Manager of the Continental Hotel

The receptionist with Sherlock's Spear of Longinus pressed to her throat felt the icy touch of the weapon against her neck and the chilling killing intent emanating from the man before her. Her legs went weak.

She even had the feeling that if her next words failed to satisfy the troublemaker in front of her, the spear would pierce her throat without the slightest hesitation.

Things like the Continental Hotel's rules could no longer serve as her protection at this moment.

The Continental Hotel did indeed forbid the use of any violence within its premises, but that rule only applied to its members. For a superhuman like Sherlock, even if he truly acted, the Continental Hotel would merely issue a token assassination order.

Assassins were not fools. No one wanted to truly face superhumans, which was why those so-called assassination orders targeting them were simply ignored.

Just as the receptionist broke out in a cold sweat while trying to figure out how to placate the man before her, a female voice cut into their exchange.

"Mr. Sherlock the Impaler, please calm down. The use of force is prohibited inside the Continental Hotel."

Hearing that voice, Sherlock finally looked in its direction. He saw an elderly woman dressed unmistakably like an aristocratic lady, standing elegantly by the elevator doors. The elevator behind her had just closed; she had clearly rushed over to defuse the situation.

But what the hell was this "Impaler" supposed to be?

Sherlock's mind filled with question marks. He silently scorned these people's ability to come up with nicknames, while conveniently ignoring his own widespread cosplay as the Impaler in the Middle East.

Seeing Sherlock turn his gaze toward her, the elderly woman finally revealed a faint smile and continued speaking to him.

"I am Laura Austin, manager of the Continental Hotel in Los Angeles."

With her introduction, a sinister smile finally appeared on Sherlock's formerly furious face. He withdrew the spear fixed against the receptionist's throat and casually spun it.

As Sherlock moved, the instant the spearhead in his hand swept across where the bar should have been, the bar—which had already turned to ash and vanished into nothingness—returned to normal in the blink of an eye.

It was not just the bar itself. Even the keys stored inside and the computer atop the counter were restored in an instant.

If not for the data inside the computer having vanished, nearly everyone would have believed that Sherlock making the bar disappear had been nothing more than a collective hallucination.

The sight successfully made everyone who had witnessed the entire incident secretly draw a sharp breath, quietly placing Sherlock's name on their internal list of people never to provoke.

Sherlock himself did not care what these assassins and intelligence brokers thought. After casually restoring the bar, he glanced at the receptionist, then tossed the spear in his hand. It floated behind him on its own, following him as he walked toward Laura Austin.

If Sherlock's earlier "performance" of destroying the bar and restoring it could still be explained away as an illusion, then the spear now floating steadily behind his back proclaimed his extraordinary nature to everyone present.

As she watched Sherlock approach, Laura Austin instinctively recalled the horrific state of the Ten Rings' desert base. Yet years of refinement allowed her to maintain a proper smile despite the trace of fear in her heart as she said to Sherlock,

"Mr. Sherlock, please come with me. Let us speak in the reception room."

With that, she turned and walked toward the elevator, standing inside as she waited for Sherlock.

Sherlock did not refuse and simply followed the manager named Laura into the elevator without a care.

Before long, Laura brought Sherlock to the top floor of the Los Angeles Continental Hotel. In a suite that combined an office, reception room, and bedroom, Laura gracefully invited Sherlock to sit while she took the manager's seat.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Sherlock?"

Faced with the elderly woman's courtesy, Sherlock maintained his cold persona and said to Laura,

"No. We both know I did not come here for pleasantries."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Laura felt slightly relieved. This meant that Sherlock had not come here to cause trouble for no reason.

In other words, there was still room for negotiation! As long as they could negotiate, Laura did not consider this a major problem.

"Then please be direct, Mr. Sherlock. What exactly have you come to my hotel for?"

Hearing Laura's straightforward question, Sherlock had no intention of dragging things out. He casually took out the documents Coulson had given him and tossed them onto the coffee table before them.

The moment Laura saw the large eagle emblem on the cover of the documents Sherlock had thrown down, her pupils contracted sharply.

Clearly, as part of the Continental Hotel's management, Laura knew exactly what S.H.I.E.L.D. represented.

At the very least, for now, an official organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. was unquestionably the most militarily formidable organization in the entire world. After all, in theory, the five most powerful nations in the world stood behind S.H.I.E.L.D.

Sherlock said nothing. After tossing out the documents, he simply stared unblinkingly at Laura.

Seeing Sherlock like this, Laura was extremely unwilling, but she still picked up the internal S.H.I.E.L.D. documents from the table.

The instant she opened them, Laura's expression changed dramatically. The dignified, aristocratic smile on her face could no longer be maintained; all that remained was shock and disbelief.

The reason was simple: the first page of the documents was an assignment list the Continental Hotel had once used to receive and distribute jobs before computers existed!

The client's name, which should have been blacked out on that list, was now written plainly—a name that filled Laura with dread.

Obadiah Stane!

What frightened Laura even more were the targets listed on the assignment sheet.

Annie Flamel and Nick Flamel!

And those two names clearly could not be unrelated to the Sherlock Flamel standing before her!