The admiral in the Marvel world

At Fuxue Chinese Restaurant, a bunch of people in black were busy inside, and it took a long time before they stopped.

Several men in black looked at each other and shook their heads helplessly.

"Sir, there are too many human footprints in public places here, making it impossible to conduct effective analysis. And because it is a restaurant, everyone will leave bodily fluids, and DNA information technology cannot detect anything."

"Moreover, there are no surveillance cameras here. The camera closest to this restaurant is at the street intersection. The flow of people is too large to analyze."

The words of several technicians gave the middle-aged man a headache. An hour had passed since this incident, and they couldn't even find the direction of the investigation.

"It's not impossible to analyze."

A voice sounded, and several people looked around. A medium-sized white man walked in. If Cao Gui was here, he would definitely recognize that this man had the same face as Hawkeye Barton from Avengers.

"Alan Kraus?" the middle-aged man asked.

"It's me, sir." The agent named Allen said.

"It's up to you to find the bastard who killed my subordinates." The middle-aged man said fiercely.

"As you wish, sir." Allen, with an eagle-eyed face, smiled, and then said to the technician: "Where do our guys have the most footprints?"

The technician pointed to the pillar and collapsed table not far away.

"Where is the place where he died in battle?"

The technician pointed to his feet: "This is the most likely place, but the body has been moved away."

"Are there any signs of fighting here? Or other people's blood?"

"No." The technician shook his head.

Allen frowned slightly. From the analysis of these traces, it was obvious that Walker was killed after losing the ability to resist.

But the question is, who can make an elite Langley lose his combat effectiveness without causing any traces of a fight? Could it be that he is an extraordinary human being?

Allen looked at the pile of peanuts scattered on the table in front of him and the bottle of wine that had fallen out.

"Have these been checked for DNA?"

"Checked." The technician said helplessly: "Alcohol and a large amount of sodium chloride have destroyed the body fluids in it and cannot be analyzed."

"What about these chopsticks?" Hawkeye pointed at a dozen chopsticks on the ground.

"Uh... we don't have these yet," the technician said.

"Then check quickly." He said and walked out of the door. When he first came, he noticed that there was an obvious car mark on the ground.

Under normal circumstances, there will be no cars blocking the door of the hotel, so it is obvious that there is a problem.

Technicians were called to analyze the traces, and combined with the information from nearby surveillance cameras, a van was quickly identified.

"Find it." Allen said, and then, while everyone was focused on the computer screen, he took out two pills, one green and one blue, took a photo with his cell phone, and then drank it.

And no one discovered all this.

On the other side, the Langleys did not dare to relax, and used all their strength to start tracking this car.

Soon, the location was locked, and it was in the 13th district of Paris, which is known as the China District and is the main gathering place for Chinese Americans.

But... in fact, there are more blacks than Chinese there. Not only are there more blacks than Chinese in the 10th arrondissement of Paris, but there are more blacks than all whites and Chinese in the entire city of Paris.

…

In the 10th arrondissement of Paris, in an alley.

Cao Gui was sitting in the car, holding a silk scarf and gently wiping the Sig Sauer P226 in his hand. I have to say that although the bald man is rubbish, this gun is not rubbish at all.

The P226 gun was once hailed as the best-performing combat pistol, with first-class ergonomic performance and extremely comfortable grip. Not to mention that this gun has also been modified.

"Sure enough, 'wife' is more comfortable to use."

Cao Gui touched P226 and sighed, but as soon as the words came out, he realized something was wrong.

Oops! I seem to have awakened some incredible attribute!

Cao Gui scratched his head and felt weak in his heart. Am I really good at Jian'an style and Wei Wu style?

It shouldn’t be!

But after thinking about it carefully, it seems that it is indeed the case. The HK P30 he used is Bullseye's favorite gun, and Tokarev is the Butcher's favorite gun. The [System Backpack] also has a revolver with an ivory grip.

It's another killer's favorite gun.

But I rarely use the Beretta 92F I bought.

Can this...this...can be changed back? Cao Gui broke into a cold sweat and felt bad.

At this time, five people walked out of the door of the building in front, four Asians and one white man. These five people were angry, holding baseball bats in their hands, and talking gibberish.

Cao Gui raised his eyebrows. It was not in Chinese, but in Japanese. Although he, Cao, had never really studied Japanese systematically and could not understand the meaning.

But the teachers have so many teaching materials, both for infantry and cavalry, so it is still possible to understand the language clearly.

Tat-tat-tat, someone was knocking on his car window, and these five people surrounded Cao Gui's car.

The person who came here is not kind!

Cao Gui raised his eyebrows and put away the P226 pistol.

"Get off the bus!" one of them said in English.

Cao Gui smiled and opened the door and got out of the car. He wanted to see what these neon people who had a good life wanted to do.

"Is something wrong?" Cao Gui smiled.

The man took out a bag of white powdery stuff, shook it, grinned and said:

"Take out all the valuable things you have on you and exchange them for this bag, including the car keys, and then you can get out."

"What if I say no?"

The man chuckled, took out a butterfly knife and swung it around, and the four people behind him directly raised the iron baseball bat.

Cao Gui's eyes turned cold, he reached out with both hands and immediately grabbed the knife and held it back, then connected with his feet, his body flashed, and in the blink of an eye, he passed between several people.

"Uh-huh...huh..."

Behind them, the five people stiffened their bodies, grabbing their necks with both hands, their faces extremely red.

Cao Gui used the end of the knife to smash their Adam's apple. The Adam's apple dropped down and pressed against the epiglottis cartilage, causing tracheal occlusion. In three to four minutes at most, they would suffocate and die.

Cao Gui dropped the butterfly knife and walked directly into the building where these people came out.

As soon as you enter the door, there is a high spiral staircase, and there is a faint sound of music upstairs.

Cao Gui took out his HK P30, installed the silencer, and then walked slowly towards the direction of the music.

Miraculously, there was no one on the way up. The security here was really lax to the extreme.

Cao Gui came to a half-open door, and the sound of music came from inside.

Cao Gui quietly opened the door and went in. He was about to raise his gun and shoot, but he found that the people dancing inside were actually a group of children.

Wearing a cheongsam and performing a geisha dance looks out of place no matter how you look at it.

Apparently, they were having a party.

The lights in this room were dim, and a middle-aged, semi-bald Asian man sat at the head of the table. There were men and women on both sides, sitting neatly in two rows.

It is obvious that he is imitating the ancient way of hospitality in China.

Cao Gui's eyes turned cold, he took out his mask and put it on, and slowly approached.

…

In the main seat, the boss of the Ji Dao had an iron face, a serious expression, and a straight body, admiring the dance motionlessly.

At this moment, a gunpoint was pressed against his waist, making him freeze.

"Let the children and women leave. I have something to ask you."

Cao Gui's English sounded softly in his ears. The middle-aged man was half bald and had a stiff neck. When he turned his head, he saw a white mask.

"Boy, I don't know who you are, but I have fifty gunmen here." The middle-aged, half-bald man sneered, suppressing his voice:

"Can you afford it?"