Marvel Nephalem

Clark shook his white beard covering his throat, looked at the white man beside him and asked: "Are you?"

"Rumlow, Brock Rumlow." The man introduced himself enthusiastically, and even showed a little excitement. When he saw Clark preparing to introduce himself, he stretched out his hand and said first, "I know you. Mr. Kent, I watched TV last night."

The system sighed in Clark's mind: "I didn't expect that the first organization that came into contact with you was Hydra, and the one they sent was Crossbones."

Facing Rumlow's warm handshake, Clark showed a look of realization, but asked in his mind: "What organization is Hydra? This man is very powerful."

"You don't know." The system exclaimed, then thought about it and continued: "Oh, by the way, I forgot that you were a good man who focused on supporting your family and gave up your personal pleasure. In short, Hydra is a branch. Belongs to a terrorist organization, lurking in the United World Council, the owner of SHIELD, the backer of superheroes.”

"The person in front of you, if you rely on fighting skills alone, is as good as you. Although his physical quality, strength and physical ability are much worse than yours, this guy can escape from your hands because he is not a person. He appears. It proves that you are being targeted by two camps. S.H.I.E.L.D., the supporters of the Avengers, and Hydra, the CX organization that is brainwashed in their eyes. Neither one is easy to mess with. Maybe you should choose one side, maybe you can kill them. All screaming in panic..."

"Then don't mess with them, they are all S.H.I.E.L.D. now."

system:"......"

Clark held Rumlow's hand, nodded politely, and asked: "Hello, Rumlow, how to get to the store?"

"Which store are you going to, clothing, daily necessities, or everything?" Rumlow showed enthusiasm. Clark could hear the instructions from the micro communicator in his ear through his keen hearing, which was telling him the store route.

Clark had no obvious emotions, no excessive gratitude for getting help, no taking it for granted that he was superior to others, and no alienation and rejection of others thousands of miles away. He looked at Rumlow, who was slightly shorter than him, and said, "The nearest one."

What he didn't notice was that above his head, a fly was hovering, observing everything with a spherical camera that replaced its head, and there seemed to be something wrong with its micro-sound generator, which was emitting faint music:

"all you ant an of the street all the women on the street need a man"

"but you don't know you wanna tu but you don't know which way to go, where to turn"

"t keep a ing and put your hand out to come to me, give me your hand"

"'ce i'the one who's gonna ke you bu 'ce i'the one who's gonna ke you bu"

In the Stark Tower, two kilometers to the southeast, the heavy metal rock music made Natasha's eyebrows beat wildly as she sat on the sofa and observed Clark's movements through flies.

Behind her, Tony Stark, who was walking through a large amount of blue light and shadow, was still snapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music.

Natasha couldn't bear it anymore and coughed lightly: "Tony"

The loud music muffled his voice. Tony Stark, who was still flicking the projection back and forth according to the rhythm of the music, took a few sips of the soda handed to him by the artificial intelligence robot arm, and began to twist his little Beard looked at the projection in a daze.

Although all this looks very Tony Stark, it also fits his style.

But Natasha noticed Tony Stark's dark bags under his eyes, the bruises on his cheeks, and the slightly trembling soda bottle in his hand.

The music stopped abruptly.

"Tony are you okay?"

Natasha turned off the music and walked towards Tony who kept rubbing his chin with a worried look on her face.

"You mean holding a nuclear bomb and rushing into outer space to watch Jarvis, the most spectacular nuclear fusion fireworks show in human history, return to normal size, and perform data simulation testing."

Tony was still staring at the projection. He answered casually without forgetting to direct Jarvis. The blue light and shadow gradually came together. This was a design projection of a steel suit. Even if he took a picture and put it on the market, it would cause a stir. Weapons developers from all over the world are rushing to grab it, provided that they can build it and solve the problems of artificial intelligence auxiliary programs and functions.

The steel suit reflected by the blue projection was running and switching quickly, which made Natasha make a mouthful of wow in confusion. Just as she was about to speak again, Jarvis's voice suddenly sounded: "Si Mr. Tucker, after dynamic simulation testing, compared with the Mark 8, the maneuverability of the Mark 7 has improved by 27%, the overall maneuverability has increased by 15%, and the energy utilization rate has increased by 0.13%. This allows you to enhance protection while enhancing mobility. and operational standards, whether to conduct physical testing?”

Natasha quickly said: "The test has been postponed."

Tony frowned and looked sideways, and Jarvis immediately said: "It has been tested that Natasha Romanoff, a SHIELD agent and a member of the Avengers, does not have the command authority to command the Mark 8 test plan. Mr. Stark, given your current Due to my weak physical condition, do I need to postpone the test as she said?"

Facing Natasha's reproachful look, Tony shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Jarvis makes mistakes occasionally."

"The probability of artificial intelligence Jarvis being wrong..."

"Shut up, Jarvis."

"Okay, sir."

......

Hell's Kitchen

No one thought there was an Armani in Hell's Kitchen.

Especially the dark alleys on both sides, which are the most likely places to breed crime.

But if you look carefully, there seems to be an extra n on the sign that should be arni. This is Armani arnni.

"Total $750, sir, can I take a picture with you?"

In front of the counter, the skinny black guy stared excitedly at Clark Kent, who was wearing a black Armani T-shirt and a cold face. Behind him, Rumlow, who was sweating profusely, was holding three large bags in one hand. The bag, the absorbent mop, and the mop bucket were also stuffed with shower gel and floor cleaner.

"cannot"

Clark took out his wallet with a grim look on his face, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, slapped it on the table, pointed to the Armani label on his collar and asked, "How much is it exactly."

The skinny young man found out 25 US dollars awkwardly and said awkwardly: "75 US dollars, sir."

Clark, who walked out of Armani Men's Clothing with Rumlow, wiped his sweat and asked without looking back: " Rumlow, what time is it now?"

Overwhelmed, Rumlow's cheek muscles were beating wildly, but he still struggled to open the cuff of his left hand holding the mop handle with his chin, and replied enthusiastically: "New York time, 9:15, Mr. Kent."

"I'll do it." Clark Kent, who was over sixty years old, saw that Rumlow seemed to be in difficulty and wanted to take the three bags in his hands: "I'm in good health."

Rumlow, who had sweat flowing into his eyes, blinked, carried three large bags to shoulder height, and said with a smile: "No, I'm fine."

"Very good." Clark looked at Rumlow with approval, patted his shoulder, and said in a low and sincere tone: "We have to run across three streets and 10 meters in 1600 minutes, otherwise my baby girl may have to run It’s too late to have breakfast, I believe you can do it, believe me your efforts will be rewarded.”

Rumlow looked at Clark's eyes that seemed to see through everything, and nodded mysteriously.