Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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The sound of intense gunfire echoed through the bank, and nearly as soon as the first shots rang out, the bank's staff quickly hit the alarm button.

After the alarm went off, the police would be on their way in a matter of minutes.

The robbers, having prepared for this, were well aware of the timing.

Clink, clink!

The bullets from the bank security guards ricocheted off the robbers' vehicle, sending sparks flying, but only leaving shallow dents.

An armored vehicle?

No wonder it was able to crash through the doors without taking much damage.

The robbers started to retaliate, first throwing a few tear gas grenades before their weapons roared to life.

A few security guards, holding their small firearms, glanced at the heavy weaponry in the robbers' hands. After one guard was taken down, the rest of them immediately surrendered.

The crowd screamed and rushed toward the bank's entrance.

The robbers didn't seem concerned. Pointing their guns at the heads of the security guards, they ordered the people behind the counters to open the doors.

At that moment, Mike and Remy LeBeau, moving with the crowd, exchanged a glance. After a brief moment, Remy shrugged. Several playing cards slid from his sleeve, and with a snap of his fingers, they glowed with dangerous energy before flying toward the robbers.

The cards, charged with Remy's abilities, flew faster than bullets.

In an instant, they struck the robbers, sending them flying and knocking them unconscious.

Remy LeBeau smirked, a mix of disdain and coldness on his face.

If Mike were a woman, he'd probably be cheering for the stylish Card King.

But Mike didn't cheer. Instead, he silently distanced himself from Remy and, after giving him a thumbs-up, pointed behind him.

Remy paused, looked back, and his face twitched as he muttered a curse under his breath.

One of the robbers stood up from the ground, removing the torn mask to reveal the grotesque face underneath.

Covered in scales with sharp teeth, it looked terrifying.

The robber let out an angry roar and charged directly at Remy.

Remy sighed. He hated dealing with these kinds of problems, but then again, what was the situation in this world? Were there no mutants or anything? Couldn't even a robbery be carried out without someone being weird?

Seeing the robber charging closer, Remy quickly spread his hands apart, and playing cards flew into the air. With a wave of his hand, the cards swirled around him like a cloud of butterflies before shooting straight toward the robber.

Boom, boom!

Mike chuckled as he heard the successive explosions.

With Remy's abilities, he should be fine—though it would take a bit of effort.

Sure enough, after Mike waited by his car for a few seconds, Remy emerged, looking disheveled and muttering curses while straightening his torn clothes.

"Whoa, looks like the battle was intense!" Mike teased, eyeing Remy's clothes.

Remy noticed Mike's gaze, rolled his eyes, and grumbled, "This time I took a big hit. This outfit's a designer brand! You definitely owe me a few drinks to make up for it."

"Ah, now you're sticking to me, huh?" Mike teased back.

Remy chuckled and got into the passenger seat. "I don't have anything else to do today, so I might as well keep you company."

"Well, I guess I'll take that as a thank you!" Mike replied.

"Don't mention it."

"Alright, let's go take care of some business first," Mike said.

"Business? Collecting debts or killing people?" Remy raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin. "If it's too troublesome, I'm not going. But if you want me to step in, I'll need fifty-fifty."

Mike's eyebrow twitched. "Did your brain fly out with your cards?"

With that, Mike started the car and sped off.

Then... buying a harvester!?

Watching Mike expertly haggle with the seller, Remy was left in a daze.

A moment later, after negotiating and arranging for delivery to Mike's farm, Mike got back into the car. Seeing Remy still staring at him blankly, Mike raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"You're buying that thing for what? Dismembering people?"

Mike's gaze dropped slightly. "What exactly do you think I do for a living?"

"Ahem!" Remy LeBeau cleared his throat, clenching his fist in disbelief. "You... you're really farming?"

"What else would I be doing?"

Remy fell silent for a moment, then smiled. "Well, that's better than what I've got going on."

Thinking about his current situation, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath.

Mike glanced at Remy with a hint of curiosity. There seemed to be a story behind this guy. Interesting.

Mike then dragged Remy to a car dealership, where they picked out a nice SUV. Mike casually sold his old pickup truck to a second-hand car dealer and, along with Remy, headed to a nearby bar.

Remy poured himself a drink, downing it in one go. "It wasn't easy to get you to drink this, you know!"

Mike chuckled, took a sip from his own glass, and refilled Remy's. "So, how come you left Las Vegas? That's the real paradise for a gambler like you."

Remy sighed, as though reminiscing about his past life, before smirking. "Couldn't stay there any longer."

"Hmm?" Mike raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Did you scam some rich widow and get chased by her?"

Remy sighed, looking exasperated. "What do you think I do?"

After a beat, he added, "It's worse than that. I pissed off Hellfire."

"Whoa! That's tough!" Mike lifted his glass. "I salute your courage!"

Remy grimaced but clinked glasses with Mike. "And you? How did you end up a farmer?"

Mike smirked. "What? You look down on farmers?"

"Of course not!" Remy gave Mike a serious look. "I just find it... hard to believe."

"I've got kids."

"Well, that explains it," Remy said, pouring them both more drinks and reclining back in his chair. "I envy you, really. You're free."

"Hmm?" Mike looked at Remy, puzzled. "What do you mean? You—"

Remy ran a hand through his hair, sounding resigned. "Just like you think, I lost my freedom. I'm like a bird in a cage, trapped in this chaotic city."

"Remy..."

"Hmm?"

"Trying to act all deep and poetic? That's so outdated."

"Is it?" Remy chuckled. Then, with a sigh, he explained. "I came to New York and got myself into some trouble. A damn organization started chasing me, and I ended up signing a deal with them."

"I'm working for them as a special, non-official agent for five years. In exchange, they'll stop pursuing my past offenses, help clear my criminal record, and give me a clean slate."

"Whether or not I have a clean record doesn't really matter to me," Remy continued. "What does matter is that I got caught, signed the contract, and now I'm stuck with this."

He revealed a black wristband on his arm.

A tracking device?

Mike raised an eyebrow.

(End of Chapter)