Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Popular recommendation:

"I have to admit, there are times when you're a real **** who doesn't know your luck, Tony."

Steve was lying on the sofa, and the coffee table was already full of wine bottles. He drank a dozen bottles of beer, but he didn't feel drunk, but he had plenty of urination. He had already gone to the toilet twice. Compared with the presence of his old god, Tony seemed a little weak. Comrade Iron Man is almost falling to the ground at this moment.

He said in a daze: "What... what? What is in the midst of happiness and does not know happiness? Can you please stop speaking Chinese! Damn, I just learned it for a while!"

Steve was interested. He sat up and repeated the sentence with all his heart, and even told allusions. Tony's already chaotic brain was even more unbearable at this time. He was stunned for a while, but he didn't think it was strange for Captain America to speak Chinese.

Oh, Steve hasn't been Captain America for a long time, he's... what is he now?

Tony's brain seems to be disconnected, he points Steve's face and laughs. The latter felt inexplicable for a while: "What are you laughing at?"

"No, no, nothing..." he said breathlessly, followed by another burst of laughter. "I, I just remembered a joke."

"What joke?"

"Ah, forget it, Steve. I'm pretty sure you won't find this joke funny, it's not for an old-fashioned guy like you." Tony suddenly stopped his smile and put on a serious look. If you ignore his attempt to push the sunglasses, it looks like that.

His sunglasses are on the coffee table.

Steve rolled his eyes: "I'll just pretend you didn't say anything, megalomaniac."

It wasn't long before he left the Stark Building.

New York is still the same New York, but with autonomy. Steve was walking on the street. He hadn't seen a homeless person over the years. The adjustment of policies and various preferential treatment for poor areas and public schools have all changed the appearance of this place in a few years.

If you go back to Hell's Kitchen now, you'll be amazed that the place has become a beautiful neighborhood. God, Steve never thought he could use the prefix 'beautiful' on Hell's Kitchen.

The night is also much safer, at a time when everyone can have a job, and there is hope for hard work. Profiting from crime has become something that only lunatics choose. Although there will still be vicious cases, the New York police who have undergone a major change of blood will no longer eat like before.

They don't talk to you about personal liberty and parole guarantees now. After completely tearing off the false veil of the so-called free society in the United States, people suddenly found that it is a fantasy to tell criminals about these things-he has threatened the lives of others, and what basic rights do you tell him about?

If you catch you, you can go to jail. They will do their best to ensure that there is no wrongful conviction, but they will never give any of the current **** a chance to escape - steal, be forgiven. But for murder or something like that, you can just wait twenty years or so in jail.

Frankly, Steve is very happy with his life. He also did not become the Prime Minister of the Union as people had guessed, on the contrary, after ensuring the smooth disintegration of the United States, resolving the civil war and various instable elements. Steve immediately withdrew from the line, not greedy for a little power.

To put it more bluntly: he ran.

Fortunately, the place where he ran was coincidentally, it was a certain eastern country next door. When the plainly dressed white man showed up at the capital airport, no one found him. However, a week later, he was photographed sweating while eating hot pot in a certain Shu area. A series of discussions and concerns have been raised.

Steve had to contact Tony overnight to get him a digital mask.

Recalling that time, Steve, who was walking on the street, laughed and laughed happily. I won't go into detail about what he did in that country. As we all know, the investigation is very strict now. And, I think you can all guess it.

-------------------------------------

Eyes are the most important tool for human beings to understand the world. There may not even be one, I mean, one can have no hearing, no taste. but no vision?

That must be very tragic.

Frank is experiencing what it's like to be blind right now. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that he was paranoid, or had a psychotic episode. Simply because he wanted to refuse to 'see' the cruel scene in front of him.

He has realized that it is definitely himself who is going crazy. And what will he do when he is mad? He didn't even dare to think about it. And simply closing his eyes didn't seem to completely isolate him from the thought of wanting to take a look. In order to avoid future troubles, Frank simply dug out his eyes.

Although his ears could still hear the movements of those tragic events, it was better to hear them than to see them directly.

However, what he didn't know was that the influence of the huge amount of human sins could not be relieved by simply removing the eyeballs. If it was really that easy to avoid the influence, the Seraph would not regard this thing as a tiger.

In the darkness, those sins born out of humans began to stretch out their tentacles little by little, until they could touch Frank's face - and then suddenly tightened, dragging Frank into their arms. Frank only felt like he was being dragged into the quagmire, unable to move an inch.

There seemed to be a million different hands all around trying to pull him down, trying to pull him into deeper sin. Frank could hear them whispering, and he immediately raised his hand to cover his ears, but...it was too late.

"I'm going to press the button!"

A man with a frenzied look stood in the room and shouted loudly. He was naked and naked. Disgusting, sweat-soaked chest hair fluttered with his bouncing, juxtaposing with the beer belly. Frank stared blankly at it all, knowing that he was blind and shouldn't see anything anymore.

But the fact is, he saw it, and saw it clearly.

He doesn't know this man, but it doesn't matter if he does, who cares? All he knew was that this crazy guy was jumping up and down in this pure white room, swaying from side to side.

The facial features on his ugly long face had been deformed by the hideous expression, but he still held the button, as if holding his little brother, and shouted frantically: "I'm going to press it. I'm going to press it!"

Then press it, idiot.

Frank thought.

Unexpectedly, the man stopped suddenly, he stared at where Frank was standing, and the hideous and ugly face suddenly calmed down. He stared at Frank like a ghost: "Do you want me to press it, sir?"

Press it, what bad things can this button do?

The man smiled: "Bad things, no, no, no."

He began to stutter, and began to pop words out of his mouth, word by word, like the second hand of a clock, precise and dull, and boring. Frank heard him say, "On the contrary, on the contrary, good sir, my good sir! It's a great event, it's a treasure!"

what baby?

"Don't you know?" The man jumped up from the ground in surprise, then fell to the ground. The back of his head shattered on the ground, blood and brains gushing out. Those godless eyes were still fixed on Frank, reminding him of the first elk he had killed. That's how the deer looked at him then.

The difference: he gave the elk a treat and never hunted again. As for this man?

He kept watching him die before picking up the button from his hand.

The pure white room suddenly lit up with a light that enveloped him in. Frank heard a thick male voice say in the broadcast voice: "Welcome, welcome! Big hero Frank Custer! Welcome to our little place! Do you still like the guy who just died?"

I don't like it very much, just like you.

"Ah, that would be a pity." The voice slapped its mouth and said, "Are you going to press it?"

none of your business.

"Oh! Punisher! But, listen to me, you really have to push this thing down, Frank."

Don't call me that.

"What do you mean? Call you the Punisher, or Frank?"

Frank stared at the button in his hand, the bright red button was placed on the white base. It looks absurd and ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon. It's as hilarious as the nuke button in Tom and Jerry.

But the thing is, people laugh when they see a nuclear bomb being fired in cartoons because they know that no one is going to die.

But what about this? I press it, will anyone die?

"No, no, no one dies. Or, no good man dies, Mr. Frank." The baritone became polite again. "Only the bad guys will die, one by one they will be sent to **** by you - if you press the button."

I have been doing this for many years.

"Ha! Yes, Mr. Frank, you've been doing this job for years. But you've never really eradicated crime, have you? You've killed thousands of gangsters, drugheads, rapists, perverts, Traffickers. But you never really kept these sins out of the city, and now, you have a great opportunity!"

"Think about it, think about it, Mr. Frank. As long as you press this button, all evil in the world will be wiped out, and no one will be hurt again, and no one will be like you anymore with his wife and children. Going out for a picnic and getting shot - just because you're in the middle of two gangs."

Shut your **** mouth.

The baritone didn't care: "You're irritable, aren't you? Hahahahaha, but that's understandable. You're always so irritable in your business."

our line?

"Yeah, Mr. Frank, don't you think you're the first person to think about using violence to control violence? There are many, many men and women who have gone into this business before you, well, let me have a look......."

Before long, the pure white wall on Frank's left suddenly cracked open, and a woman's face emerged from it. She wasn't pretty, but the look in that look was all too familiar to Frank.

Avenger's eyes.

The voice said triumphantly, "Look at her, Mr. Frank. She's one of your seniors, and she takes her job very seriously and does it well! It's a pity that she didn't choose to press that button."

and then?

"And then she died right here!"

Ah. Frank gave a mocking smile.

as predicted.

Immediately afterwards, the woman's face was replaced by another gray-haired old man. He had a stern face and a stubborn beard. With a cowboy hat on his head, the hatred radiating from his eyes is like reality.

"This is one of your great seniors too. If I say, Mr. Frank, this is a good fellow! A damned Western fast shooter after his wife and daughter were brutally murdered. The old guy took it up again. Gun, back to what he was a bounty hunter. The difference is, he used to kill for money, now he's for revenge."

How many people were killed?

"A lot, a lot. Let me think... five thousand? Maybe, but none of them kill as much as you! You're the biggest executioner here, Mr. Frank!"

I've heard enough of your bullshit, what the **** are you?

"I?"

The voice laughed, and the laughter echoed through the room, making Frank's eardrums hurt, and he heard, "I am the thing you hate the most! I am the sum of all human sin! In heaven, held in the hands of angels. Forged! Traded by the souls of good men and the devils in hell!"

"Isn't it ironic?" it said.

Yes, it is ironic, and, you know what the most ironic thing is?

"What is it?"

Frank didn't speak any more. No matter how many times the voice asked, he didn't speak again. He held the button in his right hand and never pressed it.

You know, silence, it's okay to mock people -- and it's okay to mock people more than that.

-------------------------------------

"The Punisher is clearly a much weaker natural force."

"He lost his humanity a long time ago, and he is the character that the skull pattern on that uniform represents, a clear symbol."

"He is a vengeful soul that wanders in the hearts of criminals like a virus, and he fulfills our society's initial need for trial and punishment of the most wicked."

On the TV, the host of the show was talking about some metaphysical psychological nonsense, but the man sitting in front of the TV was not in the mood to listen. He's not handsome or particularly charismatic, but he's reminiscent of death.

This is not Frank Custer, who else could it be?

"Get me into this room and show me the anatomy of myself on the TV show.... that's all you can do?" he said sarcastically at the ceiling, then took Start the remote control and change the channel.

However, all TV stations are broadcasting the show. The show is called The Punisher.

"You want me to watch it?" Frank laughed again. "Okay, bastard. Then let's get the **** out of my life."

On the TV, the host's face was replaced by a skull and disappeared again in a split second, and a long, smelly commercial about ordering coffins began to play. Frank waited patiently until the commercials disappeared and the show officially began.

The beginning of the show was his childhood.

However, Frank was not in the mood to watch this. He quickly fast-forwarded until a rainy night many years ago, when he was on the roof of a building in New York, with a sniper rifle and a bruised face.

Behind him, there was a man bound in place, wearing a red tights and two short horns on his head.

Frank knew him, it was Matt Murdoch. A good guy, a **** good guy, a good guy who keeps trying to stop him all the time.

His memory is good, so he still remembers what he did this time.

It was 1998 and he wanted to kill the then New York Mafia boss, that **** went too far. Recruiting troops and buying horses, the city was in chaos.

So he started from the bottom, no, or should be said to kill from the bottom.

He emptied the **** one step at a time, and finally, at the last moment, when he could pull the trigger, Matt Murdoch came to spoil it.

In layman's terms - he was beaten up by this bastard, and he said things he said before, either 'you should put him to justice' or 'you can't go around like this even if he's guilty Murder~www.novelmt.com~ Frank still remembered what he was thinking, he remembered it very well, what he was thinking was: **** you, this **** should be shot in the street by me.

However, he took a chance and then knocked out Matt Murdoch. This is his weakness, he won't kill Frank, but Frank will. Frank then tied him up, put a revolver in his hand, and taped it tightly. Turn the gun on yourself again.

Wait until he wakes up... good show.

On the TV, the man in red looked shocked. He knew what he was holding, but he didn't understand why the Punisher did this.

So the Punisher said, "One shot, one shot. One chance to stop me from killing him. As you said, everyone has the right to make a choice."

He turned around, set up the sniper rifle, and started aiming: "You can't run away, and you can't drop the gun. I'm wearing a bulletproof vest, but no bulletproof helmet. I'll have my back to you, you can try Stop me - remember to aim for my head."

"Wait a minute—"

"If you shoot, you're a murderer. If you don't shoot, you'll be condemned in conscience for his death, a death you could have avoided. Now, it's time to make a choice. "

"What choice? What choice is this?"

Rain fell from the sky, dripped from the mask of the man in red, and landed on his trembling lips: "What the **** is this choice?!"

Frank turned his head slightly and replied calmly, "A choice I make all the time."

Frank stared at the scene in front of the TV, as indifferent as he was watching another person's experience.