hotmtlnovel Chapter 3699 The Age of Mercury (9)
Chapter 3699 The Age of Mercury (9)
Chapter 3699 The Age of Mercury (19)
There are many cyborgs in Marvel, each with their own unique fighting style. The most famous is undoubtedly Captain America. To give an analogy, Hulk is like the tank in the Avengers, Hawkeye is the marksman, Iron Man is like a highly mobile warrior, and Captain America is a tanky warrior who mostly acts as a secondary tank.
Both Spider-Man and Black Widow are assassins. They rarely engage in direct combat, instead using their agility to control their opponents. In team battles, Spider-Man focuses on control, using his webs to restrain enemies; while Black Widow is a burst-damage assassin, capable of accurately seizing an enemy's momentary opening in the chaos of battle to unleash high burst damage.
This is the main reason why the rest of the Avengers are unwilling to provoke her. In a direct confrontation, neither Captain America nor Iron Man are afraid of Natasha. But Black Widow will always remain hidden, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment you reveal your weakness before unleashing a combo to send you back to base.
No one can be fully armed 24 hours a day. Even knowing you're being lurked by a venomous spider, it's hard to avoid a momentary lapse in concentration or a relaxation of vigilance. Black Widow never misses an opportunity; she's a born killer.
In private, the Avengers members would spar and practice with each other. Their abilities varied, and some were mutually restraining, but everyone found Natasha a headache. Even in a narrow dueling arena, she would never confront you head-on, but would constantly dodge, wearing down your stamina and patience until you revealed an opening, then deliver a fatal blow.
Compared to the frustration of losing to others, losing to Natasha brings an extra kind of fear—she will realize your weaknesses sooner than you do, and the battle will be over before you even realize it.
Although they had only fought with Natasha during sparring sessions, and were well aware that as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Natasha wouldn't resort to violence against others, much less harm her teammates and friends, who can predict matters of the heart?
More than 70% of premeditated murders in the world are revenge killings, and in revenge killings, the probability that the victim and the murderer had a romantic relationship or more than one is 80%. Moreover, in the eyes of other bystanders who have no close relationship with the murderer, they are usually not regarded as extreme or emotional, but rather as tolerant, kind, and easy to communicate with.
In short, the probability of being killed by Black Widow because you are mutually in love with her is not high, but it is definitely not zero. Especially now that two people are simultaneously in love with her, the probability is definitely greatly increased.
If you can't solve your emotional problems, then solving the problem with the person who caused it is the best approach. Natasha hadn't initially considered this, but what could she do when Schiller was the first person she turned to when she was feeling distressed?
He's not a quack, but he's definitely a bit unscrupulous. And since he hasn't really tormented the Winter Soldier and Hawkeye much before, this is going to be a huge spectacle for them—why wouldn't they watch?
Natasha had only been there a few minutes when she stormed out again. Meanwhile, both groups were frantically tagging the two male victims, urging them to run immediately—the New York battle royale was about to begin, and those who were slow to run would easily become male victims.
After Natasha left, Schiller went to the backyard to see Stark and Peter improving the flying car. Stark had brought the external equipment for the intelligent driving program and was installing it on the car, while Peter was helping him. The two of them were working hard and sweating profusely.
Schiller, meanwhile, sat leisurely on a deckchair on the porch, sipping chilled plum juice and scrolling through his phone, keeping up with the battle royale's real-time situation in the group chat. Bucky had already left a bit ahead, but Natasha was likely heading for him first and would probably catch up soon.
Barton also left S.H.I.E.L.D. He understood Natasha's temperament better now and knew that hiding was not an option. It would be better to find a high vantage point to observe the battle situation and take the initiative, thus turning the tables.
Even through the screen, Schiller could tell from their replies in the group chat that they were both holding their breath, each believing that only the one who defeated Natasha deserved to be her partner. So what appeared to be an escape was actually a temporary retreat, a preparation for a counterattack at any moment.
Although Schiller was pessimistic about their ability to defeat Natasha, their courage and spirit were still admirable. All Schiller could do for them now was call the Presbyterian Hospital to see if there were any intensive care beds available.
As evening approached, the flying car finally showed some promise. This time, Schiller refused to get in, and only Stark and Peter took it for a spin. The results were much better than last time; although the speed was slower, the stability had improved, and it was becoming increasingly suitable for ordinary people.
To further enhance security, Peter needs to go to the lab, but it's too late to make a round trip, so he won't be back tonight. He's also taking Pikachu with him, so he won't be woken up early tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow is a day off, and there's nothing much going on at the sanatorium, so Schiller decided to sleep in. There was no need to go to bed so early tonight. Schiller analyzed the shortcomings of making the roast duck during the day and made another one that evening. This time, the aroma was stronger, and the skin was crispier than before, but it was still a little greasy. Schiller only ate half, put the other half in the refrigerator, and then went to bed.
But in the middle of the night, he suddenly heard noises downstairs. Thinking that perhaps a patient had fallen ill in the middle of the night and the nurses had gone to deal with it, and that if it was a serious problem, they would definitely call, Schiller didn't pay any attention and slept soundly until dawn.
The next morning, Schiller went to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, only to find the kitchen in complete disarray: the refrigerator had been overturned on the floor, the door was open, and all the food inside was gone; there were a lot of water stains and scratches on the island; a glass panel next to it had been smashed, with shards scattered all over the cabinet surface; and there were many traces of dirt on the floor.
If Schiller had to describe it, it would be like a starving husky bursting into the kitchen in the middle of the night, smashing through the glass, eating and destroying everything in its path, and leaving before dawn.
Schiller crouched down and carefully examined the footprints on the floor. They did indeed look like some kind of dog, but he didn't find any dog hair in the kitchen—which was almost impossible. No dog could leave without a single hair after making such a commotion. Schiller, fearing his eyesight was poor, even checked with a gray mist, and indeed, no hair was left.
Just as Schiller was feeling a bit confused, the nurse knocked on the door and came in, saying, "Uh, doctor, there's a rather strange girl outside. She says she's here to apologize. Should we let her in?"
Schiller was somewhat puzzled, but nodded nonetheless. He had assumed the strange girl the nurse had mentioned would come from the corridor, so he turned to look in that direction. Suddenly, a figure jumped in through the broken window.
Schiller turned his head and saw a girl dressed entirely in pink standing in the middle of the kitchen. He froze.
The girl was wearing a pink bodysuit, with two round eyes on the upper half of her mask and her chin exposed on the lower half. Judging from the shape of her jawline and lips, she was young, probably only 16 or 17 years old.
“Gwen?” Schiller said, somewhat surprised. His all-pink appearance was truly unique; no other Marvel hero was as pink.
"You know me?" The other person seemed more surprised than Schiller.
"Uh, I don't know you. So what are you here for?"
“I’m here to apologize,” the girl said, scratching her head. “Something happened last night, and I had to use your kitchen and the things you left in the fridge. Since I ate quite a bit, I can’t return them to you exactly as they were. But I can compensate you. How much do you want?”
"You ate it?" Schiller couldn't help but look down at the row of dog paw prints on the ground. The girl followed her gaze, then rushed over and wiped the ground with her foot, attempting to cover up the evidence of the crime.
"What exactly happened?" Schiller asked, squinting.
The girl pouted and whistled, looking left and right, but refusing to answer the question. The next second, another figure jumped in through the window.
"I'm Spider-Man. Sorry, I need... Oh, Doctor, what are you doing here?"
Schiller turned his head and saw Spider-Man in his black and red suit. He waved and said, "Good morning, Miles. That's exactly what I wanted to ask you. This is my sanatorium."
“What? But your nursing home isn’t in… Oh, you just moved here, what a coincidence. I’m sorry, but I have to talk to this Miss Gwen now, she’s really causing a huge mess.”
"You damn spider!" the girl in the pink bodysuit yelled at Miles, stretching out her arm. "I told you it was an accident, I didn't do it on purpose! I already paid them! You've been chasing me for two days and two nights, are you crazy?!"
"Yes, you've solved the problem of damaging someone's food truck, but what about your pet chewing up the fire hydrant? I'm chasing you just to make you stop. Every superhuman operating in New York must register with S.H.I.E.L.D., otherwise, I have the right to arrest you."
"I have committed no crime, what right do you have to arrest me?!"
"Sorry, but this is the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s law governing the safety of superpowered individuals. You can file a complaint if you disagree, but you'll have to come with me. Oh, and your dog too."
As he spoke, Miles was about to step forward. Schiller quickly rushed forward and shouted, "Stop! Don't fight in my kitchen! Or I'll throw you all into the Atlantic Ocean!"
Miles paused. Taking advantage of the moment, the pink-clad girl leaped out of the window and quickly disappeared from sight. Miles gave chase, and the two vanished into the Manhattan skyline.
Schiller sighed and had no choice but to turn into gray mist and begin cleaning the kitchen. But as he was cleaning, he suddenly heard a strange noise coming from the garden outside the window.
"Achoo!...Achoo! Achoo!"