The God of Death in American Comics

But as soon as Garrett took out the satellite phone, Sitwell stopped him.

"Sir, don't be so nervous. In fact, Director Fury arranged this for a reason." Sitwell reached out and made a comforting gesture.

"Nick Fury, what kind of back-ups does he have? For example, a Tomahawk missile that no one can explain comes from. He can fly over at the right time to solve the problem. Or in fact, there are actually 100 people in the action team car behind him. The latest weapons of destruction produced in laboratories” Garrett’s thinking was simple.

If the opponent has terrifying individual combat capabilities and is surrounded by invisible traps, then a saturation strike should be carried out. First, let the artillery and missiles plow it through, and then let the tanks and armored troops cooperate with a citizen. The Guard soldiers entered, and finally, when the dust settled, it was his turn to take the stage. At a press conference, he stood behind Minister Alexander Pierce in combat uniform with his head lowered, listening to the other party's condolences for this disaster. The life passed away, when the camera shot towards me, I squeezed out two tears in cooperation.

"In fact, there are no anti-personnel weapons or Tomahawk missiles. Judging from the intelligence collected by our agents, the other party is able to control its own power very well. It does not use this power to kill innocent people indiscriminately and gets along well with ordinary people and neighbors around it. It was very pleasant. If the other party hadn't come out to hunt that kind of masked weirdo, maybe we wouldn't even know he existed." Sitwell also squeezed out a drop of cold sweat on his forehead. It goes without saying that the power and accuracy of the Tomahawk missile are undeniable. , but if it covers yourself, it would feel terrible.

"I don't want to hear this. You can just tell the conclusion." Garrett was already impatient. If there is any danger, you should go first. You can hide in the command vehicle 500 meters away and command the action team members.

"Contact, our mission is to contact the target as peacefully as possible. Look at these information. We only hunt masked monsters. They have strong power and do not kill innocent people indiscriminately. They know how to hide and restrain themselves, and can be friendly with ordinary people. Get along, and don't forget that the other party is still a senior in high school, so the result of our analysis is that the other party can communicate." Sitwell stretched out his hand to adjust his flat glasses and directly stated the conclusion.

Of course, those gangsters who committed suicide and were chopped into pieces were not on Sitwell's innocent list.

"Contact and communication, what are you sure you will communicate?" Garrett expressed his doubts.

"Register the other party, send our goodwill, and ask about the situation of those masked weirdos. After all, at this stage, the person who knows this thing best is the other party. Then maybe we can try to remind the other party not to mess around. , although he can be regarded as eliminating harm for the people in a sense, it is better to contact us. In the end, if everyone shakes hands in a friendly way, our mission will be completed." Sitwell said his ideal task flow in .

Goodwill and friendliness are not in the dictionary of John Garrett's secret agent career.

Have you ever seen a combat team running to someone’s doorstep and saying, “I have brought 100 team members wearing combat uniforms and holding fully automatic rifles. I want to make friendly friends with you under their witness.” Fuck you, unless the other party is a fool, let alone the Sky Team and National Guard who are ready to support you at any time.

While Garrett was still thinking about the problem, Sitwell deliberately leaned closer to him and whispered, "The most important thing, sir, is that the organization in the latent period needs this kind of combat power, if possible."

After Sitwell finished speaking, he shut his mouth and sat back down. He believed that Garrett understood what he meant.

John Garrett was silent for a while and closed his eyes. No one knew what Garrett was thinking about at this time. He didn't ask what to do if the mission target was unfriendly. Such a stupid question was obviously only for new agents. Only then will he ask, those temporary privileges of his are not just for fun. To the enemy, there is only one word: hate.

Apartment 22, Third Street, Brooklyn.

Compared with other places on Third Street, this place is like a safe house in the apocalypse. In the past two years, some gang members wanted to come in to collect protection money, but they were discovered the next day and their bodies were chopped into pieces and thrown away. In the smelly ditch at the end of the street, the gang boss originally wanted to find someone and take revenge after hearing this, but he found out after asking around.

This apartment was an existence that even the Hydralisks, the largest behind-the-scenes organization in Brooklyn, did not dare to provoke. He immediately gave up the idea of ​​revenge, and directly took his subordinates to escape and ran to another block. From then on, as long as The gangsters who want to move into this apartment will also weigh their own strength before taking action. Even the most powerful gangs dare not provoke them, so forget it. It's just a dilapidated apartment anyway, and there is no oil or water. There's no need to risk your life for that little money.

The pizza shop next to the apartment is the favorite place of the street patrol officers. Perhaps only in this neighborhood can we avoid the gang members who shoot whenever they disagree. Anyway, the patrols only need to circle this place twice every day. , as long as the gang members outside do not shoot machine guns on the streets in broad daylight, these police officers will turn a blind eye in many cases.

A Lexus LX stopped in front of the pizza shop. The matte black body was engraved with SHIELD's eagle head badge.

These were the Sitwell three. As soon as they got out of the car, they said to the remaining two people, "Eat something first. I have arranged for an informant to keep an eye on this side."

"Oh, your informant is not talking about that bastard who has been watching us across the street," Garrett teased.

Then without waiting for a reply, Garrett looked to his side and said, "Ward, where are the people from the action team?"

Grant Ward is a very handsome agent. His height of 1 meters also means he has a pair of long legs. He has won the love of many female agents as a trainee at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Ward lowered his head and looked at his watch, "The action team is expected to arrive in 5 minutes."

"Let's go then, I'm just hungry." Garrett smiled.

"Wait a minute." At this moment, Sitwell reached out his hand seriously and held the two of them.

"What's wrong, Agent Sitwell, I was just joking with you." Garrett, perhaps not seeing the other person's expression, turned his head and asked.

"He's in there." Sitwell ignored Garrett's joke and pointed at the glass window.

Garrett and Ward looked in that direction at the same time.

Old Roger's Pizzeria, ordering area

"Boss, the cheapest fruit pizza, and then a cup of milk tea, don't put cheese in it." Ye Feng pointed at the menu. He had a lot of goods today, so he went out to have breakfast to celebrate.