Video bloggers in American comics

"It's so early, is there something wrong?"

"Um."

Zhang Ming asked: "Business and private matters?"

Coulson on the other end of the phone thought for a few seconds and then said: "Both."

"Okay, I'll wait for you downstairs in the apartment."

Ten minutes later, a royal red old convertible car slowly drove over. Colson sat in the driver's seat. He changed from his usual professional appearance of a black suit and white shirt, wearing a flirty floral shirt and a pair of

sunglasses.

"Get in the car." Colson said coolly.

“The car is nice!”

Zhang Ming opened the door, sat on the passenger seat, fastened his seat belt, and felt the perfect comfort of the seat.

"Her name is Laura."

"You even named the car. I didn't expect you to be a romantic."

Colson accepted Zhang Ming's compliment: "I know a Chinese restaurant that tastes good. You should like it."

Zhang Ming nodded noncommittally, leaned back in his chair, and enjoyed the ride.

After arriving at the restaurant, Colson greeted the restaurant owner in Chinese. Judging from his expression, he probably didn't know how bad his Chinese was.

After sitting down in the private room and waiting for all the dishes to be served, Zhang Ming asked: "What on earth is going on?"

"Huh?" Colson had just picked up the chopsticks and was fighting with a small steamed bun. He was not yet proficient in using chopsticks.

"I said, why did you pull me here so early in the morning? It can't really be to treat me to a Cantonese breakfast, right?"

Zhang Ming saw that he was still having trouble with a steamed dumpling and said, "You'd better get started, I'm getting anxious just watching."

Colson gave up on the steamed dumpling and took a sip of tea with a slight embarrassment.

"I originally wanted to finish eating before speaking." Colson put down the teacup and said, "It's not good news after all."

Zhang Ming shrugged and said, "You tell me, I have a strong psychological endurance."

Coulson took out a thumb-sized device, placed it on the table, and gently pressed the red button on the device, and a faint sound of electricity came from the device.

"This ensures that our conversation will not be heard by anyone. What did we just say...yes, bad news." Coulson took out a mobile phone, opened the screen and pushed it over.

On the screen are the names of major organizations around the world.

The domestic agencies in the United States include the FBI, CIA, and the British MI6. In addition to these regular intelligence agencies, there are also many organizations whose names Zhang Ming has never heard of.

There is a "+/-" symbol behind each organization, and there is a series of numbers behind the symbol. Zhang Ming counted the numbers and found that the lowest numbers were all over ten million.

Before Zhang Ming asked the question, Coulson gave the answer.

"This is a list of organizations around the world that are interested in you. The organizations marked with a plus sign want to recruit you in a friendly manner, and the organizations marked with a minus sign want to capture you for in vivo research. The last number is their willingness to achieve this goal.

funds used.”

"Wow!" The long list of numbers made Zhang Ming dizzy, "Am I so valuable now?"

"Hulk was once the target of interest from major organizations. Then a few nights ago, Hulk was almost beaten to tears by Blonsky. After learning the news, the eyes of the world were focused on Blonsky.

On the body.

Do you know how many spies and agents were sent to the United States when Blonsky and Hulk were fighting each other? Just when my colleagues got on the plane, they got the latest news."

Colson pointed at Zhang Ming and said: "There was a thin and weak Chinese young man who knocked out Bronski with one punch. If the force had been that much stronger, he might have been killed with one punch!"

Zhang Ming spread his hands and said there was nothing he could do.

Coulson rubbed his temples and said tiredly: "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s network security team didn't sleep all night last night. Even the agents who knew a little about computers were arrested and worked overtime. It seemed like hackers all over the world were attacking God.

Shield's server is designed to steal information about you."

"So?" Zhang Ming had already guessed what Coulson was going to say.

Colson took out a small black notebook from his pocket and pushed it in front of Zhang Ming.

"I invite you to join SHIELD again. This is not only for the director's order, but also for my advice as a friend. I hope you can enter SHIELD's asylum. I don't want to hear that one day you have been captured by an organization.

Go, be studied, be brainwashed, and finally I will point my gun at you."

Zhang Ming picked up the small black book. On the outside was the logo of SHIELD's eagle and shield. After opening it, the top was Zhang Ming's mugshot, and below it was his position: SHIELD senior field agent, level 6.

There are ten levels in S.H.I.E.L.D., the top one is the director who is at level 10, Coulson, who has an increasingly tall hairline, is an agent at level 8, and Moira, as a core researcher of S.H.I.E.L.D., is level 7.

"A level six agent is enough for the bureau to strictly block your information and ensure your safety."

Coulson seemed to see through Zhang Ming's thoughts and explained in a leisurely manner.

"The photos are pretty good, I can tell you put a lot of thought into them." Zhang Ming said with a smile. He closed the small notebook again and Zhang Ming pushed it back in front of Colson.

"Thank you for thinking of me, but don't worry, I can guarantee your own safety." Zhang Ming's expression was serious and sincere.

After his persuasion failed again, Colson sighed helplessly and took back the small black notebook.

Coulson didn't lie, he was not a good liar.

He wanted Zhang Ming to join S.H.I.E.L.D., not just because of the director’s order. Coulson was very good at judging people. After several cooperation experiences, he knew that Zhang Ming was a good friend. He hoped to use S.H.I.E.L.D.’s

The power protects Zhang Ming from being influenced by the outside world.

It's a pity that Colson has a good idea, but he doesn't know one of the most critical issues:

SHIELD is not safe at all, Hydra people are everywhere.

Before leaving, Coulson left Zhang Ming enough information, including personal information on agents from various organizations who had recently lurked in New York, but Coulson also said that he would just take a look at this information.

The agents who can be caught will only be the lowest level rookies, while the real masters always come and go without a trace.

"Take care." Colson nodded to Zhang Ming and drove away.

Coulson's words did not have much impact on Zhang Ming, and he was getting by. Compared with the agents of major organizations, the Bizhan system was more troublesome for Zhang Ming.

After a few days, his popularity completely faded away, and the growth rate of fans, comments, and coins slowed down.

"I really want to gain fans..."

The Marvel world has been very quiet recently, and Zhang Ming can't always hope for something to happen. He has to let American citizens rest for a few days to calm down their frightened mentality.

Zhang Ming was forced to have no choice but to take some daily photos, keep a certain amount of updates, and get as much traffic as possible.

Zhang Ming walked on the streets of New York with his camera, setting up a stall selling pancakes, chive boxes, and grilled cold noodles. He sold a lot of them until the evening, so he gave them to homeless people for free, listening to their thoughts on becoming homeless.

Previous stories;

Zhang Ming also sang with street performers. He found that Americans' impression of Chinese music was still stuck in "Sweet Honey". He taught them to sing "Wild Wolf Disco" and "Confession Balloon" with several complete strangers.

, singing wantonly on the streets of New York, attracting applause from many passers-by.

Zhang Ming records every detail of the city in his own way to share with the locals the culture that is part of his blood.

As for the third-person camera, why is he still holding the camera... He just doesn't want people to think of him as a lunatic talking to himself.

Right here, Zhang Ming was running around trying to make videos in order to gain fans.

In an abandoned warehouse in the suburbs of New York, an unpleasant conversation was taking place.

"Asshole! You promised us that your last action would be your last!"

The grumpy Trevor roared at a man in a suit and tie: "I sat down on that monster's head, and my hemorrhoids burst! What did you say, our work is not done yet?"

Trevor's expression almost looked like he wanted to eat someone. No, it wasn't like that. If Michael hadn't hugged him, Trevor would have definitely rushed over and bit the man in the suit on the face!

This man in a suit was the FBI agent who had been interacting with Franklin and the other three. He wiped the saliva that came out of Trevor's mouth with his tie and said with a cold expression:

"How did you agree to me last time? The job I gave you was to bring back the monster's body. As a result, there was only a little blood from your idiot's butt. That little blood was mixed with the blood of your hemorrhoids.

As a result, I was scolded by the laboratory department of the logistics department for a whole day!"

Franklin, who had been sitting on the steps, asked: "What exactly do you want to say?"

The man in the suit raised his finger: "You completed the last operation perfectly. I'll put this." He patted the three folders on the table. "These are all your brand-new identity information. As long as the last task is completed, they will be

It’s yours.”

"Why don't I kill you now and grab you!" Trevor shouted.

"Because I haven't activated them yet, they're just a bunch of waste paper, you idiot! Now take this and go work for me!"

The man in the suit took out a thin brown paper bag from the car and threw it to the ground. Then he started the car and left the warehouse just before Trevor bit him to death.

"fxxk! fxxk!" Trevor was still yelling at the side.

Michael came over and picked up the documents. After reading the information, he also cursed with Trevor: "What kind of bullshit mission is this! That damn FBI has no intention of exonerating us!"

Franklin took the document and read it carefully.

"It really can't be done...unless we can find a helper."

"Who?" Trevor asked irritably.

"The guy who broke your leg."