Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

In a dusty bar, Jason Hunt was standing among a pile of shattered and collapsed tables and chairs.

He frowned, reluctantly picking out a chair that could be considered a complete one for himself. I didn't even bother to wipe off the dust, so I just sat on it. Pulling out his phone from his pocket and then a vellum pad, the magic broker begins to contact some people in a rather dated and completely unmagical way.

"Fire Bull? Yes, it's me, Jason Hunter. Listen, did you meet Scarlet Witch a few years ago? Yes, yes. I know you just asked a good--is it, There will be a memorial service for her in Iceland in two days, and I hope you will be there. Don't be in a hurry to say no, it's indescribable black."

"Yes, yes, he's back—"

Jason Hunt took the phone away from him, and a woman's filial piety came from the speaker, and the voice was quite clear: "What the hell?! I just asked her hello, Hunter, yourself. go!"

"Then you can explain to that person yourself."

A few swear words came from the loudspeaker, then stopped abruptly, followed by a few very soft whispers.

Hunter shrugged and pressed the speakerphone key: "What did you say?"

"...It was me who was wrong just now." The woman called Fire Bull honestly apologized. "Is he really back?"

"yes."

Hunter put the phone on his lap and pulled out an old piece of wood from his pocket. Throwing it on the ground, the wood melted into the floor like melted ice after a tremor, and then the tables, chairs and benches all recovered.

He pulled a table and put it in front of him, put the phone on it, and took out a bottle of beer from the bag behind his waist.

"You didn't lie to me?"

"I dare to lie to you with this?" Hunter rolled his eyes. "Do I think I have a long life or something? In short, I brought it to you. Remember to come, your skills are not bad, I don't want you to die."

"Fuck you!"

There is a busy tone on the phone. Hunter turned the vellum book over a page, looking for the names on it one by one. He knew many people, most of them dead. For the remaining few people, he is not sure if they have ever met the Scarlet Witch, so he has to confirm one by one.

Hunter is very self-aware. He knows that he is probably only a part of that plan. He probably has other options to inform others. Most of the people Hunter made friends with were just like him who only exploited loopholes and did not do big evil. Those decent people had nothing to do with them. As for those who are truly evil...

In his mind, he started to automatically replay the scene at the seaside, lightning flashed, and a dozen people turned to ashes.

Hunter shuddered and found another name.

'Disease Doctor', Carter Leontones.

Bad name, but actually a decent guy. An idealist who wanted to study medicine when he was young, but his father disagreed. Carter's father was a very stubborn old man—if only that, but the problem was, he was also a wizard.

The Carter family has a history of 300 years. The owners of the La Ontones family in all dynasties were all famous wizards who would use various evil methods to harm people. Proficient in curses and anti-curses, however Carter is different. Possibly related to his mother. In short, this disease doctor is very different from his father. Not only does he rarely kill people, but he even runs a free clinic to treat the poor.

Although his way of curing diseases is to make them suffer from other diseases for a while, and then transfer the curse to something like a sheep or a pig in an equivalent exchange - but he is actually a good surgeon.

Hunter touched his right elbow, where there was a long, narrow scar that Carter had sutured.

He dialed the phone, and after three rings, the phone was picked up.

"Hello? Carter? Yes, it's me, Jason. How are you doing?"

A somber voice came from the other end of the phone: "Not so good, I've been stalked by a group of extreme animal protectionists recently.

"

"...What?"

"Extreme animal protectionist."

"They still exist? Isn't political correctness dead?"

"The only ones left, the craziest ones." Carter's voice sounded exhausted and weak. "They've been pestering me for a long time, asking me to put those pigs and sheep where they should be. I can't say that I raised them to break the curse."

"...Uh, well. Sorry to hear that."

"It's okay, what are you doing to me?"

"That's it, the unspeakable black is back. He's going to hold a memorial service for the Scarlet Witch, in Iceland, in two days. I hope everyone who has had an encounter with her will be there. I remember you didn't help Did she once?"

"..."

Carter on the other end of the line was silent for a long time before he said in his gloomy soft voice, "That's right, but someone like me deserves to go to her memorial service? I mean, I'm just an obscure doctor. ."

Hunter's expression turned serious, and he didn't even realize it.

"You're not 'anonymous,' Carter. How many poor people have you treated for free? How many people have you saved from Haiti, Africa, and Afghanistan, which was attacked in those years? Listen, we're all marginalized. people, whether in civilized or magical societies. But you are definitely not the so-called anonymous person."

"...Thank you for your words, Jason. I think I'll go, as long as that Mr. Ho doesn't think I've sullied the memorial service."

Carter said his last words, then hung up.

Hunter frowned, and instinctively he began to feel that something was wrong. Carter's emotions are too extreme. In his impression, although he speaks softly and does not laugh often, he likes to tell bad jokes. He is by no means someone who likes to complain about himself.

"What?"

He turned the book over and continued to make the next call.

"Chain Lightning? Yes, it's me, Jason Hunter...you said you don't know me? Damn, I've been ripping off your wife! Now you know me?!"

U.K.

Wales.

In a country clinic.

A pale man coughed and poured himself a cup of hot tea, then picked it up with trembling hands. As the tea entered his stomach, his complexion improved somewhat.

Carter Leontones sighed. He went back to the study and sat down. The sickly animals were screaming from the sheep and pig pens at the back of the house, and a group of protesters could be heard in front of his door. voices of protesters. For a normal person, such an environment is disturbing, for him, he is used to it.

— and of course, also because these things just don't bother him more than others. Fear is a detour in the face of greater fear. For example, students who can't finish their homework know that the world is about to be destroyed. At this time, what kind of homework should they write?

Carter held his tea and stared blankly at the empty air in front of him. There was a chair across from his desk, and after a while he spoke.

"You can't scare me," Carter said calmly. "I'm not afraid of you."

No one answered - as it should be, since he was talking to a chair. Chairs don't respond, chairs are just chairs. But Carter's behavior was quite strange. He said that he was not afraid, but his fingers were tightly clasped to the wall of the cup like iron pliers.

His body was shaking slightly.

"You can't scare me," he muttered. "Yes, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid at all..."