Newton's Third Law

Kent Clark is no easy opponent. Not only is he a future super soldier, but the new weapon in my hand was developed by him, so his miniature clone, which is the culmination of his efforts, is certainly not simple.

Hydra collaborated with him to create a Biochemical cyborg. Although Rumlow didn't personally witness the experimental surgery, based on descriptions from those who were there, he was a Coldblood individual.

Even if it's one of their own, even if it's just an act, the other side will show absolutely no mercy when they strike.

Due to Hydra's secrecy policy, Rumlow couldn't reveal too much to his team, but he had done his best by giving hints and suggestions—as for the S.H.I.E.L.D.. crew, let them die.

"I should have let those people go. If no one had died, the bar wouldn't have changed hands."

After taking a sip of his drink, George Carl regretted his impulsive actions earlier; they had been too flamboyant, and he felt uncomfortable staying there.

Fortunately, Doctor Death didn't keep him waiting too long. Still dressed in a white suit, he arrived at the bar carrying a briefcase, ordered a beer, and when he saw Coulson dressed as a waiter in a shirt and vest, he didn't show much expression and simply placed a banknote on the bar.

After getting the beer, Doctor Death strolled over to George Carl's table and sat down under the latter's impatient gaze.

Even as the arrest operation was about to take place, Coulson carefully used tweezers hidden in his hand to hold the banknotes, placing them in a transparent evidence bag and keeping them close to his body.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. George Carl." Placing the briefcase, which the thin, black man had been staring at like a hungry wolf, at his feet, Doctor Death greeted him as if he were an ordinary salesman addressing an ordinary customer, "Have my products made any difference to your life these days?"

George Carl had assumed that Doctor Death would conduct the meeting cleanly and efficiently, like a gang deal, exchanging money for goods. He never expected Dr. Death to start the meeting with such casual conversation.

George Carl subconsciously touched the Memory Stick in his pocket; the feeling of it still being there reassured him. He then said, "The Memory Stick is excellent. It made me incredibly powerful; I've never felt so good before."

With his hands clasped together on the table and his body slightly bent forward, Doctor Death's demeanor became very relaxed. "Is that so? It's my honor that my product can help you—then would you like to purchase the subsequent products?"

Upon hearing this, George Carl eagerly placed his backpack full of cash on the table. His eagerness was noticed by Coulson, who was glancing over out of the corner of his eye. The rapid response team and field agents reported that they had arrived nearby.

"I'd be very happy to buy your product." Opening his backpack to show Doctor Death the cash inside before quickly closing it again, George Carl said, "Fifty thousand dollars, no less!"

Doctor Death didn't take the backpack, but instead took a leisurely sip of beer. "Mr. George Carl, I understand your anxiety, but our education may have to be forced to stop or even cease."

"Why!" George Carl slammed his fists on the table, making his glass of wine bounce.

At first, he was a little confused. Who would refuse such a huge sum of money as $50,000? Then he thought that Doctor Death was playing a trick on him and deliberately not selling him the Memory Stick. He was furious.

"Um?"

Doctor Death frowned and glanced at George Carl. The thin black man's mind went blank; the fear of impending death made him forget to breathe.

"Mr. George Carl, the reason our deal can't go through is because of you!" Doctor Death said slowly, "Because of your reckless actions, we've been watching you for a long time—with your abilities, you have plenty of time to dispose of all the bodies after the murders..."

Doctor Death didn't continue speaking because S.H.I.E.L.D.. field agents had already broken down the door.

"POLICE! Everyone, lie down!"

The field agents charging ahead aimed their standard-issue firearms at the two people making the transaction. George Carl instinctively reached for the ground—a professional habit and a long-established survival instinct—but the corner seat he had chosen, with its cramped space, prevented him from doing so quickly.

Based on past experience, George Carl knew that if he made any excessive or large movements at this moment, those heavily armed men would not hesitate to pull the trigger until the magazines were emptied.

"Put your hands on your head! Lie down and don't move! Warning, lie down and don't move!"

The lead field agent issued another warning.

George Carl raised his hands. "I heard you, sir! I heard you! I will do it, I will do it right away!"

He glanced sideways at Doctor Death and saw that he was still sitting there leisurely drinking beer, as if he had calculated that the police would not shoot—oh, he's white, well then, he'd better just lie on the ground obediently.

"Mr. George Carl, you're no longer an ordinary person. Why are you still dealing with these weaklings with your old habits?" Adhering to the principle of not wasting anything, Doctor Death finished the beer in the bottle and then put down the glass, displaying his superhuman physical abilities.

Before the field agents could react, he had already lifted George Carl off the ground, pulled Memory Stick from his pocket with his other hand, pressed the switch, and stabbed it into his neck. In an instant, his superpowers were reactivated.

"Fire!"

The lead agent gave the order, and when he had only uttered half a word, an agent pulled the trigger, and bullets rained down on the two men in the corner.

"Ah!" George Carl instinctively tried to run away. With his super speed, he could see the general trajectory of the bullet and dodge it, but Doctor Death's hand gripped the back of his neck like an iron clamp, lifting him in front of him as a shield.

The intense pain of being torn apart that I had expected did not occur. Instead, I experienced the agony of being used as a target by water guns when I was a child. Instead, it was the group of police officers on the other side who fell down.

"Idiot, even with superpowers you're still useless." Doctor Death threw the terrified George Carl to the ground, angrily saying, "The action and reaction forces between two objects are always equal in magnitude and opposite in direction. Middle school physics, Newton's Third Law. Your power is acceleration. Besides yourself, anything in contact with you can be accelerated. The instant a bullet hits you, it also generates a force in the opposite direction, which can accelerate the bullet affected by the reaction force, causing it to return along its original path."

George Carl stared in horror at Doctor Death, whose sleeve was torn from the hand gripping the back of his neck, and a tentacle was coiling around the metallic-looking bones.

"What kind of monster are you?!"