Merlin and the other man were busy discussing the price and did not pay much attention.
"No, no need to pay. Since you plan to modify it yourself, you'll definitely be buying a lot of parts from me. Consider this one a free gift."
In any case, he had no idea who had dumped this motorcycle here. He had been planning to scrap it himself.
Since Merlin wanted it, he felt too embarrassed to charge him for it.
After all, the profit from the parts Merlin bought from him would already be considerable.
And if this motorcycle were to undergo a major overhaul, the cost would be nearly half the price of a new bike.
"Fine. Same place as usual. Once I finish inspecting it, I'll send you the parts list." Merlin nodded and left the Sons of Silence Club.
"Wait... we still haven't talked about yesterday's Lizardman incident!" Jack reached out, watching Merlin's retreating figure vanish before he could only return to the shop regretfully.
The platform over in Hell's Kitchen was gradually getting on track, and things had been especially busy lately.
After yesterday's failure, Peter and Professor Connors would certainly speed up their plans. Merlin needed to keep pace as well, recruit some players before Peter's plan began, and find a way to organize a large-scale mission in Apple City.
After returning to the modification shop, Merlin pulled up the technical data and blueprints for the Tyrant MK2. At the same time, he drew out the structure of the Ducati 916 and began revising the modification plan.
"Look and see her eyes, they glow..." Just as he was finalizing the modification plan, his phone suddenly began ringing.
When Merlin saw who was calling, a headache immediately came on.
The ringtone kept going, as though it would never stop unless he answered.
Helplessly, he could only press the answer button.
"Merlin!!! You ran off to your modification shop again, didn't you? What did I tell you yesterday? Until the Lizardman is caught, try not to leave the house."
The moment the call connected, an angry roar came from the other end.
Merlin sucked in a breath and hurriedly moved the phone away from his ear.
Only after George's tone gradually calmed down did he bring the phone back to his ear.
"You know my motorcycle was smashed to pieces yesterday. Motorcycles are my soul! I can't live without them."
"So today, I only came out to buy a motorcycle."
He explained in a serious tone.
"What kind of bike do you want? I can buy one for you. There's no need for you to go out."
"Forget it. I won't trouble you. I'm sure you don't have time." Merlin said with certainty.
George: "..."
All right, he really did not have time.
"Get home as soon as possible today. I don't know how that Lizardman targeted you, but your situation is dangerous right now. Try not to linger outside, and keep your phone on at all times." George knew how important motorcycles were to the kid, so in the end, he could only offer a few worried reminders.
"We'll see..." Merlin said, then quickly hung up.
If luck was on his side, he might have to pull an all-nighter tonight.
George, standing in the police station, looked helplessly at the disconnected call in his hand. Then his office door was suddenly pushed open.
"Sheriff George, we have news about Spider-Man and the Lizardman."
"Let's go!" George immediately stood up and followed him out.
Once the modification plan was complete, Merlin sent over the parts list.
Not long after he sent it, Jack delivered both the motorcycle and the parts.
After unloading the motorcycle and all the parts from the small truck into the workshop, Merlin stood beside the Ducati, stroking his chin as he thought for a moment. Then he walked over and wiped away some of the grime on its surface with his finger.
Who knew how long it had been abandoned? The body shell and many of its parts were covered in rust, and quite a few components were missing.
Looking at the dirt on his finger, he clapped his hands together.
"Let's get to work!"
He first picked up the water gun and sprayed the whole thing down, then covered it in foam and began washing it.
After rinsing it several times with the high-pressure water gun, the motorcycle still looked battered and worn, but its surface appeared much cleaner and fresher.
Beneath the black-and-red rust, traces of pink primer were also revealed.
Once the cleaning was finished, Merlin began taking it apart, then carefully polished every section.
It was a job that tested one's patience, but Merlin thoroughly enjoyed watching the parts gradually become like new in his hands.
Without realizing it, night had arrived. After Merlin repeatedly cleaned and polished it, replaced and installed numerous electrical components, and finally finished the red-and-white paint job, the battered Ducati that had been on the workbench, ready for the scrapyard, was gone. In its place stood a brand-new Ducati 916 with red-and-white paintwork.
Its bright paint gleamed beneath the lights, displaying the elegant curves of its body. The worn-out tires had also been replaced with matte black ones, making it look like a hot beauty lying on the ground with her butt raised.
"Hot beauty?" Merlin scratched his head. Why did he feel that way? Had he been single for too long?
He shook his head and circled the motorcycle for an inspection. As long as there were no problems, he planned to install an Atomic Engine and Deadlock Missiles on it.
Fortunately, when Kingpin bought weapons a few days ago, he had provided rare atomic-energy industrial materials such as Plutonium. There was no need to worry about making the Atomic Engine.
"Hm?" At that moment, Merlin seemed to notice something. He stopped at the front of the bike, crouched down, and looked at the two protruding headlights.
There were some red paint marks on them, probably sprayed there by accident while he was painting.
Although he had taken precautions before painting, after removing the protective covering, there would always somehow be a few extra paint specks.
Merlin picked up a rag and tried wiping them twice. When that did not work, he sprayed on some Turpentine and carefully wiped again.
"Rub, rub, rub..." The rag slid over the headlights under the Turpentine, making a series of slippery sounds.
After wiping hard a few times, Merlin moved the rag away.
But when he saw the headlights, he froze.
"What the hell!" A red blush had spread across the headlights, as if diluted red paint had dispersed over them.
But it was only a tiny bit of red paint. How could it possibly spread that much?
Confused, he tried wiping it twice more with the rag. When that did not work, he rubbed it with his hand.
His fingers slid down the smooth, damp headlights. Merlin looked at them, only to find no red paint on them.
He tried rubbing the headlights again, seeing if he could rub some of it off.
"Vroom! Vrooom!!" Just as he withdrew his hand to check his fingertips, the motorcycle's engine suddenly roared to life. Its body and exhaust pipe began trembling as well.
Merlin: "???"
"Did the ignition ground itself?"
Thinking there might be a problem with the ignition relay or wiring inside the bike, he stood up, temporarily set aside the issue with the headlights, and prepared to inspect it.
Before you continue