Marvel Salted Fish Kryptonian

This attitude has already irritated some people. The call wasn't meant to be a warning, but an ultimatum.

Standing on the brink of power, does the fat congressman have the option to retreat?

In fact, he knew very well that some of the things he had done had cut off all his retreat routes. If he dared to take a step back, those who had supported him in the past would also push him off the cliff.

So he could only continue, gambling that he could pass this level and successfully move on to the next level. If he couldn't pass, at least he would be a martyr like Dr. Martin Luther King; it was better than being a traitor and being despised by others.

Henry didn't think the other party on the phone was some kind of messenger of justice. They were simply taking different sides on the same issue. The fat councilman's interests were undermining their own, so they stood up to denounce him.

Simply put, when dogs bite each other, both get a mouthful of fur.

This has nothing to do with me, the big Kryptonian. Henry eats his fill and sleeps peacefully.

The reason why I can stay here is because life here is much better than when I was imprisoned in Siberia...

But this rare day of comfort did not last long. In the middle of the night on the second day of Henry's house arrest, the sound of gunfire was like a stone thrown into the water, causing countless waves.

Those who were resting in the lounge jumped up immediately, grabbed their suit jackets by the bed, and rushed out. Everyone was armed with guns and hadn't changed into casual pajamas, looking ready for battle at any time, which was why they were so quick.

But Henry was lying on the bed quite unsociable, not wanting to pay any attention to the fierce gun battle outside.

"Boy, get up. It's your turn to play a role!" Someone shook Henry and said in panic.

Henry only raised his middle finger, holding it straight and strong, not slack. Then he rolled up the quilt to cover his head and continued to ignore the disturbances outside.

Suddenly, someone put a gun to his head and said viciously, "Believe it or not, if you don't get up, you will sleep here forever."

Henry pulled down the quilt, looked at the person who threatened him with sleepy eyes, and only replied: "Fuck you idiot." Then he continued to sleep with his mouth open.

The man who threatened Henry with the gun was also a ruthless person. He fired without thinking! And then the bullet ricocheted...

Everyone then remembered why the congressman had captured this man to serve as a member of his entourage. It was because he was bulletproof and could not be killed by guns.

The shooter, who had just been nearly hit by a ricochet, cursed, "Damn mutants."

Henry didn't bother to correct him and continued trying to find a way to sleep.

This look naturally angered others. The man who fired the gun grabbed Henry's hair, lifted him up, and then punched him hard! The punch made him scream.

It was certainly not Henry who was in a trance who was crying out in pain. He half-opened his confused eyes and asked, "Was there a mosquito bite just now?"

The man who had hit him had a bloody fist and an obvious open fracture. He was having trouble even firing his gun and kept cursing.

Seeing such a tragic situation, the crowd had no better means to threaten Henry, so the leader had no choice but to assign two less experienced people nearby and said, "Never mind, you carry him and move him to the congressman to help block the bullets."

Of course, the person who was called out looked worried, but he had no choice but to do it.

Of course, Henry was extremely uncooperative and let others manipulate him.

Two people, one on the left and one on the right, put their hands on Henry's shoulders and put their hands around the back of his neck, and then they struggled to help the two-hundred-pound man up.

If Henry had been more self-aware and followed suit, the two people beside him would have had less trouble. But Henry just let himself be dragged, not moving. This was far more troublesome than simply dragging someone to death.

The unlucky guy who broke his fist while beating someone up had his wound simply wrapped in gauze. He held a gun in one hand and followed the crowd with a resentful look in his eyes.

He intended to kill this uncooperative man directly, but he didn't have a suitable weapon. He was already thinking about how to get a larger caliber gun so that he could put a hole in this damn bastard.

This is a very simple American way of thinking: if it can't penetrate armor, it just means the caliber is not big enough. If caliber can't solve the problem, then consider the equivalent!

Chapter 210 I'm Not Happy

Compared to the fat, dark congressman in his silk pajamas, Henry, who was dragged here like a dead dog, was still wearing the same clothes he had yesterday. He didn't bring any change of clothes to join this reluctant new job.

The two men in black suits who had been carrying Henry all the way to the congressman threw him to the ground, causing Henry to cry out in pain.

The fat councilman maintained his arrogant attitude. He looked down at Henry, who was lying face down on the ground with his butt in the air, and said, "Mutant, it's time to play your role. Protect me and get me out safely."

Henry turned over and sat on the ground. He slowly took out a cigarette that he had gotten from somewhere and lit it respectfully and slowly as if performing some kind of ritual.

After taking a long puff of his cigarette, he said, "Mr. Congressman, please forgive me for declining this job. I never wanted to help you from the beginning. Why bother with someone as insignificant as me?"

"You!" The fat congressman swallowed, then his face changed drastically and he said viciously: "Do you know what will happen if you offend me? Mutant?"

"What will be the outcome?" Henry asked with wide eyes, like a curious baby.

"If I can't survive, neither can you." The fat congressman angrily said to the staff around him, "Kill him! I'll take care of the rest."

I really don't know where this fat black congressman hired these ruthless people. With just one word from him, almost everyone pulled out their guns and started shooting!

There were some people who just stood there and watched the show. Most of them were from the group that had carried Henry out earlier. However, they had no time to stop their companions. They just watched the man sitting on the ground being knocked to the ground by the gunfire.

Henry was still howling in agony, as if it were a serious matter. The shooter didn't think much of it and just kept firing until he emptied a magazine.

Henry was shot and rolled on the ground, and the floor beside him was also affected and was covered with pits and scars.

But when everyone had emptied their guns, Henry, still writhing on the ground, changed from his initial cries of pain to a deep-throated laugh. The irony was obvious.

Looking at this scene, everyone finally remembered why they had come to find this man.

The fat congressman's expression was once again stunned and full of amusement. He completely ignored the fact that he had previously ordered his men to shoot and quickly changed his tone, saying, "I'll give you a million dollars to protect me and get out."

Henry smiled and said, "Oh, Mr. Congressman, I may not be able to do what you ask. I am in pain all over my body right now. I may have broken bones, pulled muscles, broken nails, and split hair.

"If someone shoots me a few more times, I might not be able to hold on any longer. So, save that one million for a decent funeral. Maybe you can invite an archbishop to preside over it. Ah, I'm dying, dying... Hahahaha!"

No matter how good his acting skills are, he couldn't hold back in such a situation. Henry just burst out laughing and rolled on the ground.

"Fuck! You're dead, you're really dead. I know the military is still conducting experiments on mutants. You think bullets can't hurt you, so you can..."

"Bang, bang, bang!" Gunshots rang out at close range. The reason Henry had been messing around here for so long was to delay time and let those gunmen come in.

Today's matter was simple, Henry didn't even need to think of a way to kill someone with a borrowed knife. Wasn't it because this old black man was the target of others that he regarded himself as a lifeline?

There is no need to expose your abilities or dirty your hands. Just play dead and someone will naturally come forward to deal with this guy.

However, I don't know if it's because these people can't think straight, or for some other reason. The fat old black man in front of me only focused on himself, and no one around him reminded him.

Is this a desperate attempt to find a cure? Otherwise, it is simply unimaginable why a normal person would behave in such a foolish manner.

Even more terrible was the fact that the group that rushed in was quite disciplined. When the attention of the people inside was diverted, they did not alert the enemy, but instead quietly deployed their troops, occupied all the advantageous positions in front, and semi-encircled the parliamentarians.

Once they have completed their deployment, attack immediately!

It can be said that Henry became the biggest assist; he even used himself as bait to make most of the congressman's entourage empty their magazines.

So in the first wave of attacks, they took down quite a few people. However, the black congressman with the largest area seemed to be blessed by God, and not a single bullet hit him.

On the one hand, it was late at night and there was only dim lighting in the house, so everyone could only see silhouettes and couldn't tell who was who.

Faced with this apparent encirclement, the congressman's entourage seemed to have their wits about them. Those with bullets still in their guns did not stop to fire at the enemy, but instead marched their employer in the direction of retreat.

As for the unlucky guy who was shot down, his life or death was unknown, and no one came to rescue him. Even Henry, who was obviously uncooperative, was abandoned.

No matter how foolish they were, they should have seen clearly by now that bringing Henry along would not only be of no use, but might even hinder them.

So no one mentioned whether to carry him away and continue to use him as a human shield. Because if they wanted to do that, at least someone would have to "carry" him.

It would take at least two people, slow down the process, and he might reveal his position by talking, and then we wouldn't be able to kill him... At this point everyone really wanted to ask, which pig proposed to recruit this mutant?

Henry sat up from the ground, sneered, and looked coldly at the old, black, fat congressman who was running away in a panic.

Many wealthy and powerful people, who were more powerful and wealthy than this old black man, had offered him olive branches before, but Henry didn't accept any of them. The group didn't even complain, but just smiled and left.

Is old money more cultured?

Stop it. Because those people understand that if the person is unwilling to cooperate in this kind of bullet-proof job, it would be better to buy a few more bulletproof briefcases for their team.

Furthermore, being an attaché inevitably involves a certain degree of involvement in one's privacy, so whether this person is trustworthy is a very important issue.

Can such a candidate be forced into submission by coercion or threats? Is this because you think your life is too long and you are not afraid that the other party will fail at the critical moment?

Any normal person would be able to think of this. This is why Henry chose to reveal his body of steel among his many superpowers in order to prove that he was qualified to be Audrey Hepburn's assistant and bodyguard.

Because this is a purely defensive passive ability, it poses the least threat to others; and if others want to use it, Henry's willingness is the most critical part.

If simple bribery doesn't work, then threats are the only option. And since threats directed at the person themselves are basically ineffective, then the only option is to work on interpersonal relationships...

Who should be taken as a hostage to threaten a man of unknown origin who has no father, no mother, no wife, no children, and no girlfriend?

Earlier, in the eyes of some old money, Audrey Hepburn could be Henry Brown's weakness... But now that the person is dead, do you want to dig up the grave and use the body to threaten people?

The reason why Henry stayed today to perform this farce was to prove to all the audience with his actions that no matter how big the world is, the biggest thing is that I am unhappy!

A comeback? As long as I don't want it, no one can help me with a frying spatula!

Chapter 211 The Gunmen's Dilemma

Henry, having performed and watched a play, sat on the ground, grinning triumphantly. Laughing alone, the laughter gradually faded. The mood would eventually calm down.

He turned around suddenly, looking at the gunmen who had surrounded him and asked, "Aren't you going to chase that fat black guy? You should know that I can't stop you alone without a weapon."

"Oh, you are so careful in your words." A man walked out from the gunman, and his voice made Henry feel familiar.

Thinking carefully, he remembered that the person he was talking to was the man in black suits who was working as a security guard at a luxury mansion banquet more than a year ago. A group of gunmen rushed in. In the end, a seasoned gunman grabbed the target and sent him to his death. The person who spoke was this man in front of him.

So, were these people from the Continental Hotel again? Unsurprisingly, Henry had overheard Tony Stark and Alex Hart's private conversation in the study. That's how he guessed where these people came from.

But so what? When it's time to act dumb, your acting skills still have to be on point. Henry feigned confusion, propped up his tattered clothes and said, "Look, there are so many holes on my body. I'm a victim. It has nothing to do with you."

"Heh." He chuckled. But this gunman, who looked to be of retirement age, had two strange men standing beside him.

One of them had a green face and fangs, and his entire face was stretched beyond the limit of an ordinary person. It looked like he was about to pounce on Henry.

The other person's arms were emitting white light, which gradually turned into a hard substance.

But the gunman who came out stopped the two men. He squatted in front of Henry and said, "You know, we were going to attack yesterday. The employer's request was to kill everyone in this house, leaving no one alive.

"We only received intelligence that you had joined the councillors' camp, so we postponed it for a day to make extra preparations. Now it seems that the situation is different from what everyone expected."

"So," Henry looked at the two men who had no intention of stopping and asked, "Are they the preparations you mentioned?"

One looks like a vampire, the other a mutant. Does the Continental Hotel recruit people like that? Actually, there's no rule that the Continental Hotel must be a purely human organization...

The old gunman squatting in front of him asked curiously: "Are they useful?"

"I don't know. I'm curious too." Henry asked, "What would you do if you couldn't achieve your employer's goals?"

"You're not the main target after all, so we have to at least contain you."

"Then your main target has escaped. In this way, I am playing the role of a protector." Henry excused himself.

The old gunman stood up and said, "Haha, those coming from the backyard are from the Russian gang, and Baba Yaga is among them. If that black man wants to escape, he'll have to ask the X-Men for help.

"However, if a gunfight of this magnitude happened in New York, it would be more effective if the congressman had a way to contact the X-Men than calling 911. But this is Los Angeles on the West Coast. By the time the X-Men arrive, he will be dead."

"Oh, then should I be happy for you, or should I feel sorry for the councillor?"

"If you're worried about someone recording your testimony or using it in court, you should pretend to shed a few tears for that black congressman. That way you can show that you're drawing a clear line between you and us."

Hearing this, Henry knew his previous behavior had been noticed by the other party. He pretended not to be embarrassed at all and asked, "Can I go home now? I'll catch a cold in this weather wearing this."

Henry put his fingers through the holes in his clothes and looked innocent.

The old gunman threw up his hands helplessly. "Didn't I tell you? The employer wants everyone here dead. No one left alive. Your situation is very unique. You seem to want to be an outsider, so I'm not sure I can kill you."

"So we have no choice but to ask you to come with us and meet the hotel manager to see how she decides on this outcome. I think this will be better for you than having us issue a hunt without any regard for the consequences."

Henry stood up, wearing rags worse than beggars' clothes, and said, "You mean, I have to go to that hotel with you guys so that we can solve this problem?"

"The Continental Hotel in Los Angeles, the only assassin's haven on the West Coast." The veteran gunman looked at the young man before him and said, "You can refuse, but we'll just have to carry out our employer's original purpose. You know that."

The old gunslinger's greasy nature was fully revealed at this moment, quite a counterpoint to Henry's acting as a fool.

If it's just one person acting, they can still argue that they're just playing dumb to laugh at the group drama. But if it's two people acting, there's no end to it.

Henry, impatient for such a sparring match, said, "I'm fine with you. I'm unarmed and can't resist. But could you please give me some pants to wear? It's not very polite to go to the hotel like this. I don't want to be kicked out by the concierge."

Although Henry himself was bulletproof, his clothes were not. And the people who had just been bombarded with bullets didn't care where to shoot, as long as they hit someone.

Henry, who was knocked to the ground, just screamed in pain while being shot, without deliberately controlling which side was hit more and which side was hit less. As a result, although he was not in danger of being exposed, he was in danger of exposing his penis.

He only realized this after he stood up. If he had been a little more shameless, he would have covered his private parts like a little girl, crouching down and screaming in shame.

The old gunman also saw this unsightly scene, but he didn't let anyone go back inside to look for clothes. Instead, he took off his suit jacket and threw it on Henry, saying, "I'll lend it to you first, but remember to return it."

Henry took the suit jacket and felt something strange on his hands. He asked, "What kind of wool is this made of? It's so heavy."

"Kevlar fiber. Ordinary small pistols can't penetrate it."

"Oh, bulletproof." A specialty of the Continental Hotel line: bulletproof suits. Every man should have one! Even Henry considered it.

There's no way around it. I'm bulletproof, but my clothes aren't. I didn't die, but I ended up dying socially. It's better to just die.

Henry didn't use the suit to cover his penis directly, but tied his tattered shirt around his waist to cover the unsightly part. At least the back was still mostly intact and could provide some coverage.