As he rappelled down on a rope, a figure in a black combat robe, hooded and carrying a quiver, landed in front of Merlin.
Avengers ADC, Hawkeye.
"Kid, are you okay?" Clinton strode over to Merlin and asked with concern.
The moment Clinton arrived, he saw the Lizardman charging toward a high school student. Without thinking, he instinctively nocked an arrow and fired.
Though it was a shame he had failed to capture the Lizardman, rescuing someone was still some consolation.
"I'm fine, thanks!" Merlin smiled without offering much explanation.
Clinton's eyes paused briefly on the revolver at Merlin's waist before shifting to his face.
"Merlin Shaw." The man's identity immediately surfaced in his mind.
The recent unrest in Apple City had naturally drawn S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention, and Fury had sent him and Natasha.
He was responsible for tracking down the Lizardman, while Natasha was handling the Punisher and the Plague Mysterious Person in Hell's Kitchen.
As a gifted high school student who had recently risen to prominence, Merlin had naturally entered their sights. Their investigation suggested that he had some connection to the Punisher in Hell's Kitchen.
Fury had instructed them to sound him out and extend an invitation if the situation allowed.
Though the Punisher and the mysterious figure's actions in Apple City had caused a major impact, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s assessment had instead concluded that they were useful talents. It would be even better if they could cooperate with them or recruit them.
Organizations like the Special Zone Mysterious Department and the FBI often used threats, inducements, and other methods to select suitable criminals for cooperation.
Such practical and efficient methods were commonplace in Eagle Country.
Clinton was about to speak and build some rapport when sirens rapidly approached, and police cars swiftly surrounded the area.
"Merlin!" George anxiously climbed out of a car. When he learned that Merlin had been at the scene and had been targeted by the Lizardman, he had been terrified.
Only after confirming that Merlin was unharmed did he turn to look at the mysteriously dressed Clint beside him.
"Who are you?" He frowned. Judging from the man's bearing, he was most likely some kind of agent.
FBI?
"I'm Clint Francis Barton, a member of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
"Strategic Homeland... what does that do?" George frowned at the lengthy name. After merely starting to repeat it, he went straight to the point.
"We're a special unit that deals with unusual incidents. As for anything more, I can't disclose it." Clint took out his S.H.I.E.L.D. identification and handed it over.
George compared the ID with Clint's face before returning it once he was sure everything checked out.
"Is there anything you need our help with?"
"No, just carry on as usual."
Clint put away his identification and replied.
"Fine. If you need anything, come find us." George did not press further and instead pulled Merlin over.
"You brat, stop running around lately!" He hooked an arm around Merlin's neck and dragged him back into the car.
Clint opened his mouth as he watched Merlin being taken away and scolded, but after thinking it over, he decided that the Lizardman was more important.
Looking at the nearby sewer entrance, he frowned slightly before climbing down into it.
On the Rooftop of a building not far away, a black-and-white figure quietly retreated.
The next day, at the Sons of Silence Club.
Dressed casually, Merlin stepped out of the car. He looked up at the name carved into the signboard before entering the shop.
The moment he walked in, his eyes lit up.
Rows upon rows of brand-new motorcycles were lined up inside. Under the lights, their graceful bodies reflected an alluring metallic sheen.
Honda, Yamaha, BMW, Augusta, Harley-Davidson... the sheer range of brands was dazzling.
"Vroom, vroom!!" The roar of an engine exploded through the shop as a burly, bearded middle-aged man tested a black Harley 883.
Merlin had arrived early, and there were not many people in the shop yet, so the bearded man testing the bike quickly spotted him.
"Here to buy parts?" Jack recognized Merlin and asked as usual.
Merlin usually bought his motorcycle modification parts from them, and because of his age, Jack knew him quite well.
Besides, he could tell that the kid genuinely loved motorcycles. It was just a pity that he did not care for the tough-guy style.
"No, I'm here to buy a motorcycle." Merlin shook his head and walked over to browse the Ducati section.
"Buy a motorcycle? Why? What happened to your Ducati?" Jack was puzzled to hear that he had come to buy a bike.
He knew Merlin did modifications too. Usually, unless the damage was severe, a bike could be fixed.
"A monster smashed it into pieces with a manhole cover. I can't exactly put it back together like building blocks." Merlin spoke helplessly.
"A monster? The Lizardman?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh, my God, that person on Sixth Avenue yesterday was you! I was wondering why that bike looked so familiar." Realizing it, Jack cried out and stopped testing the motorcycle.
"Tell me, what was it like getting up close with the Lizardman?"
Merlin looked speechlessly at the excited bearded man crowding closer. "I'm here to buy a bike, not tell stories."
"That's no rush. You can talk while you look." Jack said indifferently.
"What kind of bike are you buying this time? Another Ducati?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't need to be new. I want one to modify."
Merlin figured that riding a motorcycle every day was somewhat dangerous, so he wanted to buy another beat-up bike and modify it into Tyrant MK2—a vehicle capable of both flying and driving on land, equipped with Deadlock Missiles.
That way, he would be able to handle emergencies much better in the future.
"For modifications..." Jack pondered for a moment, then suddenly thought of something and clapped his hands.
"Come with me. Recently, someone dumped a Ducati 916 at my shop. Aside from the engine still starting, there's barely a single good part on it."
"I was planning to dismantle it in a few days."
He led Merlin outside. In an inconspicuous spot stood a battered motorcycle that was almost unrecognizable.
At first glance, it looked more like a scrapped vehicle.
"Can this really still start?" Merlin was doubtful as he looked at the rust-covered bike, which looked ready to fall apart at any moment.
"Of course. I'll start it for you." Jack immediately turned the key.
"Chug, chug, chug..." The instant it started, the motorcycle's engine made a noise like a tractor.
Merlin: "..."
"Vroom..." Soon, however, the crisp chugging faded, and the engine gradually smoothed out.
"It really can start." Merlin was somewhat surprised.
He then inspected it carefully and found that the power system was still in decent condition, though the frame constantly gave him the feeling that it was about to come apart.
"I'll take this one. How much?"
For some reason, the moment Merlin said he wanted to buy it, the Ducati's front end suddenly twitched slightly.
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