Marvel: Warhammer Simulator

In general, the birth of a lie requires more lies to cover it up.

However, Zaire's lie integrated the true history of this world,

the imminent future, and various possibilities.

He simply revealed some things that had not yet happened in advance to increase credibility.

Moreover, compared to Zaire, who kills like killing chickens,

his aunt as an ordinary person finds it easier to accept a familiar and noble World War II hero who rises from the coffin to save the world.

And Zaire is just a minor character in the story, driven by hot-blooded enthusiasm.

Of course, Zaire doesn't expect his aunt to believe everything.

As long as his aunt is no longer surprised by things beyond common sense.

Such as his rapidly changing physique in the near future,

such as more unexplained money or equipment, and so on.

Even if his aunt is half-skeptical,

she will not report Zaire but choose to shelter and protect him.

And when Stark publicly reveals the identities of superheroes,

ushering in an era of chaos where anti-heroes abound.

Zaire believes his aunt will gradually get used to it...

Having explained everything, Zaire, who was lounging on the couch, made lunch for his aunt, who was doubting life.

Then he began to busy himself with other things.

The reinforcement work in the basement has been completed, and the borrowed tools need to be returned.

The restaurant's renovation and preparation work also require Zaire's attention.

After all, his aunt's business is also a career, more like a spiritual sustenance.

Even though Zaire still has a lot of money left, he dare not use it for the time being.

He's afraid of causing too much stimulation, which his aunt can't handle, leading to a stroke...

Before leaving, the filial Zaire turned his head to look at his aunt.

He found his aunt stuffing lunch into her mouth fiercely,

counting money with one hand, occasionally muttering unclear words and laughing lightly.

This... seems to be progressing smoothly, right?

Zaire breathed a sigh of relief.

Immediately after, he carefully greeted his aunt, only to receive a disdainful glance from her, Zaire smiled and walked out of the door.

This is the meaning of family and the source of Zaire's fighting spirit.

Zaire first went to the basement of the apartment, packed up all the tools and equipment,

and easily carried them back to the second floor of the apartment.

Mr. Herman Schultz was kind enough to lend Zaire tools as a neighbor.

But recently, he's been unemployed and can only stay at home.

Zaire knocked on the door and expressed his gratitude to Mr. Schultz, who looked haggard from unemployment.

Then he proposed to hire him to redecorate a restaurant.

Mr. Schultz, with calloused hands and a large build, was suddenly excited, with a hint of shine even on his dark-skinned face.

Just a simple job instantly rejuvenated him.

Zaire began to discuss the schedule and price with him.

And Zaire refused Mr. Schultz's deliberately lowered wages.

Instead, he offered a slightly higher price than the market rate, as a gesture of gratitude for lending him tools.

Mr. Schultz was very grateful for this.

They agreed to meet the next morning to discuss further. Zaire left the apartment.

The sky over New York was still overcast.

However, the rain gradually dwindled, leaving only a fine drizzle, persistently falling.

Yet on the streets, individuals and groups of people were excited, their spirits high.

Even some uninformed passersby quickly got news and learned of the situation.

Joining the procession with immense indignation, chanting slogans to protect children.

Obviously, the public opinion storm initiated by Zaire had just begun the first half,

and there were signs of intensifying.

As if unaware of all this, Zaire, like an ordinary citizen, walked against the crowd, heading towards a nearby supermarket.

Perhaps because of Zaire's robust physique,

or perhaps because of the vigorous aura he exuded.

In any case, Zaire moved forward.

The surrounding crowd subconsciously made way for him,

as if afraid to touch Zaire at all.

Zaire didn't pay much attention,

just slightly lowered his head, pulled up the hood of his tracksuit, and quickened his pace.

Zaire never cared much about his attire,

since his aunt had always taken him shopping in the past.

So when faced with a dazzling array of clothing styles, Zaire was at a loss.

Thus, he could only choose some sturdy and durable clothes and pants, telling the salesperson to bring ten pieces of each style.

Zaire quickly settled on his clothes, then bought five pairs of sturdy military boots.

This way, whether for daily life or for more intense activities like combat and assassination, he would be well-prepared.

Zaire carried a heavy load of bags, checked out cleanly and efficiently.

However, before Zaire could step out of the store,

two sweaty, clearly out-of-shape Caucasian policemen suddenly blocked Zaire's path.

Simultaneously, a freckled young policeman cautiously rested his hand on his holster, his eyes vigilant, saying,

"Sir, please temporarily halt any actions! And show your ID or driver's license!"

Zaire frowned slightly.

A glint of coldness flashed in his eyes, fleeting.

He slowly revealed a smile.

Very friendly, he asked, "Hello, officer. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's nothing serious, just a report of seeing gang members in sportswear..."

Another middle-aged policeman scanned Zaire and visibly relaxed a lot. He smiled and said,

"But obviously, the informant got it wrong... You're definitely not Slavic."

Before he finished, Zaire still smiled and relaxed all the tense muscles in his body.

It was just a spontaneous inspection, and there was no need for a big fuss.

His thoughts turning,

Zaire shook his head slightly, pretending to complain,

"Damn it, I'm just out enjoying some shopping..."

The middle-aged policeman shrugged helplessly and said,

"Sorry, sir. Please show your ID, and then you can go."

Zaire put down the things in his hands.

He took out his ID, which he carried with him.

The middle-aged policeman took it and glanced at it before returning it to Zaire.

He apologized again, full of regret,

"Sorry for disturbing your journey."

Zaire nodded, picked up the items he bought, and left the store.

When Zaire's figure disappeared into the crowd,

the middle-aged policeman, expressionless, walked over to the young policeman who looked frustrated,

and said in a low voice,

"Age mismatch... The report said the suspect was between twenty and forty years old, but the young man we just stopped is only eighteen... He's just well-developed."

"Shouldn't we be catching criminals from the gang? What's with the search for suspects in the homicide? Didn't you read the report? That suspect is a hero who saved a child!"

The young policeman's face was full of indignation, suppressing his anger and muttering.

"You're too naive. If killing the suspect from the sports gang makes him a hero, what are we as police officers?"

The middle-aged policeman sneered, expressionless.

Then he suddenly said to the young policeman,

"Forget it, you go rest in the car. I'll look around and then go back."

Seeing the young policeman leaving the mall with a disgruntled face,

the expressionless middle-aged policeman quickly took out his phone and started recording something.

On the open interface of the phone,

more than a dozen names were densely recorded.

Identity card numbers and home addresses.

These were the lists of suspected persons he had stopped and checked before.

And Zaire's information was also recorded by the middle-aged policeman!

After everything was done,

the middle-aged policeman hesitated for a moment and chose to send it out.

"Damn it... I need at least three times the hush money this month, otherwise, with the current situation, the risk of doing things for them is too high..."

The middle-aged policeman muttered to himself.

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