r18novel Page 21
Page 21
General Ross was momentarily speechless, a flash of anger crossing his face, but he quickly found a new point of attack: "Don't give me that! Your background, Fisk, your shady past, don't think nobody knows! If I expose those things, will your association still be able to stand here so proudly?!"
This is a blatant threat, an attempt to coerce him into submission by using Kingpin's past.
However, Kingpin's response remained calm: "My past is settled by law. I am now a legitimate businessman and a philanthropist dedicated to public welfare. If you have evidence that I have broken the law, you can report it to the judicial authorities. But to threaten me with fabricated accusations in an attempt to illegally obtain technology, General, is not the behavior of a senior general."
He paused, his tone becoming even more somber and dangerous, his eyes seeming to see right through people:
"Moreover, General, you seem to have forgotten, or selectively ignored, one thing."
"The reason why the association's technology is so efficient and can deal with extraordinary threats that even the military finds difficult is precisely because it is independent and because it goes beyond the norm."
"Are you sure that, given the military's current research capabilities and understanding, even if they obtain the technical data, they can perfectly replicate and apply it? Or... make things worse, or even cause a greater disaster?"
"Moreover," Kingpin said slowly at the end, each word carrying immense weight, "some things cannot be forcibly taken by brute force and power. Reaching out by force might result in... being burned."
A deathly silence fell over the office.
General Ross stared intently at Kingpin, his chest heaving with rage. He sensed the unwavering resolve in Kingpin's eyes, and the chilling warning hidden beneath his calm words. He realized that this man was no ordinary politician or businessman he had dealt with before; he was an opponent with formidable strength and decisiveness.
Continuing to apply pressure could very well lead to unforeseen consequences. The technical capabilities demonstrated by the association, especially its ability to instantly cripple the Iron Monger, made him hesitant to act rashly.
“…Very well, Fisk.” General Ross spat out the words through gritted teeth, his face ashen. “You’re very good. We’ll see!”
He knew he wouldn't achieve his goal today. He glared fiercely at Kingpin, then turned abruptly, brimming with anger and frustration, and strode out of the office without even saying goodbye.
Wesley watched the general's departing figure, gently closed the door, and turned to Kingpin: "Boss, the pressure from the military probably won't stop here."
Kingpin turned his gaze back to the window, his voice indifferent:
"As expected."
"Notify the Equipment Department and R&D Department to strengthen the security level of core technology areas, and upgrade the encryption of all technical data to the highest level."
"In addition, we should prepare our legal team to deal with any 'legitimate' investigations and obstruction that the military may launch through other channels."
"Want my technology?"
A cold glint flashed in Kingpin's eyes.
"Let them think it over first, and see if their teeth are strong enough."
The military's first direct pressure was met with a firm rebuttal from Kim. But this was only the beginning; everyone understood that, given General Ross's character, he would not give up easily. A battle with the military over technology, law, and even deeper matters had begun.
Chapter 47: Dr. Banner's Concern
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
The air here is completely different from that of New York. It lacks the sense of order and oppression brought by the cold steel jungle. Instead, it is thick, humid, and full of the hustle and bustle of life and chaotic vitality. Deep in the slums, built on the mountainside, layer upon layer, seemingly about to collapse yet stubbornly existing, the sunlight is fragmented by the narrow alleys and dense power lines.
In a cramped space that could hardly be called a "room," the light was dim, and only an old fan creaked and groaned, futilely stirring the sweltering air. Bruce Banner—or rather, the gaunt man who struggled to maintain the identity of "Bruce Banner"—sat at a rickety wooden table.
He wore a faded, even slightly worn, short-sleeved shirt, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, whether from the heat or the pressure from the "other self" within him that was constantly trying to break free, it was hard to tell. His eyes were tired, carrying a sensitivity and vulnerability born from prolonged high alertness, yet deep within them still burned the rational light of a top physicist.
Scattered on the table were some loose parts, a worn-out multimeter, and several physics journals with curled edges. He was repairing a radio, his fingers steady and nimble, trying to temporarily forget the raging roar within him and anchor his rationality as a "human being" through this mechanical work that required extreme concentration.
This was the hiding place he had chosen—chaotic, disorderly, and with a high population mobility, enough to conceal anyone who didn't want to be found. He worked in a small soda factory there, doing unskilled packaging work for a meager salary, like a wounded beast licking its wounds while remaining vigilant against any disturbance from the outside world.
General Ross's shadow, like the Sword of Damocles, always hung over his head. The Hulk within him was another blade tearing him apart from the inside. His life was a struggle between these internal and external troubles, a desperate search for a moment of respite, and... a possible cure that might never be realized.
"Buzz... Breaking news... The 'Hero Association' from North America is once again in the spotlight today, with its founder, Mr. Wilson Fisk, and Mr. Tony Stark of Stark Industries engaging in a heated debate on the topic of 'professionalizing heroes'..."
The radio suddenly emitted intermittent sound in his hand, interspersed with strong electrical interference. Banner's fingers paused, and his brow furrowed slightly. He adjusted the knob, trying to pick up a clearer signal.
"...Mr. Fisk emphasized that systematic management and resource support can more effectively address the increasing number of extraordinary threats and protect the rights of practitioners...while Mr. Stark insisted that the spirit of heroism should not be tainted by money and institutions..."
"The Hero Association?" Banner murmured to himself, the term completely foreign to him. He had been away from mainstream American society for far too long, long enough to miss out on many emerging trends. But words like "extraordinary threat" and "systematic management" stirred ripples in his heart like pebbles thrown into a calm lake.
The enormous green entity within him seemed to stir slightly upon sensing these words carrying connotations of "conflict" and "power," a familiar, heart-pounding heat beginning to swirl subtly in his lower abdomen. Banner took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and used his honed breathing control techniques to forcefully suppress the agitation.
Danger. He instinctively felt that this "association" represented trouble, exposure, and a direction completely contrary to the "concealment" he sought. He should immediately turn off the radio, bury himself in his parts and journals, and shut out all the outside world's distractions.
But... "More effective threat response"? "Resource support"?
These words, like ghosts, lingered on the edge of his rational thinking.
A few days later, during the drowsy lunch break at the soda factory, Banner inexplicably wandered into a smoky, outdated internet cafe in the slums. He used his meager savings to rent a computer in the corner. The flickering light from the screen illuminated his cautious, slightly uneasy face.
He awkwardly (he hadn't used such "modern" facilities in a long time) opened his browser and typed "Hero Association" into the search bar.
Instantly, a massive amount of information popped up.
The official website is designed to be simple yet professional, exuding a high-tech feel. It includes an app download link, a task list (though most are low-level, such as "finding a lost pet" or "stopping a street brawl"), a hero leaderboard (he saw "Sandman" at the top, marked "S-rank"), and a seemingly comprehensive points redemption and welfare system.
He clicked on some news links. He saw blurry video clips of the Sandman controlling a sandstorm and easily subduing the giant monster; he saw footage of the Association's logistics troops cleaning up the scene with unbelievable efficiency; he saw Kingpin standing on the podium, facing the camera, using his deep and powerful voice to expound on the concepts of "order" and "professionalism".
Banner's gaze eventually settled on the association's "Mental and Physical Health Center" introduction page. It mentioned providing "professional psychological counseling and stress relief services" as well as "advanced medical technology support" for heroes on missions.
His heart skipped a beat uncontrollably.
Psychological counseling...stress relief...
These eight words, like a faint yet incredibly clear ray of light, pierced through the area of his heart that had long been shrouded in gloom.
The Hulk within him, in a sense, is a product of his unresolved extreme stress and anger. If... if there were a way to effectively manage those emotions, if there were a place that could provide professional help, instead of just using him as a weapon or specimen for research like the military...
An absurd, almost impossible idea, like a seedling sprouting in the darkness, quietly peeked out.
But he immediately dismissed the idea.
“No, Bruce, what are you thinking?” he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s an organization, an organization exposed to the public and the military (and he was almost certain Ross was watching them too). How could they possibly take in a… a monster? They’d just hand you over to Ross, or worse, try to use you.”
Reason warned him, and the instincts honed by years of life on the run screamed for danger.
He closed the webpage, cleared his browsing history, and hurried out of the internet cafe as if fleeing something. Back in his small, stuffy room, he picked up the soldering iron and parts again, trying to numb himself with work.
However, some things, once seen, can no longer be ignored.
In the days that followed, the term "Hero Association" began to take root and sprout in his mind like a seed. When he felt a surge of anger over a minor setback and had to desperately suppress it; when he woke up from a nightmare, drenched in cold sweat, confirming that he was still "Bruce Banner"; when he looked at his increasingly haggard face in the mirror and felt that the future was bleak... the image of that organization with perfect logistics, professional psychological support, and perhaps even unknown technology to deal with "extraordinary" problems would quietly emerge.
It represents a possibility. A possibility different from military pursuit, different from solitary escape, and different from his own blind exploration... another possibility.
There is a possibility that might allow him to truly "control" rather than "suppress" it, that might allow him to find a way to coexist peacefully with the green giant within him, or even... a cure.
This idea is both so tempting and so dangerous.
He still went to work at the soda factory every day, still repaired those broken radios, and still walked with his head down through the alleys of the slums, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
But beneath that seemingly calm exterior, the turmoil within could never be quelled.
He began consciously gathering snippets of information about the Hero Association, from international news broadcasts in bars and from discarded old newspapers. He learned that they fought alongside the Avengers in New York Harbor (or rather, in a chaotic collaboratorship), about their tense relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D., and about their refusal of General Ross's technological demands.
Each new piece of information made the image of that organization more complex and more...real in his mind.
One night, he awoke again from a chaotic nightmare about Ross and Hulk. He sat on the edge of the bed, panting heavily, his thin vest soaked with sweat. Outside the window, the neon lights of Rio flickered strangely, reflecting on his pale and pained face.
He raised his trembling hands and looked at them. These hands were capable of performing the most precise physical calculations, yet also of tearing steel apart in the next instant, causing unimaginable destruction.
Despair, like an icy tide, almost overwhelmed him.
Just then, that thought resurfaced with unparalleled clarity, carrying a desperate, mad gamble:
Maybe...maybe they are different?
Perhaps Kingpin, who dared to confront Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the military simultaneously... the man who built such a peculiar organization... perhaps he would have a different perspective?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, not just from fear, but also from a faint, almost desperate, glimmer of hope.
He walked to the window, looked down at the vast, chaotic yet vibrant slum below, and then looked north towards New York.
Inside his body, Hulk seemed to sense the surge of his emotions, emitting a low, unintelligible gurgling sound.
Bruce Banner, one of the world's most brilliant and unfortunate scientists, in his humble hideout at the ends of the earth, began for the first time to seriously consider a question that had previously seemed impossible:
The very thought made him feel that the fragile balance he had carefully maintained for so long might be about to be completely shattered.
Whether the outcome is good or bad, his life trajectory seems to have reached a critical crossroads because of the "Hero Association" far away in New York.
Chapter 48: A Bizarre Mission: Finding the Lost Cat
The morning sunlight streamed through the bulletproof glass of the Fisk Tower's top floor, casting Wilson Kingpin's massive figure onto the gleaming floor. Several holographic screens floated before him, displaying anomalous energy readings from around the world, real-time status updates of the Association's heroes, and various reports compiled by Wesley. The entire "Hero Association" resembled an increasingly sophisticated, colossal machine, and he was the engineer at its control center.
Suddenly, a slightly cheerful notification sound, out of place with the serious atmosphere, rang out in a corner of the system interface. It wasn't a piercing alarm indicating a ghost-level or higher threat, but rather the standard sound effect for issuing a normal task.
However, the content of this mission caused even Kingpin, who was used to seeing all kinds of storms, to twitch his eyebrows almost imperceptibly.
[New Task Released (Internal Association Number: NY-2023-048-001)]
Mission Type: Search and Rescue (Wolf-level)
Task Description: Find the lost pet cat "Tommy".
Target location: A residential street in Queens, New York.
Task Details: Tommy, a three-year-old male orange tabby cat with a blue collar, went missing yesterday evening. His owner is an elderly woman named Marjorie Fisher who lives alone and is experiencing anxiety.
Task Reward: 1 Association Point.
Special notes: None.
A brief silence fell over the office. Even Wesley, who was quietly reporting on the progress of the London branch's site selection, subconsciously pushed up his glasses and looked at his boss.
Kingpin's gaze lingered on the "Association Points x 1" for a full three seconds. This was a drop in the ocean compared to the monster-fighting missions that often rewarded players with tens or even hundreds of points; it wasn't even enough to buy a sports drink from the association's vending machine.
"System," Kingpin's voice was deep and unreadable, "are there any logical errors in the mission rating and reward calculation?"
[Reporting to the host, the calculation is correct.] The system's neutral electronic voice responded immediately. [Based on a multi-dimensional assessment including threat level, task difficulty, and potential social impact, "finding the lost pet cat" poses an extremely low threat to public safety. The difficulty is limited to a small-scale search, and the social impact is minimal. 1 point awarded, in accordance with the algorithm rules.]
Kingpin nodded slightly; he understood the logic. The system pursued absolute rationality and efficiency, and its standards wouldn't change because a task was "insignificant" or "lacking in heroism." This was also part of the "professionalism" he advocated—any task certified and issued by the system, regardless of size, should be taken seriously.
But this scene is clearly incomprehensible to outsiders.
Almost at the same time the mission was released to all registered heroes, the association's official app forum and external social media exploded with discussion.
A screenshot of the task was widely circulated online.
"??? Am I seeing things? Looking for a cat? 1 point?" — 3.2k likes, 1.5k replies.
"Haha, the stingiest mission in history has been born! Is the association short of funds?" — 2.8k likes.
"@Spider-Man @Daredevil @Sandman, it's time to boost our performance! Every point counts! (doge)" — 4.1k likes.
"Seriously, is this really a 'hero' mission? Isn't it a bit... beneath its dignity?" — 1.9k likes.
"What do you know upstairs? For that old lady, finding Tommy is the most important thing! Isn't a hero someone who helps those in need?" — 2.5k likes
"Support! Heroes shouldn't only exist in fighting and killing; this kind of heartwarming mission is also great!" — 2.1k likes.
The debate quickly escalated, with hashtags like #HeroAssociationLookingForTheCat# and #WhatCanYouDoWith1Point# even briefly trending on New York's hot search list. A mix of voices—sarcasm, ridicule, support, and debates about the essence of heroes—pushed this seemingly minor incident into the spotlight.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Trident Headquarters.
Maria Hill looked at the public opinion monitoring report sent by the technology department, a somewhat inscrutable expression on her face. She handed the tablet to Nick Fury behind his desk.
"Sir, the Hero Association... has issued a cat-finding mission."
Fury's single eye swept across the screen, his face expressionless, but a barely perceptible twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth. He put down the tablet and scoffed, "Is it a smokescreen, or are they really that idle? Or... some kind of resource allocation test we can't understand?"
In his view, every move Kingpin made could have a deeper meaning. But the obscure significance of this cat-finding mission caused even his conspiracy-obsessed mind to temporarily freeze.
The top floor of Stark Tower.
Tony Stark, wearing a vest, was adjusting a new set of nanotech armor blueprints in front of a holographic projection. His AI assistant, Jarvis, interjected with a message at the opportune moment.
"Sir, a new mission has appeared on the Hero Association's public platform that has sparked widespread discussion."
"Oh? What big news is it this time? Is Kingpin finally going to make a move on the Statue of Liberty?" Tony joked without looking up.
"The task is to find a lost pet cat in Queens. The reward is 1 association point."
Tony's fingers, which were manipulating the holographic projection, suddenly stopped. He turned his head, his face first showing surprise, then bursting into unrestrained laughter.
"Hahahaha! Find the cat! 1 point! I knew it! I knew that big guy's association would become a joke sooner or later!" He laughed so hard he could barely stand up straight. "Jarvis, highlight this message in red and archive it! At the next meeting, I'm going to ask our respected Mr. Fisk in person if his 'professional heroism' includes helping people unclog sewers! Hahaha!"
Meanwhile, in Queens, Peter Parker was rushing to Midtown High School with his backpack on. While waiting at a red light, he habitually took out his phone and checked the association's app, where he saw the "Find the Cat" task hanging high at the top of the task list, its reward section looking particularly lonely.
Peter's lips twitched, and he subconsciously touched his empty wallet. 1 point... A picture flashed through his mind of himself in a Spider-Man suit, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, meowing and searching for his cat. He could go look for it, but class was about to start.
"Never mind... I'll just let someone else have this 'achievement'..." he muttered to himself. The light turned green, and he quickly put away his phone and joined the flow of people going to school.
Just as mockery and support were flying high online, and various factions had different intentions, the task acceptance indicator light within the association quietly lit up.
The one who accepted the mission was not any of the heroes known for their combat prowess, but a newcomer with the ID "Cat Whisperer".
A few minutes later, at the corner of the quiet residential street in Queens designated for the mission, a girl who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old appeared. She was wearing ordinary jeans and a hoodie, and a delicate face with a few freckles was visible under the brim of the hood. Her eyes were clear and gentle, and she was carrying a rather ordinary canvas bag.