Can't Call Someone Bald Just Because Their Hairline Is High (Revised)

On a secluded street in Midtown Manhattan, New York, known for its culinary delights, a variety of foods could satisfy most foodies in the world—though the prices were certainly beyond the average person's reach.

Security here was relatively good, and the unique commercial and financial investment environment made the population fairly dense. It was now lunchtime, and benches along the street and restaurants were filled with all sorts of people—elites on their break, or high-ranking executives from some company, enjoying their superior, comfortable lives.

However, compared to the crowding in other shops, one small ice cream parlor stood out as unusual.

Right now, the shop had only one customer: a little girl buried in a large cup of ice cream. Even if a few pedestrians occasionally tried to enter for a cool treat, the owner waved them off with a shake of his head, telling them his shop was booked for the day and not accepting other customers.

"Hey, hello! Any special developments with the target?"

Not far from the shop, on a street bench, three people sat: Phil Coulson, Melinda, and a S.H.I.E.L.D. extra agent—don't worry too much about the extra's name.

Coulson was the one speaking. In his hand, he held two peculiar gold coins, supposedly "traded" from the ice cream shop owner. The exchange process, judging by the owner's expression, hadn't been very pleasant.

"Sir, nothing so far. From nine in the morning until now, the target has been eating ice cream—oh, and some small pastries. If I'm not mistaken, she's on her fourth cup now."

The surveillance agent replied. He'd done a quick mental calculation, factoring in the local prices, and figured the little girl had eaten the equivalent of a week's salary in one morning. Clearly, this was a spoiled rich kid; an ordinary family couldn't afford to raise her.

"By the way, did you investigate these coins?"

Coulson toyed with the coins, unable to figure out their origin. Honestly, he didn't recognize the patterns or text on them at all, so he helplessly handed them to Melinda, who was leaning in with mild curiosity.

"Yes, we scanned them as soon as we got them this morning. The data model and material analysis were sent to headquarters' intelligence analysis department. But according to their latest update, after comparison, these coins don't match any known type in human history—at least, there's nothing identical or similar in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database. Even the text has our language experts stumped, but it's clearly not fabricated."

"Most importantly, sample testing shows their age is extremely ancient—far older than the civilization history of humans using gold coins, which is obviously impossible. So... you'd better see for yourself." The agent finished, handing Coulson a tablet-like communication device displaying the latest intel from the analysis department.

"Alright, maybe we can have a proper talk with that little girl. Has she shown any emotional outbursts or violent tendencies?"

Coulson thought it over and decided to try direct contact with the target—that was the main reason he and Melinda were here. Glancing at the dense crowd around, he worried that if the contact went poorly and the target became uncontrollable, the consequences would be serious.

"None. From when I received orders to tail her until she entered this shop, she's just been eating ice cream—no other incidents. And she even paid for the ice cream." The agent answered truthfully, looking at the gold coins in Melinda's hand.

"OK. I think I know what to do." Coulson stood up and walked toward the ice cream shop. Melinda frowned, thought for a moment, and quickly followed.

"Wow! Ice cream is so good! Tibbers, do you want some too?"

Annie took a big spoonful of ice cream—this cup was strawberry-flavored. She'd already had taro, chocolate, and cream flavors! There were supposedly many more types, but Annie wasn't in a hurry, because she'd paid the owner a big handful of gold coins, and he said all the ice cream in the shop was hers today!

That was great news! Before leaving, she'd definitely take some to go—maybe about a hundred cups like this would do! Good food could soothe Annie's restless mood, and going home could wait for now.

"Oh, sorry, Tibbers, I forgot you can't eat." Annie looked at Tibbers, her toy bear, left on the chair beside her.

Yes, on the surface, it looked like a toy bear. At least, that's what the owner thought—a little girl talking to her toy was normal, even if she was a bit older than usual. But for the gold coins, who cared?

Rich kids sure had money! The owner patted the few coins in his pocket. Annoyingly, some agency had just forcibly taken two of them, but the rest was still enough for a big payout! Maybe he could sell them as antiques? His only worry now was whether the girl's parents would send him a lawyer's letter.

(Owner! That bald guy and a female human auntie are coming over! I noticed them earlier! They were whispering with that bad guy who's been watching you outside—they're bad guys too! Let me out to deal with them!)

Feeling Tibbers' telepathic message, Annie glanced at it but ignored it, continuing to enjoy her ice cream.

"Little one? Mind if Uncle and Auntie sit here?"

Just as Annie finished talking to Tibbers and was about to take another big spoonful, she suddenly noticed a man and woman sit down beside her. The woman took the empty chair on the left, while the man sat on the right where Tibbers was, casually grabbing her toy bear and fiddling with it, pulling its arms and shaking them in what he thought was a funny gesture...

(Ah! Owner! Let me out! I want to eat him! Eat him! Even if he's ugly, I can still have a bite after cutting off the head and tail!)

Huh? Annie was a bit surprised: What was this slightly bald weird uncle doing? He dared to grab Tibbers and play with it like that?! Tibbers was a powerful shadow bear! When it grew big, it could slap an old dragon to the ground with one claw, leaving it struggling to get up for ages, its shadow flames burning everything around.

No one except Annie had ever dared to grab Tibbers and play with it! Even the grand mages of the Gray Order didn't dare! No mage was stupid enough to let a shadow bear within ten yards of them, let alone grab it and play with it. Of course, the grand mages of the Gray Order knew what Annie's toy bear really was—they wouldn't court death like that.

"Uncle, are you a bad guy?" Annie sensed Tibbers' emotional fluctuations, unsure, and looked at the bald weird uncle, asking cutely with the ice cream spoon in her mouth.

"Oh, of course not! Do I look like a bad guy?" Coulson tugged the toy bear again, making an even more exaggerated gesture, and pulled a funny face at Annie.

"I see. What a pity." Annie felt Tibbers' growing intensity and decided to ignore it.

She scooped up another big spoonful of ice cream and put it in her mouth. Mom had said: don't let Tibbers out casually, and don't burn people casually, unless they're bad guys. Hmm, this bald weird uncle smiled slyly—he didn't seem like a good person, but not enough to warrant being burned to a crisp.

"What? What's a pity?"

Coulson and Melinda felt they couldn't keep up with this little girl's train of thought. But since they were here to make contact and had already started talking, they had to continue. Sometimes important intel slipped out in casual words—a little girl's thoughtless remarks might yield even more.

"Tibbers says it hates you. It wants me to let it out, says it'll bite your head off in one go!"

Annie took another bite of ice cream, turned to look at the bald weird uncle, and suddenly felt sorry for him. If she hadn't been restraining Tibbers, he'd probably have had his head bitten off by now.

"Tibbers? Who's Tibbers? Why would it... uh, bite my head off?"

Coulson felt a chill. If this were an ordinary little girl, he'd think she was joking or talking nonsense. But with this girl, he decided to take it seriously. Beside him, Melinda's body tensed, ready to attack at any moment, but Coulson signaled her to relax—the contact was going smoothly, and things hadn't escalated to that point.

"The one in your hand is Tibbers!" Annie rolled her eyes at Coulson in annoyance. Asking who Tibbers was while holding it? How irritating! Thinking this, she lowered her head and focused on the ice cream in her cup.

"Uh... this toy bear is called Tibbers? Haha, you're quite the joker. Toy bears don't bite."

Coulson breathed a sigh of relief. How could a toy bear bite? Maybe she just didn't like people touching her toy—like how he never let anyone touch his car? Still, he carefully set the girl's toy down, not wanting to provoke her.

"I'm not lying! Tibbers really can bite you to death in one go! But I won't let it out." Annie thought for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Tibbers, pulling it into her arms to keep them from agitating it.

"Haha..." Coulson decided not to dwell on this with the little girl and quickly changed the subject.

"So, little miss, can you tell me your name? We've met now, haven't we? I'm Coulson, Phil Coulson! And this beside me is Auntie Melinda."

"Hmm... Annie! I'm Annie!" Annie found this weird uncle annoying and a bit bothersome.

Didn't he know he was interrupting her ice cream time?! But since he'd introduced himself, Annie gave her name—she always thought of herself as a polite, good girl.

"Nice to meet you, Annie! So, where are your mom and dad? Why isn't anyone with you? You didn't go home last night, did you? Maybe we can help you find them and have them take you back?"

Coulson quickly shifted the topic to the little girl's parents. His intuition told him this was a breakthrough—if he couldn't trace her origins, knowing her parents' names might yield concrete information.

"Can you tell me their names?"

"Like this?" Annie tilted her head, thinking. She had been in this strange place for a day and a night now. She had clearly activated the coordinate-locating spell, but her mom and dad still hadn't come for her. Maybe these two weirdos who suddenly popped up could help?

"My dad's name is Gregori Hastur, and my mom is Amoline!"

Finally, useful intel! Melinda secretly gave Coulson a mental thumbs-up and quietly opened her portable device, planning to record the rest of the conversation in full.

"So, what do they do? Where do you live?" Coulson, afraid the little girl wouldn't understand, gestured as he spoke. "Like, teacher, lawyer, driver—that sort of thing." But Melinda, standing nearby, didn't agree with Coulson's approach. A little girl dressed in exquisite, finely crafted clothes who casually paid with gold coins—how could her parents be ordinary people like that? They had to be chairmen or CEOs of some company or conglomerate, right?

Annie frowned. Teacher? Lawyer? Driver? What were those things? She had a constant Tongues spell on her, so why couldn't she understand what he meant? Oh, they were asking about occupations! Right, she remembered now!

"My dad is a Mystic Warlock! My mom is a Shadow Witch! We live in the Voodoo Lands." Annie bit her finger. That seemed to be all she knew. "The Voodoo Lands of Valoran! You must know it, right?"

"..." Coulson and Melinda initially thought they must have misheard. Mystic Warlock? Shadow Witch? Voodoo Lands? What the hell were those? But then they recalled the photo of this little girl burning three thugs alive with fire. Subconsciously, they both felt she might be telling the truth?

"Alright, let's put it another way. What organization do they work for?" Melinda took over the questioning.

"Work?" Annie suddenly felt that the Tongues spell wasn't working very well. These two weird uncles and aunties were so hard to understand! "Hmm... Dad is the leader of the Gray Order, and Mom seems to be too... Yeah, they work at the Gray Order. Oh! And Dad is the most powerful warlock on the Valoran continent! Mom is also the most powerful witch on the Valoran continent!"

Gray Order? The name of some organization? This seemed like important intel! That part was understandable, but Valoran continent? What the hell was that? Did such a continent even exist on Earth? Coulson and Melinda suddenly realized that if everything this girl named Annie said was true, then S.H.I.E.L.D. absolutely could not handle her the way they usually dealt with mutants—grabbing her and locking her in a cryo-chamber. If they did, they would surely stir up a world of trouble.