"I have multiples girlfriends in Marvel."

S.H.I.E.L.D., recently renamed the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, had been around for a long time—dating back to Howard Stark's era.

It was a powerful organization, with countless agents scattered across the country and even the world.

The woman in the baseball cap was one of them.

After sending a message to her superior, Coulson, she quietly followed Ethan Cole upstairs.

Upstairs, in the wrestling venue's office, a table was covered in scattered bills. A middle-aged man sat behind it, leisurely counting money.

From the look on his face, he could've kept counting until his hands cramped.

When Ethan entered, the man looked up with a frown.

"What are you here for?"

Ethan shrugged.

"Obviously, I'm here for my reward. According to the rules, I lasted three minutes—$3,000 in prize money. Hand it over."

The man laughed.

"Three thousand dollars? You disrupted the order downstairs, and the audience almost rioted. You still have the nerve to ask for a reward? You're lucky I'm not charging you!"

"We signed a contract," Ethan said, his voice low beneath the helmet.

"A contract?" the man sneered. "Kid, don't be naïve. You really think that matters? Go ahead, sue me—and see if the court sides with you or with me."

So it was true—capitalists really did have black hearts. Almost everyone in the audience had lost money. With a crowd this big, even if each person lost just a hundred dollars, the organizers would still rake in hundreds of thousands.

And yet this guy wasn't even willing to pay $100.

Even in the old Spider-Man movies, at least Peter got a hundred bucks.

"Now, leave and close the door on your way out. Get lost."

After saying this, the middle-aged man lowered his head and continued counting his money, fully absorbed in it.

Ethan Cole gave a bitter smile. So, getting Spider-Man's powers meant he had to experience Spider-Man's hardships—including injustice?

But this kind of injustice… he wasn't about to accept it.

Why did this guy get to change the rules on the spot, deny payment, and declare the contract invalid? He was being completely unreasonable—and still expected Ethan to play fair?

"I've changed my mind. According to the initial contract, lasting ten minutes means you owe me $100,000. You saw I could easily achieve it, so you tore up the agreement and altered the conditions without permission. That's a breach of contract."

"Now, I won't pursue the breach. Just pay me the $100,000 as stipulated. Let's say there's $30,000 on the table. How will you pay the remaining $70,000?"

Aside from the wad in the man's hand, there were scattered bills on the table—not $100,000, but close to $70,000.

But even if it were just $30,000, it was messily piled up and hard to carry without a bag.

Maybe he should have brought a sack for the money?

Just as Ethan regretted not bringing something to carry the cash, the office door opened, and a burly man with dyed white hair walked in.

Seeing Ethan in an Iron Man helmet, the white-haired man paused, then tossed a bag at the middle-aged man without a word.

"Pack up the money."

The middle-aged man was about to snap but went quiet the moment he saw the gun in the white-haired man's hand. Without another word, he grabbed the bag and started stuffing the money inside.

As he packed, he taunted Ethan.

"Isn't all this money on the table yours, Mr. Ironhead? Are you just going to watch it get taken away?"

Ethan shook his head. "Just pack the money. Enough with the nonsense."

"Your money?" The white-haired man turned toward Ethan, looking agitated—almost like he was about to aim the gun at him.

Seeing that the middle-aged man had nearly finished packing the cash, Ethan smiled and said, "He's right. This is my money."

"You!" The white-haired man's eyes widened, clearly mistaking Ethan Cole for another robber, and turned his gun on him.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he flew backward, crashing into the wall several meters away—knocked out cold.

Ethan lowered his leg, took the money-filled bag from the middle-aged man, and brushed the dust off his clothes.

"Your money was taken by an armed robber. I recovered my own money and caught the robber for you. Technically, you owe me thanks."

"But this was just me doing a good deed, so forget the thanks. Just prepare the remaining $70,000 you owe me. I'll come by for it whenever."

"Oh, and your attitude earlier irritated me, so here's a parting gift."

As he spoke, Ethan suddenly reached out, grabbing the man's head before he could react, and slammed it onto the table.

Thunk! Another one, knocked out.

"Why force an honest man to lose his temper? What's the point?"

Ethan turned and walked out of the office without looking back, heading toward the nearby staircase.

The hallway was empty, and it wasn't until Ethan entered the stairwell that the woman in the baseball cap appeared from the opposite end, following him in.

They were barely three seconds apart.

But once the woman entered the stairwell, she found that Ethan was gone. She couldn't even hear a sound and had no idea if he'd gone up or down.

"Gone in three seconds? That... that fast? So he has super speed in addition to super strength?"

The woman muttered to herself, then began composing a message.

Although she wasn't in the office, the woman in the baseball cap had heard enough to piece together what had happened.

As a woman, knowing that Ethan had intercepted the robber to reclaim his own payment, she felt like cheering him on.

These underground casino bosses needed someone as decisive and capable as him to deal with them.

However, as an official agent, she had a duty to uphold the law—so she was obliged to pursue Ethan Cole.

Not catching up with Ethan Cole left her feeling both disappointed and a little relieved.

As for the report to her superior, she'd just tell the truth. With his speed, it wasn't her fault she couldn't catch him.