The entire battlefield fell silent for three seconds.
Then it exploded.
“He’s down?” “Hulk is down!” “Who hit him?” No one answered, because no one had seen clearly.
On the helicopter, General Ross lowered his binoculars, raised them again, and lowered them, repeating this three times.
He turned to look at Fury, opened his mouth, but couldn’t get any words out.
Fury was expressionless.
But his one eye was gleaming.
“Just now…” General Ross finally managed to squeeze out a voice, “what happened?” Fury didn’t answer, crossing his arms and watching the battlefield below.
General Ross gritted his back teeth.
He had spent thirty years in the Military, from Afghanistan to the Pentagon, from conventional weapons to gamma rays; there was no situation he hadn’t seen.
Three tons of concrete flew back out of thin air?
General Ross glanced at Fury.
“What new equipment does S.H.I.E.L.D.
have?” Fury turned his head and looked at him.
“What new equipment?” “Don’t play dumb with me.” General Ross lowered his voice, “Is it a new type of exoskeleton?
Or did you get some Stark technology from somewhere?” Fury didn’t answer.
General Ross irritably raised his binoculars and scanned the battlefield.
Agents were scattered behind various bunkers, their equipment visible at a glance.
Standard S.H.I.E.L.D.
issue assault rifles, a few pistols, and Hawkeye’s bow.
There were no heavy weapons.
No exoskeletons.
No energy shields.
Just a bunch of people wearing tactical vests.
General Ross slowly lowered his binoculars.
The corner of Fury’s mouth lifted by a nearly imperceptible millimeter.
Luke.
It was probably Luke.
It was always like this.
This guy Luke usually looked like a mere ornament.
He was late for work, slept during meetings, and was always dead last at the training grounds.
Hill had submitted dismissal applications more than once, but he had suppressed them all.
Because every time it came to the critical moment, the mission would succeed.
Fury had never seen with his own eyes how Luke made his moves.
Surveillance couldn’t catch it, the naked eye couldn’t keep up, and when asked afterwards, the guy would look innocent, saying he hadn’t done anything.
But results didn’t lie.
Since Luke joined, every mission he participated in had a 100% success rate.
Fury didn’t need to see the process; he only looked at the results.
That was enough.
…On the battlefield.
The dust and smoke hadn’t cleared yet.
Hulk lay in the large crater smashed into the asphalt, his chest heaving, heavy currents of air spraying from his nostrils, rolling the gravel on the ground outwards.
Agents poked their heads out from behind bunkers, looking at each other.
Except for one person, Hawkeye.
Hawkeye was half-kneeling behind an overturned bus, bow still in hand, string still drawn.
Barton’s vision was four times that of an ordinary person.
He was the only person on the field who, when the concrete flew over, briefly shifted his gaze away from Hulk.
He had seen it.
Not completely, only a residual image of a fraction of a second.
The moment Luke turned around, the movement of his right leg lifting, and then the concrete rebounded.
The speed was too fast; Barton only captured the start and end frames of the action, the process in between was blank.
But it was enough.
That rock wasn’t bounced back.
It was kicked back.
Luke was walking toward the subway station.
His steps were a bit faster than before.
Not because he was afraid, but because a string in his mind had tightened.
That kick just now had been too obvious.
He had intended to control his strength and just break the rock to avoid being too conspicuous, but he hadn’t held back his force, and the whole chunk had flown back and smashed Hulk into a crater.
The gaze from behind pricked his back like needles.
Luke’s footsteps paused.
He knew who it was.
Hawkeye, Barton’s eyes were truly venomous.
He was the hardest person to fool in all of S.H.I.E.L.D.—Fury was first, and this guy was second.
Luke turned around.
Barton was standing fifty meters away, bow hanging at his side, not raised, but his gaze was straighter than an arrow.
The two stared at each other for less than a second.
Luke made a decision.
He suddenly raised both arms and shouted toward Barton’s direction.
“Hawkeye is awesome!!” The voice echoed across the empty, ruined battlefield.
Everyone turned their heads to look at Luke.
Then, following the direction of Luke’s finger, they looked at Barton.
Luke’s expression was infuriatingly sincere, full of admiration, eyes shining, with the look of “I witnessed a miracle with my own eyes” on his face.
“That shot just now!
Incredible!” Luke shouted to the people around him.
“Did you see that?
The arrow Agent Barton just shot!
It shattered the rock Hulk threw, rebounded, and smashed right into Hulk’s face!” The air was silent for half a second.
Then everyone’s gaze fell uniformly on Barton.
Barton:???
“I didn’t—” “Holy crap, Hawkeye did that?” “No wonder he’s the best shooter in S.H.I.E.L.D.!” “Shattered three tons of concrete with one arrow?
What kind of arm strength is that?” “It’s not arm strength, it’s the angle!
You guys don’t understand, this is called structural destruction shooting!” Barton stood where he was, mouth agape, bow still in hand.
He wanted to explain.
But seven or eight people had already crowded around him; some patted his shoulder, some gave him a thumbs up, and two new recruits were taking out their phones to take a photo.
“Agent Barton!
Can I get an autograph?” “Is your bow custom-made?
How many pounds is the draw weight?” “Hawkeye!
How do you train?
Can you teach me?” Barton was squeezed in the middle of the crowd, the expression on his face changing from confusion to agitation, and then from agitation to helplessness.
He stood on his tiptoes, looking over the heads of the crowd toward Luke.
Luke had already walked twenty meters away.
That back figure had his hands in his pockets, his steps light, and he was even humming a tune.
Barton’s eyebrows were knitted so tightly a fly could be crushed between them.
“It wasn’t me!” “Hahaha, Agent Barton, you’re too modest!” “It really wasn’t—” “Look!
Hulk is moving!” Everyone instantly stopped their worship.
In the crater, Hulk’s fingers twitched.
That massive green chest heaved once, then a second time.
Barton seized the moment.
“Hulk is waking up!
Everyone evacuate to a safe distance!
Initiate backup plan!” The Agents’ attention finally shifted from “Hawkeye is awesome” to the importance of saving their lives.
The crowd began to retreat in an orderly fashion, and Barton directed the team to move toward the designated evacuation point.
He looked back one last time.
Luke had already disappeared below the steps of the subway station entrance.
…On the helicopter.
General Ross sat in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, his face so dark it could drip water.
Fury sat down opposite him, crossing his legs.
“General,” Fury’s tone was flat, “We will take over the containment of Hulk.” General Ross’s jaw tightened.
“Fury, I’ve been chasing Banner for three years, three years.” “I know.” General Ross stood up from his seat, walked over to Fury, and looked down at him from above.
“Hulk is the Military’s target, a continuation of the Super Soldier program.
You know this better than I do.
You have no right to take him from my hands.” Fury didn’t move.
He raised his head and looked back at General Ross calmly with his one eye.
“General.” “What?” “If I withdraw my men now, what do you intend to use to stop a Hulk who is about to wake up?” General Ross didn’t speak.
Fury continued.
“Your two battalions were scattered by Hulk in the Bronx, three armored vehicles were overturned, and a helicopter was swatted down.
Right now, the only ones on the ground who can move are my people.” General Ross’s cheek muscles twitched.
“I’ll withdraw, you stay.” Fury smiled slightly.
“You stay and watch Hulk yourself, can you do that?” General Ross stared at Fury, his lips pressed into a line.
Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
General Ross sat back in his seat.
“Take him.” He squeezed the words out through his teeth.
“But I want a complete after-action report.” “No problem.” Fury stood up and turned to the communications soldier in the cabin.
“Notify the ground, containment team enter the field, target—” He suddenly stopped.
Fury turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the interior of the helicopter.
Communications soldier, pilot, General Ross, General Ross’s aide.
One person was missing.
Fury reached out and took the tablet from the communications soldier’s desk, pulling up the real-time positioning system for the ground troops.
The dense blue dots on the screen were gathering toward the evacuation point.
He tapped the personnel list and scrolled through it quickly.
Luke.
Location signal—Offline.
The corner of Fury’s eye twitched.