Chapter 10 Braised Eggs

Clark followed Coulson to an RV parked by the roadside. Coulson opened the RV door and gestured for Clark to enter.

As Clark stepped inside, he saw someone already sitting inside — a man with a bald head and an eye patch over his left eye.

"Hmm~ Egghead?"

Although Nick Fury's face didn't show any reaction when he heard this, Clark still noticed the slight twitch at the corner of his eye.

Seeing that, Clark smiled with satisfaction. For many Marvel fans, nothing was more rewarding than making a direct jab at Nick Fury.

"Alright, Mr. Kent, please refrain from making inappropriate jokes."

Seeing Clark's smile, Fury didn't quite understand the humor but spoke plainly.

"Fine, what do you want me to do?"

Clark figured if he kept laughing, Fury might actually get annoyed, so he stopped and put on a more serious expression.

"I don't know what to call you anymore. Should I address you as Clark, or as Superman?" Fury opened with a rather pointed question.

But Clark knew—once Coulson had shown up, it meant S.H.I.E.L.D. had already figured out his identity. Not that it mattered. At this point, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't really a threat to him.

"Does it matter? Everyone in the world knows Clark Kent is Superman, and Superman is Clark Kent."

He responded vaguely, indifferent to Fury's interrogation. After all, in the movies Superman was Clark Kent, and in this world, he was also Clark Kent.

"Then I'll call you Superman, Mr. Kent.

You should know that Earth is not the only planet with intelligent life. There are countless other life forms in the vast universe.

Some are friendly, but others… are hostile.

That's why I want to gather all super-powered individuals on Earth into a team — to protect the planet from external threats.

I call it… the Avengers."

Fury didn't respond to Clark's attitude and kept talking calmly.

"Avengers, huh?"

To be honest, Clark already knew everything Fury was saying. He even knew things Fury didn't — like the fact that in less than a year, a group of aliens was going to invade Earth.

So Clark simply responded calmly.

"I want to invite you to join the Avengers Initiative."

Clark let out a sarcastic chuckle.

"I have no interest in working for a bunch of politicians."

Fury just shook his head.

"We don't work for anyone. We work for Earth.

While the Avengers Initiative does receive funding from various countries, it's not governed by any one nation."

"So, how many members do you have right now?"

"We'll know once you join."

Fury remained expressionless.

"Ha! I'll admit what you're saying is interesting, but let's discuss this another time.

Anything else? If not, I've got work to do back at the flower shop."

Clark opened the door and stepped out, gave Fury a casual wave, and closed the RV door behind him.

Later, Clark went to a remote location. Since nothing was going on at the shop and someone else was watching it, he decided to fly up and get some sunlight.

He pressed the bracelet on his left wrist, and a deep-blue suit with a big "S" on the chest appeared on his body.

Then, he leapt into the air — within seconds, Clark shot through the sky at over Mach 20, appearing in outer space above Earth.

"This feels… amazing."

Floating in space, Clark stretched out his limbs and faced the sun, making himself into a giant human "X."

Before this, he had never gone to high altitudes, let alone space, out of fear of being discovered. After all, human satellites weren't exactly blind — any anomalies would get recorded.

So this was his first time sunbathing in space.

Honestly, if it weren't for his adoptive parents still being around, Clark might've flown straight into the sun. Because the closer he got, the more he could feel his energy rapidly reaching full capacity.

For the next while, whenever he had free time, Clark would fly to space to absorb solar energy. As for the consequences, he trusted Nick Fury would handle them.

And Clark was right — all of his aerial activities were secretly monitored and recorded by Fury.

Not out of malice — it's just that the military had recently been spreading information about Clark everywhere. Fury had to hide all records of his meetings with Clark to prevent hot-headed generals from attacking him.

After analyzing Clark's data, Fury realized that with current human technology, only heavy weapons might hurt Clark — but his speed made even those unlikely to hit.

That put them in a dilemma. So Fury's approach was to observe first. If Clark showed no hostility toward humans, he would be a powerful asset.

But not everyone shared Fury's opinion. Within the military, many were pushing for Clark's capture. They hadn't stopped researching super soldiers.

Others feared that if they failed to capture Clark, he might retaliate in secret — which would be catastrophic.

After all, everyone had seen what Clark did to Obadiah. Satellite data from the time estimated Clark's flight speed at over Mach 10, his lift strength at 50 tons or more, and the ability to launch missiles with his bare hands while being immune to machine gun fire.

If he were captured — great. If he escaped, no one could stop him.

So although many wanted to take action, no one dared make the first move.

Watching this indecisiveness, General Ross couldn't help but sneer. If it had been the old days, Ross would have gone after Clark at all costs. He wouldn't have hesitated like these fools.

But now, Ross had a new, more interesting target. So Clark was no longer a priority.

If someone else captured him, Ross would gladly join in. But he wasn't going to act himself — he didn't have the time.

Just then, Ross received a call.

"What? Got it. I'll be right there."

He turned to a nearby general and whispered, "I have to go. If there's a vote later, vote for me."

The general nodded, and Ross quietly left the meeting.

"Any news?"

Back at his own command post, Ross asked a staff member who had previously reported to him.

"General, in Milwaukee, we've found a potential gamma radiation poisoning case.

Someone drank a bottle of guarana soda — turned out it was a lot stronger than expected."

Ross immediately stood up, tense.

"Where was the soda bottled?"

"Porto Alegre, Brazil."

"Send people to that bottling plant. Look for a white man. Once you locate him, don't make contact — we can't risk him escaping."

Ross suppressed his excitement, stubbed out his cigar, and gave the order.

"Yes, sir."

"Banner… I finally found you."

Once the staff left, a smile spread across Ross's face.

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