After returning, Rimuru searched through the database and finally found it.
Looking at the familiar Governor before him, Rimuru could hardly contain his excitement. Seeing him so young reminded me of running beneath the setting sun that afternoon. That was my lost youth.
Look at the Governor's muscles, those firm, full pecs, hot and hard! Those chiseled abs, hot and hard! And...
After getting my fill of feeling him up, I thought, as the saying went, joy was better shared than enjoyed alone. Should I give Pepper one?
Hmm... better not. She already had Jazz, so another burly robot wouldn't mean much. More likely, Tony would definitely come after me first.
With the manpower problem solved, I would send some of these T-600s and T-700s to repair Cybertron and keep the rest to take on Hell's Kitchen. Full flush in Mong Kok, full flush in Causeway Bay-step aside, all of you. I'd give you a full flush in New York.
Come to think of it, as a bona fide shareholder of Stark Industries, shouldn't I get myself a bodyguard too? After searching, I found the T-X. I looked the coldly beautiful robot woman up and down, then decided to pick someone else. Her expression was too stiff, and she wasn't my type.
After another search, I thought, Hey, isn't this the T-1000? It had practically been a childhood nightmare. Back then, it had felt more menacing than the monsters in horror movies. Take the xenomorph, for example: it was all atmosphere. Turn on the lights and look again, and wasn't it just plain funny? I watched the liquid-metal robot change shape and reached out to touch it. What a shame. It only looked the part; its skin wasn't realistic.
After searching again, I finally found the one I wanted: the TOK-715. Its combat power wasn't top-tier, but it should have been the most humanlike of the lot.
"Good, absolutely perfect. 715, you're my bodyguard from now on. Come on, give me a smile first." Why were their expressions all so stiff? She wasn't even as good as that beautiful robot woman from Transformers. If her combat power hadn't been so poor, I would have made her my bodyguard.
Gillvalis, let Coulson know we're starting tonight. Trafficking people, were you? Taking people apart and selling them as Gundams? Selling people as lab rats? If I caught you tonight, I'd send you to the virtual planet to repair Cybertron.
When evening came, not many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents showed up, but plenty of police did. They had blocked off the roads. What a big operation.
Coulson approached from beside an inconspicuous van, wearing his usual mild yet capable expression, though his gaze was sharper than usual. "Mr. Rimuru, all exits have been sealed. The people from the New York City Police Department are securing the perimeter to keep bystanders from interfering. As for the situation inside... according to our sources, it may be even busier than we anticipated."
He paused and glanced at the silent, perfectly proportioned TOK-715 standing behind you, then at the indistinct T-700 skeletons farther back in the shadows, their metal surfaces gleaming coldly. "Are your new friends ready?"
"Relax, Coulson. There's no need to be so nervous. They're just a bunch of small fry. We can't do anything about Kingpin, but they're only gangsters. Aren't you confident you can handle them?"
Coulson wiped away his sweat, utterly speechless. Are we afraid of the gangsters? We're afraid of you! Look what you brought. What even are these things? Where did those metal skeletons behind you come from? Is there still time to call the director and stop this?
"Mr. Rimuru, no matter what, please remember not to cause too many casualties."
"Of course, Coulson. My full-flush game isn't a killing spree." Far from being nervous, Rimuru was a little excited. This was his first time experiencing such a thrilling scene.
Hell's Kitchen was huge, and they had a lot to do in little time. "The T-700 squads are in position and ready to move. The T-1000s will give the bosses special attention. As for my bodyguard 715, she'll make sure the lighting operator doesn't drop the ball tonight." He made a joke, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Tell your people to stay close to my robots. Don't fall behind, and don't hold back. None of those bastards inside are getting away tonight."
Coulson nodded and pressed his earpiece. "All units, countdown to action. Remember, taking down the bosses is the first priority. Don't hesitate against armed resistance. We have special assault partners."
When the countdown ended, the T-700s began pouring into Hell's Kitchen.
Coulson watched the T-700s' metal skeletons silently disperse like ghosts into the neighborhood's narrow alleys and dark doorways. He wiped his forehead again, even though the weather wasn't hot tonight. Pressing his earpiece, he added quietly over the command channel, "All units, keep your eyes open. Our assault partners... look rather unusual. Don't hit them by mistake." He paused, struggling to find a word. "They're friendlies."
The nights in Hell's Kitchen were never peaceful, but tonight's activity was bound to be unusual.
The first disturbances came from several smuggling warehouses on the outskirts. The gangsters standing guard only had time to see several tall, pale metallic gleams flash through the shadows before receiving blows of dizzying precision. The T-700 had no fine-tuned option for knocking someone unconscious. It merely approximated the force needed and sent him straight to sleep.
"Shit! What is that?! A robot? Open fire! Open fire!"
Sporadic gunshots rang out. Bullets struck the T-700s' alloy skeletons and sent sparks flying, but only slowed their movements slightly or left insignificant dents. They advanced in silence, their infrared vision locking onto every heat source. Their arms became precise striking weapons, and with a series of dull thuds, several men fell into a baby-like sleep. If the robots had been equipped with weapons, they would have riddled the men with bullets long ago.
Meanwhile, some softer infiltrations were taking place.
In a noisy underground bar, a drunken bodyguard felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to see an ordinary-looking blond man smile at him. The next second, the man's hand suddenly melted and lengthened, wrapping around his neck and mouth like liquid silver and dragging him into the nearby restroom. It all happened so quickly that no one noticed.
The liquid metal reformed into the bodyguard's likeness, straightened its clothes, and walked toward several bosses deeper in the bar who were trading organ-trafficking ledgers. The outcome went without saying.
At another converted garage, several thugs were loading "goods" into a vehicle. A red-haired T-X with a sexy figure and a leather jacket walked straight toward them in high heels.
"Hey, baby, are you lost? This isn't a place to have fun." A thug came forward with a grin to stop her, his hands wandering as he groped her. The T-X's expression didn't change. Her arm transformed in an instant, the outline of a plasma cannon briefly appearing before it returned to normal, because her orders were to avoid casualties as much as possible.
She simply grabbed his wrist and gave it a gentle twist. A clear crack of bone and a scream rang out together, and the garage erupted into chaos.
Rimuru stood at a temporary command post several blocks away-which was really just a van equipped with a Gillvalis terminal screen-and watched everything through the shared vision of countless robots, as if he were playing an immersive strategy game.
Using them to test the terminators didn't seem very effective. It might not have been a higher-dimensional strike, but it was still like a father beating his son.
"715, look, isn't that bartender the T-1000 is playing a little too handsome? He'll draw attention." He muttered to the perfectly faced female bodyguard standing ramrod straight beside him. The TOK-715 turned her head and glanced at Rimuru with eyes that were far too clear but showed no emotional fluctuation. The corners of her mouth tried to turn upward into what should theoretically have been a "smile," but the movement of her muscles looked extremely unnatural, more like a program malfunction.
"Your facial expressions still need work. Just keep up the cool-woman image for now." Rimuru put a hand to his forehead. "Command confirmed. Facial expression module deactivated," 715 replied in a pleasant but flat voice.
Coulson's voice came through the earpiece, carrying undisguised astonishment and a trace of resignation. "Mr. Rimuru, your T-1000 units have already collected four bosses and are escorting them out. They look terrified. They keep shouting about monsters and a mercury man."
"A normal reaction." Rimuru shrugged. "Tell them that if they cooperate, they can go somewhere new where they won't have to worry about food or housing-the virtual planet to repair Cybertron. Food and lodging are provided, and they can contribute to a great project. What an honor."
"...I'll convey that in a way that better fits procedure." Coulson cleared his throat. "Also, the police commissioner asked me about the people who were knocked unconscious, as well as those subdued by... um, unconventional means. The follow-up medical and legal procedures..."
"Just follow the rules." Rimuru watched on the screen as five T-700s smashed through a wall into the last stronghold still putting up resistance. "Send the unconscious ones to the hospital and the ones who are awake to the police station. As for evidence, Gillvalis should have already packaged it up and sent it to your agency. Ledgers, transaction records-the full service."
He let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, feeling a little unsatisfied. "That's it? We're almost done cleaning them out already? Getting a full flush in Hell's Kitchen doesn't seem that hard."
What, you don't have evidence against Kingpin? Can't you use the great memory restoration technique? Look, even my T-X does it better than you. An elbow strike opens the airway, an electric shock brings back your heartbeat, three blows with a stick shatter brotherly bonds, and every name in the confession belongs to a brother. The first blow hits your legs to stop you from running, the second hits your mouth to stop you from begging, and the third hits your head to stop you from thinking.
What? You say America believes in human rights? I don't know anything about that. Go tell my robots. How could a robot make a mistake? Clearly, you're still resisting and refusing to obey, so here are three more blows. After those, he burned down the Old Summer Palace, signed the treaties, organized the Eight-Nation Alliance, saved the little mustache, started World War II, and launched the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor.
Please, you need evidence to arrest Kingpin? If you're bad at it, practice more. Catch a few of his men and teach them that the first lesson is loyalty, and the second is forgetting where you came from!
Brothers stay in my heart, but when trouble comes, my phone won't connect. My brother screams again and again; I cover my ears and refuse to listen.
Brothers value loyalty; when my brother gets beaten, I watch the show. That oath in the peach garden was just a TV drama.
I fear my brother living hard, but fear him driving a Land Rover more. When my brother's happy, I spoil his mood; I've been defiant since childhood.
My brother and I are of one heart, while I play mind games with him. My brother treats me like family; I say he's too naive.
My brother and I are family. When he gets beaten, I pretend I'm blind. When his head gets smashed open, I stand by and watch the spectacle.
Brotherly bonds are thicker than blood. When my brother's in trouble, I pretend I'm deaf. When my brother gets beaten, I cry out in pain: "Can you stop hitting me?"
When my brother's in trouble, I'm the first to run; I can't bear the slightest hardship. When my brother's around, I call her sister-in-law. When he's gone, I call her baby.
We swore an oath of brotherhood, and every meal we split the bill. When it's time to give up on resuscitation, I'll sign!
Coulson watched the agents begin escorting prisoners and collecting evidence in an orderly fashion. Then he looked at the metal skeletons standing silently in the shadows like statues, and at the T-1000 that had just transformed into a stream of silver liquid and slipped into a sewer, vanishing from sight. At last, he couldn't help asking, "Mr. Rimuru, if we have another joint operation like this, could you... give me a more detailed equipment list beforehand?"
"Of course." Rimuru laughed over the channel, his voice light and cheerful. "But the list might keep getting longer, Agent Coulson. We've barely even started."
In the van, Rimuru stretched and said to 715 beside him, "Come on, we're done. Thanks for the effort tonight, everyone, though they probably don't understand what that means."
715 turned silently and opened the van door for him. In the distance, the night sky over Hell's Kitchen seemed a little clearer than usual. At least, in certain corners tonight, innocent people would no longer be crying out in anguish.
"Oh, right, Gillvalis, hand those important ones over to S.H.I.E.L.D. Exile those mid- and lower-level bosses to Cybertron for me."