Avengers polar silver wolf

"SHIELD?!" St. John cried out. Rogers motioned him to be silent and motioned for Jameson to continue speaking.

"I couldn't help but ask him: 'You are not his friend, what do you want to do?' The smile under the brim of his hat really made me tremble. 'I am his good friend, don't worry, I

I will treat him well, but you probably need to find a new photographer. This file is of no use anymore. Just leave it as a souvenir in my phone." As he spoke, he shook the phone, and his movement seemed to be

It's like provocation." Jameson's eyes widened, as if the thing was happening in front of him again.

"Yes, I wanted to stop him at that time. Suddenly he turned around and said in the same low and cold voice as when he first entered the door: 'You'd better not tell the third person about my coming, otherwise, you will

You may regret giving me Peter Parker's information today.' After saying that, he left quickly." There was a look of fear on Robertson's face.

"Thinking about it later, he will definitely not be Parker's friend, or it will definitely be more than just a friend." Jameson added.

"Sure enough, it's SHIELD's work, but SHIELD has been smashed by us, and they are the only ones left." Rogers said.

"Who?" Jameson and Robertson said in unison.

"Hydra," Rogers said, "it seems that they came earlier than us, and it seems that we have entered the game they set step by step."

"Where does Peter Parker live? He is probably in trouble. We need to rush there quickly to find out what happened." Rogers asked.

"Here, this is the personal information. I just can't figure it out. Why is it Parker? It also alerted the Avengers. He..."

"Bang bang...!"

Before Jameson could finish speaking, there was a deafening sound of gunfire.

What followed was the sound of files, bookshelves, computers, fax machines and glass breaking in the office. Jameson howled and fell to the ground holding his bleeding arm.

Looking at Robertson again, there were at least ten bullet holes in his body, and a spurt of blood almost covered the white walls of the office.

"Robbie!" Jameson yelled, covering his arms.

Seeing Peter standing in front of him, who had turned into a silver metallic luster, Rogers yelled angrily: "Pete! What are you doing! Why don't you protect them first? My metabolism is three times that of normal people. I have superhuman strength."

Self-healing ability, what about them? You just watch them being beaten into a sieve?!"

Three young men with sneers were holding mini-submachine guns and shooting at innocent people who had not yet realized what was going on. The mutilated limbs and bright red color instantly turned the place into a slaughterhouse. People's groans of pain and signs of death were everywhere.

of hysteria.

Rogers lifted the editor's desk, which would have been difficult for four grown men to move, with one hand and held it against the office door:

"Pete, protect Mr. Jameson here!"

"Understood," Peter's body turned into silver to protect Jameson, "Leave it to me, I will protect him."

At this time, Jameson was trembling with fear, staring straight at Robertson in the pool of blood, and kept mumbling:

"No, no, no... this is not true, this is a dream, this must be a dream, Luo... Bi, don't we agree to go fishing together in Hawaii after retirement in September, you..."

Looking at James, who was in tears and in a daze, Peter was heartbroken. This is why, why these two old people have worked hard all their lives and finally can enjoy their old age in retirement, but...

Hydra!

These unscrupulous and inhumane beasts have become so rampant.

"St. John! Someone has rushed to the editor's office. Stop him quickly. Mr. Jameson is still inside."

When Pete heard this, he immediately felt that his body was filled with uncontrollable energy. It was finally here. I had been waiting for it for a long time. Pete stood up suddenly and punched the desperado who broke in through the window.

"Pete, don't... don't do this!" Rogers shouted.

But it was too late. How could the human skull withstand such a violent impact? At the moment of impact, the man's head was like a watermelon injected with an overdose of swelling agent. The brain plasma and blood burst out in all directions, and a spurt of bright red blood flowed from the chest cavity.

It gradually stains everything around it.

And at the same time, the man's body emitted a heaven-shattering explosion. Using the word "shattering to pieces" is a perfect way to describe the tragedy of the scene. The explosion instantly destroyed everything on the entire floor, including cupboards, cupboards, computer desks... they were scattered in all directions. Print

Papers, documents, and office supplies fell to the ground like snowflakes from the broken windows of the building. People who heard the explosion immediately screamed to avoid the falling objects falling from upstairs.

Peter slowly stood up from the fallen stones and wall panels, shook the dirt off his body, and then looked blankly at the ruins in the smoke and dust around him as if he had lost his memory.

Rogers shook his head and stood up with difficulty and walked towards St. John under the huge ceiling. At this time, his head was covered with blood and he was howling in pain with a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, Peter seemed to have thought of something and immediately leaned down.

But the scene before him made him collapse on the ground:

"James...Mr. Jameson, Mr. Jameson! Jameson..."

After helping St. John, who was left groaning, to move the heavy ceiling, Rogers walked into the office through the blasted wall and saw Peter, who was huddled in a ball and crying.

Yes, no matter how tall he is, how powerful he is, or how extraordinary superpowers he is, he is still a child after all. He is still young and has suddenly experienced so many things, especially when facing a terrifying and cold-blooded enemy like Hydra.

He has already endured too much, and there is no need to say any words of blame at this time. The tears rolling down from this strong man who is more than eight feet tall are enough to resolve everything.

Seeing this scene, St. John's moans gradually became quieter, and tears surged from his eyes.

"Are there any survivors? Is there anyone!"

Following the shouts, numerous firefighters, police and medical staff rushed in, followed by the roar of helicopter blades outside, and beams of lights that were particularly dazzling in the dusk night.

"Rogers? St. John..." Maria also hurried in and called softly.

The captain helped St. John up, who was still groaning on the ground, and walked over following the sound. Seeing that the three of them were safe, Maria also breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's go Hill, let's go to the hotel first and take care of things tomorrow," Rogers said.

"It doesn't matter to me, Captain, I...I can still move." St. John gritted his teeth and wanted to walk alone, but he staggered twice and fell on Peter who was supporting him.

Looking at the panting St. John, whose head was covered with blood and ash, Maria said distressedly: "Don't be brave, listen to Steve, let's go to the hotel to rest today. This is the first time that this happened to us.

Unexpectedly, it seems that things have become more and more complicated."

St. John sighed helplessly and nodded weakly.

At night at New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport, a family's flight from Paris to New York landed. In fact, except for the two first-class passengers on board, the flight was quite ordinary.

"Should we go directly to the Avengers headquarters? It is said that it seems to be in the northern suburbs, but such a secret place will not be easily found. Now that SHIELD is gone, how are we going to get there? If we get in the taxi and tell us the destination, we will definitely

It scared him." Bruce said after exiting the terminal.

"That's not a problem. Of course I won't take a taxi. Even if it doesn't work, our former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents won't be in this state." Coulson said with a smile.

"Then do we have better means of transportation?"

"Of course, but before that, we have to find someone first."

"Who?" Bruce asked doubtfully.

"He." Colson pointed to an ultra-modern building surrounded by the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building in the distance. At this time, it was brilliantly lit, illuminating the center of New York City almost like daylight, with other landmarks above it.

In front of me, I feel ashamed and gloomy.

"Stark? Didn't you say that he had a falling out with Captain, and his relationship with the Avengers was not very good. How could you..." Bruce asked.

"Then you have to go, just like I brought you here because of the Cube, and now you are back to the past. I have to bring you together again, let's go." Coulson reached out to stop him.

A taxi.

"If I guess correctly, the transportation you mentioned is at Stark's place now." Bruce said as if he understood something.

"Well, yes, you guessed it right. If Stark can't be moved, let's walk to the Avengers Training Center." Coulson smiled slightly and opened the car door.

"It seems you are quite sure," Bruce said as he got into the taxi. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so desperate, flying thousands of miles halfway around the world to the other side of the Atlantic and still walking to the headquarters."

"No, Dr. Banner, I'm not sure. But I believe in Stark, just like you believed in Natasha and then you were brought to the space aircraft carrier in a daze." Coulson turned around and said seriously when the co-pilot

said.

Then he turned to the driver and said:

"To Stark Tower."

When they arrived at the hotel, Maria brought a basin of hot water and carefully wiped St. John's wounds, removing the coagulated blood and soil bit by bit.

Looking at her lowered eyes, St. John's eyes were filled with tears. How could anyone take care of him so carefully since he was a child? When he was injured, he would simply bake it on the fire and wrap it with some toilet paper, and then let it go in a careless manner.

After Maria cleaned the wound and was about to apply the anti-inflammatory medicine she brought with her on him, St. John immediately grabbed her hand holding the cotton swab, and then he let go suddenly, with a red face.

Whispered: "Yes...I'm sorry, I don't need medicine."

"No medicine? What can I do without medicine? Are you kidding? I just roughly treated it. If I don't apply medicine immediately, the wound will become infected." Maria said anxiously.

"It's okay, Miss Hill, have you ever heard that bacteria can survive under high temperatures?"

"High temperature? Of course not, high temperature can sterilize."

"That's right, just use high temperature to treat it."

"Oh, yes, you are the Human Torch, but...is this really possible?" Maria said dubiously.

"Of course, do you have a lighter? Let me show you a show." St. John smiled proudly at Maria.

"Stop making trouble, I'll give you some medicine, and then you can go to bed early. You were seriously injured today, so you have to take good care of yourself." Maria said angrily.

"Just bring it over, it'll be fine, don't worry."

"I really can't stand you, okay, just lie down here and I'll go to the counter and lend you a lighter."

It didn't take long for Hill to come in with a delicate little lighter. "Well, you know how many times that person told me not to smoke indoors and not to smoke indoors before giving it to me. Is the lighter just for smoking?"

"That's right," St. John caught the lighter thrown by Maria and played with it for a long time before a bunch of blue flames slowly rose. "Don't he know that lighters can also heal injuries?"

Maria looked at this scene in surprise. St. John smiled evilly and put the flame close to his wound, then deliberately pretended to be burned and jerked back. Maria was also startled, but when she saw St. John's

He laughed and poked him with his finger: "I hate it, you scared me."

St. John then put the lighter to the wound. This time the flame was completely burning his scabbed wound. Such a cruel scene was like torture to extract a confession. Even the experienced Maria Agent could not bear it.

Look directly.

"This... doesn't this hurt? It's scary, okay?"

St. John frowned, staring straight at the flames jumping wantonly on his wounds. His forehead was covered with fine beads of sweat, and his lips were tightly closed. It seemed that he was clenching his teeth.

Maria looked at his expression and asked worriedly: "St. John, you... are you okay?"

At this moment, a miracle happened. Under the burning of the flame, the scab formed by the blood of the wound slowly swelled up, rolled up like a dead leaf, and finally burned into a wisp of smoke and dissipated into the air, and the scar just disappeared.

Without a trace. At this time, St. John breathed a long sigh of relief, turned off the lighter, wiped the newly emerged skin, grinned at Maria and said with a smile:

"How about it? It's very magical. Although it's quite painful, the curative effect is very significant. This is a magical medical skill passed down from ancient China. It's called fire therapy. You've never seen it before."

"Fire therapy? Just lie. It's obviously X-cells that are helping you. It's not like I don't know about fire therapy in China. How could I stab my own arm with fire?"

"Okay, I'm on a collision course."

"Yes," Maria suddenly thought of something, "Can you burn it yourself? Then why don't you just burn it yourself? You asked me to borrow a lighter for you."

"I...I'm not, no, my fire can't do it. This is the real fire of the three flavors. I have to use the fire of the human world."

"You're still quibbling," Maria pushed him down on the pillow, "You're still very popular with Sanweizhen. You must have read too many Chinese novels. Don't think I haven't read them. It is said that the water in our world cannot be poured out, so I will pour it out."

Pour it and see if it is really immortal." As she said this, Maria picked up a glass of water on the table and started to pour it.

"Don't, don't, don't... I was wrong, Sister Hill." St. John said pretending to be horrified.

"If it's true or false, I'll find out if I pour a glass of water on it."

"I really know I was wrong..."

The tense atmosphere gradually dissipated as the two joked with each other.

Unlike the relaxation of St. John's room, the room next door was filled with a suffocating, tense and depressing atmosphere. Both Rogers and Peter were discussing the terrorist attack that occurred this afternoon.

"The news said that at least seventy people were killed in this explosion. I, I could have avoided all of this. It's all my fault." Pete said painfully.

"Stop blaming yourself. This can't be entirely your fault. It's understandable to have such an extreme reaction under any circumstances. My child, you are still young and haven't seen much. Besides, you don't know what's going on with him."

Loaded with dynamite." Rogers patted Pete's strong back and said.

"But... Hydra and the others are too cruel. How could they do this? I really watched them explode into pieces in front of me, a big living person..."

"Well, I understand how you feel, but this is war. If you have experienced World War II like me, you will know that such scenes are normal. What we do is not to feel sorry for the dead, but to protect more people.

Living people, saving them from the threat of death. This is our purpose as Avengers, and it is also the creed that we have been fighting against Hydra for so long." Rogers' voice was not loud, but it was loud, and Peter felt that every word was embarrassing to him.

's heart trembled.

"I understand, captain, I understand, thank you."

"Well, go to bed and have a good rest. We have to get up early tomorrow." Rogers said kindly.

"No... no, captain, what should I do tomorrow? You haven't assigned me a task yet."

"Oh, it's okay. Let's talk about it tomorrow. Just have a good rest. I will arrange things for tomorrow. Don't worry, go ahead."

"Then what do you do with the two beds between St. John and I? I'll sleep on the sofa." Peter said.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I've never slept on a bed like this. The current bed is so soft that I feel like I'm going to sink in when I lie down. You know how could I have such a bed during World War II?

I slept wherever I went, with at most a sleeping bag. At that time, wooden beds were very luxurious. Boy, that’s how I’ve always been here. Go to sleep." Rogers said with a smile.

"Well, okay, then I'm going to bed." Pete said weakly

"Go on, don't think about what happened today. Don't be afraid with me here. I was about your age when I first joined the army. I often had nightmares at night. This is normal. Don't worry. It's still a bright sun when I wake up.

God," Rogers said.

"Yeah!" Peter agreed excitedly and turned around and walked into the room.

(To be continued)