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

Chapter 85 The Security Council's Troublemaking

"I'll be waiting for you there, Jon."

Coulson hung up the phone and turned the steering wheel with one hand to park the car in front of the roadside bar.

After unbuckled his seatbelt, Coulson got out of the car, straightened his tie, and then pushed open the door to get in.

"Hey Paris, same old rules, but this time no that damn little umbrella."

"I think anyone who says it can prevent alcohol from evaporating is talking nonsense."

He walked straight to the bar and called out to the bartender.

"Really? You don't want a small umbrella again?"

Paris shook his head helplessly, pressed the button under the counter, and shrugged, saying, "Agent Coulson, I agree with you. To be honest, I've been bartending for twenty years and I've never seen this little gadget prevent alcohol from evaporating."

As the two chatted, the sign on the bar door that read "Open for Business" quietly changed to "Closed".

Clearly, this bar is another secret base set up by Nick Fury, that insecure turtle.

"I also think it's useless." Coulson took the glass. "By the way, we have guests coming later."

"Understood." Paris pushed his glass towards the door. "I'll be guarding the entrance, don't worry."

A moment later, Jon, licking his ice cream, swayed to the door.

"Hello." He nodded casually to the bartender and was about to walk inside.

Upon seeing the person approaching, Paris calmly blocked their path, extending his hand to stop them, saying, "Excuse me, sir, our bar is already closed. Please go somewhere else."

"Agent Coulson contacted me. I'm a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., and my name is Jon Yovik."

"You're that consultant? Wow, you don't seem like the rumors at all."

Paris raised an eyebrow. Looking at Jon's belly, he didn't think he could eat three thousand breakfasts.

"Forget the rumors, can you please move aside?"

Jon's patience was wearing thin; after all, he was a bit socially awkward and didn't like talking to strangers.

Noticing Jon's impatient gaze, Paris quickly and tactfully stepped aside.

"Advisor, please come in."

After Jon went inside, Paris made sure no one was around before following him in and locking the door behind him.

Then I jogged all the way to the bar.

"Hey, bartender!" Jon tapped the empty table. "We're getting a big spender today, but where's my liquor?"

Paris was about to hand over the freshly mixed cocktail.

Suddenly, Jon nudged Coulson with his elbow and teased, "Give me a couple more umbrellas. Unlike some people who don't like these things, I love the vibe. Give me more."

Coulson rolled his eyes silently, downed his drink in one gulp, and spoke with a hint of complaint in his voice.

"Jon, do you know about the Security Council?"

"Of course." Jon twirled the small umbrella in his hand, his eyes becoming playful. "Those big shots who pay your salaries."

How could he not know about this organization?

This is an organization spearheaded by the five most powerful countries in the world.

That is, their direct superior at S.H.I.E.L.D., who is specifically responsible for the allocation of funds and international security.

The initial reason for the establishment of S.H.I.E.L.D. was to alleviate international conflicts.

S.H.I.E.L.D., formerly the Strategic Scientific Corps, naturally became a buffer zone between powerful nations.

In short, as those officials got older, their minds became senile.

So it's no surprise that Coulson summoned him this time.

"What stupid thing did they do this time to make you like this?"

"Sigh." Coulson nodded, his expression turning serious. "They made a brilliant request of Fury."

"That was the stupidest and most ill-considered request I've ever heard, do you understand?"

"Let me guess—" Jon raised an eyebrow, "Another one of those brilliant ideas to instigate conflict around the world, like attacking Afghanistan?"

"Pretty much, but it's us." Coulson complained, his face ashen. "Those idiots want to include Bronsky in their team."

"Blonsky?" Jon feigned doubt. "That sounds like a Russian name."

"It's hatred, that shit-green monster who tore up Harlem, Blonsky is his real name."

"Oh, it's him." Jon feigned sudden realization. "I knew it."

Jon actually knew who Bronsky was, but he couldn't say it because the name wasn't even on the news here.

After all, Bronsky was a military hero before he became an Abomination.

Therefore, his real name could not possibly appear in the newspapers, as that would be bad for the military's image.

Upon hearing this, Jon's eyes darted around, and after a moment's thought, he guessed, "Those old men want to shift all the blame onto Dr. Banner? What a cunning scheme."

"Yes, they've put pressure on us." Coulson interlaced his fingers. "The ultimatum is the day after tomorrow."

"etc..."

Jon suddenly narrowed his eyes, catching the key words.

"Why is the UN Security Council pressuring you?" He leaned forward. "Don't tell me you have that thing."

"Jon," Coulson stared at him silently for a long time before speaking, "what is your clearance level?"

"Interesting, it's Lv.5." Jon laughed, then said dismissively, "What, is this a topic only for Lv.8?"

Coulson did not answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Ha!" Jon leaned back, looking tense. "You guys actually locked that bastard up."

Jon's expression froze.

He had only heard of Abomination in the future She-Hulk storyline, and he never expected that this hot potato would actually be in the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Omg.

Don't S.H.I.E.L.D. agents understand the situation?

This abomination is clearly a ticking time bomb. Aren't they afraid of it getting out of control if they just keep it locked up like this?

A monster that can go toe-to-toe with the normal Hulk, can S.H.I.E.L.D. control it? He certainly didn't believe it.

"It's not actually in our hands," Coulson revealed the answer. "It's with General Ross, but we do have jurisdiction over it."

"Heh, just like Fury," Jon scoffed. "What did that old fox say? He's probably busy counting his money, isn't he?"

Paris, behind the bar, flinched and immediately bent down to pretend to wipe the cups.

As a Level 3 agent, the secrets he overheard today were enough to get him silenced three times over.

But the two officers wouldn't let him leave, and Paris couldn't leave either; he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Fury certainly doesn't want it," Coulson sighed, "but he can't refuse the Security Council's order."

"I see."

The situation is now crystal clear:

The Security Council officials mistakenly believed that Abomination was in the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D. and exerted pressure to demand its release.

In reality, Fury had already passed this hot potato to Ross, a smart choice.

But sometimes being too clever can backfire. Given Ross's current situation, in order to appease the Security Council...

The ostracized general would absolutely offer up hatred in exchange for the Security Council's support.

When Coulson and his unlucky gang go on missions, they'll have to carry a biological weapon that could go berserk at any moment.

My condolences to you all, hahaha.

After a long silence, Jon suddenly brightened up and suggested, "Phil, I have an idea."

He tapped the table to get Coulson's attention, then said pointedly, "Do you think... if Captain America were still alive, would his words carry any weight with the military?"

"Of course it works," Coulson answered instinctively. "The seventy years of unpaid wages alone would be enough to give the military a run for their money."

"Wait, are you serious?" He suddenly stopped. "Jon, you mean...?"

Jon Snow gave a sly smile and said, "This is the plan."

"watt!"

Coulson jumped to his feet, his glass rattling on the bar.

"What did you mean by that just now?" he said in a low voice. "You'd better not be joking."

"It seems someone's intelligence is outdated. I'll keep that a secret for now."

Jon slowly inserted the small umbrella into the wine glass.

"Remember the deal I made with you?" He looked up and stared directly at Coulson. "I asked you to send someone to Rome to find the Pillar Man, and in return, I would take care of the hatred in New York."

"A very fair deal."

Paris, on the other side, silently took two steps back, pretending to be just a decoration.

"I at least need to know if the plan is feasible." Coulson loosened his tie. "I can't exactly tell Fury that an advisor said he can handle it."

Jon suddenly leaned forward, his voice extremely low, like a seductive devil.

"So you're going to listen to my crazy ideas?"

"Of course, I called you here to hear your crazy ideas."

"So?" Jon swirled his glass. "Deal?"

"Deal." Coulson took a deep breath, suddenly grabbed the bottle, and poured a glass for each of them.

(Monthly tickets, monthly tickets, godfathers, please give me monthly tickets!)

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