Half a Year Later, A New Chapter

Just as Kyle had said.

Of the Helicarriers Hydra had used for Project Insight, one, heavily damaged, crashed into a lake on the outskirts of New York. After Vision seized satellite control, the other two were taken over by the Artificial Intelligence Main God and moved to hover above the Karl family’s overseas bases.

Together with most of Hydra’s hidden bases around the world being besieged and destroyed by the Karl family and the newly formed Avengers, Hydra had suffered devastating losses. Only a few remnants remained. Without several decades of lying low and rebuilding, they would no longer be capable of threatening Earth’s peace.

As for S.H.I.E.L.D., both its personnel and resources had suffered severe losses in the turmoil. Yet after Kyle’s brutal purge, followed by Yutong’s special second cleansing through mind-reading, S.H.I.E.L.D. instead turned disaster into fortune and became a truly spy-free global organization.

After exposing Director Pierce’s crimes, former S.H.I.E.L.D. director Fury Nick announced his official return and assumed the position of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s third director.

After Kyle intervened, this farcical civil war could be considered a resounding victory.

Of course, there were imperfections as well.

For example, Captain America Steve returned alone from the outskirts of New York after fighting the Winter Soldier, his handsome yet grimy face full of desolation and helplessness.

For example, Luna had not found Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch among Hydra’s many bases. They were suspected to have been urgently transferred elsewhere by Hydra’s remnants.

And then there was Kyle, the Symbol of Peace. He too returned alone to New York’s Imperial Tower, and afterward never went out again. He left the cleanup of Hydra entirely to his family and alliance members, no longer taking the initiative to interfere.

It was as if he had little interest in any of it. Even an internal conflict that endangered Earth had not been taken too seriously by him.

Kyle had casually gone out, swatted a buzzing, irritating fly to death, then gone home for an afternoon nap without another care. No matter how noisy and chaotic the outside world became, countless politicians and media outlets seeking an audience with him were turned away.

A month passed before the Hydra upheaval and the global internal conflict surrounding Hydra’s destruction gradually settled down.

S.H.I.E.L.D. began its reconstruction work. Following the return of Superheroes and the birth of the hero organization, the surface of Earth’s world once again regained its former stability and peace.

Half a year later.

2009, early autumn.

New York City, America.

Under the bright morning sun, modern steel buildings stood in dense rows. A light breeze blew, the temperature was perfectly pleasant, and the streets gradually became lively with office workers.

A black twin-cylinder motorcycle slowly rode down the street. Its rider, a young man with black hair dressed in a neat leather jacket and jeans, seemed intensely interested in everything about the city, his gaze constantly sweeping over his surroundings.

His name was Eddie Brock. He was a recent college graduate, but starting today, he was a real licensed journalist.

"Boss, one hot milk and a hot dog burger, please." After parking his motorcycle by the roadside, Eddie got off and waved toward the breakfast stand.

"Okay, take the milk first. Please wait a moment for the burger." The elderly stall owner grinned as he poured a cup of milk and handed it over.

Eddie took it and tipped his head back, gulping down more than half in one go. He let out a satisfied breath. "Ah, refreshing."

The stall owner was amused by his unpretentious enthusiasm. As he grilled the hot dog and heated the burger, he asked cheerfully, "Young man, you don’t look like a local. I’ve never seen you around before."

"That’s right. I graduated from Columbia not long ago, and I’m a journalist. After finishing my internship, I applied to work at the New York headquarters a few days ago. I flew in yesterday and haven’t even reported to the office yet." Eddie smiled as he spoke, his eyes still furtively taking in the cityscape.

"I can tell you really like New York City." The stall owner laughed heartily, taking a liking to Eddie.

"It’s not just me. Young people all across America, all over the world, love and dream of New York. They hope to settle down and live here." Eddie took another gulp of milk, wiped the residue from the corner of his mouth, and said with some emotion, "New York—the city of finance, the city of tourism, the city of evolution, the city of peace, the city of aliens!"

Eddie perfectly demonstrated the occupational disease of a journalist. Once he got talking, he simply could not stop. "Especially the city of aliens. I love that name. You have to know, other countries and cities around the world are still debating whether aliens exist, while New York has already begun preparing to communicate and interact with aliens, even to resist them if necessary."

"Yesterday, I took a stroll downstairs from my rental. There were alien warning signs everywhere. Even public restrooms, besides men’s, women’s, and disabled facilities, actually had restrooms specifically for aliens."

"And some young people who are still in school are discussing fitness training, developing human genes, evolving to become stronger, supernatural phenomena, Mecha technology, ability mutations, and all sorts of things as their mainstream topics."

Eddie could not help laughing. He gestured with his hands and feet, becoming more excited the more he spoke.

The stall owner laughed along with him, then finished the burger and handed it over. With gratitude and respect in his voice, he said, "There’s also the stigma of being called a city of crime, but ever since half a year ago, this city’s crime rate has been steadily dropping. As for tourism, evolution, peace, aliens, and all those other novel, popular elements, they all exist because of that one person."

Eddie’s eyes lit up slightly, admiration naturally appearing on his face as he blurted out, "The Symbol of Peace, Mr. Kyle."

The stall owner chuckled and said half-seriously, half-jokingly, "Young man, you’re new to New York, and you work in journalism. Let me warn you first: never say anything bad about Elder Kyle here. Otherwise, not even the president could save you. New Yorkers could drown you with a single spit from each person."

"I’m not that foolish." Eddie took the burger and looked around. Even most of the pedestrians passing along the street had the symbol of the Demon Card printed on their casual clothing.

Perhaps because he had been born in New York and had his family and forces stationed in the city center, Kyle, the Symbol of Peace, had been regarded as a savior by the older generation of locals who had lived there since the end of World War II.

His return had allowed the radiance of a legendary hero to completely envelop the city, fusing with it in an unbreakable bond over the past half year.

In other regions, the Symbol of Peace might merely have an enormously famous heroic reputation. But in New York, the Symbol of Peace was a living human god!

It would not be an exaggeration to call New York’s residents believers of the Symbol of Peace.

After finishing his burger and milk, Eddie paid the bill and said firmly, "My dream is that one day, I’ll personally conduct Mr. Kyle’s first news interview."

"Then you’ll need to work hard, young man," the stall owner said with an encouraging smile.

An exclusive interview with the Symbol of Peace? That was probably one of the ultimate career goals of journalists around the world.