Oaks's Attitude

"Black Baldy sent someone."

Goose licked her lips, having finished her snack, and was reporting to Oaks.

"Two people. This is what the man left behind."

Oaks and Goose communicated more on a psychic level, so the ball-shaped bug had only recorded a string of meows.

"This is the loophole of not handling things personally."

Oaks sighed. Such a tacky move—it had to be those agents' doing.

But he could guess. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was after Goose, it meant at least one agent had noticed her existence.

And that agent wasn't low-ranking—they could at least see Nick Fury directly to tip him off.

Given how paranoid Motherfucker-Man was, even a casual remark like "That orange cat's named Goose" would be enough to spark his curiosity about Oaks.

And all of Oaks's files were no secret to a behemoth like S.H.I.E.L.D.

From there, it was straightforward: send two senior agents. The director had probably already done a full background check on him.

But now, Oaks was ready to face S.H.I.E.L.D. head-on.

This day was bound to come. Even if Goose hadn't caught their attention, once the scale and potency of the Recovery Serum became public knowledge, they'd have moved anyway.

So, was it Sharon Carter, or someone else?

"As for finding such an unfortunate little device in the home of a law-abiding, honest citizen like me, I reserve the right to pursue legal recourse."

Oaks's words came slowly, but his displeasure was unmistakable:

"If you can't give me a reasonable explanation, I'm sure plenty of top-tier lawyers would be interested in this lawsuit. After all, what I have here would catch the whole world's attention."

He pinched the ball-shaped bug in his hand. A verdant glow enveloped it, and after a moment, a crackling sound rang out as the blinking indicator light died.

From the gaps in the ball sprouted a tuft of cat grass seedlings, making Goose lick her lips.

"Have fun with it."

Oaks tossed the cat grass ball back to Goose, who happily gnawed on it.

Oaks didn't wait long. The next morning, just after Zhang drove off, a white man with a trustworthy smile walked straight into the shop.

"Dr. Oaks Lin, a pleasure."

Coulson's mouth twitched as he stepped up to the counter—Oaks completely ignored him.

"Phil Coulson, Level 7 Agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Dr. Lin, first time meeting. The earlier incident was a misunderstanding."

Coulson regretted it. He'd planned to slip the bug back unnoticed when Oaks returned, to gather as much intel as possible.

But who knew that most of the time, it only recorded the rolling sound of "clunk clunk," cat meows, cat eating noises, cat purrs, and the racket of banging into walls and furniture.

Realizing Goose had found the bug, Coulson hadn't dared to come back and retrieve it.

Yesterday, when Oaks's voice reached Coulson, he'd actually been relieved.

Because Oaks sounded perfectly reasonable and apparently had no idea who planted the bug.

"A misunderstanding?"

Oaks was behind the counter reading the newspaper. A week ago, the New York Times had run a piece on Tony's New York Environmental Fund, and Zhang had immediately subscribed for a month.

The story had been brewing for a week, and Oaks—this mysterious "partner"—had been thoroughly dug up by the major media.

He'd bet Tony Stark and won, earning the man's recognition, and as a partner, he'd hitched a ride on Stark's top-tier buzz. Now Oaks was a well-known environmentalist in New York, even across the U.S.

And the kind with serious weight—both in technology and economic impact.

Though he hadn't expected Tony to throw him such a perfect assist, the current situation made it clear that S.H.I.E.L.D. was no longer dealing with a low-profile scientist, but a hot-button public figure.

"You're saying that, as a senior staffer of a high-level official department, you accidentally left a bug in a shop that gave you warm hospitality, then listened to a week of daily life without thinking to retrieve it?"

Oaks squinted, his tone mocking:

"I may not be a law expert, but I do have a doctorate. I don't think I look like an idiot."

"Of course not."

Coulson's gentle smile had always boosted his mission success rate, but he found it wasn't working much on Oaks:

"Dr. Lin, we're not your average government agency. In terms of jurisdiction and the level of incidents we handle, we outrank the FBI, CIA, and even the U.S. military."

"Mm, the name's too long, but I've got it."

Oaks raised an eyebrow. The man was laying his cards on the table, meaning "You're in deep trouble."

"About the name, we've heard that a lot. We're considering a change."

Coulson extended his right hand, offering a business card:

"Dr. Lin, shall we talk inside?"

"Don't count on coffee for now."

Oaks stared at Coulson until even the Level 7 Agent's face grew a bit uneasy, then took the card, stood up, hung a "Closed" sign on the shop door, and headed for the break room:

"I hope you can give me a satisfactory answer, Agent."

After all, in this country that shouts the loudest about human rights in the entire world, a little necessary surface work still has to be done.

Human rights? The Afghanistan War isn't even over yet.

Coulson thought silently, then followed Oaks to the lounge.

And when he saw Goose jump straight into Oaks's arms, demanding to be petted, he nearly lost control of his expression.

Alright, in front of a Flerken, human rights still had to be guaranteed—the difference was, it was your human rights.

"Dr. Lin, let me apologize again for the earlier misunderstanding. Since you've made your stance clear, I'll get straight to the point."

Coulson weighed his words for a moment before speaking seriously:

"Dr. Lin, both I personally and even our director hold immense admiration for your professional achievements and sense of social responsibility.

Due to some coincidences, we learned that you recently adopted this orange cat—and certain signs indicate that this orange cat is a creature of significant threat."

"Not on my end."

Oaks scratched Goose under the chin and let out a cold laugh:

"As far as I'm concerned, a crackhead junkie is more of a threat than Goose. With all this effort, you'd be better off taking down a few Mexican Cartel dealers."

"It seems you're well aware that she's no ordinary cat."

Coulson, already mentally prepared, took out a file and handed it to Oaks:

"Though we don't know how you found out about Goose's special nature, this document contains the truth as we know it. Please read it carefully."