Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

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Things went so smoothly, so smoothly that Darius didn't even feel any real sense-he thought it would be a tough battle, and many people would die. Unexpectedly, their weapons were not even stained with blood, and Shane completely resolved the matter.

What he didn't know was that Sean was actually surprised too.

Only Kronos looked like he had expected, and he had already seen the extraordinary personalities of the Primarchs. This small fact is not worth mentioning. He's also not interested in the current political turmoil in Noxus, for Astartes, he's seen too many similar things. Not to mention a country, he has not seen a rebellion based on a planet.

The most urgent task is to restore Noxus' combat power quickly, and then unify the world, so that the human beings in this world can be free from unnecessary wars and infighting. You know, dying at the hands of one's own countrymen is the most stupid.

Let’s not list the Noxus thing for now, and turn the perspective back to the mage.

What is he doing?

He was walking on the streets of New York, and the people coming and going turned a blind eye to this strangely dressed man. He traveled all the way from the Manhattan peninsula to the notorious Hell's Kitchen, where life plays out in all its forms.

You can see drug addicts lying on the street in broad daylight, and you can also catch a glimpse of a few sneaky guys in the alley while they are secretly trading something. Here, crime and violence are the themes. But these people aren't the mage's target, and he's not here for these addicts.

He just came to find someone.

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The burly man was grinding the tactical dagger in his hand in a hurry. A man with a bruised nose and a swollen face was tied to the chair in front of him. The two seemed to be in an abandoned factory building.

"You can't get what you want from me... Punisher." The guy who was tied to the chair gave a low laugh, looking like he didn't care about the torture he was about to face.

"I'll wait and see." The burly man said something in a hurry, then put the dagger back in his waist and walked to the other side of the factory building. He was wearing a long black trench coat, revealing the skull pattern on his chest between swings.

Over there, there is a table. There is a black leather case on it. The Punisher opened the suitcase, took out an injection, and walked back. He squatted in front of the guy who was tied to the chair, held the injection in his hand, and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

The guy sneered, even at this point, he was still very tough: "I'm just selling this stuff, can I not know?"

At this point, even the Punisher laughed. His laughter sounded as if two stones were rubbing against each other, making a cold and rough voice: "You are really inferior to being a drug dealer here, and you should really fight your wits with the CIA."

The guy spit on the ground with a look of disdain: "Do you think I haven't dealt with them? Come on! I've tried things worse than this, trust me, you either kill me or Useless work on me."

"Really?" The smile on the Punisher's face gradually calmed down, and he pushed the injection into the guy's thigh. His fingers pushed a little bit, and the man's expression became a little slack. He couldn't resist the effects of the drug, and after about half a minute, he started rolling his eyes.

"I never said I wanted anything from you, idiot."

The Punisher turned around and took the suitcase, which contained dozens of such injections. Then he grabbed a handful, stuck it all on the man, and injected all the transparent medicinal liquid into his body. After doing all this, he put a black cloth bag over the man's head and left the factory.

No one can take so many medicines at one time. He will die soon, and the death will be very tragic—so tragic that even people like Punisher don’t want to see it.

Leaving the factory building, he didn't know when he had put on a wide hat, covering his entire face tightly, and his windbreaker was buttoned tightly. It was not until he returned to his room in the cheap hotel that he took off the trench coat, revealing the tight short sleeves covered in blood.

He didn't choose to wash up, but took out a small kraft paper and began to write something on it. This habit has been maintained since two years ago. During the operation to exterminate the gangster, he was almost killed by a guy with a cold gun behind his back. At that time, he realized that sooner or later he would die.

It was just a matter of sooner or later, so he chose to start writing something. Not to prove anything, but to be able to understand something when people find his body.

"The clue is broken, as it should be. I should have thought that he could have been operating in New York for so many years without leaving a tail."

Writing here, he paused for a while, then started another line and started writing again.

"I thought of that girl again. She was just one of the bones at the feet of that bastard. But I can't forget her face. For some reason, I often think of that rainy night. From that day on, I understood that some people Must die."

"No second option, no jail time, no occasional visits, no parole regulations. I'm not going to let them get away easily after committing a crime, he must die."

After writing this sentence, he threw the kraft paper on the bed, then lay back, staring at the dark ceiling without speaking.

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Somewhere in New York.

In the office on the top floor of a building.

"So, he's dead?"

"Yes, boss."

The man called the boss turned around from the chair, his body was extremely huge, not fat, but extremely strong. Bulging up his specially made white suit. His suits are meticulous in every detail, from the cufflinks to the embellishment on the carefully chosen tie.

He stood up and started pacing the office with his hands behind his back: "Suspend the sale of new medicines. If anyone disagrees, let them know. That's what I mean."

He stopped in front of his floor-to-ceiling window, stared at the beautiful scenery of the sunset outside the window, and said calmly: "I will try my best to investigate this matter, I want to know who is in the middle of it. Marceau's promotion has only been in a short period of ten years. God, he was killed in the warehouse, and all the hundreds of people under his command died."

He turned around and looked at his subordinates with a thoughtful tone: "...Who do you think has such a cruel heart?"

Without waiting for his subordinate to answer, he waved his hand: "Forget it, let someone prepare the car, I can't be late."

Half an hour later, he arrived at a high-end restaurant on time. The restaurant was empty, and he made a special reservation for today. The waiter opened the door for him and led the way respectfully. The temperament of a man at this time has also changed a lot compared to the one in the office. With a genial smile on his face, he looked much kinder.

After being seated, he summoned one of his bodyguards and asked, "How long until she arrives?"

"Five minutes left, boss. Our guys contacted Tiaozi and asked them to adjust the number of traffic on the road today."

The man smiled and nodded: "Very good, remember to notify me when she gets downstairs."

"Yes, boss."

Not long after, the bodyguard came over and whispered a few words to him. Immediately, a brighter smile appeared on his face, and he stood up from his seat. A woman who was not beautiful, one could even say ordinary walked in through the door. It can be seen that she has tried her best to dress up, but the pale green dress still looks a little inconspicuous in this restaurant.

She obviously realized this, and her steps were a little restrained. The man turned a blind eye to this, and he quickly greeted him, indicating that the waiter would not have to trouble him any more. When the woman saw him, she immediately laughed: "Fisk!"

She took Fisk's arm affectionately and whispered to him in a low voice, "Why is there no one here?"

Fisker patted her arm comfortingly, and responded in a low voice: "Don't worry, Vanessa. I'm a bit pretentious with the chef here, and he sold me a favor."

When he said this, the chef's bruised nose flashed in his mind.

A special cold sense of humor echoed in his heart, he knew he shouldn't laugh, but he couldn't help laughing out loud. However, he concealed it well: "Come on, Vanessa, this is a surprise for you."

He pulled up a chair for Vanessa and let her sit down.

Needless to say, the dinner for the two went very smoothly. Fisk even sent her home in the middle of the night, and it was not until he saw her go upstairs that Fisk was relieved. At the same time, the expression on his face once again changed to that cold and ruthless look.

The black-clothed bodyguard who had been following him wisely came over, lit a cigar for him, and then whispered, "It's been checked, boss. It's Frank Custer."

Fisk squinted his eyes while smoking a cigar, savoring the mellow fragrance, and said casually, "Of course, who else can be besides him? It seems that our old friend is not dead."

He laughed twice and sat back in his limousine with the bodyguard sitting beside him. The driver ignited the car and everything seemed so logical.

His voice echoed in the car: "The official price of this cigar is nine hundred dollars a piece, and their rhetoric blows this cigar into hype. Of course, we all know that if this thing is not sold by me Get out, it's worthless."

"Nine hundred dollars?" He sneered and continued, "Money is the least valuable thing..."

Then, he threw the cigar out of the half-open car window, and the bodyguard heard his calm and unquestionable voice: "After three days at the latest, I want to see Frank Custer's head in my head. on the desk."

"Yes, boss."

The high-end car quickly left the mid-range community, leaving only a high-end cigar rolling on the side of the street, and the smoke from the rear of the car proved that they had been here. A man walked out of the darkness on the street corner, wearing a long trench coat, his face was expressionless.

He stared at the taillights of the distant limousine, turned his head and glanced at Vanessa's house, where the lights were already on.

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According to He Shenyan, the city of New York seems to be cursed.

No matter how many worlds he has traveled through, New York in each world is either miserable or has an alarming crime rate. Just like the place under his feet, in just half a day, there have been more than thirty crimes that he saw with his naked eyes - every one of them was stopped by him, in an unexpected way.

For example, when a robber is working, he suddenly finds that his gun and his palm are fused together. The thief fell just after he succeeded, and the thing he stole luckily fell in front of the owner. There are countless kinds of these.

He Shenyan was floating above New York at this time, he was watching a certain person in the city below his feet, his eyes were running after him, but he did not communicate with him directly. This is an assessment, but the person being assessed is not informed. After leaving the world of Batman, he has traveled through forty worlds, and there is no suitable person in it.

The Emperor created the Primarch, but he could only choose the Primarch. This also caused him to be cautious. Without sufficient consideration, he would not choose a person at will. Some worlds do have faces that he is familiar with, but they are a bit worse than the people He Shenyan is familiar with.

In more worlds, there is simply no soil that can give birth to genetic primordials. It should be noted that heroes also need the environment to grow. If a world is too peaceful, it is impossible for him to find the person he is looking for. In a way, this is a bit of a bit of irony.

Thinking of this, he smiled.

The Punisher of this world is the most...poor one among the many people with the same name and surname he has ever met—perhaps it is also related to his experience, or just because he is simply special. But no matter what, this man named Frank Custer was very different from the one he remembered.

He was younger, and what he experienced was even more terrifying. His personality was not as extreme as the Frank he knew. Of course, this is just not extreme compared to the punishers. For those who are petty, he will not kill them directly. Instead let them go after breaking hands and feet, but if you commit a heavier crime. …

Then there is a good show to watch.

In his sight, Frank Custer had sneaked into the house of the woman named Vanessa. She was taking a shower and Frank was rummaging through the closet. He is looking for possible criminal evidence. Vanessa may not know, but he knows the man named Fisk - he is better known by another name than Fisk.

Jin and.

The uncrowned king of the New York underground can even control the entire American underground black industry with New York as the core. To bring down such an opponent, killing alone cannot solve the problem. Even someone as murderous as the Punisher knows this. He believes that his previous investigation of Jin Bing has been completed enough, but for this Vanessa......

But he didn't know anything about her. Jin Bing obviously hid the woman well, but he does not believe that Vanessa knows nothing about Jin Bing's identity. Just as he was rummaging through the boxes, the sound of water in the bathroom stopped.

The Punisher stopped, he pulled out a pistol from his waist and opened the safety. A female voice said in the bathroom, "Sir, if you want something, take it. I don't have any cash at home, it's all in the corner of the nightstand. I just ask you not to hurt me, okay?"

"You can take anything you want, I won't come out, I won't fight. I can't call the police, my phone is on the sofa, you can see it. If you want, you can take it too Go. My only request is not to hurt me."

Her voice sounded very calm, and the Punisher was silent for a while before asking, "Fisk."

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"Wilson Grant Fisk. Tell me how much you know about him."

"...Sir, he's just a philanthropist, a businessman. If the people behind you want to compete with him, please do the right thing, okay? It's no use threatening me, I won't tell anything you want to know of--"

"boom!"

A crisp sound interrupted her, and the Punisher smashed the glass of her bathroom door and opened the door. Then he pointed the gun at Vanessa, who was wrapped in a bath towel, and said coldly, "Put on your slippers and come here."

Vanessa obediently complied. In her opinion, this man's identity has changed from a thief seeking money to a helper hired by a competitor who wants to be unfavorable to Fisk in business. But people's guesses are often wildly different from the truth.

After she sat on the sofa, the Punisher leaned against the wall of her living room and said calmly, "Your name?"

"Vanessa Eli~www.novelmt.com~ Facing the muzzle of the Punisher, she obediently began to answer questions.

"age?"

"34."

"What about occupation?"

"If I have to say it, I run a gallery in the center of New York. I sometimes exhibit the works of some young painters."

The Punisher narrowed his eyes: "That's all?"

Vanessa asked rhetorically, "Why not? I am proud of my career. Over the years, I have helped many young painters through their difficult periods of fame..."

Facing the rising muzzle, she closed her mouth.

The Punisher asked again, "How did you and Jin Pei know each other?"

"Jinping?"

Her face looked confused and puzzled. How could a woman who runs a gallery have such natural acting skills? The Punisher buried this question in his heart, and he knew that Vanessa probably didn't lie.

She really didn't know who Jin was.

"Okay, let me tell you something..." He said, turned his head suddenly, and fired three shots at Vanessa's door. The sound of heavy objects falling to the ground came from outside the corridor.

Seeing Vanessa's panicked face and her hands covering her mouth, Punisher smiled rarely. The smile on his face was so abrupt and discordant: "He protected you very well, ma'am."

As he spoke, he fired three more shots toward the corridor, like a prophet, and the sound of heavy objects falling to the ground came from the corridor again.

"The show is about to begin," the Punisher said softly. chaptere