American comics: Starting with replicating Superman's talent

Chapter 408 The New York Disaster

At Stark Tower, Tony listened to Natasha Romanoff explain, "Almost everyone has lost connection, and that only happens under one specific circumstances."

She leaned back on the sofa, her face serious.

"What do you mean?"

Tony also realized the seriousness of the situation; he didn't believe that old man Fury would let all the agents go missing.

"That means everyone has infiltrated some kind of mission." Natasha took a deep breath, clearly still reeling from the shock of the turn of events.

"But Fury couldn't possibly not have informed me." She shook her head, pointing out the oddity of the situation.

"And what kind of mission would warrant all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents starting an operation?"

As the group was talking, Jarvis, the AI ​​that had been silently operating in the background, suddenly spoke up: "Mr. Stark, my security alerts have detected numerous unidentified individuals armed with firearms rapidly approaching this area."

"What?"

Tony looked up blankly, holding a firearm, and approached.

But Obama, who coveted his wealth, was dead. Who would dare to target a billionaire like himself? Besides, this was the free United States; how could anyone possibly carry a large number of firearms?

"Get down!"

Natasha reacted even faster than Tony. She lunged at Tony and pinned him to the ground. The next second, two missiles whistled through the air and slammed into the bulletproof glass of Stark Tower.

A deafening roar exploded in our ears, and shrapnel flew everywhere, striking every corner of the hall.

"A generous gift, thank you!"

Tony, pinned down by Natasha, looked up in horror and saw several Harrier fighter jets flying past the window, slowly floating outside, with two machine gun muzzles slowly popping out from the lower part of the cockpit.

"Jarvis, armor!"

Tony didn't have time to think about why he didn't go to Asgard with Ginobili, nor was he in the mood to consider that now.

Several steel armored figures, their legs spewing flames, flew towards Tony and carried him inside their armor.

"Laser weapon!"

Tony raised his arm, and two crimson high-temperature lasers swept across the area like deadly heat vision, easily splitting the fighter jet in two and exploding it with a bang, leaving behind a dazzling firework in the air. The swirling heat roared into Stark Tower, causing bricks and stones to fly.

"Mazefak!"

Underneath his mask, an enraged Tony cursed wildly. He clearly hadn't expected that the missing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents weren't there to save the world and maintain peace, but instead to send a large number of agents to assassinate him, a billionaire.

"Has your bureau chief gone mad?"

Tony roared at Natasha, who was sprawled on the ground, "So what if I didn't want to join his freakish alliance?"

"Is it necessary to send fighter jets to bomb me?"

Natasha got up from the floor, checking the bullets in her pistol while warily watching the door leading to the living room. She said, "Something must have happened. Fury isn't that crazy."

"I don't care what happened, I was almost blown up by him just now!"

Tony, his face dark, scanned the area with his thermal imaging compound eyes and said, "Three on the right wall, two on the left wall!"

"With reinforcements constantly arriving from all sides, I have a feeling that we might be going to have a massacre today."

As he spoke, Tony adjusted the equipment inside his armor, inwardly cursing what was going on.

All we can do now is fend off these frenzied attacks and then search for the truth.

At the same time that Tony was attacked.

Inside a magnificent, golden hall in New York City.

Celebrities and dignitaries strolled among them, each dressed in a suit and tie, holding a wine glass and displaying the demeanor of the upper class.

New York City is beautiful, and it's also cruel.

He was aggressive towards the poor, but obsequious towards the rich.

The walls are covered with beautiful murals, and a magnificent and mysterious chandelier hangs from the ceiling, making the whole room look incredibly bright.

The musicians, hired at great expense, played cheerful and elegant music on their violins.

Every now and then, men and women would catch each other's eye and then walk together toward the rooms on the second floor of the hall.

So-called celebrity parties are really just a primal impulse.

Swish! !

The tranquility didn't last long. A whistling arrow pierced the glass and dutifully landed in the very center of the hall. The ring attached to the arrowhead popped open instantly, and wisps of dark green smoke filled the entire hall.

Those who inhaled the smoke offered almost no resistance; their eyes rolled back and they collapsed to the ground.

"The intrusion has been successful."

Agent Barton, with his blue eyes, led a group of valiant S.H.I.E.L.D. agents through the window.

Behind them, a handsome man in a black suit, with a wicked smile on his face, was walking towards an elderly white man in the crowd.

"No, no, no, what are you going to do!"

Upon seeing this man, whose demeanor was clearly extraordinary, approaching him, the host of the banquet, a wealthy tycoon, was immediately thrown into a panic.

"What are you doing?"

Loki burst into the banquet, grabbed the man by the neck, and slammed him onto the cold marble floor.

"I just want to borrow some of your things to accomplish something, like your eyeballs."

Loki chuckled, slowly raising his right hand. Dark green magical energy, like tiny snakes, burrowed into the man's eyes, then easily removed the eyeball amidst his pitiful wails.

"Take it, take everything I need."

Such a huge commotion quickly attracted the attention of the local police.

Countless police cars with flashing red and blue lights rushed to the scene.

Soon, a fierce firefight broke out between the agents and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were waiting outside for instructions.

Loki watched this scene with a detached expression, a faint, mocking smile on his face: "Heh, foolish mortals."

He waved his hand gently, and instantly his black suit transformed into the prince's robe he wore in Asgard.

He stared at the golden scepter in his hand, his face filled with fanaticism: "Once I conquer Midgard, Father, and Thor, you will know that I am right!"

Still in New York.

Peter, who was doing his homework, suddenly looked up.

His spider senses were going off like crazy, and Peter stood up and looked out the window.

He saw that the Stark Tower, the tallest building in downtown New York City, was now billowing smoke.

Numerous roaring fighter jets were rushing towards Stark Tower, dropping missiles that unleashed even more violent explosions.

"What's going on?!"

Peter was completely bewildered. You see, this is New York City. Although violent incidents often occur here, they don't use fighter jets and missiles to carry out combat operations!

I have to go there and see.

(End of this chapter)