Chapter 29: The Rookie with a Good Figure

In Hollywood movies, the world is often on the brink of destruction, and it usually falls to one or two individuals—or a small team—to save it. Correspondingly, the main villain is frequently a comical figure, brimming with ambition and hatching outlandish schemes to dominate the world.

The arch-villain in the Tuxedo universe is just such a character: the owner of a bottled water company who intends to pollute every water source on Earth with a virus of his own creation, so that the only clean water left, and thus the fate of humanity, would be entirely in his hands. Even if this mad plan were to succeed, would the boss himself survive? Water is one of the fundamental necessities for human life, and yet this man imagines he can hold the entire world hostage.

As if that weren’t enough, even before his plan comes to fruition, Mr. Banning begins threatening his competitors, trying to force them to sell their companies to him! But these capitalists are not so easily cowed by empty threats; none of them are pushovers.

Majun stood atop the tower, a gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other, his head tipped back in a pose of studied nonchalance as the roaring wind whipped through his hair.

“Ready, Mr. Devlin? The water company people have arrived. You need to shoot the listening device into their briefcases!” Del Branny said, peering through her binoculars. “This should be a piece of cake for you!”

The modular gun in Majun’s hand was equipped with an impressive targeting system, functioning almost like a digital camera, instantly calculating wind speed, distance, and offering firing prompts.

With such a weapon, even someone with basic training could easily complete the task. Yet the CIA had dispatched the legendary agent Majun—along with a rookie scientist to assist him.

“Rookie, the rest is up to you,” Majun said, slinging the gun over his shoulder and mumbling around his cigarette after easily firing off the bug.

“Yes, sir!” Del Branny replied with a disgruntled blink.

On a platform near the docks in the distance, several of Banning’s men watched the tower through strange-looking devices.

“Looks like we have company.”

“I’d bet my life they’re CIA.”

Del Branny, headphones on, listened in as the bug caught Banning’s negotiations with the water company representatives, relaying the conversation to Majun.

But Majun was only half-listening, leaning against the railing, impatient for the imminent fight.

Banning’s men moved with astonishing speed. In less than a minute, dozens had scaled the tower. How they managed it was anyone’s guess.

Majun flicked away his cigarette, slipped his sunglasses into his spatial ring, and said quietly to Xiaohua, “Activate combat mode!”

The high-tech tuxedo, unlike Iron Man’s extreme armor, was presumably tailored to the wearer’s physique, its bio-electronic technology using hidden sensors in the fabric to stimulate and guide the wearer’s actions.

So, for someone like Majun—a trained commando—paired with such advanced gear, his combat prowess was formidable.

Banning’s henchmen swarmed up, clearly well-trained, but none of it mattered to Majun in his tuxedo.

In moments, he had already felled four or five attackers.

The remaining men hesitated, warier now, as more reinforcements arrived to surround him, attacking with caution.

Del Branny, headphones still on, was oblivious to the sounds of battle. Only when her calls to Majun went unanswered did she turn to see the chaos, her face instantly panicked.

One of the henchmen charged at her, as if only then noticing Majun’s assistant.

Del Branny had never been in such a situation; she was a researcher, not a fighter. She took a deep breath to muster her courage and shouted, “Okay, Training Manual, Chapter Six: Unarmed frontal assault! Go!”

She struck a comical pose, her expression even more amusing. “Stomach, head, stomach, head!” she chanted, launching a flurry of awkward punches that fell far short of her opponent.

Her attacker laughed derisively, grabbed her as she tried to escape, and locked an arm around her neck.

Majun, momentarily pinned by several men, was still more than capable, and even took a moment to enjoy Del Branny’s hapless performance.

Suddenly, Del Branny’s adrenaline surged—she bit hard into her attacker’s arm, broke free, crouched, and swept his legs out from under him.

“Do you even know who I am? How dare you lay a hand on me!” she shouted triumphantly, masking her earlier fear.

“These guys just keep coming!” Majun glanced at the flood of enemies pouring up the stairs. He decided not to waste any more time. With a burst of speed, he fought his way to Del Branny, scooped her up, and leapt from the tower.

“Ahh!” Del Branny shrieked in terror. “Are you insane?!”

“Xiaohua, it’s your turn!”

Majun, of course, had not lost his mind. The moment they began to fall, he gave the order. A strange glove emerged from his tuxedo, generating a powerful magnetic force that latched onto an iron pipe running down the tower.

“What is that?!” Del Branny exclaimed, delighted.

“As a great agent, one must have ingenious gadgets,” Majun replied with a smug grin. He had no intention of revealing the tuxedo’s secrets. “Hold on tight now. If you fall, I’ll be heartbroken.”

“Yes, sir!” Del Branny obediently clung to him like an octopus.

Sliding down the pipe, they saw Banning’s men still scrambling down the stairs in hot pursuit.

“Looks like this mission’s off to a rough start,” Majun said, leading Del Branny at a quick run. “We need to get out of here.”

They returned to their convertible and sped away. When they reached Del Branny’s car, Majun let her out and, leaning out the window with a grin, called, “Del, I take back what I said before—you’re no rookie! At the very least, you’ve got a great figure!”

With that cheeky remark, Majun drove off, his spirits high.

Del Branny stood stunned for a moment, then shouted after him, “Mr. Devlin, we’ll be in touch! Next time, I’ll do even better!” She was a Bond girl determined to prove herself.