Another job offer

Henry wasn't handcuffed, and no one told him what it was about. He was simply semi-forcibly put into an FBI vehicle and driven towards a certain destination.

The other party wasn't carrying a gun, and their words were relatively polite, but their actions carried an undeniable decisiveness. This combination of soft and hard tactics left a somewhat confused Henry unsure of their intentions, leaving him with no choice but to cooperate.

This happened when Henry met the genuine FB1 at a fundraising dinner in New York with Audrey Hepburn. He even saw the real ID. Otherwise, Henry would have suspected that these two were imposters.

Unfortunately, the identification was genuine; it wasn't some enemy sending someone to impersonate the FBI and come knocking on his door. Who could Henry possibly have as an enemy? This self-proclaimed low-key Kryptonian was starting to doubt himself.

My recollection is that when the CIA or S.H.I.E.L.D.. operate on United States soil, they often use the FBI's name as a cover. So, could this be a clandestine operation by one of these two organizations?

CI's intelligence source is likely Brian Mills, S.H.I.E.L.D..'s source is likely the X-Men. What If...? it was indeed a leak from one side, their abilities have been exposed to these people for over a year.

The intelligence I knew back then only came knocking today. This nerve arc's reaction isn't at the dinosaur level, it's at the level of Deadman! That's why it suddenly came back to life today.

If it happened recently?

Was it because he hired Phoenix as a medium to allow Hepburn Hepburn's two children to communicate with their biological mother in their consciousness, thereby incidentally waking Audrey Hepburn up, that he attracted attention?

Or perhaps they haven't paid their taxes yet, so they're being targeted?

The personal income tax payment season is in April, which isn't here yet. Besides, if there really were a tax problem, it would be IS, not the FBI, who would come. So, Henry is truly baffled by today's invitation.

The people in the car remained silent. After asking three times without any response, Henry gave up. Since he didn't have Professor X's mind-reading abilities, he simply buried his head in thought about how to make his BB-series robots.

Sometimes, you can only respond after the other party reveals their intentions. If you speculate before you have enough information, you'll misunderstand, make the wrong decisions, and only make things worse.

So Henry could only wait and see what tricks these two Facebooks were up to. They would eventually reveal their hand; they couldn't keep it hidden forever.

The car didn't head towards FB1's Los Angeles office in downtown Los Angeles as expected, but instead drove north into Montecito, Santa Barbara County Los Angeles County, one of the wealthiest areas in the United States, filled with mansion-style mansions.

When Henry was looking for a house in Los Angeles, he also did some research on the conditions in different areas.

What If...? Beverly Hills is a mansion complex frequently visited by Hollywood stars, then Montecito's residence...

But they are the real wealthy people on the West Coast.

The residents here are not simply described as "rich and powerful"; such terms are insufficient to describe them. Without generations of accumulated wealth or considerable power, it is not easy to establish oneself in this area.

So, what were the two FBI agents doing here?

Just passing by?

However, this dream of avoiding any association with the powerful and wealthy was ultimately shattered when the car entered the grounds of a luxury residence.

Two Facebooks escorted Henry to the gate of the mansion, dropped him off, and drove away. The Kryptonian was left alone in the empty courtyard, speechless and questioning the heavens.

A moment later, the mansion's door opened. Another burly man in a black suit appeared, looking like a soldier, with a menacing aura towards everyone.

"Henry Brown? Come in." The simple, commanding statement revealed an unmistakable, arrogant attitude.

After thinking for a moment, Henry followed him inside. He needed to know what they were up to before deciding whether to smash the stall or pay up.

If you don't want to go through this door and instead turn around and leave, you should first consider who brought you here.

For ordinary people, the first time the FBI intervenes is a polite gesture, but if it happens a second time, things won't be so friendly.

This threat was almost blatantly laid bare in the open.

Inside the door is a high-ceilinged hall with a grand, palatial staircase. The overwhelming European aristocratic atmosphere seems designed to make guests feel inferior and inferior.

Henry wasn't led anywhere after entering; he simply stood in the hall waiting. He asked the burly man in the black suit who had shown him the way, "Buddy, who's the owner of this place?"

The burly man in the suit initially intended to remain silent, but considering that a misunderstanding arising from unfamiliarity might cause unnecessary conflict, he spoke up, "The host here is Mr. Mike Liddell Holden, a member of the California Legislature."

"A member of parliament?"

As a federal country, the state governments and legislatures are not the local governments or local councils that are commonly perceived to be. As long as they do not involve federal affairs, it is no exaggeration to call these people local tyrants.

What exactly does this person want from Facebook 1?

Henry, who had little interest in United States politics, especially since he had only been back for two days, was completely clueless about the situation.

Finally, a particularly large Black man descended the stairs directly opposite the hall. His bald head was exceptionally shiny, and he wore square-framed glasses, exuding an air of scholarly refinement.

Logically, such an appearance should attract many people to be friendly, at least making them think that this person is not a bad person. But for some reason, Henry instinctively wanted to stay away from him.

This wasn't an allergy to power, but rather a sense of unease emanating from the other person. It came from gunpowder, not from the firearms carried by his entourage, but from the very aura of someone who had just been shot.

"Henry Brown." The portly senator stopped halfway down the stairs, looking down at the young white man before him. Perhaps due to his large resonating chamber, his voice was truly booming.

"Yes, Mr. Congressman," Henry replied politely.

"Come work as my attendant, and I'll give you an annual salary of 80,000."

"Please allow me to refuse, Mr. Congressman. Where's the exit? Oh, go out the main gate. I know, no need to see me off."

Henry's smooth combo left everyone else stunned. But when he tried to leave, he was stopped by the man in the black suit who had led him in.

"Mr. Congressman, I think this is just a job offer, and I should still have the right to refuse," Henry said, turning around as he spoke.

The large, fat black congressman stared in disbelief, looking rather comical. But his expression quickly changed, and he said seriously:

"No, you don't. And your attitude will only get you into trouble."

"Does refusing to work mean I've broken the law? What law? United States. labor law? Federal law? Or state law?" Henry asked with a smile.

"By refusing me, you're offending me and getting yourself into big trouble," the overweight Black congressman threatened.

He then instructed the others, "Take him to the lounge and wait. If necessary, use him as a shield."