Marvel's Princess - Chapter 42
The three robbers were over eighty years old, and their coworkers weren’t much younger. Some had dementia, some were seriously ill, and one even passed out right at the FBI’s doorstep.
The hospital expressed strong dissatisfaction, and the FBI was also distressed, observing the three old men with a sense of inevitable dependency—like they would be relying on the FBI for food and drink from now on. The supervisor waved dismissively, indicating that due to insufficient evidence, they would release them.
If the bank had issues, they could investigate on their own.
The news Bella saw the next afternoon simply stated that the three were released without charges due to insufficient evidence.
The FBI didn’t impose any restrictions on them, essentially saying, “Run if you want, as far as you can—even to Antarctica! We won’t chase you; it’s a loss for us.”
Bella didn’t care until two days later when Natasha found her and pointed out how un-‘American’ Bella was for not being interested in the outcome.
Bleary-eyed and in pajamas, Bella was bombarded with Natasha’s rapid questions before she was fully awake.
“What? What topic? Was the compensation from the plane accident resolved?”
She hurriedly checked her phone—no calls. She booted up her computer, searched her email inbox, and found nothing about where to collect any money. She even dashed to the mailbox but found no letters.
Natasha looked puzzled as she watched Bella. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for the letter, you mentioned it, right? The practice, the thing about practice.” Bella’s hair was as messy as a bird’s nest, and she stood in the living room in her wrinkled pajamas, confused.
It took Natasha five minutes to explain that there was no compensation, no letters and that their upcoming social practice might even cost them time and money. Bella lost all interest after hearing this.
She flopped face down onto the bed, face pressed into the pillow, then weakly waved her hand, “Goodbye, no need to see you out, just close the door on your way out.”
Natasha grabbed Bella by the collar and pulled her back up forcefully.
“So many people are interested in this matter now—the greedy banks, the desperate old men! It’s a great topic! Don’t you realize how important this is?”
Half an hour later, after washing her face, Bella slowly regained her composure.
She had meditated too long the previous night, staying in the ‘I’m the most beautiful in the world’ mindset, which left her mentally exhausted. However, she had to admit that Natasha was right—the bank robbery by the elderly was indeed a great topic for high school and college students’ social practice.
While Bella was somewhat dismissive of this type of social practice, she couldn’t deny that this educational method had its merits. Understanding all aspects of society could be beneficial.
“Are we going to be safe?” she pointed at Natasha and then at herself.
Doing social research in poorer areas with their appearances didn’t seem very safe.
“I know karate! I can protect you!” Natasha declared confidently, slapping her chest.
Black Widow’s karate? Bella thought about it; Black Widow seemed never to win against superheroes or villains but could probably handle a few regular thugs.
And besides, Bella was there too. How much combat ability could three eighty-year-old men possibly have? Old and frail!
Let’s go!
This time, Bella wore a ruffled short top with jeans, ordinary canvas shoes, a baseball cap, and applied sunscreen.
After all the preparations, it was afternoon before they left.
Finding the homes of the three elderly robbers wasn’t hard. Phoenix was buzzing with students and reporters eager to gather firsthand information and make a name for themselves, excitedly active. Bella’s concerns about safety were, in fact, non-issues—there were simply too many people investigating!
As Bella and Natasha walked, the sights were disheartening.
Old houses, deteriorated roads, no cars from the 90s, and many elderly people wearing T-shirts with the logo of a nearby amusement park—these were their best clothes, originally work uniforms from the park.
The factory and its buyer had frozen the elderly workers’ pensions under the guise of needing to re-examine and verify accounts.
Their intent was clear to anyone: to delay. Until when? These workers were already in their eighties; how long could they live without money for medical care or medications? Delay until they die. Once they’re dead, there’s no need to pay out pensions.
The bank was also complicit, persuasively selling financial products to the elderly. Now that the investments had failed, the bank used their homes as collateral.
With no pension and the bank seizing their homes, what choice did the elderly have but to rob the bank?
After learning the full context, Bella was furious. Did the capitalists buying the steel plant need that little bit of pension?
Money? No, they didn’t; they were just habitually stingy.
Did the banks need the elderly to buy those financial products? No, they didn’t either; they were accustomed to seeking more profits.
“Which company bought the steel plant?” she asked.
“It seems to be Stark Industries. Let me check.” Natasha reviewed the documents and then handed Bella the thin sheets of paper.
“Stark Industries is the buyer?” Bella was somewhat surprised after reading Natasha’s summary.
But after the initial surprise, she understood. The steel plant was too old and not a significant acquisition for a giant like Stark Industries. Their Phoenix branch could handle the acquisition independently, with headquarters barely involved—just needing to sign off.
“Do you know someone at Stark Industries?” Natasha asked.
Bella shook her head. “How could I? I know him, he doesn’t know me. Just during the Flight 180 incident, I met several lawyers. Let’s gather evidence, and then we can represent the steel plant’s elderly workers and sue Stark Industries!”
She rubbed her hands together excitedly. This social practice class had substance!
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