Sure enough.
The next day, when William woke up, the bed beside him was already cold.
The air still carried the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and Jessica Jones' unique aroma, a mix of whiskey and leather.
He moved, feeling like a vintage car that had just finished the Le Mans 24-hour endurance race, every part creaking.
But this time, his waist was fine!
What did this mean?
It meant that his Resilient Skin showed signs of upgrading during continuous high-intensity "physical confrontations"!
"Service quality determines the willingness to renew, so it seems my 'service' was quite thorough."
He muttered to himself, walking towards the living room, leaning against the wall.
No note.
No farewell.
He didn't even break the door.
This was very unlike Jessica Jones.
William felt this might be a step forward.
He poured himself a glass of Water and drank it in one gulp.
Last night's overly intense "service fee" settlement method left him in urgent need of hydration.
He still had important business to attend to today.
He picked up his phone and saw a message from Happy Hogan, containing only an address and a time.
Stark Tower's underground garage.
William changed his clothes and stood by the road, ready to hail a taxi.
He subconsciously scanned every approaching yellow taxi, carefully distinguishing the driver's hat style and jawline curve.
If he happened to hail the "Director of Transportation" from the Moon Knight Group again, who knew if he would be directly pulled into some "urban purification" mission.
Finally, he chose a taxi that looked the most ordinary, with a pot-bellied driver listening to country music.
Safe... Stark Tower, third basement level.
The light here was as bright as day, and the air was filled with the smell of engine oil and some high-tech cleaning Agent.
Rows of unnamed luxury cars were neatly parked, each looking like it had driven straight out of a sci-fi movie.
Happy Hogan stood with his arms crossed, expressionless, in front of a car covered with a black dust cover.
He looked like an Agent waiting to hand over nuclear launch codes.
"You're three minutes late."
Happy checked his watch.
"Traffic was bad, you should understand, Manhattan's traffic is more chaotic than a villain's motive."
Happy, who was usually somewhat dull in front of his boss, had a completely different attitude towards others.
At this moment, he clearly didn't want to waste words with William and directly pulled off the huge dust cover.
It was a taxi.
An ordinary-looking yellow Ford Crown Victoria, the kind most common on New York streets.
But with just a closer look, one would discover the devil in the details.
The car's lines had an indescribable fluidity.
The tire width and aspect ratio were definitely not original factory configurations, and the car windows reflected a deep, almost obsidian-like luster under the lights.
Happy walked over and opened the rear passenger door.
"Get in and take a look."
William bent down and sat in the back seat.
The smell of a new car, mixed with a cool scent of high-grade leather and metal.
The seats were extremely supportive and felt tough, completely different from any taxi he had ever sat in.
The interior was excessively clean, with nothing superfluous except a taximeter and a seemingly old communication radio.
"It looks... very ordinary."
William commented.
This was a compliment.
For Jack Lockley, ordinary was the best disguise.
Happy ignored his compliment and walked around to the driver's seat, pulling the old radio directly from the dashboard with an almost rude motion.
With a "click."
Behind the radio, instead of messy wires, a smooth metal recess and a fingerprint scanner were revealed.
Happy's expression remained unchanged as he pressed his thumb onto it.
"Buzz—"
After a faint electrical hum, the originally unremarkable interior of the car instantly came alive.
The taximeter screen on the center console flickered, replaced by a real-time updated New York map covered with various markings.
Below the taximeter, a cover silently slid open, revealing a row of touch buttons glowing with a faint blue light.
The icons on them were simple and clear:
A drop of oil, a cloud of smoke, a lightning bolt symbol, and a sharp triangle.
"Urban Survival Kit."
Happy introduced concisely.
"High-viscosity graphene lubricant, covering smoke screen, directional short-range electromagnetic pulse, and... non-lethal alloy spikes hidden in the wheels. Mr. Stark emphasizes loving peace."
William's eye twitched.
Tony Stark, who loved peace, equipped a taxi with traps that could cause half a block of Police to rear-end each other.
This logic was very Stark.
"The windows are one-way bulletproof glass, mixed with Kevlar fibers and a thin layer of pseudo-Vibranium plating. The tires are military-grade run-flats; even if they're blown out, they can still run for eighty kilometers. The body frame is entirely reinforced with titanium alloy, and the chassis has blast armor."
Happy, like an emotionless sales robot, patted the driver's headrest.
"The seats have a simplified AI version of Friday built-in, which can assist with driving, threat assessment, and route planning. Of course, it can also connect to your designated encrypted channel."
He paused, pointing to the rearview mirror:
"Three-hundred-sixty-degree HD cameras, infrared and thermal imaging modes. All data is real-time encrypted and uploaded to a designated terminal. Your phone is the main control console. This is another phone, for your driver."
Saying that, Happy pulled out an equally ordinary-looking phone from his pocket and handed it over.
William felt his breathing quicken slightly.
Jack Lockley, upon getting this thing, would probably directly activate the exclusive DLC for "Grand Theft Auto: Moon Knight Legend."
"The medical kit is in the passenger's glove compartment, an auto-injector, containing hemostatic Agents, powerful painkillers, and a... um, a refreshing multivitamin complex."
Happy's tone finally had a subtle change, as if hinting at something.
William understood.
That was for Mark or Stephen, for when they needed to snap out of Jack's "driving mode."
Thoughtful, so thoughtful.
Even after-sales service for personality switching was considered.
Happy closed the car door expressionlessly, as if what he had just shown was merely a child's toy.
He pulled a strangely shaped car key from his pocket and tossed it to William.
"This is yours. Remember, the official record for this car belongs to a bankrupt cleaning company and has no connection to Stark Industries."
"I understand, reasonable risk aversion."
William caught the key steadily.
He thought the matter was concluded and was about to exchange pleasantries with Happy before leaving, but he found that Happy had no intention of leaving.
The Security Supervisor of Stark Industries, with an expression of "there's more annoying stuff," pointed to another large vehicle covered with a dust cover not far behind him.
Happy walked over and once again performed the tablecloth-pulling trick.
Beneath the cloth was a black Audi A8L.
Not the ordinary version available on the market.
The car body presented a strange, matte, light-absorbing texture.
The wheel hubs were full of power, and the entire car was like a Black Panther lurking in the Shadow, understated yet deadly.
"Boss's orders."
Happy's tone was filled with reluctance, as if he was relaying an imperial decree he himself couldn't understand.
"He said that Stark Industries' risk management consultant cannot be photographed waiting for a car by the roadside, like a recently laid-off stockbroker."
He opened the car door, gesturing for William to look.
"Full safety configuration, it's the civilian top-spec version of your taxi. Bulletproof, blast-proof, built-in AI, emergency medical system, autonomous driving... The only difference is, it has no offensive weapons."
Happy's voice sounded a bit pained.
"Boss said this is for your 'personal safety' and the company's 'corporate image'."
He pulled another key from his pocket, this time with a motion more like throwing a hot potato.
"It's registered under your name, insurance and maintenance are all covered by the company. Don't take taxis for business trips anymore."
"Thank you."
William took the second key and gave Happy a brilliant smile.
"Now, do I look like a qualified Stark Industries consultant?"
Happy Hogan looked at his smug smile, snorted, and turned to leave.
His retreating back was filled with "I don't want to say another word to you."
-------------------------------
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