The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 3682: The Mercury Age (2)

Chapter 3682: The Mercury Age (II)

When the hover car took off into the air, the crowd on the ground cheered. Stark stretched his head and arms out of the window to wave at them. The bright sunlight made his hair glittering golden. Then he returned to his seat with a little reserve, held the steering wheel with both hands, and gently stepped on the accelerator.

Schiller felt a strong push on his back, and then the car rushed out. Peter yelled, and when he came to his senses, he had arrived at the other side of Central Park.

"The brakes are too loose, Tony!" Peter seemed to be still in shock. Even though the speed had slowed down, he still took a breath and said, "The power seems to be a bit too much. Let's make a speed limiter."

"What are you afraid of? There are no other aircraft in the sky anyway, so it's okay to drive faster."

"But you have to understand that not everyone is like you, wearing a steel suit and cruising at high speeds every day." Schiller said, holding the door handle, "Ordinary people will vomit when they experience such high acceleration for the first time. Since you used the classic car model that old money likes most, you should focus on being steady and dignified, instead of acting like those young people who like to blow up the streets with ghost lights."

"Is it really fast?" Stark turned his head and asked curiously, "I think it's okay, but what you said makes sense. It seems that the speed needs to be adjusted."

On the ground, the SHIELD agents hurriedly chased after him. The first thing Stark heard when he landed was Natasha's roar:

"Thank you so much, Tony Stark! This is the first time in my life that I have seen a rocket with long wheels!!! Are you planning to fill the New York sky with these things in the future?! Nick will definitely send all the damage bills to your house in double the amount, I'm not kidding!!"

Stark touched his nose. Natasha covered her forehead and said, "Don't even think about testing this thing in New York anymore. Go to New Mexico!"

Coulson also caught up and said: "My God, this is too fast. Are you going to train everyone to be a pilot?"

"You guys are exaggerating." Stark walked into the shade and said, "This shouldn't be as fast as a roller coaster, right?"

"Don't you think there's anything wrong with comparing a family car with a roller coaster?" Schiller shook his head helplessly and said, "Besides, the acceleration of a roller coaster only takes a split second. If you hadn't stepped on the brakes just now, the two buildings in front of you would have become the second Twin Towers."

Stark sighed in frustration and said, "If you all say so, then it's even less likely that Congress will pass a bill related to flying cars."

"Then you should think about why they don't pass." Natasha said, "You can't let any ordinary person accept rockets flying all over the sky. You need an intelligent driving system and a stable speed limiter to avoid any possibility of dangerous driving."

"It seems I need to study it further." Stark said, "That's all for today. I will take this car back to Stark Group."

“No, Tony, give it to me,” Peter said. “You work on the smart driving system, and I’ll work on the speed limiter. I think there’s a better solution than brakes.”

"Where are you going to park it?" Stark asked.

Peter looked at Schiller. Schiller sighed and said, "Well, there are parking spaces at the nursing home. But you have to promise me that you won't drive it around in the sky."

"Don't worry, doctor. I'm not a child anymore," Peter said. "Besides, if I launch it into the air in the sanatorium, Pedder and Nelson will definitely shoot it down. You should be worried about the safety of the car."

Schiller was speechless because he knew what Peter said was true. The mentally ill people in his sanatorium would not let a flying car go. He felt more and more that this was dangerous, but he had already agreed and it was not easy to regret it immediately, so he could only keep an eye on it.

Independence Day is coming. Natasha walked down the half-slope lawn: "This year is Steve's 100th birthday. He will be 100 years old. We decided to celebrate it. Do you have any ideas, doctor?"

"He's also the first centenarian I know," Schiller said, laughing. "Of course, ma'am, you're also the first 90-year-old I know."

"That's not very polite, but let's forget it this time." Natasha shook her head and said, "Steve wants to have a dinner party, the most traditional American family dinner. Everyone has to bring a homemade meal. I'm having a headache about this."

"You can't cook?" Schiller said a little surprised.

"What are you surprised about?" Natasha looked a little annoyed. "What experience in my life could have made me learn how to cook? I never had the chance to learn, so of course I can't."

"You don't know Russian food?"

"If you're talking about that kind of dry bread and that hodgepodge soup made by throwing all the vegetables into one pot, then probably. But I can't bring this thing. It's not pretty, not tasty, and not very dignified. At least... at least I should make an Olivier salad, right?"

"What are the others going to bring? I guess Peter will bring his aunt's famous raspberry pie, Tony will probably bring cheeseburgers, and Clint will definitely bring Iowa sweet corn salad. As for me, I remember Steve liked the barbecued pork I made, but I think we should bring something new, like roast goose or something."

"Well, you are all great chefs. I should ask Nick for a few days off to practice my cooking skills." Natasha sighed and said, "My God, I don't even have a kitchen at home."

"I think you could try making a dessert," Schiller said after thinking for a moment, "like cupcakes or something, or you could try making cocktails. As a Russian, don't you know how to make cocktails?"

"It's because I'm Russian that I don't know how to mix drinks. We drink directly from the bottle. Only you Americans drink industrial flavors from a tiny hourglass that's not even as long as my finger."

"This is the first time I've heard someone use the word hourglass to describe a cocktail glass." Schiller couldn't help laughing and said, "Maybe you can really try it. Rainbow cocktails are quite simple. By the way, what did Coulson bring?"

"I guess he wants to bake a cake with Captain America's face on it, and he wants to raise his own chickens to lay the eggs. And when he brings it over, he's going to fill the room with all the compliments in the world."

"Steve might give him a brand new set of flashcards, maybe the ones he got for Christmas last year."

"No, he might give him the Navigator suit." Natasha curled her lips and said, "That suit has been sold for 600 US dollars on the black market. It seems that someone is going to make a fortune at Steve's birthday party."

"You reminded me," Schiller said. "Cooking is not a difficult thing. The key is the gift. Have you thought about what to give?"

"Please spare me." Natasha almost wailed, "Or I'll give him a Soviet medal, so that he has enough reason to get out of the United States on Independence Day."

"If you can get the real thing, maybe he'd like it." Now it was Schiller's turn to sigh. "I can't think of anything to get Steve. He's too traditional. Am I going to get him another elk sweater?"

"You also gave me an elk sweater last Christmas?"

"you too?"

"Coulson, too. And Nick. We each got different styles of the same elk sweater. Steve seemed pretty happy about it."

"As long as someone gives him a gift, he'll be happy. That's just the way Steve is. So we can't tell what he really likes. It's much simpler with Tony. If you give him the wrong gift, he'll look at you coldly for a month."

"Kind or wrong?" Natasha ran a hand through her hair and said, "Maybe we should ask Bucky. He's Steve's best friend. They grew up together, he should know."

"That's right. No one knows Steve better than Bucky. His psychological evaluation report for this month hasn't been submitted yet, so I called him to urge him. When he comes over, I'll ask him indirectly."

"I think he knows what you're doing." Natasha didn't seem to hold out hope. "He has to prepare his share, too. In order to avoid conflicts, he can't tell you his choice."

"It's really troublesome to give the same gifts to someone else," Schiller said, pulling out his phone. "We have to have a group chat to confirm what each of us will give. Even if Steve doesn't mind, it would be too disrespectful to this centenarian."

"Okay, if you finish building it, pull me in. Oh, and pull Ivan in too. I want to learn how to cook Russian food from him."

As they were talking, they had already walked back to the front door of the sanatorium. Natasha said with some emotion: "This corner is really nice."

"Okay ma'am, do you want to go up there for a while, or are you leaving now? If you're going up there, I have to remind you that my office is full of furry monsters."

"It's okay. I'll go check on the kitten." Natasha said, "How is he? Does he still have diarrhea?"

"It's been much better lately." Schiller walked upstairs with her from the main entrance and took the elevator to the top floor. As soon as they opened the door, they saw a small black cat jumping from the shelf onto the computer desk.

"Hey, Tolik, you better not want to bite my computer cable." Schiller rushed over and picked it up, and the other party turned his eyes away humanely.

"Ah, you little bad cat." Natasha laughed, but then she seemed to remember something and said, "Tolik? Don't you call him Naya?"

"Yes, I unilaterally called him Naiya, but Naiya disagreed, so I changed it to the name of his creditor."

"Creditors?"

"Anatole. Tolik is a nickname."

Natasha held the kitten up to her eyes and swung it before saying, "What do you think about me getting Steve a pet? He looks like the type of person who would like a dog."

"If he really liked it, wouldn't he have kept one long ago?"

"Carter seems to be allergic to hair." Natasha said, "Maybe I can find a pet that doesn't shed hair, such as a goldfish. Judging from Steve's personality, he will take good care of them."

"I think it's okay, but you'd better ask Carter's opinion first. After all, little Rogers is still young, and I'm not sure if his mother would be willing to add a living creature to the family at this time."

"Well, I should add all the mothers to the same group chat," Natasha said as she took out her phone. "That way I can always check if they are safe and I can also consult them about many similar interpersonal relationships. Married women are always more informed in this regard."

"Honestly, Natasha, you're not going to--"

"I'm telling you the truth. As my friends around me get married and have children, I'm becoming more and more..."

"More and more want to end your single life?"

"I'm enjoying my single life more and more!" Natasha said as she typed. "I'd rather go to war than be like a sheepdog staring at kids crawling around on the floor, and I can't stand being woken up by them in the middle of the night. Isn't that right for you?"

Schiller held out his hand, and Natasha high-fived him, understandingly. "Long live singles."

“Long live singlehood.”