The speeding car rged into the bustling streets, now completely safe.
After exchanging glances with Sharon for a while, Howard grinned cheekily and leaned his head over from the back seat: "Slade, since you know, can you tell us? What exactly is the plan researching?"
"Even if I tell you, you’re no better at solving it than . Your level in genetics and dicine is about the sa as mine, so it’s pointless to say anything."
Su Ming loves collecting intelligence but doesn’t particularly enjoy sharing it with others; a sense of mystique is very important.
Howard, anxious and scratching his head, his eyes darted around: "I almost got killed just now too. I’m a victim; I deserve to know who did it, right?"
"Dr. Xavier did indeed die by homicide, but the ones who want to kill you and the ones who killed him aren’t the sa group. Leave Sharon and Charles to ; it’s none of your business here."
Su Ming, with a cigarette in his mouth, drove the vehicle at high speed through traffic, weaving in and out, leaving a trail of curses behind.
"Uh, how can you tell they aren’t the sa group?" Howard grumbled as he tugged at his hair.
"The person who killed Dr. Xavier disguised the whole event as an accident, even fooling the SSR. This kind of behavior indicates clandestine actions and professional assassins. Think about the gunn just now, firing over a hundred bullets at us within a minute, the gunfire audible across Manhattan, indicating military style and recklessness."
Su Ming blew a smoke ring and flicked ash out the window, calmly answering.
"Can’t it be the sa group with two styles?" Howard still felt puzzled despite hearing the answer, pulling on the headrest from the front row seat, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you think Nick Fury and paratroopers can act together? The styles dictate they are two different people."
Howard pondered this answer, trying to simulate such a scenario in his mind.
No matter how he considered it, it was always Nick Fury throwing those infantry under the enemy’s fire while he sneaked away invisibly into the darkness...
He’d use them but wouldn’t act with them.
Howard scratched his mustache and sighed: "Well said, but Dr. Xavier was killed inside the base; it shows nowhere is safe. How can I live without you?"
"So you told the SSR headquarters’ location, planning to use as a at shield?" Su Ming retorted.
"at shield sounds too harsh; let’s all brainstorm together, brainstorm." Howard rubbed his hands, embarrassed and awkwardly wriggling.
"I heard you have a business card." Su Ming pursed his lips, gesturing for Howard to take out the card clip.
Howard got smug again, patting his hair: "I have a 400-square-ter warehouse just for storing all kinds of business cards I receive; which one are you talking about?"
"The legendary one, the one from the ghost stories in New York, the one that makes kids hide under beds when they hear his na." Su Ming rattled off a slew of descriptions.
Howard understood but hesitated: "You’re talking about Deathstroke’s card, I do have it, but... Seeing him makes shiver all over; the sll of blood on him is overpowering, and no one has ever contacted him successfully by phone."
"I heard there’s a detailed procedure on the back of the card; you guys haven’t followed it, have you?"
"You’re too well-inford, aren’t you? There is, but the steps are so bizarre they can’t be done."
Howard shook his head in refusal, watching the cars outside vigilantly, the owners of those cars all eyeing this high-end sedan with shattered windows.
"Why not try it out? Or are you planning to go ho and write your will? We’ve arrived."
Ignoring Howard’s dilemma, Su Ming dropped him off at the entrance of Stark Tower, then left with Charles’s mother and son.
Howard stood by the roadside, feeling the cold wind hitting his face, his hair sticking out from the bullet holes in his hat like little grass blades through rocks.
He shivered, hurriedly rushing back into the company.
...........
Soon after, a car drove out from beneath Stark Tower, a mysterious figure wrapped tightly sitting in the driver’s seat, sunglasses completely covering his face.
The car slowly rged into traffic, heading toward the park nearby.
Central Park remained the sa; after the lakes froze over in winter, many people ca here to skate, though today wasn’t a holiday, so the crowd wasn’t too large.
The mysterious man parked by the roadside, adjusting his windbreaker collar as he walked toward the public phone by the road.
He inserted several 25 US cents coins into the phone, picked up the receiver, as the sound of the winding gears marked the numbers one by one.
"Doo doo doo... Hello, Smiley Fast Food order line." A pleasant female voice ca through the receiver, though the pace was swift, seeming quite impatient.
The windbreaker man hugged the receiver, shrinking and peering out through the phone booth’s transparent enclosure, whispering, "I want to kill."
"Wrong number, bye-bye." The other side replied very crisply.
"I’m sick."
"Do you have dicine?"
However, oddly enough, the other side had no intention of hanging up, as if waiting for sothing.
The windbreaker man flipped through the card in his hand; what’s next? Oh, it’s this... Strip naked, dance while singing ’Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’
He twitched his lips, but followed what was written on the card regardless, loosening his tie while holding the receiver with his free hand.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are..."
The cold wind slipping through the phone booth’s cracks gave him goosebumps all over, yet he resolutely stripped off all his clothes, leaving only a pair of sunglasses. The low temperature caused his snot to stick to his mustache, but he continued to dance in a hula skirt manner.
The phone booth wasn’t a completely enclosed space, and being in a bustling street, it soon attracted a crowd.
"Tsk tsk, a pervert, who wants to call the police?"
"He’s occupying the phone booth, can’t call the police."
"He looks familiar, have I seen him sowhere before?"
"His bottom is quite round."
So people outside started pointing fingers, discussing the naked man’s physique, while so with children hurriedly covered their kids’ eyes and left.
Under the sunglasses, a tear trickled down. He had lost sothing important, and in this cold winter, nearing Christmas, he felt like the little match girl experiencing the coldness of the world.
But things had co to this, there’s no turning back.
He finished the last line of the lyrics and tightly gripped the microphone: "I want chocolate egg yolk sauce."
"Delivery address, 153 Queen Street, Queens, tonight at eight, alone."
The voice on the other end turned cold, quickly spouting a series of words — this was the transaction address — then the phone was hung up.
The naked man hung up the phone and frantically started putting on clothes, then opened the phone booth door and hurriedly ran towards the car, covering his face.
The police hadn’t arrived yet, but the reporters had, especially from Horn Daily; their paparazzi outran real dogs.
"Sir! Can you talk about your considerations for dancing naked in the phone booth?"
"Sir, is your act advocating for gender equality in society?"
"Wait, sir, are you speaking up for people of color? Or are you dissatisfied with the president and thus staged a spontaneous protest?"
The reporters were relentless in their pursuit; he didn’t dare look back, jumped into the car while covering his face, what did stripping and calling have to do with people of color?
The flashlights behind him ford a sea, he had already decided to sink this car into the ocean, it was done for.
Starting the car, he sped towards the outskirts, soon disappearing from everyone’s view.
The reporters exchanged a glance, nodding imperceptibly, the task of separating the client and the onlookers was complete, they could retreat.
.........
"Lady Sharon, you and Charles will stay at the academy these days, I’ll find soone to get you leave from SSR."
Su Ming pushed open a door, smiling as he welcod the mother and son into an empty dormitory building.
The academy was almost fully occupied now, but Su Ming still kept a building for ergencies; this was the one at the edge of the school, next to the swamp.
Though in this winter, Charles won’t have a chance to see any crocodiles.
The decoration of this dormitory building was no different from others; the ground floor housed a public lounge with sofas and TV, various bagged snacks placed on the coffee table, and Wilson Enterprises beverages filling the cabinet.
There was a beautiful carpet on the floor, and the windows were bright, allowing one to see snow piled on the window ledges, imprinting so dark patterns.
Sharon sat on the sofa, covering her face, her fingers combing through her hair like a comb, unclear about what happened today, ever since her husband had an incident, everything seed to plunge into chaos.
Charles, on the other hand, curiously explored several rooms, the tea room, the small kitchen, he toured them all.
Su Ming patted his head: "How do you like it?"
"The environnt is nice, when is Captain Arica coming?" Charles sniffed, he seed to have caught a cold.
"He’s not in the United States, can’t say exactly when he’ll return, but rest assured to settle here, my security force is absolutely reliable."
Su Ming plopped him on the sofa too, made two cups of instant coffee, and turned on the TV for them to watch.
Can’t let him co into contact with so people at the academy, there are people here who know many secrets.
Charles’ attention was quickly drawn to the cartoon on TV; though he appeared mature, he’s still just a child.
Television shows didn’t reveal inner thoughts, nor did they infer future developnts from them — quite amusing.
Sharon patted his head, looking at Su Ming gratefully: "Thank you, Mr. Wilson, I’m at a loss for how to repay your kindness."
"No need, Howard’s friend is my friend, use anything in this building freely, but better not leave here."
Su Ming responded with a smile, then closed the door and left.
If it wasn’t for Charles and the various loopholes caused by ti repair, Su Ming wouldn’t be doing anything like ’making friends’.
But let this foolish woman continue to be foolish, her husband died because he got involved in darkness, it’s better if she remains ignorant, at least live until Charles grows a bit older before she dies.
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