25: Chapter 25: Black Widow Sends a Legal Notice to Warn S.H.I.E.L.D.
25: Chapter 25: Black Widow Sends a Legal Notice to Warn S.H.I.E.L.D.
9:17 AM.
Luke slumped at his workstation, staring listlessly at the cup of cold Americano in front of him.
He felt his mental state was much like this coffee—bitter, cold, and devoid of any sweetness.
His phone vibrated.
Luke’s eyelid twitched.
He slowly lifted his head and looked at the caller ID labeled “Little Spider” on the screen; the expression on his face was like that of a condemned man hearing the final toll of the bell.
He took a deep breath.
He answered.
“Hey!!
Uncle Su!!!” Peter Parker’s voice exploded from the receiver, so loud that Luke had to move the phone three centimeters away from his ear.
The sheer intensity of his excitement could knock someone over, even through electromagnetic waves.
“You probably didn’t see everything that happened yesterday!
Oh my god, Uncle Su, you really missed out!
Do you know what I did yesterday—” “I—” “I swooped in and saved Iron Man!
That Iron Man!
Tony Stark!
When I swung over, his armor was about to fall apart, and then I shot a web to stick to him, and that pull back was so cool, just like in the movies—no, even cooler than in the movies!” Luke opened his mouth.
Useless.
He couldn’t get a word in.
“And also, also!
A Righteous Uncle suddenly appeared on the scene!
Wearing a floral shirt!
Can you imagine that, Uncle Su?
A floral shirt!
Wearing a floral shirt on the battlefield!
But he was super powerful, he kicked Iron Monger away in one go, you know that Iron Monger, right, that big guy made entirely of iron—” Luke’s temple throbbed.
“Oh right, did you not hear enough of this story?
Then let me tell you again!
June 15th, 4:04 PM—” Luke placed the phone on the table and pressed speakerphone.
He covered his face with both hands and slowly leaned back into his chair.
His thoughts drifted uncontrollably back to yesterday afternoon.
After that battle ended, he tidied himself up, brushed the dust off his floral shirt, and returned to Aunt Mei’s side.
After all, in Aunt Mei’s eyes, Luke was just an ordinary, weak, and powerless neighbor who needed protection.
If he had run out rashly, Aunt Mei would have been worried sick.
When he returned, Aunt Mei was standing at the door with red eyes; she grabbed his arm and looked him up and down, and only after confirming he wasn’t missing any limbs did she let out a long sigh of relief.
“How could you run out like that?” Aunt Mei’s voice trembled slightly.
“It’s so dangerous out there.” At that moment, Luke felt his heart get gently bumped by something.
Aunt Mei’s eyes were full of worry, with undried tear stains still hanging on her eyelashes, and the look she gave him was a mix of anger and heartache.
Her brown curly hair was a bit messy, probably from being frantically pushed back earlier.
Simply heart-melting.
That was the phrase.
Luke only had one thought in his mind at the time: shouldn’t he say something affectionate right now?
Like “I’m back”?
Or “Wherever you are, I’m not going anywhere”?
The atmosphere was just right.
The sunset shone obliquely through the window, plating Aunt Mei’s face with a warm glow.
Luke had just opened his mouth.
“Uncle Su!!!” Peter Parker descended from the sky.
Not as an adjective, but literally flipping through the window from the ceiling.
Then this chatterbox teenager, like a tape recorder with the play button pressed, started talking incessantly to Luke about what he had seen yesterday.
“You don’t know how cool that Iron Man was!
Although he was almost beaten to death, he was really cool!
And that female Agent in the black bodysuit!
Oh my god, Uncle Su, you didn’t see her, she was like—like that kind of cold female assassin that only appears in comics!” Luke’s mouth twitched.
A cold female assassin.
Fine, the description wasn’t wrong.
“And that Righteous Uncle!” Peter’s eyes were as bright as two searchlights.
“He rushed up wearing a floral shirt!
With every punch and kick, Iron Monger just couldn’t beat him!
Uncle Su, do you think he’s some kind of hidden superhero?” Luke was expressionless.
“I don’t know.” “Oh right, speaking of this Righteous Uncle—” “Enough, enough.” Luke interrupted, his tone calm but firm.
“I’ve appreciated it enough; I have to go to work, goodbye.” Click.
Hung up.
Clean and efficient.
Luke stared at the darkened phone screen, with only one realization in his heart.
This was the reason he didn’t want to know Peter was Spider-Man.
Some people seem to put on a mask, but in reality, they have taken it off.
Peter Parker, an originally introverted and shy high school student, seemed to have his Ren and Du meridians opened ever since he put on that Spider-Man suit.
The Ren and Du meridians of a chatterbox.
The mask gave him courage.
Courage gave him a mouth.
The mouth gave Luke endless pain.
The voice of Peter on the phone continued: “—And then that Righteous Uncle disappeared!
Just like magic!
Uncle Su, do you think he can teleport?” Luke came back to his senses.
Right.
He hadn’t hung up.
No, he did.
This is the current call.
Peter is still calling.
“…I have to go to work.” Luke’s voice was calm, as calm as the sea before a storm.
“Goodbye.” This time, not only did he hang up, but he also muted Peter’s number.
The World was finally quiet.
Luke leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a second.
A translucent system panel appeared before his eyes.
[Task Progress Update] [Acquiring Kizaru’s ability…
Current progress: 91%] [Time remaining until full acquisition: 5 days] Below was another line of small text: Please maintain a 9-to-5 status within the remaining time; any violations may cause the acquisition of the ability to be interrupted, and the current ability will be cleared.
Luke took a deep breath.
Five days.
As long as he survived these five days, Kizaru’s ability would be completely his.
Then he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and fight whoever he wanted.
Just five days.
He could handle it.
Luke closed his eyes, formed a Taoist hand seal with both hands, and silently recited in his heart: Allah will bless me, the chosen one of God who believes in the Buddha.
Betting on multiple sides, one is bound to hit.
Amitabha, Amen.
He stood up, ready to go to the pantry to refill his coffee.
Just as he took a step, he saw Clint Barton at the end of the corridor.
Hawkeye was leaning against the wall, his left hand bandaged, his right arm in a sling, the bruises on his face hadn’t faded, and he looked like he had just been fished out of a blender.
Luke walked over and patted his uninjured shoulder.
“Buddy, you have to come to work with these injuries?” He tutted and shook his head.
“That one-eyed dragon is really not a good person, right?” Barton didn’t speak.
He just shook his head, then took a folded note out of his pocket and handed it over.
Luke took it and unfolded it.
The handwriting on the note was beautiful, the kind of professional, well-trained script where every stroke was precise.
“You will pay the price for your actions yesterday.” Signed: Natasha Romanoff.
Luke stared at the note for three seconds.
He lifted his head.
Barton was looking at him, his eyes filled with the deep, heartfelt sympathy of someone who had been there before.
That sympathy was too real, so real that Luke could even read four words in it—my condolences.
Barton patted Luke’s shoulder, said nothing, and turned to leave.
His back was desolate, his steps heavy, as if he were mourning for Luke.
Luke stood in place, clutching the note in his hand.
No.
Didn’t they say Westerners were open-minded?
What’s wrong with a little kiss?
Don’t they understand the French cheek kiss?
He looked at the note again.
The words “pay the price” were particularly glaring under the light.
What does this mean?
Just as Luke was about to complain, the security camera above his head suddenly turned and aimed at him.
Then the corridor broadcast sounded.
Nick Fury’s voice came from the speaker, flat, calm, without any emotional fluctuation.
“You know I can hear how you refer to me, right?” Luke froze in place.
He slowly raised his head, looking at the red light of the camera aiming right at him.
The air froze for about two seconds.
Luke stuffed the note into his pocket, turned, and walked away, his steps steady, his expression natural, as if nothing had just happened.
After walking out of the surveillance range, his pace finally slowed down.
Five days.
Five days left.
He could hold on.
Probably.
Maybe it’s not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”