"The power is out in Hampton."
Coulson returned again by dusk. The snow had fallen all day, engulfing the entire Long Island in a dim, yellowish haze. Looking out the window, the previously brightly lit neighborhoods now had only a few spots of light, blurred like impressionist brush strokes. The distant mountains and cliffs were darker, like the burnt edges of an old photograph.
Snowfall dusted his hair and shoulders, as Hawkeye handed him a towel. He stood on the door mat, drying his hair while saying, "The power company's supply is normal; there may be an issue with the pipelines. But most estates here have generators, just probably not enough to support heating systems. Tonight will certainly be a tough one."
"Can't such a big estate have a few more generators?" Natasha shook her head, saying, "These people never learn to be prepared for a rainy day."
"In fact, the power company has been here several times, and the lines have all been checked and repaired. The cause of the outage might not be that simple," Coulson said.
He didn't say it too explicitly, but everyone understood—the spirits might be at play again.
Actually, it's already considered quite good for these estates to have generators. They lead the most top-notch lives, with all the city's basic living facilities revolving around them. The utility and water companies would love to inspect their lines eight times a day, and any problem would be immediately addressed. Because the community budget is ample, snowplows and fire trucks are readily deployed. In modern society, it's quite hard for a place like this to have basic living issues.
"Why aren't we out of power, then?" Natasha asked, puzzled. She glanced up at the chandelier. No matter how retro the castle appears, they wouldn't be using candles like centuries past; they're connected to modern electricity and should logically be out of power with Hampton.
At that moment, Greed came down from upstairs, "Care to guess why Tony isn't here?"
Everyone looked at him. Greed shrugged and said, "He noticed the unstable current earlier and is now using the Ark Reactor to supply power from the main switchboard underground."
"It seems we have the best generator around here," Steve said with a smile.
"If he tries hard enough, maybe he could power the whole of Long Island," Natasha scoffed, "I was even thinking that if the power went out, we could really tell ghost stories..."
"Even if he could, there's no need," Greed said, "Not to mention those people have generators, some very critical facilities won't completely lose power. In these big estates, every household has a fireplace; even if it's burning wood, they won't freeze to death."
They were now sitting around the fireplace. But, in fact, this fireplace was more for show; if truly lit, it wouldn't be very warm. The main heating is from the underfloor heating.
America has a high coverage rate of heating, but unlike centralized heating, it's personal heating. In New York, electric heaters are often used, and some use natural gas for heating.
The benefit of personal heating is it can be turned off at any time. When at home, they turn on the heat, and when not, they turn it off, saving money. But the downside is if the power goes out, so does the heating.
Many American families keep fireplaces not just for tradition but to prevent heating outages and to save some on electric bills. While electricity costs in the north aren't as high as in the south, it's still a significant expense.
Buying firewood isn't cheap; most people can't chop wood themselves. However, many American policies persist because there are ways to get around them. There are numerous ways to secretly obtain combustibles. In some houses where the wiring is old, the circuit trips when the heater is turned on, so they rely on the fireplace during winter.
"Don't worry about them," said Strange, checking his files on the laptop, "Those who can't stand the cold will naturally leave; it's not like they only have one house."
"I guess no one will come to the housewarming party," Natasha shook her head, "I was really looking forward to it."
"You just want to drink up my stock," Greed exposed her, "If Nick finds out how much you've drunk here, he might confiscate my office."
"I get through every winter like this," Natasha said, "When the weather gets cold, I can't help wanting a drink. It's probably a genetic curse."
"Oh, wait." Greed grabbed a cup that just floated up, looking at his Battleworld interface. It just notified him received a new message from Peter Parker, surprisingly asking why his phone calls weren't going through.
Greed took out his phone and saw the signal was displayed as normal. So he said, "Captain, I'll give you a call. See if you can receive it."
Steve pulled out his phone, and Greed called him. Greed's side showed "weak signal from recipient," and Steve's phone didn't even show an incoming call, though it displayed a normal signal.
Soon, Peter sent a second message: "I'm already here, Doctor, but I seem to be a bit lost. I feel like this is the third time I've seen this street."
Greed immediately understood what was going on and replied, "Don't bother, Peter, this place is probably inaccessible by now, so you might as well head back."
Peter sent a puzzled emoji; he was obviously bewildered. It's not that he didn't want to participate in The Avengers' moving event promptly, but he had a project and agreed to come a little later, so coming two days late, how could he not get in?
"Should I open a Teleportation Portal?" Strange asked.
"Better not," Steve was the first to speak up and stop them. "Peter absolutely can't stand back in a murder case, even if they're deserving it. You know that."
Greed kept trying to persuade Peter to back away. His personality was indeed not suited for this, mainly because all Spider Men have shadows from these kinds of matters.
Though Peter from the Central Universe hasn't lost his uncle, he's seen too many Spider Man tragedies, so like all Spider Men, he can't ignore any crime. Even knowing there's something hidden, he'd still go ahead resolutely.
"Actually, I don't think it's a big deal to let him come," Natasha offered a different opinion. "Spider Man isn't good at solving these things. Even if he tries to save, he probably can't bring them back, which would plunge those rich people into deeper despair."
"But it would also make him sad," Greed said, "And we can't let him feel he's the only one working hard while we're standing by. It will hurt his feelings."
"I must have drunk too much," Natasha retracted her opinion. In fact, she was holding a can of beer right now, and she recklessly sank into the sofa, her head resting on the armrest as she said, "Never trust a word from a Russian lying on a sofa in the snow."
"By the way, Miss," Steve, sitting on a single chair nearby, looked at her with some concern and asked, "Is your menstrual pain still severe?"
"It's much better since I drank the herbal medicine," Natasha said, lying flat on the sofa and looking at the ceiling.
"Wait," Greed suddenly turned to her and said, "You're drinking herbal medicine? And you still drink alcohol???"
Natasha remained silent. Greed quickly stepped over and took the can of beer away. Natasha was about to jump up when Steve quickly held her down. "He's right, Natasha. You can't indulge your genetic instincts like this."
Natasha muttered quietly, not refuting. She turned over, facing the back of the sofa, as if she was asleep. Bucky helplessly took a blanket and covered her.
"I'll get some firewood," Coulson went upstairs, changed into a jacket, and said when he came out, "We need to stoke the fireplace."
At this moment, Stark suddenly came in through the back door. The crowd looked at him, surprised, and Stark was surprised at their surprise.
"You don't think I have to stand there to provide electricity, do you?"
"Apparently not, what a shame," Strange said without looking up, "If you stood there all night, maybe Lord Rodriguez would be willing to give you a knight title."
Stark rolled his eyes. He couldn't bother to argue with Strange; this guy is especially irritable when writing medical records, picking fights to curse at people for no reason, and he wouldn't want to push his luck now.
"Whew—" Greed let out a long breath. He had finally persuaded Peter to go home and not get involved in Hampton's affairs.
But suddenly, a scream came from the backyard again. Everyone sat up and rushed toward the back door. Steve was the fastest to move and upon going out, he saw a corpse lying at Coulson's feet.
"Oh dear, what's happened?!" Steve rushed over, first to check Coulson. But Coulson seemed only a little stunned, not attacked. Then looking at the ground, the corpse was just thrown there, with snow messily piled on it.
Coulson wasn't shocked because he suddenly discovered a corpse, but because the exposed arm of the corpse was all covered with deep scratches down to the bone. And, judging from the state of the corpse, it seemed to have died of excessive blood loss.
"Wait," Strange, who already walked out, became serious, "This is the bride from the wedding."
Everyone looked at him. Strange walked over to take a closer look and said, "That's right, I've seen her; she's Augustus's eldest daughter."
"But, the body should be in the police station's morgue." Coulson immediately reacted. Because the bride died yesterday, it caused quite a stir. Besides the police coming in, S.H.I.E.L.D. also joined the investigation. They knew where the body went.
"Find the footprints," Arrogant said, "It's snowing heavily now; they'll think the snow will quickly cover their footprints, so they won't deliberately deal with it. In a state of guilt and panic, the steps would be chaotic, there should be some traces to find."
Everyone immediately scattered around to look. Sure enough, although most of the footprints had already been covered by snow, there just happened to be one pressed under the tree roots. Because there's shelter, less snow fell there, and the footprint was heavy, leaving a clear shoe print on the slope by the roots.
"Hampton Police Station," Coulson said. "This is their standard police boot print. When we worked with them in the case that day, the footprints in the snow were all like these."
"Looks like someone in the police station is feeling guilty about theft," Bucky shook his head in lament.
"Move it to the basement first," Arrogant said, "Now is not a good time to deal with it."