North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 150 Choose Your Agent! (Seeking Monthly Tickets)
United Kingdom.

London.

Savile Row.

Inside a high-end custom tailoring shop called Kingsman.

A middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses is spreading his arms wide, letting the bald tailor take his measurements.

The man spoke with a perfect old London accent, was elegant and well-mannered, and always had a warm smile on his face—a quintessential English gentleman.

However, the words that came out of his mouth were far from as gentle and refined as his appearance suggested.

"Merlin, believe me, those incompetent MI6 agents will definitely mess things up! We must take the initiative!"

He said urgently to the bald tailor who was measuring his leg circumference, "The intelligence from Eastern Europe is very clear: this is a nanobot bomb that can multiply infinitely upon contact with metal!"

"Think about it, what if terrorists get their hands on it and use it to attack London Bridge? What should we do?"

“No need to take any action.” The tailor looked up at him and shrugged. “Harry, the Tower of London is mostly made of rock, with metal components making up less than 5%, so nanobombs will have limited impact on it.”

"And what about the London Eye? The Millennium Bridge, The Shard, the Victoria Line tunnels?"

The gentleman named Harry pressed on, “These are some of the most iconic buildings in Britain. If they were destroyed by terrorists, it would cause a huge social panic!”

Tailor Merlin looked troubled: "MI6 has already sent people over. We've had quite a few clashes with them on our previous missions. You have to understand, we're not an official organization after all."

"God, you don't actually believe MI6 people, do you? That bastard 007 does nothing but chase girls and show off; his marksmanship is worse than the rookies we train!"

"They didn't send 007 this time; it seems they only sent a female agent named Ilsa and a junior agent."

"A low-level agent?"

"That's right, his name is Johnny English. Although he's mediocre, he's incredibly lucky and always manages to complete his missions without any major incidents."

"luck."

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Just as he expected, MI6 had become hopelessly stupid, actually sending a low-level agent who relied on "luck" to carry out the mission of seizing the nanobomb.

“But Harry, if you insist on going, I, as an office worker, certainly can’t stop you.”

After recording the measurement data, the tailor Merlin suddenly revealed a mysterious smile and pressed a hidden button on the desktop.

In an instant, the wall a dozen meters away slowly unfolded, revealing a high-tech arsenal that only appears in spy movies.

Merlin curled his lip in disdain: "I'm just like you; I don't believe those idiots in MI6 could have gotten their hands on the nanobombs amidst a multinational intelligence operation. So—"

He gestured with his chin toward the weapons cabinet in front of him. "The plane tickets are booked, first class, ready to depart anytime. As for the equipment, you can choose for yourself."

Harry Hart raised an eyebrow and smiled with satisfaction: "It's time to let those lawless terrorists experience the 'warm hospitality' of English gentlemen."

France.

Marseille.

As the second largest city in France, its economy is far inferior to that of Paris, but it has a unique landscape that rivals Paris's – homeless people.

At that moment, a burly man in a worn-out overcoat was hurrying home, carrying fruit he had just picked up from a supermarket trash can.

Calling it a home might be a stretch, since his so-called residence was nothing more than a simple bridge archway.

But inside this very bridge arch, there is a television set.

Tonight is Wednesday – the Super Cup match between Marseille and Paris Saint-Germain.

As a die-hard Marseille fan, nothing is more exciting for him than watching his team thrash Paris Saint-Germain while enjoying fresh fruit.

But the next second, he suddenly stopped.

On the roadside, four or five heavily tattooed thugs with handguns at their waists were groping two girls, hurling vulgarities at them. The man glanced at his watch, confirmed there were still ten seconds before kickoff, and strode towards the group of thugs without hesitation.

He didn't say a single unnecessary word, or perhaps he was too eager to watch the game to speak.

He walked up behind the thug and delivered a vicious kick to the back of the knee!
"Click——"

A crisp cracking sound suddenly rang out, and you could even see the white bone fragments piercing out from under the skin!
This horrifying scene instantly shocked the other thugs, who retreated in panic. But the man was ruthless, and with just a few punches and kicks, he beat the group until their limbs were twisted and they collapsed to the ground.

In a panic, one of them pulled out a pistol, but the man threw a carrot faster, which accurately pierced his eye socket!
Just as the man was about to step forward and finish off the other person, his phone suddenly rang.

"Smith, your vacation is over."

"What? Who told you I was on vacation? I'm retired! I'm already retired!" the man roared irritably, his voice hoarse and rough.

The person on the other end of the phone remained unmoved. "I am formally informing you that you have been re-enlisted. Get to the military airfield within twenty minutes. Someone will brief you on the mission details."

".Hold!"

Enraged, Smith punched the carrot into the thug's head!

"But I still want to watch the game!"

"You can watch it on the plane! And as long as you complete the mission, I'll give you a season ticket to Marseille's home stadium so you can watch it to your heart's content!"

"Um?!"

Upon hearing this, Smith immediately stopped complaining.

Without even glancing at the corpses lying haphazardly on the ground or the girl huddled in the corner trembling, he picked a relatively fresh carrot from the paper bag, took a big bite, and turned to leave.

------

Slovakia.

airport.

A commercial airliner landed smoothly.

Shortly after, the bald captain dragged his suitcase through security and greeted the ground staff warmly.

I navigated the bustling crowd with practiced ease and strolled leisurely into the restroom.

After locking the compartment door, the "captain" suddenly reached into his collar and, with a soft "rip," removed a human skin mask, revealing his handsome true face underneath.

“Luther, I’m in position,” he whispered into the miniature communicator hidden in his ear.

“Okay, Hunter. The hotel is arranged, but I suggest you continue to stay as the captain. After all, who knows how many foreign agents and terrorists are lurking around the target location,” his partner advised in the earpiece.

"call"

Ethan Hunt breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the communicator crackled to life: "Seizing nanobombs from so many factions sounds like an impossible mission, doesn't it?"

He understood the implication in his partner's words and couldn't help but smile knowingly: "That's right, but we specialize in this kind of work!"

at the same time.

A small town more than 100 kilometers away.

Rorschach strolled off the train, walking casually beside the wealthy man who had volunteered to be his tour guide.

Not far behind him, Mikan and Lemon were tiptoeing behind, their eyes meeting, their expressions full of helplessness.

Over the next five days, the two of them had to come up with twenty-five different assassination plans!

Where can you even think of going?!

(End of this chapter)