In the Marvel universe, you start with a colored Hextech item.

Chapter 109 An Impossible Request

The heavy White House doors slammed onto the marble floor, and before the dust had settled, Lynn had already stepped into the building that symbolized the highest power in the United States.

As this was Lynn's first time stepping into this place, which carries the symbolic significance of a century of history, he looked around at the carved beams and painted rafters of the long corridor and couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.

He wasn't sure if other people who transmigrated to the Marvel world were as crazy as him, single-handedly storming the core of the White House, wiping out all the guards, and even beating up quite a few so-called "good heroes." He guessed that among all the protagonists, he was probably the only one.

Not to mention—what he's about to do will only be more insane than storming the White House.

He knew very well that in this final battle, more people would die than ever before.

Soldiers in the military, agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., members of the Avengers, and even politicians who are stirring up trouble behind Capitol Hill, may all pay the price for their choices in this war.

Lynn walked slowly down the corridor, his fingertips lightly brushing against the portraits of past presidents hanging on the wall, clicking his tongue in amazement.

As the residence and office of the US president, the decoration is not extremely luxurious, but it exudes a sense of historical weight accumulated over a century. Every room and every piece of furniture bears the mark of the rise of this empire.

Unfortunately, this sacred building is now probably associated with the word "fall" in the minds of Americans.

Lynn raised an eyebrow, and a thought suddenly popped into his mind. Since he was no longer seen as a good person by the public, why not demolish the house completely before leaving?

The thought only flashed through his mind for a moment before he smiled and shook his head.

He immediately looked around.

The US president is definitely not going to be foolish enough to stay in his office and wait for him. He's probably already evacuated to the underground command center, and it'll take him some effort to find him.

Lynn stopped, leaned slightly forward, and spoke to the surveillance cameras in the corridor in a mocking tone. His voice, carried through the cameras, echoed throughout every corner of the White House: "My dear president—where are you?"

"Come out already, hiding won't help."

"If I find it myself—you're in for a lot of trouble."

His voice echoed through the empty corridor, accompanied by the sound of his unhurried footsteps, gradually spreading deeper into the White House.

The civilian staff and cabinet members hiding in their rooms listened to the increasingly close sound, barely daring to breathe, their bodies trembling like leaves.

Occasionally, a few fearless special agents would rush out from the side door along the way, trying to stop him, but they would fall into a pool of blood before they could even pull the trigger.

Lynn didn't even stop walking; his clothes remained spotless, with only the gradually spreading smell of blood in the air indicating the path he had walked.

As soon as he reached the end of the corridor, he bumped into the president and his entourage, who were being escorted by the Secret Service and evacuating through the underground passage.

What happened next was no surprise.

All the armed Secret Service agents were slaughtered within ten seconds, and the president and cabinet members, who were trying to hide in the underground safe house, were forced back to the presidential office by him.

Incidentally, he also had the cameramen following behind him set up their live-streaming equipment in this most central office in the United States.

Meanwhile, in the airspace outside Washington, D.C.

Three high-tech Quinjet fighter jets are speeding through the clouds at supersonic speeds, heading full speed toward the White House.

The atmosphere inside the cabin, however, was incredibly cold.

Fury stared intently at the holographic screen in front of him, at Lynn's profile as he smiled mockingly at the surveillance camera, and at his back as he turned and walked into the depths of the White House.

His heart sank, and he couldn't help but curse under his breath: Damn it!

-

"Natasha, full speed ahead! Faster!"

Fury abruptly turned his head and gave a stern order to Natasha in the driver's seat, his eyes filled with barely suppressed anxiety and lingering fear.

In his eyes, Lynn had completely gone mad.

In the past, Fury could always find a reason to convince himself of all of Lynn's actions, even if it was killing General Ross in public or infiltrating a S.H.I.E.L.D. base.

It could be said that Lynn harbored resentment, was framed by Ross, and was driven to the brink of despair by the encirclement and suppression of S.H.I.E.L.D.

But things are different now.

To storm the White House single-handedly, slaughter the White House guards, and forcibly enter the heart of American power—this is no longer simply playing with fire!

Instead, it will drag everyone into the abyss of total war!

Originally, this was just a private conflict between Lynn and the authorities, and between Lynn and S.H.I.E.L.D., but now—

Lynn brought this matter to the forefront of the entire United States and even the world, trampling the face of the entire nation underfoot.

That location, that room, is a spiritual symbol in the hearts of all Americans. Any extreme action Lynn takes there could trigger a chain reaction—

This would incite panic and anger among tens of millions of people, and could even trigger nationwide unrest!

Given Lynn's consistent style of doing things, would he let these ordinary people go, regardless of whether it affected him or not?

This is clearly impossible.

Fury broke out in a cold sweat as he suddenly remembered Lynn's words in his ear: "I can destroy everything in your sight."

He used to think it was just Lynn's angry words or a threat, but now he understands that this madman is really capable of doing it.

Slaughtering New York might just be an angry outburst, but if things continue like this, he really could turn the whole of Washington upside down!

"Chief, we are already moving at top speed and will reach the White House airspace within three minutes."

Natasha's voice came from the driver's seat. She had only been awake for a short time, her face was still pale, and her fingers gripping the control stick were trembling slightly, but she still stared intently at the airspace ahead, without relaxing her focus in the slightest.

The cabin fell silent once again.

Rogers, seeing the undisguised worry in Fury's eyes, gripped the vibranium shield in his hand and spoke in a deep voice, trying to break the oppressive atmosphere.

"Don't worry, he's alone."

"With the seven of us working together, we're sure to subdue Lynn. I'll handle him head-on, while the rest of you, whose injuries haven't fully healed, will provide support from the sidelines!"

His words were powerful and resonant, filled with the unwavering strength that Captain America is known for.

But the other passengers in the cabin showed no emotion whatsoever, and none of them even looked up to respond.

"Come on, Captain, stop with your WWII slogans."

Tony leaned against the bulkhead, his fingers flying across the holographic panel of his suit. Without looking up, he chuckled, his tone weary and sharp.

"You said the same thing last time, and what happened? You got punched and sent flying without even touching the hem of someone's clothes."

"We are not seven men now, we are seven wounded soldiers, plus a coward who is scared of being beaten."

He glanced at Bronsky huddled in the corner, then at Barton, who was pale-faced, and Rhodes, who was coughing incessantly, before finally looking back at Rogers and adding.

"Contain them head-on? What will you use to contain them?"

"Take your vibranium shield, or your never-give-up slogan?"

One sentence brought the already deathly silence in the cabin to an even lower level.

Rogers gripped his shield, opened his mouth as if to retort, but ultimately said nothing.

Tony was telling the truth; he really couldn't stop Lynn, or even cause him any trouble.

Barton leaned back in his seat, his face pale, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the quiver at his waist. He didn't even have the strength to lift his head. After being kicked away by Lynn last time, he still found it very difficult to draw the bow fully. He could only use drugs to numb his pain, let alone snipe Lynn head-on.

Wearing the War Machine armor, Rhodey was clutching his chest and coughing lightly. Each breath was accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. The internal injury left by Lynn's axe that pierced through his armor was still throbbing.

He stared at Lynn's figure on the screen with a complicated expression, showing no intention of responding.

Of all those present, only Tony Stark had recovered to a considerable extent from his injuries.

The only ones truly unharmed, besides Rogers, were Banner, who sat silently in the corner, and Bronsky, whom Fury had temporarily recruited.

Banner had his head down, his hands clenched tightly together, green veins faintly visible on his arms, and his breathing was heavy, clearly he was desperately trying to suppress the Hulk within him.

He knew better than anyone that transforming would only cause greater chaos and might even be exploited by Lynn. But without transforming, he had absolutely no means to fight Lynn.

Even though Bronsky's severed hand had been reattached, he huddled in the far corner of the cabin, hiding himself in the shadows, his eyes darting around. Whenever he heard Lynn's name, his body would instinctively tense up.

The image of Lynn breaking his arm with his bare hands had left an indelible shadow in his mind. Let alone confronting him head-on, just thinking about fighting Lynn made him want to back down and stay as far away from the battle as possible.

The deathly silence in the entire cabin was not without reason.

Everyone who has faced Lynn knows perfectly well what a terrifying opponent they are about to face.

This is an enemy that cannot be easily defeated with a few passionate slogans.

Seeing the increasingly oppressive atmosphere, Fury took a deep breath, suppressed the anxiety surging in his heart, and slowly spoke.

"Cheer up, everyone."

"We have help."

"As long as we can stall until she arrives, all problems will be solved. Lynn will be no match for her."

Upon hearing this, everyone in the cabin was slightly taken aback and looked up at Fury, their eyes filled with doubt and shock.

They all knew very well that almost all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and the Avengers' most capable forces were here.

So who exactly is the accomplice Fury is talking about?

"An accomplice? Fury, what other tricks are you hiding?"

Tony stopped what he was doing first, frowned and looked at Fury with a hint of wariness in his voice.

"A trump card that even I didn't know about?"

"You had better explain yourself. We're risking our lives to buy time, so we have the right to know who we're waiting for."

Rogers also spoke in a deep voice.

"Who exactly is Fury? If we are to join forces against Lynn, we must know his background."

But Fury simply shook his head, offering no further explanation. He simply looked back at the live feed of the White House on the screen, his single eye still filled with undiminished worry.

"All you need to know is that she is our only chance of winning."

"Now, prepare for battle. We have entered Washington airspace."

These words were meant to encourage everyone, but deep down he had no confidence whatsoever.

It was all because he was too cautious, always thinking he should wait and see, and didn't use the pager to summon Carol immediately.

This is what caused the situation to completely spiral out of control, forcing them to bite the bullet and hold Lynn back.

If Carol arrives too late—

As Fury watched the clouds rushing past the window and the increasingly close silhouette of Washington, D.C., he couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"Hopefully—I can make it in time."

The White House, the Oval Office.

"Feed, feed."

"Viewers in the live stream, can you hear me? Can you see the picture clearly?"

Lynn sat in the president's office chair with his legs crossed, playing with the president's pen in his hand, and spoke to the live broadcast camera with a smile.

The anti-jamming device next to it had a constantly lit green light, steadily transmitting the live broadcast to every corner of the United States, rendering the White House's signal jamming completely useless.

But the background to this seemingly relaxed and pleasant scene is incredibly eerie.

In the shot, Lynn sits behind his desk, while the President of the United States sits stiffly on the sofa opposite him, his face pale.

O

The office was littered with the bodies of special agents everywhere—at the doorway, in the corners, and beside the desks. The pristine white walls were splattered with glaring bloodstains, and even the expensive wool carpet was mostly soaked in dark red blood.

Besides Lynn and the president, the office was crammed with a dozen or so cabinet members, all huddled in a corner, men and women embracing each other, with occasional suppressed sobs.

"Quiet down, all of you!"

Upon hearing the sobbing, Lynn's smile vanished instantly. He frowned, gave a cold shout, and glanced at the group of cabinet members in the corner.

"Where is your professionalism?"

"How can you be so disgraceful, crying and sobbing in such a formal, nationally televised occasion? Isn't that utterly shameful?"

"Mr. President, look at the people you've chosen; they're utterly incompetent. If I were you, I'd fire them all at the first opportunity."

His tone was relaxed and casual, as if he were the master of the office, but the more relaxed he was, the more creepy it made everyone present feel.

The reason he didn't take action against these unarmed cabinet members is quite simple.

His rule has never changed: he only kills those who attack him and try to kill him.

These politicians, who spend most of their time sitting in their offices, used to be surrounded by bodyguards whenever they went out. But most of them had never even touched a gun, let alone fired one.

Let alone attacking him, even if Lynn shoved a gun into their hands, these people would only be terrified and collapse to the ground.

Lynn had no interest in attacking this group of people who couldn't even put up a fight.

After all, he wasn't some indiscriminately killing madman.

But his casual act, broadcast live to millions of viewers across the United States, has utterly trampled on America's century-old pride and dignity, repeatedly humiliating and crushing them.

Countless people across the United States, watching the live broadcast, fell into a deathly silence.

The once bustling Times Square in New York City fell silent instantly, with everyone staring at the live broadcast on the giant screen in the square, their faces filled with disbelief.

On the streets of Washington, cars were parked on the side of the road, and drivers were watching live streams on their phones, not even noticing when the green light came on.

The emergency meeting on Capitol Hill descended into complete chaos. The members of Congress who had passed the bill watched Lynn's face turn ashen on the live stream and began to rise, wanting to flee Capitol Hill.

In the Pentagon's operations room, countless officers roared into their phones, issuing and withdrawing orders to deploy troops, only to issue them again and again. Yet, none of the troops deployed around Washington dared to be the first to charge in.

No one dared to gamble that after rushing in, Lynn might just kill the president and all the cabinet members.

Even in the offices of other heads of state, the live broadcast was being streamed, and countless people watched the man sitting in the presidential office chair on the screen, falling into a long silence.

In the live broadcast, the president finally mustered a breath; sweat had already soaked the back of his suit. He clenched his fists tightly, trying his best to maintain the dignity and image of a president, and sternly asked Lynn, "Mr. Lynn, what exactly do you want?!"

He truly hadn't expected Lynn to act so quickly.

From the moment Lynn jumped from the fighter jet to the complete annihilation of the White House security forces, the entire operation took less than ten minutes.

He had just been escorted by the Secret Service to the underground passage when he bumped into Lynn, who was wandering around.

The rest is self-explanatory.

All the armed special agents were slaughtered by Lynn in an instant.

These ordinary people, powerless to even kill a chicken, could only watch helplessly as Lynn massacred the guards and set up his live-streaming equipment in the presidential office, feeling a deep-seated fear and despair.

When confronted by the president, Lynn simply smiled at him, leaned forward slightly, and spoke in a relaxed tone.

Didn't I already say that?

'

"I would like to interview the President."

"After all, the United States has always touted itself as a free country. They can't just exclude an ordinary citizen like me from conducting interviews because you're the president, can they?"

The president froze instantly. Looking at the seemingly gentle but actually chilling smile on Lynn's face, he knew perfectly well that if he dared to say "no," something irreversible would happen in the next second.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he could only nod stiffly.

Seeing this, Lynn's smile widened.

"Alright, my first question is very simple."

Lynn's smile vanished, his gaze suddenly turning icy, and he asked, word by word.

Why did you set your sights on me?

"You condoned General Ross's framing of me, launched a campaign to suppress me, even attempted to enact legislation to restrict my freedom, lock me in a cage, and even try to completely control me?"

The president remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes darting around, his fingers gripping the sofa armrest tightly. Finally, he slowly shook his head, his voice trembling slightly, yet he still stubbornly maintained his stance.

"This was a counterterrorism operation handled entirely by the Department of Defense and the Pentagon based on national security, and the White House was unaware of the specific details of its execution."

"Mr. Lynn, your actions constitute a terrorist attack on the United States. Stop immediately, and there is still room for negotiation."

"negotiation?"

Lynn chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

When this group of people surrounded him with guns, they didn't think about negotiating. When they thought about putting him in a cage, they didn't think about negotiating either. Now that they have a knife to his throat, do you expect them to negotiate with him?

It's ridiculous.

This group of people remained the same as always; they didn't truly regret their actions, but rather knew they were about to die.

"Oh? You didn't know?"

He didn't expose the president's lie, but simply went along with what he was saying.

"Fine! Since you're all in this together, shouldn't you offer me some compensation as the victim?"

The president spoke instinctively, his tone tinged with wariness.

What kind of compensation do you want?

At this moment, Lynn calmly pulled up a chair, sat back down behind his desk, looked at the anxious president in front of him, and spoke softly. His tone was light and airy, but it sent a chill down the spines of everyone present, including the millions of viewers in front of their screens.

"Send me all the members of Congress who passed the Superpower Registration Act, which restricts all superpowered individuals."

Lynn's gaze swept across the camera, as if he could see through the screen the politicians hiding behind Capitol Hill, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Then—on camera broadcast nationwide, I'll personally chop off their heads."

"How is this compensation?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire presidential office fell into a deathly silence.

The cabinet members in the corner instantly stopped sobbing and stared wide-eyed at Lynn as if he were a complete madman.

The president trembled violently, abruptly standing up from the sofa, his face ashen, and his voice shaking as he looked at Lynn.

"You—you're insane! This is absolutely impossible!"

He was certain that if he agreed in front of Lynn and under the eyes of the entire nation, there would be no doubt that everyone would know their incompetence and cowardice!

After a three-second pause, the live stream chat exploded, instantly flooding the entire screen like a volcanic eruption.

The entire United States, and even the world, was in an uproar because of Lynn's words.

At that very moment, three Quinjet fighter jets broke through the clouds and hovered steadily in mid-air above the South Lawn of the White House.

The cabin door slowly opened, Rogers stood at the front holding the vibranium shield, Tony was covered in his Mark armor, Banner's breathing became heavier and heavier, and Fury stood at the back, his eyes fixed on the White House below, his face extremely cold.

They still made it.

This long-awaited final battle began the moment Lynn stepped through the White House doors, leaving no room for maneuver.

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