Video bloggers in American comics

The big boss's secret base.

A puppet carried a silver-white suitcase and came to the survival room of the secret base.

The big boss squatted on the ground, quietly guarding his body. When he saw the puppet taking out a bottle of orange liquid from the box, his heartbeat couldn't help but accelerate.

This is the resurrection potion.

The orange potion exudes an intoxicating... drunken light under the light.

It is hope, ambition, and the biggest capital for the big boss’ revenge!

The puppet put the medicine into the testing equipment, and the corresponding ingredient data was displayed on the side. The boss read each piece of data carefully. In fact, the safest way is to wait for the results of three to five rounds of clinical trials.

But this body can no longer wait so long. It may die completely next week, tomorrow, or even the next second.

The big boss nodded.

let's start.

The broken body slowly rotated under the control of the instrument, revealing its thin back.

A ten centimeter-long needle popped out from the front end of the robotic arm. The needle was aimed at the spine, and it was inserted bit by bit, and the resurrection medicine was injected into the body that was on the verge of collapse.

dong dong

The big boss heard it.

This is the heartbeat, his heartbeat!

Consciousness is like a ball of wool. It is picked up at one end, pulled away from the Husky's brain, and falls into the body. This process is very slow at first, and as the "ball of wool" in the body becomes larger, the speed also increases.

Granulation sprouted from the wound on the forehead, and the bones grew rapidly. In less than a minute, the wound completely disappeared.

The closed eyelids of the big boss were trembling, as if they were stuck with glue and could not be opened until a certain moment

call!

The wool at the other end was pulled to the end, floating in the air, and fell into the huge head.

He opened his eyes suddenly!

The spiritual energy suddenly erupted, like an overwhelming wave, flooding half of New York in an instant.

Within this range, everyone who has ever been injected with "Blue Ocean" has felt a call from the bottom of their hearts!

Because he was unable to eat for a long time, he could only rely on glucose injections to survive. The big boss's limbs were skinny, and with his huge head, he looked like an E.T. in a science fiction movie.

But the resurrection potion not only woke him up, but also continued to repair the hidden wounds on his body, and his muscles were growing and expanding...

The big boss took a deep breath and stepped off the life support cabin. When the puppet put clothes on him, he had fully recovered.

The body is stronger than ever before, comparable to Captain America's muscular outline;

The brain is running at full speed, and the restricted thoughts that were originally bound to the wild dog's body are no longer affected. This change is like a sudden leap from the telegraph communication era to the 5G era.

"Speaking of dogs..."

The big boss pulled out the gun from the puppet's waist, and recalled that during this period, he bit the sofa, gnawed on his shoes, raised his legs to pee, and even had a dog in his mind telling him, "Shit, big boss!"...

The muzzle of the gun was pointed steadily at that damn husky, and the safety was pushed open with his thumb.

The silly dog ​​hadn't noticed the danger yet, so he came over, sniffed it with his nose, then opened his mouth and bit the muzzle of the gun, his tongue hanging down from one side, biting, and smiling stupidly at the big boss.

The big boss stared at it, and it looked at the big boss.

One person and one dog stared at each other for a long time.

"never mind."

The big boss threw the gun covered in saliva to the puppet and walked out of the life support room.

"Prepare a plane and tell that Russian fool that it's time to start taking action."

"yes."

S.H.I.E.L.D., Trident Headquarters, fourth underground floor.

"It's lunch time!"

A S.H.I.E.L.D. logistician walked in with food, and Ivan Vanke was applying engine oil to a nearly three-meter-tall steel armor and doing the final debugging work.

He glanced back, threw down the wrench in his hand, pulled off the steel armor helmet, and placed it on the ground to use as a table.

"Please eat at the designated place."

In the left and right corners of the room, there is an extraordinary field agent responsible for surveillance, and one of the agents issues a reminder.

"Get out!"

Ivan glared at him and sat down on the ground, "I can eat wherever I want. If you can, don't give me anything to eat. I'll starve to death. Will you kid take the bullet?"

The logistician who delivered the meals was a young man in his early twenties, who must have just joined SHIELD. He glanced at his two colleagues in embarrassment.

The oldest agent nodded, not wanting to bother with the meal any further.

The support staff breathed a sigh of relief and placed the food plate on the armor's helmet.

Ivan picked up the plastic fork and stirred the food dissatisfied, "What is this? Are you Americans feeding rabbits? This food is too bland for feeding rabbits in Russia!"

The two surveillance detectives had heard enough of Ivan's complaints these days and didn't take his words seriously at all. He obviously looked like a tough guy, but his mouth was more cruel than anyone else's.

This small oversight allowed Ivan to seize the opportunity. He quietly opened the meal and saw a note stuck under the plate.

Ivan smiled, put down his fork, raised his head and said to the logistics worker: "Did you bring the wine I mentioned last time? I can't work without drinking."

His words seemed to turn on a hidden switch. The shyness on the logistician's face disappeared instantly. His eyes were cold and he said: "I brought two bottles."

He took out two cans of "wine" from the cart, one orange and one blue.

An agent didn't realize that something was wrong. He thought the support staff didn't understand the rules, so he came over and said, "Hey! He can't drink."

His words were blocked by a dagger thrust into his throat, and he could no longer speak.

The moment the agent took the first step, the logistics officer threw out the knife hidden in his leg!

Plop!

The agent fell to the ground, and another older agent immediately reached for his side. There was a pistol there.

Draw your gun, shoot, and hit the target.

Over the decades, he has done this routine tens of thousands of times.

But the older agent put his hand on the gun, and the logistics officer had already arrived in front of him and punched the agent on the elbow, forcing the agent to be unable to draw the gun.

Entering the close combat, the agent gave up the plan of drawing his gun. With the support of the support staff, he quickly rotated his body 180 degrees and hit the support staff with an elbow on the right side of his face.

Blocked!

Under the logistics worker's loose shirt were muscles as hard as steel, which remained unmoved at all.

As the older agent ages, he gains a wealth of experience, but also loses the strength and speed of his youth.

The elbow strike was ineffective, and the agent habitually adjusted his steps to change his body's center of gravity.

This movement is a few tenths of a second slower than when I was young.

The logistician did not miss this flaw. He took a step forward and hit the agent's ribs with a solid punch. Under the huge force, the ribs broke instantly and pierced the internal organs.

The older agent spit out a mouthful of blood, "You..."

The logistics officer had no desire to talk, so he walked over and hugged the agent's head, and then twisted it hard, ending the fight completely. He looked around, pulled out the older agent's pistol, and blew up the hidden cameras above his head and in the corners.

The neat movements made Ivan couldn't help but whistle.

The logistician walked up to Ivan and said indifferently: "Is there anything else I need to do?"

Ivan thought for a while and said: "It's nothing, just get out."

"good."

The logistician put his gun to his temple.

"Long live Hydra!"

boom!

Hot blood splashed on Ivan's face.

He wiped his face, his expression was dull, and he didn't understand what happened.

The order given to this young Hydra member was to deliver two bottles of medicine to Ivan, follow Ivan's instructions, and assist him in his escape.

If Ivan expresses that he is no longer of use, he must commit suicide as soon as possible to avoid being captured by SHIELD and revealing the existence of Hydra.

At the moment when he pulled the trigger, the young man felt that he was sublimated.

Ivan stared at the young man's wide eyes, the smelly liquid dripping down his beard.

"You're crazy."

He stood up, kicked the logistics worker's body aside, and pushed an experimental bench to the door. This thing could buy him at least ten seconds.

From the death of the first agent to the destruction of the surveillance camera, the entire process took less than thirty seconds.

Coulson, who was having lunch, got the news a minute later. He threw down his fork and gave the order: "Notify the agents to rush over and seize Ivan and the spy immediately."

The subordinate asked: "Do you need to carry heavy force? Ivan is studying steel armor. If he is like Tony Stark, he can't be stopped with a few pistols."

"Don't worry, the bureau has taken this risk into consideration."

Of course SHIELD is worried about Ivan. No matter how powerful the steel armor is, it is driven by the Ark reactor. SHIELD has firm control over the core raw material of the reactor: metal palladium.

Without an energy source, the steel armor is nothing more than a thick iron can.

In the research room on the fourth floor underground, Ivan blocked the door, whistled, picked through the tool box, and selected a needle-nose pliers of suitable size.

His rough fingers felt around the mouth, and after confirming the position, the pliers reached into the mouth and clamped a gold tooth firmly.

One!

Two!

Three!

Ivan spat out a mouth full of blood, looked at the three big gold teeth on the experimental table, and showed a terrifying smile.