Marvel Book of Magical Events

"Data theft was successful." Salomon turned off the phone screen.

Stephanie completed her mission, and all of Sterak's research material fell into the hands of the Immortal City before the Avengers arrived. Salomon will not be fully involved in this incident, what he has to do is more behind-the-scenes work.

Find Ultron's code and find out why Ultron rebelled. This reason is related to Salomon's attitude towards artificial intelligence and the production mode of the Mars foundry. But he couldn't rule out that the Soul Gem was doing things deliberately, so when the Avengers returned to the Stark Industries Building on a supersonic Quinjet fighter again, he had been waiting here for a while. He intends to check the scepter, but first he needs to deal with these guys in front of him.

Agent Maria Hill is already waiting here.

She was holding the tablet computer, standing next to Salomon with an unnatural expression—not many people now know that Nick Fury is still alive, and Salomon is one of them, and he also knows that Agent Hill is still working for him. Nick Fury Work Facts. As an agent, standing next to someone who knows many of your secrets is torture in itself. Next to Agent Hill was a lady named Helen Zhao, who had a high level of attainment in the field of genetics, and had just arrived at the Stark Industrial Building not long ago for technical support. She came to work in the United States from South Korea, where sexism is extremely serious, and gained a place in a certain discipline with her knowledge. She founded the U-Gin Research Center centered on her, instead of becoming a bride of the second generation of chaebols. It shows that she has extraordinary wisdom and vision.

This is someone who deserves respect for her knowledge.

Natasha Romanov hurriedly pushed the stretcher out of the plane, and Dr. Helen Zhao rushed up to meet her. That's why she's at Stark Tower, Hawkeye Clint needs therapy. Seeing that Clint was sent to the ward, everyone was slightly relieved. "Will he be all right?" Agent Romanov asked. "I remember you had healing magic, didn't you?"

She purposely puts the accent on the word "treatment."

"It's just a minor injury. If I do it, Clint should still have a kidney." Salomon shrugged, "But that Ms. Zhao doesn't seem to want others to interfere with her work. As a representative of superstition, I shouldn't Take a temporary retreat in the light of science?"

Natasha gave him a supercilious look, and then ran in with the stretcher.

Thor opened his arms as soon as he got off the plane, intending to give the mystic a very rude hug.

"Dude, you missed a wonderful battle." Sol held the trophy and sneered kindly, taunting the soldier who missed the battle in front of him. His expression is quite relaxed, even Steve Rogers is no exception. Captain Rogers hopes that finding the scepter will mean the end of the Chitauri incident and Hydra, and while he knows that's not realistic, that doesn't mean he can't breathe a sigh of relief. Before everyone got off the plane, Thor started bragging—this is the tradition of the Asgardians. After every battle, wine and bragging are essential. If there was a bard here, Thor would blow harder, as if he were in a tavern right now, setting off a wave of drinking.

"I'm a good student, and I won't miss any class I should attend." Salomon stretched out his fingers wrapped in white gloves, "I'm going to check the scepter next. Stark, class Dr. Na, do you want to join me?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, boy." Stark patted the mystic on the shoulder. "We still have some time before the scepter is sent back to Asgard. Have a drink first, and then consider whether to join the party on Saturday, I can assure you that you have no classes to attend on Saturday."

"Don't let Sir Arnold Abinson hear that, he's an Englishman and doesn't like American wild parties," said Salomon, "and I hate strangers."

"Stay away from those British parties with fiddles, little hedgehog, you need American parties."

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This battle was different from hunting. After figuring out the survival habits of wild beasts, he was able to survive in most situations by relying on his strength and speed far exceeding that of ordinary adult males, as well as the fighting skills he had acquired through uninterrupted hard training. But in the face of the frontal battlefield of modern warfare, especially when facing the emotionless artificial intelligence, these things are not as effective as the heavy bolter in his hand. Bullet has the highest right of passage on the battlefield, and no one can refute it.

Hunting isn't quite the same as going head-on.

On the battlefield, only the most brutal force and the fastest speed are the only pass. Only the most intelligent brain and the most flexible tactics can cause as much damage as possible under the premise of ensuring survival. Salomon intended to drop the boy into the thick of the action, armed only with a bolter, a few magazines, a short knife, a standard knight's longsword, and a suit of light bulletproof armor and a powered exoskeleton. This kind of commander-level equipment is enough to support him to survive on the battlefield. The helmet he wears will record the number of kills. Only when the predetermined standard is met can the boy pass the first stage of training. Only by surviving and accomplishing the goal can the boy undergo the next stage of surgery.

The premise of all this is that he first completes the linguistics, mathematics and tactical strategy exams on Saturday morning. The surgery not only enhanced his muscles, but his brain was also far superior to that of ordinary people. Learning, which is extremely difficult for ordinary people, is not a big problem for him. Genetic modification is not only to create a powerful war machine, but to create a perfect human being.

"Don't compete with machines in strength. Be flexible, flexible, only in this way can you survive on the battlefield." With the flip of the wrist, the held long sword turned around, cutting a shallow wound on the boy's arm. The mystic kicked the boy in the shin as he passed, reminding him to watch his steps. The boy snorted twice in dissatisfaction. He was not frowning because of the pain caused by the wound on his arm, but because he was still unable to keep up with the pace of the monarch.

Bad habits from previous hunting training are constantly being corrected, but it will take time.

"I need time!" The boy swung his sword violently, so fast that only afterimages remained, "It took me several months to adapt to the fighting style of that planet."

"Don't beg me for something that doesn't exist!" Salomon stepped aside from the blade and struck the boy's wrist with the hilt. The huge force made the weapon fall out of his hand, and the boy wanted to pick it up, but the tip of the mystic's sword was already pointed at his throat. "You don't have time." He looked down at the boy, his expression as stern as an iceberg. He sideways the long sword, and patted the boy's neck with the blade, "Every battle is a sudden attack, and you have no time to prepare. You must be prepared every moment, just like our enemies, they always Nor will you let your guard down. You are the warrior I created and you are capable of it. Pick up your arms and we will do it again."

The boy gritted his teeth and rubbed his wrist.

The knock on the hilt disappeared after a while, which is one of the benefits of the surgery. He took a deep breath, and before the next heartbeat he jumped back, reached for his gun and fired. The bullets were slapped away by the long sword when they were about to touch Salomon, and the mystic took a step forward and placed the long sword next to the boy's neck again. It was only at this moment that the hot shell casings and deformed warheads fell to the ground, making a clanging sound on the marble floor.

"I think ordinary people are dead under such an attack." The boy smiled. "One minute, my lord?"

"Good job, but our enemies are not ordinary people." Salomon nodded, "If you are still at this level, one minute is enough for us to fight several games."

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