Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"You haven't told Pepper you're back?"

"Yeah, I think...it's better to wait until everything is settled and then tell her." Tony absently fiddled with the smart watch in his hand, which was a gadget that Clint bought not long ago. It just happened to be itchy, so I took it to study.

"The question is, Tony, don't you think she will have another fight with you then?" Rhode couldn't help it, he said.

"...What was the reason for the quarrel?"

Tony looked up, he asked puzzled.

Rhode helped his forehead helplessly, and he asked, "How on earth did you get to No. 1 on the Playboy Rankings?"

"I'm rich." Hawkeye rolled his eyes while leaning against the cabin wall. He interjected, "Just because of his personality, this guy would have been stabbed to death more than a dozen times if he hadn't been rich."

"Ha, Clint, I'm so sorry for you, you shallow person. Is it just my money that I date so many beautiful women? Isn't my handsome face unattractive at all? ?" Tony pointed at his face with no beard or hair at the moment with a serious look on his face, full of some kind of enchanted confidence.

Frank's low laugh came from the cockpit.

Their gossip was interrupted by Jarvis, and the AI's mild-mannered synth voice sounded inside the Quinjet: "Destination reached, gentlemen."

The Quints landed smoothly on the ground, and they were in the wilderness of Texas. Everyone walked out slowly, and Frank was supported by Rhodes and Hawkeye. His face was still very pale at this time. Steve and Tony walked in the front. They looked at the open space in front of them and said nothing for a long time.

"It's a weird feeling," Tony said suddenly, turning his head to Steve, "I thought I wouldn't miss this place."

"Actually, we probably all miss it here," Steve said.

His voice fell, and Jarvis opened the long-silent base. In a sound of mechanical operation, the ground slowly opened to both sides.

They went in.

Dust spread all over the hallway, and a faint blue light shone on each of their faces. They went straight to the end of the hallway and Tony stepped forward, opening the visor of his helmet and opening his eyes to a spot on the wall.

"Welcome back, Iron Man."

The smooth wall suddenly cracked a small opening, and after the machine inside scanned his pupils, the entire base instantly lit up. The sound of the built-in AI machinery sounded in this dusty base for many years.

The walls suddenly opened to both sides, and the room inside looked like a conference room, with only a silver alloy table and seven chairs made of the same material.

"I've only heard of this place." Sam looked around, surprised.

Frank was put on a dusty chair by Rhodes, and the blind old man coughed twice, his voice hoarse and low: "Many people have never even heard of it, boy, you are very rude. lucky."

"You didn't shut down this place... how many years?" Hawkeye said with a sigh.

Steve didn't speak. He walked to the table and brushed the dust on it with his hands. A red letter A surrounded by a black circle appeared on it. With his movements, the table hummed. Its surface slowly lit up, blue light emerged, and seven patterns flashed by.

A shield, an iron face, a bow and arrow, a spider, a green Godzilla, a warhammer, and a black-robed figure.

After they all flashed by, the mechanical voice of the built-in AI sounded again: "Welcome, Captain America."

Steve smiled, and he said familiarly, "Start the D-9 protocol and start connecting to global satellites."

"Iron Man's authorization is required."

Tony put his hand on the table and said, "Authorize."

"Connected to Jarvis,

The satellite is being hacked, the global satellite is connected. "

Steve took a deep breath and said, "Start the national broadcast."

-------------------------------------

Mark shuddered as he picked up the pistol, which he knew had one bullet left after he got drunk and fired around last weekend. He was lucky not to kill himself. Living in this cheap apartment in hell's kitchen, one more day of life is a gift from God, even if he doesn't kill himself after a hangover, he will be killed by other people or things sooner or later.

He looked at the pistol and suddenly realized the trembling of his arm. Deflated, the man dropped the pistol with a wry smile and walked away. The pistol lying on the dirty floor forgot to even turn on the safety.

The news was still on the TV, and the host was talking about the environment across the country over and over again, calling on people to stay calm. Don't take to the streets, don't take part in riots. Stay in your own home, and the government will surely come to the rescue. However, in the full four hours after 'dark' to 'dawn', no official came out to explain all this.

Maybe, but he didn't see it on TV.

Mark doesn't care about that at all, he's long since given up hope for this country's system.

He stood up from his dirty sofa, his right foot without slippers stepped on the carpet, a sticky feeling made him lift his foot in disgust, and found that the pizza ordered last night had been knocked over and fell on it. Now his foot added to the filth of the carpet. Mark grunted, he didn't care so much, he just walked to the window with his beer belly straight, opened a little curtain and peeked out.

The streets are full of overturned cars and crazy crowds. He saw a guy dressed like Marilyn Manson with an oversized purple fake x in his hand laughing and chasing another guy in a Pieta costume. The two quickly ran across the street.

At the other end, a black man with a hood on his head was threatening two other black people with a gun, and Mark didn't know what he said. But the guy didn't get what he wanted, the two black men pulled guns out of their fat pants, and the three of them shot at each other in the street, and eventually fell to the ground together. A bony black dog ran over cautiously and began to lick the blood of the hooded black man.

Mark suddenly felt a nausea, he hurriedly closed the curtains, and the room returned to darkness. He ran into his small and dirty toilet, stuck his head in the toilet and vomited violently.

After vomiting, he slumped weakly on his tiled floor full of unknown black substances, leaning against the yellowed wall behind him, suddenly remembering his childhood.

He grew up in Kansas.

The place is nice, the people are nice, and the place is nice. His father and uncle are both peasants who cultivate the land and are honest and responsible. The cornfields were where most of the fun memories of his childhood happened, but it coincided with the hippies...that wind blew to his hometown. Let this guy run to New York with a broken guitar.

not successful.

He had long since lost contact with his family, and the guitar had disappeared long ago. And he can't even remember how he lost it. There were times when Mark had the brief urge to get it back. He tried as hard as he could to remember a time when he lost his guitar after getting up in the clouds, but he never remembered it.

Now, he has accomplished nothing, is forty-seven years old, and lives in a cheap apartment. The neighbors are thieves, liars, robbers, drug dealers and murderers. His job was a parking lot guard, which he lost after he went to work drunk again.

With memories of the past playing in Mark's mind, he suddenly found that he couldn't remember Dad's face.

The host's voice on the TV disappeared after a burst of electricity, replaced by a male voice he found familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had heard it.

Mark hammered his head in pain, finding that he couldn't seem to remember anything. Eighty percent of his memory was alcohol, drugs, sex, and violence. And the manic rock tunes in the background, he couldn't remember anything but that.

The man's voice said, "...a lot of people should know me, but have never seen me. My name is Steve Rogers. You may be more familiar with me by another name, yes. I It's Captain America."

Captain America?

The surrounding noises ceased.

The screaming and crying, the laughter, the barking of the dogs, the car alarm and the gunshots seemed to be gone.

Mark stood up and he ran into the living room with sticky vomit hanging from his chin. But he didn't care about that at all, this middle-aged man with a beer belly just stared at the TV screen intently.

The man in the TV took off his helmet, revealing a handsome face. He said: "Time is running out, so I'll keep it short. Everyone in front of the TV or the radio, please listen carefully."

"The 'Darkness' event four hours ago was not what you thought it was, God's punishment, proof of the destruction of Earth, or some madman's conspiracy to rule the world. It was just an alien invasion. "

He smiled. "Yes, aliens again. We've faced it many times, haven't we?"

"Don't worry because the matter has been resolved. But what has our government done throughout the process?"

"They didn't do anything. They didn't do anything, they just sat."

“They claim to be the number one power in the world, but in this case they don’t even want to launch a nuclear bomb against aliens. I can’t help but think of the war we had with the Chiritas in Texas in 2012. That The then-Governor of Texas defied the odds, and he did so without an order from above."

"He sent out the army, the police, and emptied all the large weapons and missiles in the state. He even made a televised speech asking men with weapons to take up arms and protect their children and their wives. He led the way in He took his shotgun and blasted the heads of four Kiritas during the war."

"We won the war, and this brave governor didn't get what he deserved after the war. He was fired, he was sued, and he's even in jail now."

"Although his actions have saved countless lives."

"I can't help but wonder, is this the U.S. government?"

"Yes, folks. This is how that governor ended. Many of you probably haven't heard of him. But that's the reality, open your eyes, Americans. If you're watching TV, if you're listening to the radio . Or anywhere you can see this video and hear my voice. Please open your eyes and take a good look around."

"Look at your home, look at the helpless people and the corpses. Don't blame them. Because they're just ordinary people. And our elected elites sit in their offices and ignore it all. They don't give speeches to stabilize people's hearts, they don't tell you what happened. No disaster relief, no rescue, no action. I don't know why they did it. I don't have any clue."

"But...I don't care anymore."

Steve Rogers put it this way: "If their choice is to abandon us, then we should abandon them in return. Listen! Citizen! If you consider yourself an American, if you want to protect your property, Your family, your life. Or you just don't think the office bastards can be trusted..."

"Then please listen to me carefully."

Mark opened his mouth blankly as he looked at the TV screen. Listening to his words, a look suddenly appeared on the slack-skinned face. He ran to the bathroom, washed his face, and ran to the closet frantically flipping through his clothes. UU reading www.uukanshu.com In those messy piles of clothes, he found his last set of clothes that he could still wear.

It was an old bib.

He put it on, and even though his stomach had stretched it into a round arc, he still put it on. He didn't even know how he did it.

Listening to Steve Rogers on the TV, he picked up his pistol and put it in the breast pocket of his overalls. He ran into the room again, trying to grab a hat and run out the door.

He tripped over something in his hasty footsteps, and a sound that made his hair stand on end echoed throughout the room. He quickly recognized that it was the sound of the piano.

Sweat dripped from his forehead.

He bent down, got on his stomach, and saw a long black bar stick its head out from under his bed. Mark carefully dragged it out.

That's his guitar.

Although the guitar was dusty, it wasn't broken. Its wooden body has been chipped and turned white, but it's not rotten. Mark began to tune, a smile on his lips that he didn't even notice. Although he hadn't touched a guitar for so many years, as soon as he touched it, it was as if something had woken up deep in his soul.

He started tuning.

When it's all done, he grabs a hat and runs to the door, sweating profusely, putting on a pair of Converse shoes and running out the door. The guitar was behind him, hitting his ass as he ran. He had a pistol with only one bullet left in his waist, his face was covered in sweat, and he even forgot to close the door.

Steve Rogers' voice came from the TV, distorted, but still very clear. His words were sonorous and roaring: "...If they don't do what they're supposed to do, then we'll do it ourselves! God bless America? No! Man bless America!"