Grimm looked up at the steel structure.
The girl was gone, and so was his chocolate bar.
“What a loss.” *BOOM!* His pickup truck, collateral damage from the earlier fight, finally exploded into a fireball.
He sprinted over, dragging out a duffel bag from the driver’s seat and patting out the flames flickering on its edges.
Thankfully, the container was fireproof.
The contents inside were undamaged.
However, the cash he had left in the cab—along with Kingpin’s bag of money beside the truck—had been reduced to ash.
“Dammit, a real loss,” he muttered under his breath, though a faint smile lingered on his lips.
Above him, Choubao slithered back down, having swallowed the twin blades, and curled lazily back around Grimm’s torso.
He pulled out a cigarette, leaned down, and pinched a burning hundred-dollar bill from the embers, using it to light the tip.
Dropping his eyelids, he took a deep drag, exhaling a luxurious plume of smoke that smelled faintly of burning currency.
He tossed the burning scrap aside and slapped away the sparks on his palm.
*Hiss—damn, that’s hot!* But it looked cool as hell.
The money didn’t matter; he enjoyed the process of earning it.
In truth, the fortune he had amassed was already enough to live out the rest of his life in luxury.
Yet if he didn’t make money or take on contracts, life was painfully boring.
Justice?
Pure bullshit.
Crime?
His very existence was already a crime according to the laws written by a certain class of Americans.
So, having completed his mission, he comfortably enjoyed his cigarette.
It was his right, and his personal poison.
He didn’t want to quit, nor would he ever.
A few seconds later, Homelander descended from the sky, carrying Tony Stark.
“Gurgle!
*BLEAGH—!*” The moment Tony’s feet hit the ground, he doubled over and vomited violently.
“Tsk.” Homelander took two disgusted steps to the side.
“He didn’t even throw up on the battlefield,” Grimm noted.
“I tried to fly as smoothly as possible,” Homelander said, putting on an innocent expression.
“Yeah, sure.
You flew like you were laying on a beanbag chair, forgetting you were carrying a human being.” Grimm exposed him without hesitation.
The last time he flew with Homelander to a secret Russian base, he had been blasted by sub-zero winds for nearly an hour at high altitude, with Homelander’s cape constantly slapping him in the face.
“Come on, man.
You can’t be *that* weak, can you?” Homelander opened his mouth, unable to find a quick rebuttal, and turned to feign a gentle pat on Tony’s back.
“I’m fine, don’t touch me,” Tony barked, flinching away defensively.
He had just witnessed the two men pursuing him get sliced in half by Homelander’s heat vision, followed by being dragged two hundred meters into the air in less than half a second.
Right now, his ears were ringing, the capillaries in his eyes had burst, his sense of direction was completely shot, and his nose felt warm.
He wiped it with his hand—great, blood.
“How many hands did you pass me through?” Tony glared furiously at Grimm.
“No more,” Grimm said, spreading his hands innocently.
Outside the factory, a convoy of vehicles screeched to a halt, seemingly validating his words.
Tony caught sight of the SHIELD logo on the car doors, glanced at Grimm, and then looked up.
A Vought International helicopter was roaring overhead, its belly-mounted camera filming the scene as it descended.
“Uh…
yeah, really no more,” Grimm shrugged.
“Next time, tell me in advance.
I won’t run, but I need time to mentally prepare.” Tony stared straight at him.
Among the people who had come to rescue him, there wasn’t a single familiar face.
It was all a cold exchange of interests.
He felt like a Christmas present being passed around.
“Stop whining.
Go throw a party, or order one of those greasy double-cheese burgers you love so much.” “So you *did* admit that cheese burger was for me!
Glad to see you still have a sliver of conscience, you bastard,” Tony muttered as a swarm of paramedics surrounded him.
The exhaustion in his eyes slowly faded.
“Heh.” Grimm flashed him a middle finger, but his gaze drifted past the crowd toward the sharp, striking female agent standing outside the entrance.
“Hair gel held up great today.” Grimm patted Homelander’s shoulder, slipping away from the approaching swarm of reporters.
“You’ve got good taste.” Under the blinding flashes of cameras, Homelander threw an arm around Tony’s shoulder, beaming broadly for the lens.
The lights reflected in his eyes, making it look as though he truly held complete control over everything—or perhaps he had simply immersed himself entirely in the stage set up for his grand performance.
Grimm walked out of the warehouse, leaving behind the bustling crowd—reporters, paramedics, crime scene investigators—all moving like wind-up puppets closing out a theatrical play in a dream.
“Copy all electronic surveillance footage from the facility and lock down this entire block,” Agent Maria Hill ordered methodically, her expression grim and stern.
“Yes, ma’am.” “Understood.
I will send the preliminary results to your personal terminal as soon as possible.” The agent beside her cast a look of admiration toward her before turning to leave.
Hill rested her hands on her hips and let out a soft sigh.
“You drive.” Spotting Grimm approaching, she tossed the keys over with a cold glare and walked straight to the passenger side.
“Heh.” Grimm caught the keys, his lips curving into a smirk as he opened the door and pulled himself into the driver’s seat.
He toggled the window controls, switching the glass to complete blackout mode.
“The first time we met, you shot me three times.
I spared your life in exchange for level-clearance inside SHIELD.
But as time passed, did you forget who the master is?” “I’m feeling pretty pissed off right now.” The hydraulic suspension let out a sharp hiss as the vehicle pulled onto the road.
“I have…
*ghk*…
my mission…” Hill looked completely different from moments ago, and she was no longer sitting in the passenger seat.
“Oh?
Is that so?
During the five hours I spent dominating you, your faith didn’t seem quite so unshakeable.” “And after those five hours…
I know you better than you know yourself.” Grimm kept both hands on the steering wheel.
Right now, he was driving two vehicles at once: one cruising along the road, and the other right beside him.
“I…
was wrong…” “Why didn’t Nick Fury come?
Doesn’t he love poking his nose into everything?” “He’s…
looking for…
Bruce Banner…” “The military got involved too?” The vehicle happened to roll over a steep speed bump at that exact moment.
“*Cough!*” “Heh, I’ll take that as your answer.” Grimm let out a low chuckle, one hand maintaining control of the wheel while the other pressed down gently on Hill’s hair.
“Looks like another big contract is coming up soon.” “*Gulp…*” *** The vehicle gradually drove off into the distance.
High above, between the rooftops of the towering skyscrapers, a nimble figure was leaping through the drifting mist.
The crunch of the chocolate bar between her teeth and the crinkle of the crumpled wrapper rustled softly in the wind.
She pursued the distant shadow of the car without any clear destination.
Outside the factory, a tiny figure with dark-green curly hair, wrapped in an oversized yellow raincoat, ducked low and darted beneath the swaying police tape.
The tightly buttoned collar couldn’t hide her pale skin.
Flashing through the edge of the crowd, she slipped into the interior of the warehouse.
She searched desperately for something, her eyes quickly locking onto the destroyed shipping container.
Anxiously leaning inside, she found only chaos—torn restraint straps, severed life-support tubes, and a few instruments still sputtering electrical sparks.
Whatever had been held inside was gone.
“Laura…” She whispered softly, unaware that she had just missed her.
The undisguisable worry in her eyes and the helplessness of being alone trembled faintly in the shadows.
“Hey!
Who are you?!” An agent spotted the out-of-place girl and broke into a fast jog toward her.
Startled, the girl spun around and ran.
“Don’t run!
Freeze!” The two wove through the piled equipment in a sudden chase.
Relying on her small stature, she squeezed into a tight corner filled with spare parts.
The agent followed quickly, clicking on his flashlight and beaming it into the dark space.
Under the beam of light, there was only a torn metal hole in the wall.
The edges were twisted and peeled back, as if the steel had been forcibly ripped open by some invisible, terrifying force.
“What the fuck?!”