'Skrulls?' Fury tried to keep his expression calm.
'Green-skinned, the Skrulls that are good at shapeshifting?'
This time it was Carol's turn to be surprised.
She narrowed her eyes and examined Fury carefully: 'You know them?'
'I do,' Fury nodded.
'In fact, I have a... green-skinned guest who has been staying for four years. He says he is a Skrull, but he doesn't like to talk much.'
Carol's expression became serious: 'You captured a Skrull? On Earth?'
'To be precise, my former Officer captured him, and now I am responsible for guarding him,' Fury took a step forward.
'Ms. Carol, if you really are here to hunt Skrulls, then we may have a common goal. Why don't we find a place to talk in detail? This isn't the place to talk.'
Carol hesitated.
Just then, a glimmer flashed on the roof of the convenience store in the distance.
Carol's reaction was faster than human limits; she lunged at Fury, pushing him aside, while simultaneously raising her hand to fire an energy beam.
The beam hit the roof, blasting up a spray of debris.
Having failed with the first strike, the attacker quickly turned and began to flee.
Carol saw clearly that it was a Skrull; without any hesitation, Carol took flight and gave chase.
'Wait for me!' Fury shouted, hurriedly following in Carol's footsteps.
...
Tony Stark's workshop was a paradise for tech enthusiasts and a nightmare for those who loved order.
The spacious area was filled with all kinds of mechanical parts, circuit boards, holographic projection equipment, and at least seven computers for different purposes.
On the walls hung anatomical diagrams of classic cars, in the corner sat a half-dismantled engine, and the air was filled with a complex scent of motor oil, welding fumes, and high-end coffee.
At this moment, an orange-red colored motorcycle was parked on the lifting platform in the center of the workshop.
The body lines were smooth and sharp, but the front fork was clearly deformed, there were scrape marks on the right fairing, and the end of the exhaust pipe was covered in dried mud; clearly, this vehicle had undergone some quite intense riding.
Tony was wearing oil-stained overalls and a T-shirt, and was bending over to inspect the motorcycle's front suspension system.
He held a laser alignment tool in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed, as focused as if he were performing heart surgery.
'The internal piston of the shock absorber is deformed,' he said without looking up.
'And the lower triple clamp is slightly bent... Mavuika, where on Earth did you ride this? It looks like it was jumped off a cliff.'
Mavuika leaned against the edge of the workbench nearby, holding a can of iced cola.
He was wearing a simple black leather jacket and jeans today, his golden-red long hair tied loosely behind his head, with a few strands hanging by his cheeks.
Hearing Tony's question, he just shrugged: 'A mountain road, with a few sharp turns; the road conditions were a bit worse than expected.'
'A bit worse?' Tony straightened up and pointed at the front wheel with a wrench.
'The rim is slightly deformed! You're riding a motorcycle, not an off-road tank!'
'That's why I came to you to fix it,' Mavuika said with a smile, taking a sip of the cola.
'Besides, you said the last shock absorber you installed could handle any road condition.'
'Any 'reasonable' road condition!' Tony emphasized: 'That does not include driving directly over rocks!'
Just as Tony was about to continue complaining, the workshop door slid open.
A man with a sturdy build, a bald head, and a carefully trimmed gray-white beard walked in.
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