American comic: I, JoJo, am going to heaven!

inside the house.

"So..." Coulson looked at Jon helplessly, "your so-called comic book drawing just means having Star Platinum draw it for you?"

"That's right."

Jon nodded as a matter of course.

"The Platinum Star is the embodiment of my spiritual power, and it can perfectly reproduce the images in my mind."

"Its precision is unmatched; it's practically the perfect drawing tool."

"Besides, Star Platinum is, after all, your stand-in..."

Coulson sighed and rubbed his forehead, naturally understanding Jon's subtext.

"So, it's the same as you drawing, which gives you a legitimate excuse to be lazy, right?"

"Exactly!" Jon snapped his fingers, then laughed heartily, rubbing his forehead. "Wryyyyyy! To come up with such a method, I truly am the world's most brilliant comic book artist!"

"well......"

Seeing Jon's current state, Coulson rubbed his temples in exasperation.

Since Jon's return, the calm and collected man he once was has disappeared.

Instead, there was this guy with a playful look in his eyes, an arrogant expression on his face, and a melodious and varied voice.

"Jon, I remember you used to be quite composed, what happened to you?"

"That was probably a side effect of PTSD."

Jon stroked his chin, calmly analyzing the situation from the previous period.

"After all, I personally witnessed almost all of my friends and family being killed by a priest..."

However, unlike before when he would become depressed whenever the topic was mentioned, Jon now simply remained expressionless with a calm gaze.

During his travels in the American West, he came to understand many things and realized that running away couldn't solve anything.

The dead cannot be brought back to life; Iggy's miracle was just an isolated case, and he could only accept it.

He believes.

Now that he has inherited Jotaro's Star Platinum and the old man's Ripple energy, he can't continue to be so depressed.

Doing this would not only be unfair to himself, but also to the family members who entrusted these things to him.

So after being depressed for so many days, he realized that he had to pull himself together, and he absolutely had to pull himself together!

In other words, Jon's current personality is his true personality.

I've also had PTSD.

Coulson and Jon leaned against the wall, puffing on their cigarettes, and began to talk about their past.

"My colleagues died one after another, and only a handful of them survived in the end."

"At that time, every second felt like ten years, like the worst episode of 'This Is Your Life'."

"Same here." Jon exhaled a smoke ring. "If I hadn't killed a lot of vampires to vent my anger, I probably wouldn't have made it."

"Wait a minute," Coulson's face showed a fleeting look of surprise, "You killed vampires just to vent your anger?"

"What else?" Jon shrugged and said, "They can't find any other reason to exist anyway, so I might as well vent my anger."

Jon Snow and Blade's reason for killing vampires was so simple and unpretentious; otherwise, why would they go to so much trouble?

There's no benefit to killing vampires, and the government won't give you a banner of appreciation.

"Good heavens..." Coulson rubbed his temples, deciding to change the subject, "Seriously, what pen name are you planning to use?"

"Good question."

Jon stroked his chin, deep in thought, when his gaze inadvertently fell on Coulson's face, and suddenly a flash of inspiration struck him.

He then said with a wicked grin:

"How about I tell my idol, Iron Man, that he can beat ten American Wolf Warrior captains?"

"Captain America: Wolf Warrior?" Coulson frowned. "That name sounds like a cross between Wolverine and Captain America..."

"Uh...more or less?"

Seeing that Coulson didn't understand, Jon decided to be vague and try to bluff his way out.

"Jon!"

Coulson suddenly frowned, startling Jon into thinking he had realized something.

Unexpectedly, Coulson only seriously discussed the issue of combat strength.

"Even without combining, Iron Man can't beat Captain America! You know, Captain America was—"

"I know, I know," Jon said impatiently, waving his hand as he stood up. "Captain America knocked Hitler out more than two hundred times, right? It's written in the museum."

"That's made up!" Coulson quickly chimed in, "But it's possible that Red Skull was knocked unconscious over two hundred times..."

"You need to know..."

Listening to Coulson's incessant chatter behind him, Jon quickened his pace and secretly rolled his eyes.

He's been hearing Coulson talk about Captain America's exploits so many times these past few days that he's practically worn out from it.

Not long after.

The two stood in front of the Hammer base, which was being relocated, watching countless vehicles transporting experimental equipment back and forth.

It's obvious that the experimental target is missing; these agents are preparing to leave.

"Did Jane return the equipment?" Jon asked casually.

"Well... no need to return it." Coulson carefully chose his words. "Simply put, they exchanged the cold, old equipment for warm money."

"Now we have to dispose of their equipment as scrap, sigh."

"Never mind, let's not talk about this." He suddenly remembered something and turned to ask, "I remember you lost your phone before?"

"Yeah, right." Jon shrugged, looking nonchalant. "What's done is done."

In his view, it didn't matter if the S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued phone was lost; after all, he hadn't paid for it himself.

It's not a pity to lose it at all.

"Perfect timing, we've replaced it for you, and even added a little surprise."

Coulson smiled mysteriously, then suddenly took off his sunglasses and shouted into the distance:

"Fitz! Did you hear me? Come here!"

"Yes, sir!"

A brown-haired researcher who was supervising the moving of materials nearby jumped up, waved, and then jogged over.

"A little surprise? Heh." Jon raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Phil, stop keeping me in suspense."

"Ahem, that won't work." Coulson coughed twice and lowered his voice. "Agent Fitz heard you lost your phone and volunteered to have one custom-made for you."

"He told me not to tell you what the surprise is, please understand."

"This is Fitz," Coulson patted Fitz on the shoulder as he ran up. "Tell him about it."

"Uh, it's actually a test machine, nothing special."

Fitz was a little flustered, but his tone immediately became confident when talking about his professional field.

"It's lightweight, durable, interference-resistant, has location and emergency call functions, and almost never malfunctions. Most importantly—it's extremely sturdy."

He paused, then added:

"If it survives long enough in Mr. Advisor's hands, it can be rolled out to all agents."

"What?" Jon frowned. What little surprise could there be?

But then he suddenly realized, good heavens, they were using him as a durability tester.

"I see." Jon took the phone and weighed it in his hand. "Thanks, Fitz. Your quick wit and ability to spout nonsense are definitely suited for fieldwork."

Coulson nodded in agreement; Fitz's ability to lie through his teeth certainly gave him the potential of a field agent.

It seems we can try reporting it.

Jon glanced at his phone.

This phone looks pretty much the same as the old one, except it seems a bit heavier; there's nothing particularly special about it.

"Advisor," Fitz added, "we also got you a replacement SIM card."

"Thanks, that saved me a lot of time." Jon casually swiped to open his phone. "By the way, how are we getting back? By car?"

"No, please!" Coulson immediately stopped him, saying with lingering fear, "I don't want to experience another car explosion."

"Also, you'd better not drive anymore, okay? You're just incompatible with this thing in your destiny."

"Those were all accidents!" Jon scoffed dismissively. "I'm a great driver! I'll prove it to you in a minute!"

Suddenly, the phone I had just turned on started vibrating wildly.

Ding ding ding ding—countless delayed messages flooded in instantly.

"etc!"

Jon felt a little dizzy looking at the 99+ unread messages displayed on the screen.

This was because most of the information came from two people: his aunt Pepper and Skye.

"Phil, haha." He forced a laugh, then swallowed hard. "I'm doomed..."

It was then that he realized he hadn't called Pepper to let her know he was safe for several days.

Given Pepper's personality, she would definitely go berserk.