Marvel: The Villain-Chapter 264 Museum

Upon hearing that Steve wanted to join SHIELD, Fury's face did not show much joy.

He spoke with concern: "Times change, and people change with them. We need to evolve. SHIELD's way of doing things is different from what you're used to in the past. To be honest, I worry about whether you can adapt."

Recalling the conversation in the hospital room, Steve frowned. "I talked to Peggy about this. Truthfully, I still cannot agree with your philosophy."

Fury seemed to have anticipated this and remained silent.

"But I'm not inflexible," Steve continued. "The Joker organization is too dangerous. After the battle the other night, I can understand things a bit better now."

"Are you sure you've thought this through? I don't want us clashing over these matters in the future."

"My target is the Joker organization. Until they are eliminated, I can turn a blind eye."

"Expected." Fury turned and began to walk away slowly. "Come on. I'll take you somewhere."

*

Over the next three days, Jason wrapped up his affairs stateside and immediately chartered a flight to lead a large contingent to Africa. He placed great importance on establishing the overseas base, insisting on being hands-on from the initial site selection.

The moment he left, Harley and Christine arrived in New York to take command. With Jason gone for over a month, the two held the highest level of authority. Unfortunately, their hearts were entirely set on the two children; aside from a first-day inspection of the headquarters and a meeting with Alex, they spent all their time at the suburban villa.

Alex, meanwhile, spent these days at the stronghold experimenting with his abilities. After the prisoners in the dungeon were completely devoured, he had his subordinates kidnap people from the streets. To avoid alerting the authorities and exposing the base, the organization targeted the homeless.

New York's streets were filled with vagrants. Bringing back eight or ten a day to nourish Alex's body wasn't something the police were likely to notice.

After nearly two weeks of this status quo, the stronghold's manager suddenly approached Alex.

"Sir, I'm sorry. We only caught five today." Behind him stood five filthy, tattered homeless men.

"Why?" Alex asked, dissatisfied. As his mutation forms were gradually unlocked, his appetite was surging. Ten people barely satisfied him, let alone five; this was practically leaving him hungry.

"The homeless stay in contact with each other. Word of their companions disappearing has made them wary. There are fewer and fewer loners." The manager dared not look into Alex's blood-red eyes, lowering his head in apology. "Additionally, the NYPD has noticed something. Patrols have doubled in the last few days. I was afraid of exposure, so I didn't want to be too loud."

Committing crimes under such heat risked the entire base. While the Joker organization had countless hideouts, they couldn't afford to be so wasteful.

"I understand. From now on, I'll go out and hunt for myself. You may leave." Since there was a valid reason, Alex didn't blame him and let him go.

The manager was moved to tears of gratitude, leaving the shivering homeless men behind and hurrying away. He had delivered people every day and had frequent contact with Alex. He noticed that after every consumption, Alex's personality became more cruel and tyrannical. In the beginning, they could exchange a few words, but now, even a single glance from Alex made his heart skip a beat in terror. It was as if he weren't facing a man, but a ferocious beast. Getting off so easily today felt like a narrow escape from death.

Once the manager left, Alex immediately began feeding. Thick blood vessels shot from his body, piercing the chests of the five men instantly. Dozens of seconds later, they were completely integrated into him.

With the consumption complete, Alex clenched his fist, feeling his strength had increased several times over. With a thought, flesh and blood surged over his fists, forming a pair of massive iron bludgeons.

This was his second form after the Claws: Hammerfist Form.

The two hammers were incredibly hard, suitable for attacking slow-moving objects. He could even alter their weight to increase the impact, with a single hammer weighing up to over a ton. The flesh shifted again, the hammers transforming into a sharp, massive blade. The edge was so sharp it could slice through the iron bars of the cell with ease; its strength and hardness were far superior to the Claws.

Alex had acquired three transformation forms, yet he frowned and muttered to himself: "Not enough. Still not enough."

It sounded a bit metaphysical, but he truly felt he was not far from his final form.

Leaving the dungeon for the upper floors, he saw the sky darkening outside. Alex gave the manager a brief word, then shapeshifted into a stranger's appearance and left the stronghold. He hadn't eaten his fill for dinner; he planned to find a late-night snack and strive to reach his ultimate form as soon as possible.

Strolling through the neon-lit streets of New York, the number of cars and pedestrians was significantly lower than usual. If you didn't know this was New York, you'd think it was a third-tier city. The Joker organization had been so active lately that any New Yorker with common sense had abandoned their nightlife to stay safely at home. As for the wealthy and powerful, they had already begun selling off real estate, land, companies, and factories, preparing to evacuate the city. New York might be a financial hub, but it was also the Joker's headquarters; there was no point in making money if you weren't alive to spend it.

Thanks to Jason, the once unreachable housing prices in New York were finally cooling down. Many poor souls who could previously only afford basements were now moving into well-ventilated apartments.

After wandering the streets for a while, Alex still hadn't found a target. He was no longer satisfied with single kills—it was too time-consuming and inefficient. He wanted to find a crowd and wipe them out in one go. But tonight was strange; he visited several nightclubs only to find them either closed or nearly empty, which killed his interest.

A night breeze blew, swirling a discarded flyer into the air. Catching a glimpse of the photo on the paper, Alex's eyes turned sharp. He reached out and snatched it.

Printed on the flyer was a photo of his nemesis, Captain America, with an address and ticket price listed below.

"This is... the Captain America Museum?"

As a hero who sacrificed himself in WWII, Steve enjoyed a status almost higher than the Founding Fathers after his disappearance. Memorials and museums had been built by governments across the country. The largest, with the most exhibits, was the museum in Brooklyn—his hometown.

"Captain..."

Looking at the photo, the killing intent in Alex's heart reached a boiling point. Jason had invited him to Africa, where the meals were everywhere and much easier to catch than at home. Alex had been tempted, but he had refused.

Because his battle wasn't over. There had to be a fourth round between him and the Captain.

He glanced at the flyer; there was less than an hour left before closing time.

.

.

.

.

You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

500 power stones.

Top 100. All time.