Street "Magic" and Dollars

Queens on Saturday looked like an overturned palette. Elderly women in fur coats walked poodles, skateboarders tore past beneath their feet, and the aroma of grilled lamb from Middle Eastern restaurants mingled with the sweet scent of popcorn from the subway entrance, weaving through the crowd. Lin Mo stood on the steps outside the subway station, clutching a gray baseball cap in his palm—Ted's old cap, with a few potato chip crumbs still stuck to the brim. At the moment, he was using it as a prop for collecting money.

"Are we really doing this?" Ted tugged at the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes half excited and half nervous. "This is street performing. If the cops see us, we could get fined." He was also carrying a folding stool, which he had specifically bought at a hardware store yesterday. He said it was "for the audience, to make us look professional."

Lin Mo took a deep breath and adjusted the wristband on his arm. The synchronization rate for Physical Enhancement had risen to 35%. He had grown increasingly proficient with Dynamic Vision and Burst Sprint, and thanks to his frequent practice, he could now precisely control the range of his Phasing ability—for instance, allowing only his hand to pass through a wall while keeping the rest of his body solid. "Let's give it a try." He set the cap upside down on the ground and stepped back two paces. "The repair shop's closed today anyway. Might as well do something."

But he had another plan in mind. Last week, he had compensated a customer for a new monitor and spent nearly all of the "efficiency bonus" Carlos had given him. If he did not find a way to earn some extra money soon, he might not even be able to pay the basement rent next month. More importantly, he wanted to try using his abilities "reasonably" in public and see whether he could find a way to make money without exposing his identity.

His first audience member was a young mother pushing a stroller. The baby was crying and reaching for bubbles in the air. Lin Mo cleared his throat and pointed at the brick wall beside him. "Everyone, let me show you a little magic trick—retrieving an object through a wall with my bare hand." He deliberately lowered his voice, giving it the mysterious air he had learned from movies.

The young mother stopped, folding her arms as she watched, the corner of her mouth holding a trace of Is this guy crazy? skepticism. Ted hurried over and chimed in, "My buddy's the real deal, not some planted performer!"

Ignoring Ted's unnecessary embellishment, Lin Mo focused and activated Phasing. Before the crowd's astonished eyes, his palm slowly passed through the rough brick wall as if it were butter. He deliberately slowed his movements, letting his fingers fumble around behind the wall for a moment before suddenly pulling his hand back out—holding a withered yellow leaf he had plucked from the old locust tree on the other side.

"Wow!" The baby in the stroller abruptly stopped crying and reached out for the leaf. The young mother stared wide-eyed as well. Instinctively, she pulled out her wallet, took out a five-dollar bill, and bent down to place it in the cap on the ground. "That's amazing! Do another one!"

With the first audience member there, more people quickly gathered around. Office workers in suits, students carrying backpacks, and hot dog vendors all stopped to point and whisper at Lin Mo. "How did he do that? Is it a prop?" "Doesn't look like it. That wall's solid!" "Is it special effects?"

Lin Mo smiled and decided to raise the difficulty. He walked beneath a streetlamp across the road and looked up at its shade more than three meters overhead. "Next, I'll perform a standing high jump and touch the streetlamp."

"Yeah, right!" a teenager in a basketball jersey scoffed. "My brother's on the school team, and even he can't reach that high!"

Lin Mo said nothing. He merely loosened his ankles. The strength from Physical Enhancement flowed through his muscles like warm water washing over a riverbed. He took a deep breath, bent his knees slightly, then pushed off hard—his body sprang upward as if launched by a coil, easily clearing the teenager's head. His right hand accurately touched the edge of the lampshade, and he even gave it a light tap, producing two crisp knocks.

As he fell, he adjusted his posture with Dynamic Vision and landed steadily in the same spot without even disturbing his hair. The crowd instantly erupted in cries of surprise. Applause and whistles surged together like a tide. The teenager in the basketball jersey stood with his mouth wide open, and the basketball in his hand dropped with a thud, rolling to Lin Mo's feet.

"Chinese kung fu!" someone shouted, immediately drawing a chorus of agreement. More bills flew into the cap—dollars, coins, even a crumpled euro note—clinking and spinning against the brim. Ted busied himself handing out folding stools while constantly saying, "Slow down, slow down! Everyone gets a seat! The next one will be even better!"

Lin Mo felt a little lightheaded with excitement. He had not expected the response to be this good. Just two simple demonstrations of his abilities had drawn so much attention. He cleared his throat, preparing for the next act—a combination of Phasing and Physical Enhancement, "taking" a bottle of cola from a locked vending machine.

Just then, a low laugh drifted in from the edge of the crowd, carrying a hint of mockery. "That kid's more agile than a circus monkey."

Lin Mo froze, and his Phasing ability nearly slipped out of control. That voice... sounded familiar. He swept the edge of the crowd with Dynamic Vision and saw a man in sunglasses leaning against a lamppost, holding up a phone with its screen aimed directly at him. The man wore casual clothes and had a black quiver tucked under his arm. Though it was hidden beneath his trench coat, Lin Mo still recognized that unmistakable outline—

Hawkeye, Clint Barton!

Lin Mo's heart leaped into his throat. Why would a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent be here? Had he just happened to pass by, or had he come specifically to watch him? Lin Mo remembered Phil Coulson's warning. His fingers clenched instinctively, making the coins in the cap rattle.

"What's wrong?" Ted leaned closer and followed his gaze. "That guy's been filming you. Is he a reporter or something?"

"Not a reporter." Lin Mo lowered his voice, forcing himself to remain calm. "Ignore him. Keep performing." He knew he could not show weakness now. The more flustered he was, the more suspicious he would look. Taking a deep breath, Lin Mo walked to the vending machine. Under everyone's watchful eyes, his palm passed through the glass door and accurately grabbed a bottle of cola before pulling it back out—there were even cold droplets of condensation on the bottle, as if it had just been taken from a refrigerator.

"Awesome!" The teenager in the basketball jersey was the first to cheer. He pulled every bit of change from his wallet and dumped it all into the cap.

Hawkeye laughed again, this time closer. "Not bad technique. Your props are just a little outdated." He put away his phone and turned to leave. As he passed Lin Mo, he deliberately slowed down and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Be careful. Not everyone is as easy to fool as an audience."

Cold sweat instantly soaked Lin Mo's back. He had seen through him! Hawkeye had not only recognized his abilities, but had warned him—S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching him all along, and a little street performance like this could not possibly escape their notice.

By the time the performance ended, the money in the cap had piled up like a small hill. Ted excitedly counted the bills, his fingers trembling. "Two hundred and thirty-seven dollars! Mo, we're rich!" He suddenly leaned close, greed gleaming in his eyes. "Listen, this is nothing. With your skills, you'd definitely make big money in underground fights! You could earn thousands in one match!"

"Don't get stupid ideas." Lin Mo frowned, snatched the money from the cap, and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. "There are plenty of ways to make money. Don't get involved in anything illegal." Remembering Hawkeye's words left him even more uneasy. He only wanted to leave this troublesome place as quickly as possible.

"What do you mean, illegal?" Ted muttered indignantly. "Don't all those rich people watch that stuff? My cousin fights in Brooklyn. He can afford a car now."

"That's because they haven't run into real danger yet." Lin Mo grabbed Ted and pulled him away, not even bothering to collect the folding stools. "Do you know how many people who fight underground actually end well? Either they get their legs broken, or the mob controls them. They can never get out for the rest of their lives."

Ted wanted to argue, but Lin Mo's expression frightened him into silence. He had never seen Lin Mo look so serious, as if he had become a different person. The resolve in his eyes made Ted swallow the rest of his words.

The two hurried through the crowd, leaving behind the audience still discussing the show and the folding stools scattered all over the ground. At the corner, Lin Mo looked back. Hawkeye was already gone. Only the hot dog vendor remained, still pointing toward where he had been.

"Who was that guy, anyway?" Ted finally could not help asking, his voice still trembling slightly.

"A troublesome person," Lin Mo answered vaguely, quickening his pace. Right now, he only wanted to get home, hide the money, and think carefully about what Hawkeye's words meant—was it merely a warning, or a sign that S.H.I.E.L.D. was about to take action?

When they passed a neighborhood bank, Lin Mo deposited most of the money and kept only fifty dollars on him. As Ted watched him use the ATM, he suddenly said, "Sorry, Mo. I shouldn't have brought up underground fighting." His voice was subdued. "I just... really want to make money. I want to get to Las Vegas sooner."

Lin Mo smiled and patted his shoulder. "I know. But making money takes time. We can't rush it." He pulled out twenty dollars and pressed it into Ted's hand. "Go buy two cans of beer. Come to my basement tonight, and we'll celebrate our first successful 'street performance.'"

Ted's eyes immediately lit up. He took the money and ran toward the supermarket, his retreating figure as light as a bird that had just learned to fly. Watching him go, Lin Mo's unease gradually faded. Maybe Hawkeye's appearance had only been a coincidence. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. did not intend to do anything to him for now. After all, he was merely a "magician" performing on the street. He was no threat.

After returning to the basement, Lin Mo hid the remaining money in the iron box beneath his mattress, together with the money he had saved before. There was also a note in the box that read "New Mexico Fund." It was nearly halfway filled. He picked up the note and lightly ran his fingers over the numbers, suddenly feeling one step closer to that desert with the hammer embedded in it.

The wristband suddenly vibrated and displayed a new notification:

[Detected that the host has reasonably used abilities in public without causing widespread panic. Physical Enhancement synchronization rate increased by 5%. Current rate: 40%.]

Lin Mo's eyes lit up. So this could raise the synchronization rate too? He tried moving his wrist and felt that his strength had increased again. He could even clearly sense the vibration frequency of every water pipe in the basement—was this a new function of Dynamic Vision?

"Mo! I bought the beer!" Ted's voice came from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He held two cans of chilled beer, his face full of excitement. "Oh, right. I ran into Peter at the supermarket. He said Aunt May is making barbecue tomorrow and invited us over."

"Sounds good." Lin Mo took the beer and pulled open the tab. The cold liquid slid down his throat, washing away the irritation in his heart.

The two sat on the floor, drinking beer and chatting. Ted was still eagerly planning their next "street magic performance," saying they should make a flashier prop, like a box that could make people float. Lin Mo did not interrupt him. He simply listened with a smile and nodded now and then.

He knew that Ted's dream, like his New Mexico Fund, was what kept them going in this crazy world. As for Hawkeye's warning and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance, he would put them out of his mind for now.

At least for the moment, he had beer to drink, a friend beside him, freshly earned dollars, and abilities that could use "magic" to add a little fun to life. That was enough.

Moonlight streamed in through the small basement window and fell on the empty beer cans on the floor, reflecting a faint glow. Lin Mo touched the wristband on his arm. The 40% synchronization rate was like a child steadily growing up, reminding him that he was becoming stronger bit by bit.

Perhaps he would not need to wait until New Mexico, or until the next check-in, to find his own way to survive—using Phasing to help old women grab eggs, using Physical Enhancement to perform magic on the streets, and carving out an ordinary yet stable path between superheroes and ordinary people.

Thinking of that, Lin Mo could not help smiling. He opened another can of beer and clinked it against Ted's, producing a crisp ring.