American comics: You're asked to fish, but you catch a Superman template?

Page 1307

Chapter 1595 Iron Man

As the engine started, the Mark 1 accelerated, and Tony tried his best to navigate through the narrow gaps, but still bumped into the uneven cave walls several times.

"Da da da"

The familiar gunshots jolted Tony awake. The gunshots were chaotic and disorganized, and it seemed that only a complete novice like Ethan, who had never even touched a gun, could make such a sound.

"Ethan, where are you?"

Tony's eyes lit up, a gust of wind swept through the air, accompanied by a rustling sound.

He was nearing the cave entrance, getting closer and closer to escape, but when the gunfire stopped again, his anxiety grew.

Damn it.

Tony raised his hand to strike the terrorist who crawled out of the hole, but when he saw Ethan, who was skin and bones and crawling on the ground, still clutching the AC he had picked up from him, he muttered something bitterly.

"Tony, are you leaving?"

As the giant robot approached him, Ethan forced a smile, but after uttering only a few words, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and a metallic taste in his throat.

"Um..."

Seeing Ethan's pained expression, Tony's heart skipped a beat: the worst had happened.

As a billionaire, a reclusive inventor, and a playboy, Tony has few friends and almost no one he can confide in. Even Colonel Rhodes, whom he considers a close friend, has the support of the military, so Tony can't tell him everything.

On the other hand, Dr. Ethan was perhaps his only and first friend with whom he could confide completely.

Especially in a situation where Tony's life and death are completely out of his own hands, the timing of Ethan's appearance as a friend is crucial for him during his most vulnerable moment.

But now Ethan was covered in blood, with a bloody hole in his belt, and he lay helplessly on the ground, just as helplessly as he had been lying in bed before.

"Oh, no, no, Ethan, you'll be alright, don't worry, I'll get you away from here, we promised, I'll take you home."

Tony squatted down in front of Ethan, wanting to help him up, but he was afraid that he might hurt him if he didn't control his strength, so he was at a loss.

"No, don't waste your energy, Tony. I have to go. I need to see my Eleanor and my Gibson. Hurry, or it will be too late."

Ethan barely had time to finish speaking, but his voice grew softer and softer until Tony could no longer hear him, or even his breathing.

"No"

Watching his friend leave, Tony's eyes reddened; his heart was filled with sorrow, and anger burned fiercely within him.

Ever since he first saw his weapons fall into the hands of these terrorists and become tools for their slaughter, he had been suppressing his anger for a long time. Now, Ethan, the man he had lived with for a month, was dead before his eyes, and his anger suddenly erupted.

"Hurry, he's here, hurry!"

A commotion came from the direction of the cave entrance. Tony's eyes widened as he slowly turned his head to look into the distance, where the motors on his Iron Man suit were humming.

"Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh"

The sound of bullets flying through the air is the most dangerous signal, the note of death. Corpses are reduced to wreckage in the air by the impact of bullets.

Despite its rudimentary equipment and ugly appearance, the Mark 1 did not disappoint Tony's expectations. Its powerful firepower and mobility allowed this armored vehicle to play the role of death, enjoying life even in the narrow confines of a mountain cave.

"Get out of here!"

Tony lunged forward, knocking one of the Ten Rings members in front of him into the air and sending him flying.

Finally reaching the cave entrance, Tony looked at the panicked, scattered soldiers outside, and his anger cooled down a little. After all, these guys were also troublemakers, and many of them had been forced to join in after being surrounded.

However, his anger surged again when his gaze fell upon the Stark Industries ammunition piled up to the side.

"wash"

Tony pressed the button, aimed at the target, and fired a small rocket from the armor on his left arm. A bunch of weapons were instantly ignited and shot into the air like fireworks.

"Ding dong ding dong ding dong"

A heavy punch slammed into Tony's thick armor, knocking him to his feet. He looked up and saw an anti-aircraft machine gun firing furiously at the positions on the distant high ground.

Damn it.

Tony looked at the Ten Commandments stronghold engulfed in chaos, at the pool of flames from the explosion, and helplessly pressed the button. Looking up at the sky, a burst of flame shot out from the bottom of his armor, and the powerful thrust propelled him and his armor into the distance.

"News, news, news! Tony Stark has come back from the dead!"

"Breaking news! Billionaire and genius inventor Tony Stark is safe!"

In any case, journalism is the most sensitive field. The moment Tony rescued Rhodes, reporters found him, and by the time he boarded the plane back to America and New York, it had already caused quite a stir.

"Okay, tell him it's all taken care of."

Monk turned around: on the television screen, a man covered in bandages, eating a hamburger, and covered in dust stood in front of a group of reporters.

"I have decided to close Stark Industries' weapons division indefinitely."

"Keep up close, we'll take whatever market share there is. 953 is a great opportunity. Also, how's things going with Osborne?"

"Yes, sir, contact with Osborne is still ongoing, but their leader, Norman Osborne, has not shown up for some time, and contacting him is not easy."

"Kylo said respectfully."

“Keep trying, and if that doesn’t work, contact his son, Harry Osborne.” “This technology should fall into my hands.”

Monk placed his hands on the table, his face serious.

Interspecies gene transfer technology is crucial to his future plans. With this technology, he could easily become one of the world's most powerful figures, no less than the future Tony Stark, the future energy tycoon.

At the same time, he was busy vying for as many votes as possible. $2000 billion, even if only a portion were given to the Scots, would be enough to shake the entire American economy.

However, he didn't blindly rush into battle. Instead, he tried to keep a low profile and integrate himself into the industry. Now was not the time for him to show his skills, but the time was ripe to join Stark Industries, and he couldn't miss it.

“I will handle it. In addition, the first batch of people has been recruited, and everything is proceeding according to your requirements. The project can start at any time.”

Monk smiled; this was good news.

"Contact Frank and tell him that Project Watchers has begun."

Chapter 1596: Expressionless

Looking around at the thirty-odd people in front of him, Monk grinned, satisfied: this was his future team, the first step for him to gain a foothold in the Marvel world.

Why are they all children?

Frank frowned: the so-called job applicants standing downstairs, the oldest looked no more than sixteen years old, and the youngest was only thirteen or fourteen.

“They should be in school, not here being trained as our tools. War is for adults.”

Frank walked up to Monk and stared at him intently, as if he would shoot Monk if his answer did not satisfy him.

"Is war a matter for adults?"

Monk smiled.

“Say these words to the warlords in war-torn regions, to the children who have lost their parents and can only die in the flames of war zones, but please don’t say them to me, okay?”

Monk squeezed past Frank and looked at the children standing below.

“They, all of them, are people I brought from the most dangerous war zones, the poorest mountain jungles, and the most sinful gray urban areas.”

Monk turned to look at Frank.

"They have different skin colors and speak different languages, but they have one thing in common: they have all lost their parents, stolen, robbed, killed, eaten rotting corpses, and caught rats, tree bark, and grass roots. To survive, they have experienced almost everything."

Frank remained expressionless: as a seasoned veteran, going to the battlefield was like coming home to him, and he naturally knew the plight of children in war zones.

“Go to school? They don’t even know if they’ll survive tomorrow. You know what they say when my people stand in front of them with freshly baked bread and ask if they want to go somewhere to eat?”

Frank shook his head, his resolute face now devoid of expression. He pressed his lips tightly together, swallowing his words.

“Here, I can feed them; here, I don’t have to worry about them being shot, chopped up, or eaten tomorrow; here, they can live like human beings, and tell me, why wouldn’t I use these children?”

"But they are just children, and they are unhappy." "But that is not a reason to send them to the battlefield."

Frank whispered

"But when vampires come, they don't care if they are children or not; they still prefer children's blood. When monsters come, they don't care if they are children or not either. War never touches them; it always touches everyone. Perhaps with our training, they will have a greater chance of survival when danger comes."

Frank was clearly unable to refute Monk's words.

“I will train them and teach them to read and write. Your task is to train them into elite soldiers as much as possible. We naturally hope that they will never have to go to the battlefield! But if something unexpected happens, your training will help more of them survive.”

"But how do I know you think differently from those warlords? 'Use them as weapons and tools' to fight for the power you want?"

Frank was clearly still somewhat stubborn, because that's just the kind of stubborn person he was.

"Is it wrong to fight for power? How do you know I'm fighting for rule like those warlords and not for survival?"

Monk looked back at Frank, then went downstairs to the floor and looked at the children. This was perhaps the first time since they were born that someone had washed their clothes, fed them, and dressed them in new clothes.

Monk is an ambitious person. What he's building now isn't a superhero league; it's a different plan. What he's doing now is something more realistic about the future and what needs to happen.

"Do you know who I am?"

Ignoring the children's bewildered looks, Monk continued.

“I am your boss, your master, the provider of everything you enjoy now: good food, good clothes, hot water, and a spacious, bright holiday.”

This time, the children finally reacted, but only slightly: the pressure of survival had already dulled their spirits.

Do you know why I recruited you?

"You want us to work for you?"