Don't I live here?
Oh no, it should be that home...
Blaine was really a little sluggish this time.
Damn it, I had just walked out the front door, and my place was blown up the next second?
In fact, Blaine only needed to think for a moment to understand why these guys wanted to blow up his home.
I'm afraid it was to show off to the President—a superhero can't save you!
But why the hell are you blowing me up?
Blaine looked baffled.
Wait!
Am I not a superhero?
No one would believe otherwise. After all, Blaine's actions in the open were almost all "good things," such as fighting Abomination, Fighting aliens...
Say anything like that, and it's a superhero label.
However...
He had done plenty in private too: killing one of the five leaders of the Hand, killing Harold Meachum, capturing Loki...
Wait!
Blaine's eyes snapped open. Calculating it out, the only truly bad thing he had done was stealing Mjolnir? Damn.
In short, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been tricked, and there was no way they could uncover this kind of thing.
These guys weren't really the Ten Rings anyway. They didn't have that kind of power.
Blaine was still annoyed.
What do you want from me? Even if I am a superhero, wouldn't it be more impressive for you to go after others instead of blowing up my house?
In terms of influence, Blaine was the smallest and most invisible one—not even on the same level as Natasha or Hawkeye.
Still, that being said...
After Blaine thought it through, he understood.
The superheroes currently out in the open and repeatedly exposed to the public were:
Tony, Thor, Banner, Barton, Natasha, and himself.
Thor had returned to Asgard.
Banner was missing.
Barton and Natasha, as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, were also off the grid.
As for Tony... Aldrich Killian, the one behind this, still needed Tony alive, so he didn't try to kill him immediately.
Looking at it this way, the only "superhero" left whose house could be found was the most insignificant one—him.
Don't kill the man, just blow up his house. It still makes a statement, right?
Anyway, the general public didn't need to know if it was the home of a real superhero, as long as the higher-ups got the message.
Regarding this, Blaine was still a little helpless.
What's an unexpected calamity? This is an unexpected disaster. He wasn't even a real hero, and yet even Aldrich Killian could find him and make him a target.
He was truly pissed.
Now Blaine couldn't sleep.
To sum it up, he chose to call a taxi and go back to have a look.
As the owner, he naturally had to see what happened to his home.
What's more, this house was his current cover. If anyone wanted to find him, they could only come here. Now that it had been blown up, he'd have to find another one.
Is it really my house? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
His gloomy face during the ride scared the taxi driver so much that the man feared he might suddenly pull a pistol from under his coat and shoot him.
Fortunately, Blaine was harmless—apart from his ugly mood.
Back in Queens, behind the street where his home was, Blaine discovered that martial law had been imposed.
And not only his building, but the neighbor's building was also sealed off.
What's the meaning of this?
All Blaine's current information came from TV, so he didn't know why two houses were being blocked off at once.
Still, in his heart, he vaguely had a bad guess.
This conjecture still needed confirmation.
Blaine randomly approached a kind-hearted middle-aged woman watching the scene from outside the cordon and asked, "Hi, may I ask what happened?"
No matter the country, people always liked to gather around for excitement—except maybe during gunfights.
"Young man, don't you even know?"
The woman looked at Blaine in surprise, then explained: "That house was bombed by terrorists."
As she spoke, she pointed at Blaine's home.
It was obvious at a glance.
Blaine nodded. His house had been blown full of craters, blackened and still burning. The firefighters only dared to spray water from outside, afraid the building might collapse if they entered. They were calling it a dangerous structure. Everyone agreed.
"Then why block off the one next to it too?"
It was obvious that it had also been damaged, but Blaine still wanted to be sure.
"The house next door was unlucky. It was caught in the blast. The whole family was watching TV in the living room when the wall collapsed, crushing them. Three people—none survived."
The woman's expression grew sad. She clearly lived nearby and knew the family: "They were good people. The child was a little naughty but always eager to help others. Who knew today..."
She wanted to say more, but when she looked up, Blaine had already vanished into the crowd.
Pushing his way out, Blaine's face was grim.
He was getting angry.
Originally, he hadn't planned to get involved, preferring to wait for Tony's call to give him a mission.
But now... it didn't matter.
Blaine decided that this time, he didn't want money. He would kill these people in his own name.
But just as he took a few steps, his cell phone rang.
According to the system display, it was Tony calling.
Blaine answered: "Hello?"
"Mr. Hunter, are you on a mission right now?"
Tony's heavy voice came from the other end. He was clearly in no good mood.
Happy had been caught in the bombing?
Blaine sighed inwardly, but his tone stayed cold: "No."
"Good."
Tony let out a breath, then quickly said, "Mr. Hunter, Happy, the head of security for Stark Industries, was seriously injured. He suffered internal trauma and severe burns. I'm issuing a mission for his treatment. Will you accept it?"
By the end, Tony's voice carried hope.
Because with injuries this severe, unless a miracle occurred, Happy might never wake again.
Tony had no other options—so he turned to Blaine.
And Blaine lived up to expectations.
After pondering briefly, he nodded: "I accept the task. Tell me the location, and I'll be there soon."
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