Marvel Nephalem

Under the dark night sky, Clark Kent woke up from the bushes and coughed out a mouthful of blood clots. He looked at the Cadillac explosion-proof vehicle burning with the classic car not far away, and the smell of burnt meat filling the air.

He could only be grateful that he was thrown out of the carriage instead of being cooked to a medium degree in that iron coffin.

"system, system"

While calling the system in his mind, Clark pulled open his T-shirt and looked at several round single-headed shotguns embedded in his chest and abdomen. He calmly picked them out with the switchblade hanging on his key chain.

There was no news from the system. It was obvious that the scream it sent out at that time touched some kind of regular counterattack. Although the system had bad intentions, it was indeed its credit for being alive this time.

He never expected that he would be attacked in the safe zone of New York. After all, Dennis's attack on him here would easily cause panic among the citizens, which would in turn attract the attention of the FBI.

But now it seems that either Dennis is crazy, or he has found a powerful protective umbrella in the FBI that allows him to take the risk of carrying out an attack near Central Park.

Listening to the rustling noise nearby, Clark let go of his senses and smiled mockingly to himself. The other party was obviously deliberate. His mental perception was as if he was blind, and he could not sense the nearby humanoid spiritual source at all.

Even though his hearing was excellent, in the woods with dense vegetation, the movement of wind and grass was a powerful interference. The opponent obviously wanted to kill him before he had time to adapt to the environment, but Clark had been wandering in Central Park for five years and had no idea what was happening here. The environment has long been very familiar.

He quickly tore his T-shirt into strips to tighten around the bleeding wound. Clark lowered his body, touched the ground with his hands, and searched around through the gaps in the bushes.

When he found his Smith & Wesson 9-caliber revolver, opened the latch and popped out the magazine to check the remaining bullets, the system suddenly let out a painful groan as if it had woken up.

"Uh-huh~ It's painful to miss."

Clark laughed and shook his head. He closed the magazine, turned off the latch, and turned the magazine. With a crisp turning sound, Clark suddenly rushed out of the bushes and rolled onto his side behind a tall red poplar tree. With the help of his hearing, he Identifying the location of the searcher, he said to the system in his mind: "How about this, let's just pretend that nothing happened and kill Dennis first."

The system heard this and said angrily: "Now you think of me. We were in the car just now. You should listen to me."

"You saved me this time, but my distrust of you also has your own reasons. Don't play tricks on me. Let's handle this together."

Clark leaned his head sideways and looked at three mercenaries wearing night vision goggles, holding AS12 rapid-fire shotguns, carrying heavy crossbows, and wearing black insulating colloid protective suits. They held pistols in their mouths and climbed up quietly. trees.

"Host, the fear aura cannot affect them."

The system pondered for a while, but still said without giving up: "You can go to Sanctuary to improve your strength. The time mechanism of each parallel universe is different. Although we cannot go back to the past time, we can choose when to return."

Clark, who was already halfway up the tree, kept using the redwood trees to cover his figure and hide himself.

He doesn't think he can win at all now. There are at least 30 of these fully armed mercenaries. They can penetrate the steel plates of bulletproof vehicles at close range and can also injure him. The AS12 rapid-fire shotgun is too deadly for him, even if it can't kill him with one shot. , and half a life will be lost.

He must escape from the park and enter the city, using the more complicated streets and alleys to seek opportunities to defeat them one by one, and force the opponent to remove the insulating suit that is extremely disadvantageous to him.

By then, it may not be clear who is the snipe and who is the clam.

"Host, we can't win. S12 can beat you into briquettes within one minute. The other party is strictly trying to restrain you."

Clark, who was stepping on a branch and holding the trunk with one hand, furrowed his brows into the Chinese character "Sichuan". He held the 9 revolver tightly with one hand and stared at the more than 30 mercenaries who had been searched by the pocket array. The direction of the next life.

"Fountain Square, he wants to kill me there." Clark analyzed the system in his mind: "If nothing else happens, he will set up a sniper position and kill me with one hit. As for the shelter you mentioned, I will not consider it at all. , it’s up to you whether to help me or not.”

The system pondered for a while, then growled angrily: "Help, I'll help you, right? Choosing you as a host is really bad luck for eight lifetimes. Come on, I'll provide you with directions, or we'll all die together."

At the same time, a car was driving through Lexington Avenue, into the wealthy residential area known as New York's Gold Coast, and stopped in front of a mansion.

William Rollins stepped out of the car and looked at the fat, fat man with a bald head in front of the villa with a cold face.

The big bald man was wearing a simple white suit. He was carrying it with one hand on his back. He raised his hand sideways to make a gesture of inviting him in. It was completely different from William's usual gangsters.

"Kingpin"

William Rollins, who walked up to Kingpin, moved his lips slightly and stared at the notorious gang leader in New York City. He was surprised by the man's humble and elegant temperament that was beyond everyone's expectations.

This is the first time William Rollins has seen him in person.

Unlike those high-ranking New York gangsters who use their accomplishments to hide their inner bloodthirsty and violence, although Kingpin looks quite intimidating, every move he makes appears to be natural and not artificial at all.

"Wilson Grant Fisk."

The sturdy Wilson Fisk smiled and pushed open the door of the villa with William Rollins. They passed by the neatly manicured small garden and entered the mansion only to find that they were alone.

The simple black and white interior made the living room look monotonous and bright. William looked around for any clues. It was not until Wilson motioned for him to sit down and opened a bottle of champagne from the wine rack that he raised his hand to indicate that he would not drink and asked straightforwardly. Said: "Jin Bin, I don't think our friendship can reach the point of opening champagne."

After saying that, he directly drew his gun and pointed it at Wilson Fisk. While retreating towards the door, he said: "Say your purpose, or I will make you lose any value."

Wilson Fisk's action of pouring champagne did not stop because of the threat. He picked up two goblets and walked straight to William Rollins who raised his gun. He smiled and said: "Agent Rollins, just kill me." It will make things worse and won't do you any good."

He looked down at William, who was half a head shorter than him, and handed one of the glasses to him. Watching William take the glass angrily, he said slowly: "Only through cooperation can we increase our value and obtain greater benefits. "

Ding

The wine glasses clinked. William held the champagne in his left hand and put the pistol back into his waist. He frowned and glared at Wilson, who turned to the living room table upstairs, and asked, "You want to force me to cooperate with you?"

"Cooperation is mutually beneficial. We each get something and we each get what we need."

Wilson Fisk sat on the sofa in the living room and spread his hands to signal William Rollins to sit down. After seeing him sit down, his smile gradually faded and he continued: "So everything is made according to your own needs. It’s a personal choice, Agent Rollins, just like the precious goods you worked so hard for in the Middle East must give Dennis Luther half of the profits before they can be sold in Hell’s Kitchen.”

William Rollins suddenly sneered when he heard this: "Kingpin, don't be too confident. Even Dennis Luther dared not say this to me. I checked your resume and I know that you were still in Hell's Kitchen 15 years ago. , you should have seen how he punished disobedient underground forces." "Dennis Luther rarely interacts with gangs, but his reputation in Hell's Kitchen was created, and no one dares to challenge him and his collaborators. , or get a share of his money, as long as the Clinton Group does not collapse, he will be the king that all gangs in New York have to fear."

William Rollins drank all the champagne in the glass, dropped it heavily on the coffee table, slowly leaned on the sofa, and continued teasing: "Jin Bin, I admire you very much, a newcomer who has just been in the industry for less than ten years, how can you It is indeed remarkable to become the financial officer and asset manager of all the gangs in New York, but if you want to surpass Dennis and cooperate with the CIA, you still need to work hard for another ten years."

Wilson Fisk picked up the champagne on the table, poured the wine for William without shaking his hand, and said sincerely: "It is indeed too difficult to get over him. It is not as easy as replacing him."

Wilson Fisk's words made William Rollins stunned for a moment, and suddenly he laughed out loud and asked: "You are the miser of the entire New York gang."

"Yes."

Wilson smiled and nodded: "I have the wealth of all the gangs in New York, and an equal partnership that they all trust."

William was dumbfounded by these words. After thinking about it, he had no reason to refute, let alone an excuse to refuse to cooperate with Wilson Fisk. He stared at this New York gang financial officer who looked rough and tough, but always displayed a humble demeanor. , his tone couldn't help but become gentler: "If Dennis knew what you were thinking, it would only take half an hour to get rid of you."

"But I only want ten percent."

Wilson lightly sniffed the mellow and elegant aroma of the wine in the glass, looked at the greatly moved William Rawlings, and continued: "There are no guards in my villa, there are no complicated decorations, and there is no place to place a monitor. .”

William Rollins then said: "Dennis will control the entire Clinton Group. As the largest real estate developer in Hell's Kitchen, how do you ensure the success of this thing and what kind of help do you need from me?"

Hearing William's question, Wilson Fisk showed his white teeth and said with a pleased smile: "I will tell you what you need to do, but the most important thing now is to keep Clark Kent alive."

"As long as your people let go of water, he can easily defeat Dennis Luther."

After a long conversation, William Rawlings left. Wilson watched him leave without any intention of getting up to see him off.

But he knew that he had achieved his goal.

He stood up and pushed open the kitchen door, handed the champagne glass to James Wesley who walked out, and said with a deep smile: "We just need to break it from the inside, so that the weakest one among them has to cooperate with us."

James Wesley took the champagne glass, took a sip, nodded and said with a smile: "When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits. Since Clark Kent and her daughter refuse to give in, we will help him beat Dennis Luther." As he becomes disabled, Dennis's excessive greed for money will definitely prompt him to seek other help, but in the end he can only seek our cooperation through Malena at the cost of selling the real estate in the Clinton area."

Wilson Fisk heard Wesley's words and sighed: "Yes, in the end we will kill Clark Kent and Anne Hathaway for Dennis, let him inherit Liv's inheritance, and force him to complete the agreement with us .”

James Wesley keenly noticed that Wilson Fisk was a little depressed, patted his rock-solid shoulder and asked with a smile: "Wilson, what's wrong with you?"

Wilson Fisk did not answer, just shook his head and walked straight to the kitchen.

As Wilson's most trusted and understanding friend, Wesley obviously knew what he was going to do. He scratched his head in distress, drank all the champagne in the glass, and left helplessly.

Wilson Fisk looked at the pale wall of the kitchen and fell into deep thought. After a long time, he said, "There are a small number of people who grew up in Hell's Kitchen who received the favor of Ms. Liv during difficult times."

"And I am one of them..."