulled out a paper file.
A student ID photo from Midtown High School.
Aaron wore a regular short haircut, smiling lazily, exuding a casualness unique to high school students.
"This file is too clean," Hill tapped the paper surface. "Both parents deceased, living on minimum welfare relief. The school's physical examination report from half a month ago says he even has slight anemia."
Fury sneered.
He picked up the cold cup of black coffee on the desk and poured it into his mouth with his head back.
The bitter liquid slid down his throat, suppressing the turmoil in his stomach.
"An ordinary high school student?"
Fury slammed the coffee cup heavily onto the metal desktop.
The ceramic base produced a crisp shattering sound.
"Have you ever seen any anaemic high school student who can have an eight-hundred-square-meter penthouse registered under their name in the Upper East Side, Manhattan?"
He pulled open a drawer and tossed out a stack of candid photos.
The photographic paper scattered across the desktop.
Aaron's profile while cutting tomahawk steak at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
His back as he walked into the exclusive elevator of that high-end apartment building.
"The ownership of that house goes through shell accounts of twelve overseas offshore companies. Not a single cent of funding source can be traced. Even the internal network of the Internal Revenue Service was hacked for highest privileges, making a permanent tax-exempt registration."
Fury pointed at the frozen frame on the stands.
"Take another look at this female assassin who can flip a two-hundred-pound stalwart with her bare hands, willingly staying by his side to act as a maid serving tea and water."
Hill fell silent.
When coincidences pile up together, they become the most fatal disguise.
"Overlap the figure data of the white-clad person with the medical examination bone data of Aaron Parker," Furyordered.
Hill tapped rapidly on the tablet.
On the large screen, two sets of green skeletal lines slowly closed in on each other.
They fit together seamlessly.
Shoulder width, arm length, and even the slight deviation angle of the center of gravity when walking were completely identical.
The office plunged into a dead silence.
Only the humming sound emitted by the server chassis remained.
Fury turned around.
The hem of his black leather trench coat swept past the blinds.
He looked at the grey Washington outside the window, his voice revealing exhaustion.
"He is even harder to deal with than Bruce Banner."
Fury had his back to Hill.
"When Banner turns into a monster, at least I know he is a mindless Beast. The Hulk will only smash things in his line of sight. At worst, I'll use the military and heavy artillery to fill the gap."
He turned his head, his single eye staring fixedly at the high school student drinking a beverage on the screen.
"But this Aaron, his mind is far too clear."
"A guy who can treat sixty tons like a ball and kick it with a slap, yet carries a school bag every day to attend algebra class."
"He keeps an assassin with fatal skills under his command, and stealthily co-opted a biological ticking time bomb like Connors. Yet he stuffs them all into the shadows and stays put."
Fury's breathing became heavy.
His chest heaved violently a couple of times.
"This guy clearly has the ability to destroy the world, yet he behaves as if he is only interested in picking up girls and buying luxury mansions."
"With this kind of person, you simply cannot figure out where his bottom line is. Once he goes crazy, New Yorkwon't even have time to evacuate."
Fury strode back to the desk.
He grabbed a thick red-tipped marker from the pen holder.
He pulled off the cap.
On Aaron Parker's paper file printed with "B-Rank Monitoring", he forcefully drew a big cross.
The nib rubbed against the rough paper surface, and the ink soaked through to the back of the page.
In the blank space, he heavily wrote a glaring letter.
"S".
"From now on, Aaron Parker's threat level is directly upgraded to the highest S-Rank."
Fury threw the marker onto the desk.
"Seal all original video footage concerning him. Whoever dares to leak even a shred of wind will be directly dealt with for treason."
Hill stood at attention, straightening her spine.
"Understood, Officer."
She picked up the file and turned, preparing to issue the confidentiality orders.
"Wait," Fury called out to her.
"Have all field Agents completely evacuate Midtown High School. That bunch of trash will only alert the enemy; that weeding idiot yesterday almost exposed us."
Hill stopped in her tracks. "Then how are we supposed to figure out his bottom line?"
Fury didn't answer.
He raised his hand and pressed a black button on the edge of the desk.
The incandescent light overhead dimmed.
In a patch of shadow in the corner of the office.
A faint sound of fabric rubbing came across.
A pair of black tactical boots stepped out of the darkness.
Closely following was a head of red curly hair.
Natasha Romanoff.
She wore a pure black combat uniform, with two compact pistols strapped to the outside of her thighs.
She walked without a sound, like a cat prowling in the night.
Walking to the edge of the light, she stopped.
Her green eyes looked at the Director in front of the desk with a relaxed expression.
Fury turned off the glaring large screen behind him.
The office plunged back into dimness.
He turned his head to look at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most fatal trump card.
"Natasha."
Fury crossed his hands, resting them under his chin.
"Put on the school doctor's clothes and go to Midtown High School."
His single eye stared at the red-haired Agent.
"I want you to figure out all the background details of this Aaron Parker!"
Natasha looked down at the file on the desk marked with the red S-Rank symbol.
Her gaze swept past the lazily smiling boy in the photo.
She tucked back a strand of red hair behind her ear.
Her red lips parted slightly.
Black Widow laughed, revealing a confident and aggressive smile.
"Leave it to me, Officer."