Marvel: Starting with the Glint-Glint Fruit.

Chapter 103 Ivan Vanko and his son (Seeking monthly votes)

In a gray brick building in Moscow's Old Town, the small apartment is cramped and dimly lit.

The walls were mottled and yellowed, a thin layer of dust accumulated in the corners, and the only window faced a messy alley, letting in dim light.

The room was filled with old blueprints, rusted metal parts, and simple tools. The air was filled with the mixed smells of machine oil, solder, and old wood. In the corner were sketches of design drawings.

An old man was lying on the bed, dozing off.

On the street not far from this brick building, a burly man with short, thick hair, a cold and weathered face, and stubble was walking with a bag in his hand.

He was wearing a dark jacket with a Russian workwear feel.

She wore a simple dark-colored base layer underneath, with a casual and irregular neckline.

The lower body is covered by dark-colored, durable work pants, which are loose and slightly baggy.

He wore a pair of heavy, old-fashioned leather work boots, the leather surface worn and aged, suggesting that his economic situation was not good.

His fierce demeanor made him seem like a fugitive that no one dared to provoke.

He walked past pedestrians expressionlessly, returned to the brick building, climbed the stairs to his home, casually pushed open the door and went inside, glancing at his father lying on the bed.

He casually placed the bag full of beer and ingredients on the table.

He walked to the bedside, reached out his rough hands to smooth the quilt covering his father, and then placed his hand on his father's forehead.

The fever has subsided.

He breathed a sigh of relief, then poured a glass of water for his sleeping father and placed it on the bedside table.

Back at the workbench against the wall, I looked at the design sketches and prepared to sit down and continue refining them.

However, just as he sat down, his hand holding the pencil paused, and he suddenly looked towards the closed door.

Because he heard unfamiliar footsteps.

more than one.

And stopped in front of his house. The next moment, a slow knocking sounded. The man, holding a pencil in his hand, stood up with his T-shirt sleeve close to his body and went to open the door.

There were two people standing in front of him.

Two Russians.

He was equally strong, and wore seemingly ordinary clothes, but whether standing straight or exuding an air of military bearing, he had a distinctly military demeanor.

"Ivan Vanko?"

The leading Russian man with a buzz cut spoke in a deep, concise voice in Russian.

"Is something wrong?" Ivan didn't deny it, but asked in return.

"My boss would like to have a chat with you, Mr. Ivan." The man didn't seem to notice Ivan's wariness.

"What if I don't want to?"

Ivan grinned, revealing his yellow teeth, a result of years of smoking and drinking.

"It won't matter." The man wasn't angered by Ivan's provocation. Instead, he glanced at the old man lying unconscious on the bed in the corner of the room, and finally looked at Ivan.

"But I don't think this is a bad thing for you."

"If you value your father enough."

"Can I take this as a threat?" Ivan's expression immediately turned fierce, like a wild beast that had been provoked.

"This is not a threat."

The man remained unfazed, looking directly into Ivan's eyes: "We wouldn't stoop to such despicable means against you."

"And if we insist on forcing our way in, you won't have any room to resist."

His tone was calm, but Ivan detected a strong sense of confidence in it.

His confidence surprised even Ivan.

My brain raced, trying to figure out where these two people came from.

Intelligence agency? Military? Or some kind of conglomerate?

After much deliberation, Ivan made a choice, or rather, he truly had no right to refuse. In any case, the fact that the other party had approached him proved that he had been targeted.

Hiding or escaping is impossible.

Then perhaps we can make use of it.

"Now?"

"Now."

Ivan nodded: "Wait."

Ivan turned his head and first placed the pills he had prepared for his father on the bedside table, next to the cup.

Then she put the breakfast she bought from her bag over as well.

He also wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, explaining that he was going out for a while.

He then walked out the door and closed it, saying, "Let's go."

Without much conversation or small talk, he followed the two men downstairs and got into the back seat of their car, which started moving.

After half an hour.

We arrived at a secluded but upscale private villa district in Moscow.

The environment was very nice. As the tall iron gate in front of the villa opened, the car drove in and it took another ten minutes to reach the villa.

This is a villa that clearly has a Soviet-era style.

Even Ivan, upon seeing it, couldn't help but feel its profound depth and understated luxury.

In addition, what surprised Ivan was the tight security here. He observed more than a hundred security personnel along the way.

Each of them, though seemingly dressed in civilian clothes, was actually carrying a weapon.

Every move he made exuded a strong military style.

Ivan knew that the person he was going to see must be someone of great importance.

However, the people he saw after entering the villa were completely unexpected.

Not Russian.

He was a very young Western man, tall and with an outstanding presence. He wasn't dressed in luxurious or exquisite clothes, but his demeanor exuded a confidence and dignity that those so-called upper-class aristocratic elites lacked.

He was in a stone pavilion in the back garden.

The surroundings are filled with neatly trimmed flowers, and there is a fountain with a stone sculpture standing tall, making for a pleasant environment.

Even Ivan, a rough and uncultured man, felt very out of place here.

It really ruins the atmosphere here.

"My name is Matthew." Matthew spoke in English, although he understood Russian and spoke many other languages.

Having a strong learning ability means you can be carefree; you can learn a little, watch TV, and practice your spoken English, and you'll basically master it.

Upon seeing Ivan, Matthew showed no disgust towards the unkempt, burly man. Instead, he stood up, walked up to Ivan, and extended his hand to introduce himself.

Ivan looked down, then reached out and shook hands with him.

"I never imagined the person I was going to meet would be so young."

Ivan also answered in English.

He knows English because of his father.

If it weren't for his father's accident, Ivan wouldn't have ended up in such a sorry state; instead, he would be living like the upper-class elite.

"I like directness, Ivan. I've investigated you and your father; you're both geniuses."

Matthew gets straight to the point. He's very gentle with talented people, but if they rebel, he'll treat them differently.

He did not put himself on a pedestal or look down on others because of his achievements, power, and wealth.

That's just plain crazy.

Being authoritative and domineering when needed is fine, but doing that in daily life would be too tiring, at least Matthew doesn't like it.

"You have what I need, namely your knowledge and wisdom, which is exactly what I need."