Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Steve Rogers walked out the door of his apartment and zipped up the zipper of his thick jacket to the neckline. It was wet and cold in February in New York. He walked quickly to the hot dog stand across the road and asked for an oversized hot dog. The boss greeted him as always: "Good morning, Mr. Rogers."

Steve smiled, took five dollars from his pocket and handed it to the boss: "You too, David. How's business going?"

The boss replied while busy feeding him, "It's the same, sir. But, if I say it, it's like it's been said on TV, it's been getting harder and harder since he disappeared."

Steve took his hot dog, took a bite, tasted the familiar taste, glanced at the homeless man at the end of the road, and said, "Nothing really changed, David. This place has always been like that."

David noticed the look in his eyes, and he forgot about it, he sighed: "I know that guy, he went bankrupt two months ago. God, he used to work very well in that beautiful office building, and he was dressed well. It's good, it's good to live there. Who knows that it will suddenly go bankrupt..."

"Is he not married?"

"The court ruled him ineligible to raise children, and his wife filed for divorce and took all the money he had left. This guy must be going crazy. Alas, Mr. Rogers. We fought back so many aliens. People, but why can’t even take care of their own citizens?”

Steve's eyes were a little complicated, and he didn't speak.

A black man with an exploding head standing next to David spoke cynically and very quickly: "Because this country has never been saving the world, old David. Check out the news from other countries when you have time, don't Watching all that damn TV all day, our TV channels are all brainwashing you! This goddamn government is rotten!"

David hurriedly made a look of fear: "Oh! Pay attention to your words, buddy! I don't want to be called by the FBI the next day!"

Between their conversations, Steve leaves. He walked slowly to the corner of the street, where the tramp, wrapped in a thin blanket, lay shivering on the corrugated cardboard. Seeing Steve standing in front of him, he whispered, "I have nothing for you to take...Sir, if you want this blanket, take it too, at least don't hit me..."

Steve gritted his teeth, and he saw the bruise on the man's face and his swollen right eye, and suddenly felt a throbbing sensation. He handed the oversized hot dog to the homeless man with only one bite in his hand. The tramp didn't believe him at first, thinking he was playing tricks on himself, but Steve's outstretched hand seemed to say something.

He grabbed the hot dog and devoured it. He didn't realize until he finished eating that the man who gave him the hot dog had already left, and in front of him was a ten dollar bill, shivering slightly on the corrugated cardboard, being blown by the cold wind.

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When Steve gets home, he takes off his heavy jacket and looks at the apartment, which is so heated that he won't feel cold even if he wears only a single shirt inside - even if he could have ignored it years ago .

He suddenly said a sentence in Chinese, with a very standard pronunciation: "The wine and meat of Zhumen stinks, and the road has frozen bones."

"I didn't expect you to be so knowledgeable about Chinese culture, Captain." A man's voice sounded in his living room, Steve looked coldly, and a man in a suit and sunglasses was leaving his room come out.

"FBI?"

"Do not."

"That's SHIELD."

"Neither."

The man reached out and took out a document from the lining of the suit and handed it to Steve, which read: "Special Human Security Directorate, Agent 1, Seth Bellor."

Steve raised his eyes and glanced at him, but did not return the documents: "You broke into my house without permission,

What do you want to do? "

"Oh oh oh, don't be nervous, Captain. I don't mean anything." Seth raised his hand hastily, he smiled feigning ease, and Steve could see the chewing gum in his mouth, and the right chest of the suit. small camera.

The nausea came back.

"According to the law, I have the right to kill you now without any legal responsibility."

"Yeah, but, legally speaking, you're a dead man, Captain." Seth smiled, and he didn't seem to care about Steve, even ignoring his clenched fist.

He pointed to Steve's right fist, clapped his hands, and exaggerated: "Hey, Captain, you're doing a good job in the gym. Clenching your fist has such an obvious arm line? Mind telling me who you are? How did you do it? I’ve been wanting to exercise recently, but I’m too busy with work, you understand?”

"Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff." He suddenly said two names.

"I'm really busy."

Steve's tense expression suddenly relaxed, and he let out a breath, obviously relaxed, but the words that popped out between his lips and teeth were like the harshest frost: "Get out of my house."

Seth still had that disgusting smile on his face, and it even got bigger and bigger. He didn't care about Steve's threat and said, "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm afraid you don't have this right."

"This is my home."

"Yes, yes, this is Steve Rogers' home. But Steve Rogers died heroically long ago, and you're just a lucky namesake, Captain. Oh, no. Mr. Rogers."

"Now, will you please leave our great Captain America's private apartment?"

Steve's face became ugly. Although he had long expected the level of corruption in the US government, he never thought that they would be so blatant.

Now is not the time for conflict.

Steve takes a deep look at Seth, remembering his face, his height, his voice, then turns around and grabs his jacket and opens the door, the cold wind blowing in. And Seth said suddenly: "Hey! Put down the captain's clothes! You thief!"

"Didn't you hear? That's Captain America's clothes! You bastard who came into his house uninvited and stole his clothes, put down your jacket or I'll shoot!"

He did what he said and actually pulled a pistol from his waist and pointed it at Steve's head.

Steve turned, and he put the jacket on in Seth's face without speaking.

And Seth stared at his expression, suddenly laughed, put down the gun in his hand, and said in a relaxed and comfortable tone: "I'm joking, buddy. Now you can go, by the way, please calm down for a while, okay. eh? Stop going to those rallies."

He was answered by a loud slam of the door.