Undercurrents Beneath the Calm

The late-summer sunlight carried a lazy warmth, filtering through the plane tree leaves and casting mottled shadows across the ground. Lin Mo sat on a bench in the neighborhood park, watching a little girl in a floral dress chase bubbles. The soap bubbles refracted rainbow light beneath the sun, bursting against the bench legs and leaving faint damp marks behind.

Shield lay at his feet, his front paws resting on a worn tennis ball, his tail lazily sweeping the ground and stirring up tiny puffs of dust. The stray dog had grown noticeably plumper since Lin Mo had found him. His brown fur had become sleek and glossy, and the wound on his left foreleg had healed, leaving only a faint scar. When he ran, he bounced along like a mischievous child.

"Woof." Shield suddenly lifted his head and wagged his tail toward the park entrance. Lin Mo followed his gaze and saw Ted running over with an enormous magic trunk strapped to his back. Two buttons had popped off his shirt, revealing a T-shirt printed with the words "Las Vegas."

"Mo! Hurry! Aunt May told you to pick up the apple pie!" Ted ran up to the bench and bent over, panting. The latch on his magic trunk had not been fastened properly, exposing colorful silk scarves inside. "She said if you don't get there soon, Peter will eat it all. That kid eats desserts like a little wolf now."

Lin Mo smiled and stood, brushing grass clippings from his pants. "Got it. I'm going." He patted Shield's head. "Watch the house. Don't let the stray cats steal your food." The little dog seemed to understand. He rubbed his head against Lin Mo's palm and let out a soft rumble in his throat.

As he passed the neighborhood bulletin board, Lin Mo stopped. A new notice about the autumn community events had been posted there, alongside a yellowed lost-dog flyer. The corgi in the photo looked a little like Shield. He remembered finding Shield trembling behind a trash can, his eyes filled with fear. Now, the little guy could run wild through the park. Lin Mo's heart suddenly softened.

The repair shop's rolling door was half open. Carlos was dozing over the counter, drool running from the corner of his mouth onto the ledger and smudging a small patch of ink. Lin Mo slipped inside quietly, afraid of waking him. The old man had spent last night repairing an antique radio until midnight, and deep dark circles hung beneath his eyes. The workbench had been polished until it gleamed. A disassembled laptop sat on top, its parts arranged neatly. Phil Coulson had brought it in yesterday.

"You awake?" Carlos suddenly raised his head, startling Lin Mo. "Thought you were here to steal my prized coffee beans?" He pointed at a tin box on the counter, filled with dark brown beans. Hogan had given them to him last time, supposedly from a private estate in Colombia.

"I wouldn't dare." Lin Mo smiled and picked up a screwdriver. "Is Coulson's computer almost fixed?"

"Just needs the system reinstalled," Carlos said with a yawn. "That guy gets stranger by the day. There are always all sorts of weird programs on the computers he brings in. Last time, I even found software that could automatically track locations. I removed it." The old man lowered his voice. "Do you think he's really involved in some secret operation?"

Lin Mo's hands paused. Coulson had been visiting more and more frequently lately, bringing in an average of one device a week for repairs. His excuses varied wildly—"I spilled coffee on it," "a cat scratched it," "my son messed with the keyboard"—but Lin Mo knew they were all excuses. His Phasing Ability allowed him to see files buried deep in the hard drives. They were all dossiers on "potential recruitment targets." One of them was titled: "Lin Mo—Ability Assessment: Phasing, Physical Enhancement, Threat Level: Low, Utility: Medium."

"Not sure." Lin Mo pretended to focus on installing a memory stick. "Maybe it's for S.H.I.E.L.D. work."

"Those people in black suits are all bad news," Carlos said with a curl of his lip. "Last time I repaired a server, they even tried to bribe me into becoming an informant. I chased them out with a wrench." He took out a roasted sweet potato from a drawer and stuffed it into Lin Mo's hands. "Still hot. Aunt May gave it to me. She said thanks for fixing her microwave."

Lin Mo accepted the sweet potato, and warmth spread from his palm into his heart. He knew Carlos was softhearted beneath his tough words. He cursed S.H.I.E.L.D. with his mouth, yet whenever Coulson came by, he always brewed an extra cup of coffee and deliberately set aside a few freshly baked cookies. That was probably the warmth of Queens—like the skin of a roasted sweet potato, rough on the outside but hiding scorching sweetness within.

At three in the afternoon, Coulson appeared at the repair shop entrance right on time. He wore his usual perfectly pressed suit and carried a paper bag that smelled of sandwiches. "Lin Mo, Mr. Carlos." He smiled and nodded, his eyes sweeping over the computer on the workbench. "Looks like my device is ready?"

"It's ready." Lin Mo handed him the laptop. "I reinstalled the system, cleared out the viruses, and replaced the battery while I was at it. It should last two hours longer now."

"Thanks." Coulson took two tuna sandwiches from the paper bag and placed them on the counter. "A small token of appreciation." He did not leave immediately. Instead, he leaned against the counter and looked out at the street. "Have you been following the news lately? The Avengers Initiative."

"A little." Lin Mo paused while wiping down a screwdriver. "They said they were putting together a special operations team."

"Something like that." Coulson picked up a sandwich but did not eat it. "We need some... people with special abilities to deal with unconventional threats." He turned toward Lin Mo, a trace of scrutiny in his eyes. "If we ever need help, would you come?"

Carlos's snoring abruptly stopped. His supposedly sleeping eyes secretly opened into narrow slits. Lin Mo looked at Coulson's calm face. The agent who always wore a gentle smile now had a barely noticeable expectation hidden in his eyes. Lin Mo thought of Mjolnir in New Mexico, of the exiled Thor, of the Hulk occasionally flashing across the news. He knew this day would come sooner or later.

But he did not want to go. He only wanted to stay with the smell of motor oil in the repair shop, the bench in the neighborhood park, Martha's burnt cookies, and Ted's clumsy magic tricks. These ordinary fragments formed his home in this world like pieces of a puzzle, anchoring him against the unfamiliarity.

"I don't know." Lin Mo avoided Coulson's gaze and turned to pour coffee. "Things are good right now." He placed a cup of hot coffee in front of Coulson, steam fogging his glasses. "Try it. Carlos's prized stash."

Coulson looked at the steaming coffee and suddenly smiled. He did not press the matter further. "Thank you." He picked up his laptop and headed for the door. When he reached it, he paused. "If you change your mind, you know how to contact me."

The door closed softly behind him, leaving behind a faint scent of cologne. Carlos sat up straight and looked at Lin Mo. "You really won't go? It's S.H.I.E.L.D. Sounds impressive."

"I'm not going." Lin Mo took a sip of coffee, bitterness spreading across his tongue. "I'm not ambitious. Fixing computers and playing with dogs suits me just fine."

The old man said nothing else. He simply picked up a sandwich and took a huge bite, though the corners of his mouth could not help lifting.

After helping Martha deliver some jam that evening—she had made fresh blueberry jam and asked him to take it to her sister across the street—Lin Mo sat on a park bench and watched the sunset dye the sky orange-red. Shield lay by his feet, gnawing on a chew toy Ted had given him. Peter crouched nearby with a magnifying glass, observing ants moving house.

"Brother Lin Mo, why can ants always find their way home?" Peter suddenly asked. His eyes sparkled behind the lenses. "Do they have something like wristbands too?"

Lin Mo thought of his own wristband, resting quietly against his wrist. Its synchronization rate had stabilized at 60%. He was becoming increasingly proficient with his abilities and could even precisely control the range of his phasing—for example, allowing only his fingers to pass through a wall while keeping the rest of his body solid. It had been especially useful when helping Grandma Gretchen retrieve a necklace stuck in a crack in the wall.

"Probably," Lin Mo said with a smile. "Their home is here, so naturally they can find their way back."

Peter nodded as if he understood, then lowered his head to watch the ants again. Lin Mo looked at the boy's serious profile and remembered the Web-Shooters sketches in his schoolbag, as well as the light in his eyes whenever he talked about spiders. He knew Peter had roots of his own, planted in science and curiosity.

Ted's booming voice came from the distance. He ran over holding an enormous cotton candy covered with colorful sugar crystals. "Mo! Peter! Look at the prize I won!" He shoved the cotton candy into Peter's hands, then dropped onto the ground with a thud and panted. "There was a raffle at the community center just now. I won first prize!"

"Wow!" Peter took a huge bite of cotton candy, sugar crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth like a kitten caught stealing food. "It's so sweet!"

Watching them fool around, Lin Mo suddenly felt at ease. The Avengers Initiative in the news was still gathering momentum, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shadow had never truly gone away, and the "300 days" on his wristband continued to count down. Yet it all seemed separated from this small neighborhood by an invisible film, unable to disturb it for the time being.

Martha approached with a basket full of freshly baked apple pies, their fragrance drifting from far away. "Don't sit on the ground. It's cold!" She handed out slices of pie, then took out a strip of jerky and tossed it to Shield. "You little beast, come to my place tomorrow. I'll stew bones for you."

"Thank you, Grandma Martha!" Peter and Ted said in unison, their mouths stuffed full of apple pie and their words muffled.

Lin Mo accepted the pie, and warmth traveled from his fingertips into his heart. The sweet apple scent mixed with the smell of smoke clinging to Martha's clothes. It was the most familiar scent he knew in this world. He knew this peace was temporary, like late-summer sunshine that would someday be replaced by autumn winds. But for now, he wanted to protect this warmth—the mildew smell of the basement, the motor oil smell of the repair shop, and these vivid people around him.

Night gradually deepened. Ted went home carrying Shield, and Peter was called back by Aunt May to do his homework. Lin Mo remained on the bench, watching the last trace of sunset vanish beyond the horizon as stars lit up one after another. His wristband suddenly gave a soft vibration. It was neither a warning nor a notification, as if it were responding to his heartbeat.

He did not know what the future would bring. He did not know what the Avengers Initiative would lead to, nor did he know what new ability would await him after 300 days. But he knew that as long as these roots remained, no matter how fierce the storm became, he would always be able to find his way home.

Lin Mo stood, brushed grass clippings from his pants, and headed toward the basement. The streetlights came on, illuminating his shadow and the wildflowers by the roadside. Tomorrow, he still had to help Carlos repair a radio, tutor Peter in math, improve Ted's magic props, and prepare a new chew toy for Shield.