Chapter 76 The Punisher Frank Castle: Aaron Is the True God
In the shadow behind the water tank, the barrel of the Barrett M82 emitted a dark red shimmer.
That was the residual heat after continuous lurking.
Frank Castle maintained a kneeling posture on one knee.
The fingertips of his right hand were hooked on the edge of the trigger guard, and the gaps in his nails were filled with black gun oil.
He did not move.
He did not even blink.
That purple thunder just now had drained all the air from the entire street.
Frank Castle could smell a pure scorched odor.
It was not flesh burning, but a sense of vacuum after a certain substance was forcibly erased.
He lowered his head and looked at the tactical box beside him.
Inside the box were neatly arranged special.50 caliber armor-piercing bullets, their tips shimmering with a cold, hard copper color in the moonlight.
This was his proud "instrument of judgment".
He had once used these bullets to blow open the skulls of drug dealers from two kilometers away.
But now, Frank Castle looked at these bullets, his lips moving slightly.
He reached his fingertip into the ejection slot and gave it a strong flick.
Clang.
That unfired bullet fell into the snow and was instantly swallowed up.
"What is this... "
Frank Castle's throat was a bit dry.
To kill this group of The Hand scum, he needed to calculate wind deviation and humidity, and also risk close-quarters hand-to-hand combat with his throat being cut.
Yet that youth sitting on the clouds merely moved his fingers.
The evil of the entire street was like a pencil drawing erased by an eraser.
Frank Castle stood up.
He ignored the police sirens coming from afar, nor did he walk toward the secret escape route.
He shouldered the heavy tactical box and strode toward Stark Tower.
He was a stubborn assassin, but he was not stupid.
He wanted to see with his own eyes what kind of power that could execute judgment on behalf of heaven looked like.
The revolving door on the bottom floor of the building was unlocked.
The red indicator light turned into a gentle green the moment Frank Castle stepped into the lobby.
"The Punisher, Frank Castle."
Red Queen's holographic projection emerged at the elevator entrance.
The little girl's phantom wore a neat red dress with an indifferent expression.
"Master is waiting. The elevator has already reserved the highest authority for you."
Frank Castle's eyelid twitched.
He was accustomed to infiltrating, picking locks, and crawling in ventilation ducts.
This feeling of someone opening the door for him in advance made his hand holding the gun case tighten, leaving white marks on his knuckles.
The elevator ascended rapidly.
The feeling of weightlessness pressed against his eardrums.
The numbers jumped to the top floor.
Ding.
The door opened.
The lights in the living room were soft.
Matt Murdock was leaning against the base of the hallway wall.
That Daredevil looked like he had just been fished out of the water, soaked all over, and his body was still trembling slightly due to extreme exhaustion.
The two brushed past each other.
Matt Murdock tilted his head slightly, capturing the strong smell of gunpowder smoke on Frank Castle.
"Do not provoke him."
Matt Murdock lowered his voice, his throat hoarse, "That is a monster from another dimension."
Frank Castle ignored him.
He walked straight into the living room, his leather boots stepping out a string of damp mud prints on the floor.
Aaron was sitting on the sofa, holding a white porcelain spoon in his hand.
He was lowering his head to drink a bowl of red bean paste, which Wanda had just cooked herself.
Heat rose, shielding half of his face.
"Is the scenery in the sniper scope good?"
Aaron swallowed a mouthful of sweet soup without raising his head.
Frank Castle stopped five meters away from the sofa.
He set the heavy tactical box down on the floor.
Thud.
The solid wood floor emitted a dull impact sound.
"I saw it very clearly."
Frank Castle took off his tactical gloves and stuffed them into the pocket at his waist.
His breathing was heavy, carrying the anxiety of an old smoker.
"Those monsters of The Hand did not even leave ashes behind under your thunder."
"That is what they deserve, isn't it?"
Aaron put down the spoon.
He finally raised his head, his black eyes appearing bottomless under the light.
"Frank Castle, you have tracked them for three months."
"You killed twelve grass-roots bosses, used four hundred bullets, and broke two ribs."
"The efficiency is too low."
Frank Castle's eyelid twitched.
He never considered himself a person who pursued "efficiency"; he only pursued "death".
But in front of Aaron, his proud battle results were like a clumsy arithmetic problem.
"Are you a god?"
Frank Castle stared at Aaron.
A person like him never believed in gods; he only believed in the gun with bullets in his hand.
But at that very moment just now, he wavered.
"Gods do not need to drink red bean paste."
Aaron twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a casual smile.
"I am just a landlord who hates being disturbed."
"And you are a pretty good scavenger."
Aaron stood up and walked over to the bar counter.
He pointed to an alloy storage box in the corner of the wall.
The surface of the box was printed with the steel seal of Osborn Industries, and beside it was a tiny alien civilization symbol.
"Dr. Connors recently made a new gadget."
Aaron bent his index finger and knocked on the box.
"Those are parts dismantled from a Chitauri warship, combined with the gunpowder technology here."
"I originally wanted to throw them into the warehouse to gather dust, but seeing you today, I feel these things are more suitable for Hells Kitchen."
Frank Castle walked over.
He squatted down, pressing his palm onto the latch of the alloy box.
Click.
The box lid popped open.
Inside lay a weirdly-shaped long-barreled rifle.
The gun body was streamlined, covered with a certain dark purple translucent Materials.
There was no traditional gunpowder magazine; instead, there were three energy cores glowing with a faint blue light.
Beside it was a row of special grenades.
The warheads were transparent, with viscous plasma flowing inside them.
Frank Castle's fingertips brushed across the gun body.
It was cold, carrying a subtle tremor like a heartbeat.
This was the Peak of the art of slaughter.
"It does not need calibration; it comes with its own gravity-sensing correction."
Aaron leaned against the bar counter, fidgeting with the silver lighter in his hand.
"The effective range is five kilometers, and it can pierce one-meter-thick depleted uranium armor."
"More importantly, it comes attached with my thunder mark."
"Anything hit by it will not only shatter, but also be thoroughly purified."
Frank Castle gripped the handle.
An unprecedented sense of power spread along his arm.
This was not an ordinary thermal weapon.
This was the ultimate weapon powerful enough to overturn the ground of New York.
"Why give it to me?"
Frank Castle raised his head, staring at Aaron's back.
"Because I am lazy."
Aaron turned around and pointed outside the window.
Those surviving HYDRA Agent, the remnant scum of The Hand, and various scums stirring in Hells Kitchen.
"There are too many flies in this city, so many that it ruins my mood for drinking coffee."
He walked up to Frank Castle.
Due to his height advantage, Aaron looked down at this Punisher who made the entire New York underworld tremble in fear.
"In the future, you will not need to go to the black market to buy those obsolete iron pipes."
Aaron's voice was very soft, yet it carried an unquestionable weightiness.
"As long as you are still killing those who deserve to be killed, this place is your supply station."
Frank Castle stood up.
He slung the alien rifle over his shoulder.
That heavy weight made a killing machine like him feel something called "destiny" for the first time.
He nodded slightly at Aaron.
There was no thank you.
Those two words seemed too light between them.
Frank Castle picked up the weapon case and turned toward the terrace.
He decided not to take the elevator anymore.
Since he held the fire bestowed by the divine in his hand, he should directly descend upon the heads of those evils.
"Frank."
Aaron shouted behind him.
Frank Castle stopped his steps.
Aaron pointed to the remaining plate of blueberry pie.
"Hurry up. I do not want tomorrow morning's headlines to still be news about those pieces of trash."
The corner of Frank Castle's mouth hooked into a stiff arc.
He pushed open the terrace door and vanished directly into the dark night sky.
Aaron sat back on the sofa.
Wanda walked out of the kitchen holding a warm towel in her hand.
She half-knelt beside Aaron, lowering her head, carefully helping him wipe away the speck of ash on his fingertips left from lighting the fire earlier.
"Mr. Aaron, that man is very fierce."
Wanda said softly.
"He is very professional."
Aaron closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the towel.
"This World needs heroes, and it also needs butchers holding slaughter knives."
He pointed to the empty box on the table.
"And I only need to sit in the best seat and watch this play finish acting out."
At this moment on the streets of Manhattan.
A HYDRA tactical squad lurking at the sewer exit was preparing to break through during the chaos.
The leading Agent had just pushed open the manhole cover.
Whoosh—
A streak of purple light.
From the top of Stark Tower a thousand meters away.
Cut across the sky.
Bang!
The ground of the entire street was as if struck by a meteorite, instantly collapsing.
A purple sea of plasma fire surged ten meters high.
Those Agent did not even manage to send out a distress signal before turning into a pile of carbides scattering with the wind.
Above the tall building.
Frank Castle looked through the scope at that breathtakingly beautiful purple fire.
He pulled the bolt.
A blue energy cartridge automatically popped in.
"Go, help me clear away those disgusting flies."
Aaron's words echoed in his ear.
Frank Castle adjusted his posture.
He locked onto the next target two kilometers away.
His fingertip pulled down.
Chapter 77: Subduing the Punisher, the Scavenger of Sins in the Streets of New York
The alloy box refracted a cold light on the floor.
Frank Castle's rough fingers brushed over the gun body.
The touch of this dark purple translucent material was very strange; it wasn't cold, but instead carried a warm fluctuation.
As a soldier who had played with gunpowder all his life, it was his first time feeling a "pulse" from a weapon.
Click.
He pushed open the side energy slot.
The blue energy core emitted a low hum, like a thunderstorm trapped in a glass jar.
Frank's knuckles, calloused from pulling the trigger year-round, flushed slightly red with excitement.
"This thing has no recoil."
Aaron sat in the sofa, holding a white porcelain spoon in his hand.
He stirred the red bean paste in the bowl, his gaze still casual.
"What it fires is high-frequency plasma, which can drain the moisture in the target's body in an instant, and then cause small-scale molecular collapse."
"Simply put, as long as you aim, the opponent won't even have the chance to turn into a ghost."
Frank raised his head.
The muscles on his wind-scarred and weathered face twitched slightly.
This kind of killing tool was simply tailor-made for him.
"You give me this thing, aren't you afraid that one day I'll point the muzzle at this apartment building?"
"You can try."
Aaron swallowed a mouthful of sweet and glutinous red bean paste, without even lifting his eyelids.
"But there is my Thunder Mark in this gun. As long as I make a move with my mind, it will first roast you into a piece of black charcoal."
"Besides, Frank, you're not the kind of idiot who shoots at his own people."
Frank fell silent.
He closed the box, the sound of the metal clasps snapping shut being crisp and neat.
He stood up and shouldered the heavy gun case.
His originally heavy gait seemed to carry an unspeakable murderous aura after receiving this box of weapons.
"The remaining scum of Hells Kitchen, leave them to me."
Frank's voice was very cold, as if it had been soaked in ice water.
"But I won't peel oranges for you every day like those girls of yours."
"My thoughts exactly."
Aaron waved his hand, "There are plenty of hands to peel oranges; what I lack is an incinerator that can clean up the garbage completely."
Frank nodded and pushed the door open to leave.
He didn't take the elevator, but instead leaped down from the edge of the terrace.
The black trench coat unfolded in the high altitude of Manhattan, like a predatory black eagle.
That was the privilege Aaron gave him.
Starting tonight, Frank Castle was no longer the lone Avengers chased by the Police.
He was a sharp blade left by Aaron Parker in the shadows of New York.
The living room quieted down.
Felicia walked out of the side room, holding a tablet computer in her hand.
She still carried the fragrance of body wash from just taking a shower.
"Aaron, word just came in that those Gang bosses have deposited this month's 'management fee'."
Felicia pointed to the dizzying string of numbers on the screen.
"The casinos and underground banks previously run by Kingpin are now all in my name. After deducting the R&D funds handed over to Osborn Industries, the remaining money is enough for you to buy ten more buildings like this in New York."
Aaron glanced at the screen and casually responded: "Handle it as you see fit, just don't delay me buying blueberry pie."
Felicia smiled.
She walked behind Aaron, her slender fingers resting on his temples, massaging with moderate strength.
"Black Cat manages money, and the Punisher manages lives. Aaron, your order is a hundred times more stable than Kingpin's back then."
Indeed.
The New York underworld now was in a state of eerie peace.
Drug dealers began to withdraw from street corners.
Gang bosses, before holding meetings, would first confirm whether this week's taxes had been paid in full.
Because they knew that at the highest place in Manhattan, a pair of eyes was watching them.
Whoever dared to cross the line would be met with a purple thunder descending from the sky, or that demon carrying a purple rifle.
Meanwhile, Washington.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, the Triskelion.
Nick Fury sat behind his desk, the ashtray on the desk piled high with cigarette butts.
His single eye stared dead at a report in front of him.
That was the survey summary regarding last night's Manhattan lightning incident.
"Director, the data is out."
Agent Hill pushed the door and entered, her expression very ugly.
"The energy level of that thunder exceeded the range of all our monitoring equipment. That's neither a natural phenomenon nor Thor's power."
Agent Hill paused and pushed a photo over.
In the photo was the blurry back of Frank Castle carrying a purple weapon case, leaping down from Stark Tower.
"The Punisher has appeared. He is holding an energy weapon never seen before. According to satellite tracking, he cleared out five HYDRA strongholds lurking in New York within three hours."
Fury took the photo, his knuckles turning white from exertion.
He crumpled the photo into a ball and threw it into the wastebasket.
"Is he building his own private army?"
"No, he is establishing order."
Agent Hill lowered her voice to correct, "Aaron's order. In today's New York, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s informants can't get in at all. Those Gang would rather offend the FBI than dare touch any restaurant under Aaron's name."
Fury sighed.
He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked at the distant clouds.
Other than sighing, he found that he couldn't do anything right now.
Aaron Parker was like an undefinable black hole.
You couldn't win him over because he lacked nothing.
You couldn't fight him because he could truly mete out divine punishment.
"Keep an eye on him, but don't provoke him."
Fury's voice carried a sense of powerlessness, "At least for now, he's still helping us kill HYDRA."
New York Penthouse.
The night was already very deep.
Aaron lay on the rocking chair on the terrace.
Wanda sat on the woolen carpet at his feet, quietly flipping through an ancient book of magic.
That was casually tossed to her by Aaron from the utility room, which recorded some techniques on Mental Energyguidance.
Pietro squatted on the railing, holding a handful of top-tier sea urchins just bought from Japan Ginza.
His mouth was full of a fishy and sweet taste, and the rebellious look in his eyes had been smoothed out quite a bit by the "errand fee".
The television in the living room had been left on.
That was Aaron's habit; he liked to fall asleep listening to the background sound of the news.
Suddenly.
The TV screen flashed violently.
The anchor who had been broadcasting the weather forecast disappeared, replaced by an anxious reporter's face covered in sweat.
"Emergency broadcast! Emergency broadcast!"
The reporter's voice cracked slightly out of fear.
"A violent explosion occurred ten minutes ago in the Military exercise area on the outskirts of Newark!"
The picture shook violently, and then switched to aerial footage.
On the originally flat wilderness, a huge crater had appeared.
More than a dozen Military main battle tanks were smoking, overturned haphazardly on the roadside.
The large-caliber barrel guns were twisted like pretzels.
"What... is that?"
Wanda stopped what she was doing and looked up at the screen.
In the picture.
A huge green back stood in the center of the ruins.
He was over three meters tall, his muscles knotted like coiling dragons, and his skin presented an unsettling dark green color.
"Roar—!"
A muffled roar pierced through the TV speaker.
The green giant's palms slammed together.
An visible Impact swept out, smashing the last helicopter hovering in mid-air into scrap metal.
The giant turned his head.
That face, filled with Fury and chaos, occupied the entire screen.
His nostrils snorted rough air, and his heavy fists smashed violently into the ground, causing the earth to tremble violently.
"It's Dr. Banner."
Natasha walked into the living room at some point, her brows tightly locked.
"His condition isn't right. According to original records, he shouldn't appear here at this time."
The screams on TV merged into one.
A large number of National Guards were assembling over there.
But obviously, those conventional weapons hitting the giant did nothing except make him more angry.
Aaron slowly opened his eyes.
He looked at the mad green big guy on the screen.
His fingertips moved slightly.
"So noisy."
Aaron murmured softly.
He originally wanted to enjoy a quiet night.
But it seemed that that green big guy didn't intend to let him have his wish.
Chapter 78 Hulk's Rampage, the Military is Powerless
The television screen trembled slightly.
The aerial camera shook violently, occasionally sweeping past a few wisps of thick black smoke columns.
Right in the center of the screen, that dark green figure was rampaging across the wasteland.
An M1A2 main battle tank weighing sixty tons was overturned on the roadside.
The tracks were still spinning in the air, making a harsh friction sound.
Hulk hooked the tank's side skirt with one hand, his fingertips sinking into the armor, and casually ripped it apart like tearing open a can of luncheon meat.
Snap——
The alloy steel plate let out a teeth-gritting groan, being forcibly torn in half.
Aaron sat cross-legged in the sofa, holding an unpeeled orange in his hand.
He watched the multi-million-dollar War Machine turn into scrap metal on the screen, curling his lips.
"This big guy's demolition efficiency is a bit better than my decoration team."
"That is the Military's ace division."
Natasha stood to the side, her nails digging deep into her palms, her knuckles turning pale from exertion.
She stared at the screen, a low sigh escaping her throat.
"General Ross deployed two armored brigades and three Apaches, but now..."
The screen happened to cut to a close-up.
General Ross stood beside the command vehicle, gripping his walkie-talkie tightly.
The cigar clenched in his mouth had broken off a section, and ash covered the medals on his chest.
His hands were shaking.
That was a veteran coming down from the battlefield facing this non-human despair for the first time.
"Fire! Fire everything we've got!"
Ross roared, his voice piercing through the static of the walkie-talkie.
But behind him, the once neatly arranged tank positions had become a smoking graveyard.
Boom!
Hulk leaped up from the ground, like a green meteorite, slamming heavily into a low-hovering helicopter.
Fireballs burst, and debris cut through the sky.
Hulk landed on the ground, beating his chest fiercely with both fists, the roar he emitted causing static noise even in the signal receiver.
"The Avengers have arrived."
Red Queen's voice sounded.
Several small sub-screens projected on one side of the living room.
In the screen, a golden-red stream of light cut through the clouds.
That was Tony Stark.
He was wearing the Mark 7 this time, with the shoulder micro-missile pods fully open, the firelight connecting into a line.
Bang bang bang!
The missiles exploded on Hulk's thick back. As the smoke cleared, apart from leaving a layer of black soot, not even his skin was broken.
"Stark, this is useless!"
Steve Rogers's voice rang out in the channel.
Holding his shield, he was blown ten meters away by a wave of air casually swung out by Hulk.
He rolled a few turns in the muddy ground, pushed himself up with his shield, his tiger's mouth already cracked from the shock, and fresh blood flowed along the gaps of his fingers to the edge of the Vibranium shield.
"I know it's useless, Captain!"
Tony made a sudden stop in mid-air, the right leg thruster of the Mark 7 suddenly spewing a puff of black smoke.
Just now he tried to intercept Hulk head-on, and was hit on the flank by a casual slap from that big guy.
"Jarvis, switch to backup armor!"
In the air, a huge silver briefcase automatically popped open.
The Mark 8 covered the damaged chassis.
But before Tony could stabilize his center of gravity, Hulkhad already grabbed a streetlamp pole and swung it like a baseball bat.
Clang——
Tony, like a kite with a broken string, crashed diagonally into an abandoned factory building.
The walls collapsed, and dust filled the sky.
"That's three sets."
Aaron peeled a segment of the orange and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing a few times.
"Stark's R&D budget for this month is probably all blown on changing armor."
On the battlefield, Thunder God Thor finally descended.
He swung Mjolnir, stirring up blue electric arcs all over the sky.
The heavy hammer slammed fiercely onto Hulk's chin.
Hulk's head tilted slightly, retreating two steps.
But that was all.
The next second, Hulk's palm tightly gripped Thor's neck, slamming this son of Odin repeatedly on the floor like a ragdoll.
The floor was smashed into a deep pit, and Thor's cape was stained with mud and gravel.
"It's heading towards the downtown area."
Felicia walked over, holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hand.
She placed the cup in front of Aaron, her fingertips tapping a few times on the edge of the table.
"That's only ten kilometers away from Manhattan. If it enters Times Square, half of New York will be wiped off the map tonight."
Aaron picked up the coffee, the heat blowing against his face.
He looked at that crazy big guy on the screen.
Hulk's eyes were blood-red, and with every step he took, the earth groaned.
That was pure Fury, without any logic.
Just at this moment.
The phone on the table vibrated violently.
A familiar, bald, one-eyed icon bounced on the screen.
Aaron didn't answer.
He took a sip of coffee, feeling the slightly bitter liquid slide across the tip of his tongue.
The phone rang persistently to the third time before he slowly reached out and tapped the speaker button.
"Parker!"
Nick Fury's voice was squeezed almost from the throat.
Accompanied by huge wind sounds, he was obviously in the command cabin of S.H.I.E.L.D..
"I don't care whether you're sleeping or drinking tea right now. Hulk is out of control, completely out of control!"
Aaron changed posture, leaning against the back of the sofa, his tone lazy.
"Fury, isn't your Avengers claimed to be the strongest on earth? Why not just send Thor to wrestle with him?"
"Thor has already vomited blood three times!"
Fury's voice carried a hint of out-of-tune sharpness.
"Stark has already written off four sets of armor. Hulk is now less than five miles away from the civilian area!"
"I'm begging you, Aaron. Name a price, or make a request."
"As long as you can make that big guy stop, everything is negotiable."
Aaron stared at the screen.
In the image, Hulk was grabbing a school bus. Although there was no one inside, that violent aura was about to overflow the screen.
He turned his head and glanced at the other side of the living room.
Wanda was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, playing Mario Kart online with Gwen.
Gwen pressed the acceleration button on the controller while exclaiming in a low voice.
A wisp of red smoke occasionally emerged from Wanda's fingertips, interfering with Gwen's screen.
The two of them smiled happily, completely unaffected by the smell of gunpowder smoke in the television.
Aaron put down the coffee cup.
He felt that if Hulk smashed his way into Manhattan, it might shake off those pots of tulips he had just placed on the terrace.
Wanda had worked so hard to keep those alive.
"Fine."
Aaron said softly into the phone.
"Remember to send the repair bill for those destroyed blocks to the Military."
He hung up the phone.
The phone was casually tossed back onto the marble countertop, making a crisp clinking sound.
Aaron stood up.
Having sat for too long, his shirt had some wrinkles.
He casually smoothed out the hem of his clothes.
"Wanda, Gwen."
Aaron clapped his hands, interrupting the two girls' screams.
Gwen was operating Yoshi to make a turn, looked up at Aaron, with a trace of fine sweat on the tip of her nose.
Wanda withdrew that bit of red magic, tilting her head, her bright eyes staring at him.
"What's wrong, Aaron?"
Gwen dropped the controller and shook her sore fingers.
Aaron reached out and pointed outside the window.
To the north of Manhattan, a rising cluster of black smoke could already be faintly seen on the skyline.
Even the faint, heart-vibrating roars could be heard.
"Playing video games in the room every day is bad for your eyesight."
Aaron twitched the corner of his mouth, a flash of banter passing through his eyes.
"Does anyone want to go to the suburban zoo and take a look at that gorilla?"
Chapter 79: Hulk wants to smash me? Absolute power overwhelming, the Green Goliath beaten back to his original form
Wasteland on the outskirts of Newark.
The air was filled with the smell of burning rubber.
Thick black smoke was still billowing from the oil depot in the distance.
Stark's Mark 7 was wedged diagonally into the half-collapsed wall.
Electric sparks darted wildly along the shattered armor plates.
Tony forcefully pushed open his faceplate and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
The armor on his right arm was completely deformed, and his fingers could not dig into the crevices of the stone.
Thor was half-crouched in a mud pit, Mjolnir cast aside.
He wiped away a trace of dark red from the corner of his mouth, a giant fist indentation stamped on his chest armor.
As Asgard's pillar of strength, he had just been sent flying three times.
"Roar—!"
Hulk stood atop the pile of ruins.
His green skin was scorched black by the smoke of battle.
He grabbed a section of a broken load-bearing beam, twisted it into an iron ball like a twisted dough twist, and casually smashed it toward a nearby Military jeep.
Just at that moment, space slightly wavered.
In the center of the battlefield, previously obscured by smoke, three figures abruptly appeared.
Aaron was wearing a crisp light gray shirt.
His cuffs were rolled up to his forearms, revealing clean and powerful lines.
His left hand was tucked in his pocket, and his right hand still held half a bag of unfinished salted baked nuts.
Gwen and Wanda stood behind him.
Gwen wore a white and pink spider mask, her fingers hooked onto the web shooters at her waist.
Wanda wore that oversized hoodie, with a few wisps of undispersed red smoke lingering at her fingertips.
"Is this that big green guy?"
Gwen took half a step forward, her leather boots stepping on the scorched grass with a crisp snapping sound.
She looked at Hulk, who was over three meters tall, her fingers unconsciously tightening into her palms.
"He's much heavier than Aaron's sofa."
Wanda said softly.
She could feel that nearly explosive energy of rage inside Hulk.
That was not an emotion; it was a kind of gamma flame that could burn through the Soul.
"Hey! You in the shirt! Get the hell out of here!"
Beside the command vehicle in the distance, General Rossroared into a high-powered megaphone.
Two buttons of his Military uniform had popped off, and his facial skin trembled violently with fear.
"That's not a place you should be! It's a War Machine!"
Aaron ignored the noise.
He lowered his head to look at his toes.
A pair of expensive alligator leather shoes had accidentally stepped on the tank tread's oil stain just moments ago.
He had just changed into them this morning.
"Tsk."
Aaron frowned slightly.
His fingertips pinched a nut, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed it with a crisp crunch.
Hulk turned his head.
His bloodshot eyeballs locked onto Aaron dead-on.
In Hulk's perception, the young man in front of him did not emit any Killing Intent.
But he was like an eyesore of a thorn, abruptly standing there, making him instinctively feel irritable.
"Hulk—smash!"
The green giant let out a roar.
His legs kicked violently against the ground, and the ground instantly collapsed into two deep pits three meters in diameter.
Dirt flew everywhere.
A huge shadow blocked the Sun, and Hulk, like a collapsing mountain ridge, smashed down directly at Aaron's head.
"Aaron!"
Natasha poked her head out from behind a boulder not far away, her throat feeling as if it were blocked by something.
She had seen Hulk swing gods around like rags and had seen him tear fighter jets apart.
She didn't believe physical flesh could withstand this kind of impact.
"Boom!"
Hulk's fists came together like two heavy battering rams, slamming heavily toward the top of Aaron's head.
The air wave exploded violently outward with the impact point as the center.
The dust within a fifty-meter radius was instantly cleared out, forming a brief vacuum zone.
Tony closed his eyes, and Jarvis was frantically sounding alarms in his earpiece, warning that energy level monitoring was exceeding limits.
The dust and smoke dissipated.
There was no expected flying flesh and blood.
Neither was there any sound of bones cracking.
Aaron stood in place, not even bending his knees a bit.
He raised his right hand, his index finger pointing straight up.
Just that slender finger steadily propped up Hulk's millstone-sized green fists.
Due to the overwhelming impact force, the muscles at Hulk's wrists were still trembling violently.
But that finger was like a sky-supporting pillar welded firmly to Earth's core.
No matter how Hulk roared and exerted force, he couldn't move downward even a single millimeter.
"Not bad strength."
Aaron had a nut in his mouth, his tone as calm as if he were reviewing a takeout order.
"But this bad breath really needs to be treated."
Hulk was stunned.
Three bulging veins popped out on his green forehead.
His giant hands, capable of tearing gods apart, were at this moment pressing against a stellar core.
Immovable as a mountain.
Hulk retracted his fists and let out a deafening roar.
He threw another punch, this time a sweeping strike.
The air was whipped into a piercing sonic boom by this punch.
Aaron still didn't use magic.
He just slightly turned his body, his heel tapping lightly in the mud.
The movement wasn't fast, yet it just happened to dodge the fist's edge.
At the instant when Hulk's old strength had just faded and his new strength had yet to be born.
Aaron reached out and grabbed that green wrist, which was thicker than his waist.
His fingers were slender, appearing somewhat frail before Hulk's massive wrist.
But he exerted his strength.
That was pure physical strength without any special effects or energy overflow.
Aaron gave a single-handed tug, slightly turning his waist and hips.
It was the most standard shoulder throw imaginable.
"Off you go."
"Clang—!"
A teeth-grating sound of metal impact and ground fracturing overlapped.
Hulk's body, weighing over a thousand pounds, traced a perfect semicircle in the air.
Then, like a heavy aviation bomb, he was fiercely slammed into the ground.
The wasteland within a hundred-meter radius violently bounced.
The soil rolled like ocean waves, and cracks rapidly spread outward from the impact point.
A huge crater ten meters deep appeared in the center of the battlefield.
Hulk was entirely slapped into the hard rock layer, leaving only a pair of green feet exposed.
"Gulp."
Thor swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
He looked at the flattened crater, then looked at his Mjolnir.
For the first time, he felt that his title as the 'God of Strength' might have been watered down.
Inside Tony's armor faceplate.
"Sir, physical kinetic energy feedback is detected to exceed limits."
Jarvis's voice was somewhat distorted, "In that instant just now, the instantaneous explosive power released by Aaronwas equivalent to a salvo of three nuclear bombs. And... he didn't use any external force."
"Got it, stop nagging."
Tony muttered to himself.
He suddenly felt that his Mark series was just a tin toy.
Inside the crater, Hulk struggled to crawl out.
He shook his massive head, and the wild fury in his eyes actually dissipated a bit.
Replaced by a sense of confusion, and a fear he had never experienced before.
Hulk's World was very simple.
He was the strongest, so he could smash.
But now, he found himself acting like an egg hurling itself at a stone.
The man opposite was unreasonably strong.
Aaron patted the dust off his shirt.
He took strides, walking toward Hulk, who was still panting heavily by the edge of the crater.
With every step, the clicking sound of leather boots stepping on gravel felt like a heavy hammer slamming against Hulk's heart.
"Still smashing?"
Aaron stopped at the edge of the pit, looking down condescendingly at the green giant.
His gaze was very calm, devoid of pity or anger.
But in Hulk's eyes, those black pupils were even more terrifying than the most violent thundercloud.
Hulk tilted his head back.
He looked at the hand Aaron extended.
That hand was clearly small, yet under the Sun, it cast a shadow that blotted out the sky.
Hulk's entire body muscles began to spasm violently due to some physiological fear.
He wanted to roar.
But he found his throat as if frozen, able only to emit weak whimpers.
"Looks like you're tired."
Aaron reached out, his fingertips gently tapping against Hulk's forehead.
That ultimate physical suppression, through this simple action, completely destroyed Hulk's line of defense in his will.
The constantly surging gamma energy inside him, the moment it felt Aaron's aura, receded like the tide.
The green skin began to fade.
The bulging muscles rapidly shrank like a deflated ball.
Under everyone's gaze, that massive body shrank like melting snow.
In less than ten seconds.
The fiercely intimidating War Machine at the bottom of the pit disappeared.
Only a curly-haired man remained.
He lay Stark naked in the pile of rubble, with only a few shreds of torn underwear hanging on him.
Bruce Banner curled his body up, staring blankly at the clouds in the sky.
He opened his mouth, looking around with a bewildered expression.
The smell of burning still drifted in the air.
But the roaring sounds of this battlefield had completely stopped.
Chapter 80 Dr. Banner's Gratitude, General Ross's Greediness from the Military
The mud at the bottom of the pit still retained the lingering warmth of gamma-ray scorching.
Bruce Banner shrank naked into the pile of rubble.
His iconic black-rimmed glasses were shattered into pieces, with only the two temples still hanging from his ears.
He was trembling all over, which was a sequela of muscle exhaustion after a violent transformation, and his teeth clattered together at a frequency resembling telegraph tapping.
Aaron stood at the edge of the pit.
With a casual flick of his hand, a black double-breasted trench coat materialized from the air.
He did not look at Dr. Banner's disheveled body, but casually threw the trench coat down.
The trench coat precisely covered Dr. Banner.
The thick cashmere material blocked the cold wind and also covered up his tattered modesty.
Dr. Banner grabbed the collar tightly.
He tilted his head back, looking at the young man under the sun whose shirt was as clean as new.
"Thank you..."
Dr. Banner's voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, as if half a catty of shattered glass had been poured into his throat.
The gratitude in Dr. Banner's eyes was not feigned.
As the "green monster" that the whole World avoided, this was the first time in years that after transforming back into human form, what he received was not a tranquilizer gun and alloy chains.
But rather a trench coat carrying a faint woody fragrance.
Aaron pulled a box of mints out of his pocket, poured out a piece, and tossed it into his mouth.
"Put it on. I am not used to chatting with a naked man."
Dr. Banner struggled to stand up and wrapped the trench coat around himself.
Stepping on the slippery muddy ground, he stumbled out of the pit and stood slightly behind and to the side of Aaron.
He lowered his head, and in those eyes originally filled with exhaustion, there was now only the relief of having survived a catastrophe.
Right at this moment.
In the distance, the previously silent wasteland once again resounded with thunderous engine roars.
Rumble—
Dozens of thick columns of smoke rose from the horizon.
The frequency of the earth's tremor was even more violent than when Hulk was wreaking havoc just now.
General Ross sat inside the command vehicle coated with thickened armor.
The cigar in General Ross's mouth had burned to the end, burning his mustache, but he did not care in the least.
"Surround them! Don't let that monster run away!"
General Ross grabbed the intercom, spitting saliva all over the screen.
In less than two minutes.
The originally empty wasteland was filled with a torrent of steel.
More than two hundred M1A2 main battle tanks lined up in a fan shape, their pitch-black 120mm muzzles pointing uniformly at Aaron.
Over a dozen infantry fighting vehicles rampaged around, their tracks grinding the scorched grassland into mud.
Three Apache helicopters in the air lowered their noses.
The mounted Hydra missiles had already locked onto Aaron's chest, and the red laser dot swayed slightly on Aaron's light gray shirt.
General Ross pushed open the cabin door.
He jumped down from the command vehicle, his Militaryboots stamping a heavy muddy footprint on the ground.
Behind him followed a team of elite special forces wearing exoskeleton armor, the rifles in everyone's hands flashing with blue light.
"Aaron Parker!"
General Ross walked to a spot ten meters away from Aaron and stopped.
He spat the burned-out cigar butt into the mud and crushed it fiercely with the toe of his boot.
"You have interfered with the top-secret mission of the U.S. Military."
General Ross pointed at Banner behind Aaron, the wrinkles on that old face filled with greed.
Banner in General Ross's eyes was not a human, but a biological weapon worth hundreds of billions, a stepping stone for his general's rank to rise another level.
"Hand Bruce Banner over to me. Now, immediately."
General Ross's voice, amplified by the loudspeaker, shook the surrounding rubble into bouncing around.
"No matter who stands behind you, whether it is in Stark Tower or S.H.I.E.L.D., you have no right to interfere with the property security of the Military."
Aaron tilted his head.
He looked at those tank barrels that were adjusting their angles.
Then he looked at the tense triggers between the fingers of those special forces soldiers.
"Property?"
Aaron chewed the last bit of nuts and swallowed it.
He turned his head and glanced at Banner, who was hiding behind him like a frightened rabbit.
"He is a person. Although his taste in clothes is a bit rotten and his temper is a bit poor."
Aaron turned back and looked at General Ross.
"You treat a person as property; have you stayed in the Military camp for so long that you even lost your basic literacy skills?"
"Watch your words, Mr. Parker!"
General Ross's face turned flush red, and the veins on his neck wriggled like earthworms.
He waved his hand abruptly, and the armored phalanx behind him simultaneously made a creaking sound of mechanical operation.
"Here, artillery is the law."
General Ross gritted his teeth, his fingernails pinching into the flesh of his palms.
"I can give you five seconds to get out of my sight."
"Otherwise, the next second you will be blown into fertilizer together with this traitor."
Aaron sighed.
He really did not like this kind of negotiation environment full of diesel smell and noise.
He just wanted to come out to give Wanda and Gwensome fresh air, but there were always people who liked to crowd up to test his patience.
Aaron slowly raised his head.
His black pupils were as calm as water, without any anger.
He simply glanced at those armored vehicles.
Hum—
An extremely low-frequency shock wave, taking Aaron's toe as the center, instantly expanded over a hundred meters along the ground.
Click.
A crisp metal snapping sound came from the engine of the first tank.
Closely following were the second and third ones.
Those gas turbine engines that were originally roaring and howling were simultaneously choked by an invisible giant hand as if by the throat.
The exhaust pipes spewed a foul-smelling black smoke, and then completely lapsed into dead silence.
Tiny electric sparks flared up from the electronic components on the dashboard, and the LCD screen instantly went black.
More than two hundred steel behemoths, under a single glance from Aaron, turned into more than two hundred piles of expensive scrap metal.
The tail rotor of the Apache helicopter originally hovering in the air suddenly stopped spinning.
The pilot discovered in panic that all hydraulic Systems were completely locked.
The three warplanes spun and listed onto the grassland, kicking up dust all over the sky, their propellers scraping against the rocks and emitting a series of sparks.
The battlefield fell into a death-like silence.
There was only the rustling sound of the wind blowing across the wasteland and the cracking sound emitted by the tank heat sinks.
General Ross was stunned.
Inside the walkie-talkie in his hand that was still recording, there was only harsh white noise.
He tried to pull the trigger, only to find that the exoskeleton armor in The Hands of the soldiers behind him emitted a "click-click" locking sound.
Those special forces soldiers were trapped in the metal frames, unable to move at all, like a row of comical sculptures.
Aaron took a step forward.
The soles of his leather boots stepped into the muddy water, and the sound was very light.
But falling into General Ross's ears, it was even heavier than Hulk's roar just now.
"I have taken a fancy to Banner."
Aaron stopped in front of General Ross, with less than twenty centimeters left between their nose tips.
The sense of oppression emanating from Aaron caused General Ross's originally straight spine to unconsciously collapse by a section.
"Who has any objections?"
Aaron asked softly.
General Ross felt his lips drying up.
He wanted to speak, but it was as if a ball of cotton had been stuffed into his throat.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that behind Aaron, the girl wearing a red hoodie (Wanda) had her fingertips entwined with a wisp of red smoke as thick as fresh blood.
The red smoke transformed into various distorted symbols in the air, each symbol emitting malice that made his Soulshudder.
And on the other side.
The girl wearing a white and pink combat suit (Gwen) was crouching and sitting on the barrel of a stalled tank.
She was toying with a tough spider silk in her hand, her gaze as cold as a newly unsheathed scalpel.
General Ross slowly raised his head.
He saw that the originally clear sky was rapidly gathering a cluster of lead-gray dark clouds.
At the center of the dark clouds.
Purple electric arcs shuttled back and forth like dragons and snakes, and faint rumbling thunder echoed deep within the earth.
That was the omen of the heavenly thunder that had obliterated The Hand just now.
General Ross looked at Aaron's face, which was so calm it induced despair.
He recalled the various rumors in the intelligence reports about that "supreme ruler of New York".
He had originally thought those were merely Tony Stark's exaggerations.
But now.
Those two hundred armored tanks he was so proud of were lying lifelessly in the mud.
General Ross's lips trembled violently.
His hands, which had wielded countless authorities, were currently trembling wildly and uncontrollably.
His Adam's apple rolled up and down, but he found that he could not utter a single word.
Aaron brushed past him.
That cold fragrance grazed General Ross's nostrils, like a silent farewell.
"Get him in the car."
Aaron beckoned to Gwen.
"Going home. I don't want to eat cold steak for dinner."
Gwen jumped down from the tank barrel.
With one hand, she grabbed Banner's collar, lifting him like a wilting little chick.
Wanda moved her fingers slightly, and a red teleportation array quietly unfolded on the muddy ground.
General Ross stood in place.
He watched those few figures disappear into the red vortex of light.
Until the dark clouds in the sky dissipated, and until the sunlight shone once again upon those scrap-metal tanks.
This general, whose power shook the court and the country, still remained like a petrified puppet.
Cold sweat.
Drenched his general-star epaulets.