S.H.I.E.L.D.'s "Test"

The ceiling fan in the repair shop creaked as it turned, stirring the smell of motor oil together with the fresh scent of plane tree leaves. Lin Mo was squatting on the floor, replacing the brake pads on a classic car. Grease on his fingertips smeared across his blue coveralls, spreading into a small dark stain. Shield was dozing atop the toolbox beside him, its tail swaying gently in time with the fan. Every now and then, it raised its eyes to watch the leaves drifting down outside.

"Ding—" The wind chime at the door rang, its sharp metallic clatter making Shield prick up its ears. Lin Mo looked up to see a silver-gray Chevrolet parked outside. Its window rolled down, revealing Phil Coulson's face, as always carrying a mild smile. He wore a beige trench coat today, with an inconspicuous badge pinned to the collar. It glinted once in the sunlight before disappearing against the fabric.

"Lin Mo, long time no see." Coulson pushed open the door, his dress shoes rustling through the fallen leaves. "I heard you switched careers? That old man Carlos has been talking about you for days."

"Fixing computers was too quiet. Fixing cars is livelier." Lin Mo stood and wiped his hands with a rag, his gaze lingering on the Chevrolet's license plate for half a second—a standard New York State plate, except for a tiny S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem at the corner, identical to the one he had seen at Stark Industries last time. "What's wrong with the car?"

"The brakes have been acting up." Coulson walked around to the passenger side and paused slightly as he opened the door, as if adjusting something. "Sometimes they suddenly fail. I took it to the dealership three times, but they couldn't find the problem. Thought I'd try my luck here." His gaze swept over the tools in the garage, lingering two seconds longer on the wrench that could bend steel rebar.

Lin Mo nodded without replying. He walked over to the driver's side and activated his Phasing Ability the moment he opened the door. His vision swept over the brake system like an X-ray, and he immediately spotted the issue. There was an extremely subtle modification mark on the brake line, as though someone had tightened it with a special tool. Under a certain pressure, it would automatically lock up. This was not a malfunction. It was a deliberately designed trap.

"I'll take it for a test drive." Lin Mo got into the driver's seat. The leather seat was slightly hot, clearly having been exposed to the sun. As he fastened his seatbelt, his fingers brushed the panel beneath the steering wheel and felt a raised metal piece—a miniature sensor, warming faintly with the engine's vibrations.

Coulson sat in the passenger seat and took a thermos from his trench coat pocket. "Want some coffee? Colombian. Better than the instant stuff you have around here." He unscrewed the lid, and steam carrying the scent of caramel drifted out. A blurred Eagle Emblem was printed on the side of the thermos.

"No. I don't drink that while driving." Lin Mo started the car. The engine purred steadily, with no abnormality audible. He shifted into gear and pulled out of the repair shop. The Chevrolet rolled over the fallen leaves with a soft crunch. Dynamic Vision activated automatically, breaking the streetscape into countless details: the newsstand owner's fingers handing over a newspaper, the angle at which a girl's skirt fluttered as she rode past on a bicycle, even the faint electrical sound of distant traffic lights changing.

"Autumn in Queens is more comfortable than Manhattan." Coulson looked out the window, lightly tapping his fingers against his knee. The rhythm was astonishingly similar to the rebound frequency of the brake pedal. "I heard you helped the fire department move a mahogany wardrobe some time ago? The kind three grown men couldn't lift."

Lin Mo's grip tightened around the steering wheel. This had actually reached S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ears? He glanced into the rearview mirror and spotted a brown Ford following from a distance. Its windows were heavily tinted, making it impossible to see inside. "Ted likes to exaggerate. The beer cans inside had been cleared out beforehand, that's all."

"Is that so?" Coulson smiled and took a sip from his thermos. "Still, carrying it up to the third floor alone is impressive enough. I know a friend in special forces who said it would take more than ten years of training to manage that." He turned to look at Lin Mo, his eyes behind the lenses startlingly bright. "Did you train before?"

"When I was a kid, I helped my family carry grain in the countryside." Lin Mo turned the wheel to avoid a child chasing a ball. Physical Enhancement made his steering accurate to the centimeter, and the tires barely skimmed past the curb. He could feel the subtle vibrations coming through the brake pedal, arriving 0.3 seconds faster than normal. The modification was clearly beginning to activate.

As the car drove onto Queensboro Bridge, the wind suddenly picked up, making the Chevrolet's side mirrors buzz. Coulson suddenly said, "Looks like something's happening up ahead." He pointed forward. A truck had stopped in the middle of the road, its driver standing behind it and inspecting a tire, blocking more than half the lane.

Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat. Was this the signal for the test? He took a deep breath and rested his right foot lightly on the brake pedal. Physical Enhancement allowed him to control his strength with precision, even down to the millimeter of each muscle contraction. Under normal circumstances, he should have stomped on the brakes, but he knew that would trigger the locking mechanism.

"Creeeak—" The braking sound was soft, like a feather brushing the ground. The Chevrolet slowed with unbelievable steadiness, neither jolting from a sudden stop nor coasting forward uncontrollably. At the same time, Lin Mo turned the wheel. The car slid past the edge of the truck and came to a stable stop just as the side mirror nearly grazed its taillight, leaving exactly enough space for a pedestrian to pass.

Coulson's hand holding the thermos paused. The steam at the lid trembled, yet not a single drop spilled. He looked at Lin Mo, the curve of his smile deepening slightly. "Quick reflexes."

"Comes from driving classic cars. Those old things have brakes even less reliable than this." Lin Mo released the brake, and the car slowly pulled away. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the brown Ford in the rearview mirror. In that instant, it had clearly slowed down, and the silhouette behind its window seemed to be holding something aimed at them.

They hit a red light on the way off the bridge, and the Chevrolet stopped before the crosswalk. Lin Mo lightly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as his mind raced. The brake modification was meant to test his reaction speed. The Ford following them was recording data. Coulson's thermos might even have contained a camera... Was S.H.I.E.L.D. treating him as a potential recruit?

"You don't seem to like attention." Coulson suddenly spoke, his gaze falling on a stray cat by the roadside. "Last time, Hogan from Stark Industries wanted to hire you as a technical consultant, and you turned him down rather decisively."

"I'm used to freedom. I don't like being controlled." Lin Mo watched the light turn green and gently pressed the accelerator. "Besides, whatever little skills I have probably aren't worth mentioning in your eyes." He deliberately made "your" vague, watching Coulson's reaction.

The man smiled without denying it. "Everyone has different value. Some people are suited for the front lines, while others are suited to hold the rear." He took out a USB drive from his trench coat pocket and placed it on the dashboard. "This is payment for fixing my car computer last time. There are some... interesting things on it. You might like them."

Lin Mo glanced at the USB drive. Its casing was matte black, with a string of tiny numbers along the side, matching the coding system used on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal equipment. He did not touch it. "It was nothing. You don't have to be so formal."

When the Chevrolet returned to the repair shop, Ted was running over from across the street carrying a huge magic box. The sequins on it glittered so brightly in the sun that they were dazzling. "Mo! Look at the levitation trick I just learned!" He did not notice Coulson and rushed straight to the car. "I can make a coin stay in midair for three minutes. The principle is—"

"Ted." Lin Mo cut him off and tipped his head toward Coulson.

Only then did Ted notice the man in the passenger seat. His face instantly turned red, and he fumbled to hide the magic box behind his back. "Ah... hello, sir. I'm Ted, Lin Mo's friend." His eyes wandered over Coulson's trench coat before he suddenly leaned close to Lin Mo and whispered, "This guy smells like that man in the black suit last time. Like hospital disinfectant."

Coulson opened the car door and stepped out, the smile on his face unchanged. "Magic? I'm quite interested." He looked at Lin Mo. "Leave the car here for repairs. Can I pick it up tomorrow afternoon?"

"No problem." Lin Mo nodded and watched Coulson walk toward the brown Ford. Its window rolled down, revealing the face of a young agent rapidly recording something on a tablet. The motion of his fingers across the screen was astonishingly similar to the rhythm Lin Mo had used to control the brakes earlier.

The Chevrolet's hood was still warm. When Lin Mo opened it, a faint scent of scorched metal drifted out. Instead of examining the brake system, he bent down to inspect the undercarriage. Sure enough, he found a miniature camera near the fuel tank, its lens pointed directly at the driver's seat. "S.H.I.E.L.D. really is cautious." He sneered, lightly twisted it with a wrench, and the camera fell off. He casually tossed it into the hidden compartment of the toolbox.

Ted leaned over and pointed at the brake line. "This pipe isn't right. The connector has been ground down." Though he loved bragging, he had been hanging around Lin Mo long enough to become half an expert in mechanics. "Did someone sabotage it on purpose?"

"Maybe someone at the dealership installed it wrong." Lin Mo took out a wrench and lightly tapped the brake line with his fingertip. Physical Enhancement allowed him to control his strength precisely. He loosened the clip that triggered the locking mechanism without leaving any trace. "Small problem. It'll be fixed by tomorrow."

Ted wanted to say more, but Lin Mo stopped him with a look. He knew the kid could not keep secrets. If Ted found out S.H.I.E.L.D. was testing him, who knew what kind of trouble he would cause. "Wasn't your levitation trick amazing? Show me."

"Sure!" Ted immediately forgot about the brakes. He took a coin from the magic box, rubbed it in his palm, and tossed it into the air. The coin really did hang motionless in midair. "Pretty impressive, right? The principle is—"

"Electromagnetic levitation." Lin Mo finished for him, though his gaze had fallen on the USB drive Coulson left behind. The sunset shone through the garage window onto it, making it as black as a light-absorbing stone. He knew there was definitely nothing "interesting" on it. More likely, it contained S.H.I.E.L.D.'s test data, or... a recruitment offer.

When he closed the shop that evening, Lin Mo drove the Chevrolet into the deepest bay of the garage and covered it with a canvas sheet. Shield lay in the dog bed beside it, occasionally lifting its head to look at him and letting out a low whine, as if warning him about something. Lin Mo stroked the puppy's head and took the miniature camera from the toolbox's hidden compartment. He had already scratched the lens cloudy with sandpaper.

He sat on the toolbox, turning Coulson's USB drive in his hand. The metal casing left an icy sensation against his palm. Dynamic Vision allowed him to see every scratch on it clearly. One extremely fine line, magnified, turned out to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s encrypted code. "Want to find out what I'm hiding?" Lin Mo chuckled, tossed the USB drive into the deepest part of a drawer, and buried it beneath Automotive Repair Encyclopedia.

His phone suddenly rang. It was a text from Peter: [Brother Lin Mo, I finished the wrist guard I designed. Should I bring it over tomorrow?] A hand-drawn blueprint was attached. The wrist guard's structure resembled the shock-absorbing device he had seen at Stark Industries last time, only more compact.

Lin Mo replied, "Sure," and warmth suddenly filled his heart. The kid always remembered things others did not care about. Lin Mo had only casually mentioned a wrist guard last time, yet Peter had actually made one.

The repair shop was especially quiet late at night, with only the sound of the ceiling fan turning and Shield's breathing. Lin Mo lay on the cot, looking at the water stains on the ceiling. They resembled a blurry map, one that happened to outline Queens. He thought of Coulson's eyes today, the Ford that had followed them, and the tampered brake system.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s probing had become increasingly obvious. From the initial car computer, to the later "chance encounters," to this brake test, they were gradually mapping out the limits of his abilities: the strength, precision, and reaction speed granted by Physical Enhancement, and perhaps even the existence of his Phasing Ability.

"What exactly do they want?" Lin Mo touched his wristband. Its screen was pitch-black, with 276 days remaining until the next check-in. He did not want to get mixed up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mess, did not want to deal with alien invasions or supervillains. He only wanted to protect this repair shop, Martha's apple pie, Ted's magic tricks, and Peter's little inventions.

But Coulson's words lingered in his mind. "Some people are suited for the front lines, while others are suited to hold the rear." Maybe he had never had room to choose from the start. Power brought more than convenience. It also brought responsibilities he could not avoid. Just as he could now easily lift a truck tire, if an even heavier "burden" came crashing down someday, could he really stand by and watch?

Shield suddenly got up, ran to the door, and growled low at the outside. Lin Mo sat up and activated his Phasing Ability. He saw two figures in black suits lingering outside the repair shop, holding something like a scanner aimed toward the garage.

"They really won't go away." Lin Mo sighed and pulled out a steel pipe from beneath the bed. The strength in his fingertips made the metal grow faintly hot. He had no intention of going outside. He only wanted them to know he was not some soft target they could test as they pleased.

The next afternoon, Coulson arrived on time to collect the car. Lin Mo was changing the oil on a motorcycle, with Shield lying at his feet. When it saw Coulson, its tail immediately stood up. "Fixed?" Coulson walked over to the Chevrolet and lightly tapped the hood with his fingers.

"Yeah. The brake line clip was loose, so I secured it again." Lin Mo straightened up, spinning the wrench in his hand. "I took it around a few times. No more problems."

Coulson nodded, got into the driver's seat, and started the car. The engine sounded steadier than it had yesterday. He pressed the brake, and the car stopped smoothly. Proper surprise appeared on his face. "Looks like your workmanship really is better." He pulled several bills from his wallet. "The repair fee."

"No need. I still haven't thanked you for the coffee last time." Lin Mo pushed the money back, his gaze settling on the passenger seat. The thermos was gone, replaced by a copy of New York Map. The open page showed Queens, with several neighborhoods circled in red, including his repair shop.

Coulson smiled and did not insist. Before rolling up the window, he suddenly said, "Oh, right. There's a community fire drill next week. They might need someone to help move equipment. Are you free?"

Lin Mo's heart stirred. A fire drill? Were they trying to test his strength again? "We'll see. I've been busy lately."

As the Chevrolet drove away, Lin Mo stood at the entrance and watched its taillights disappear into the plane tree leaves. He knew this was not the end. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tests would only become more frequent until they had figured out all his cards. But he had no intention of backing down. Just like repairing classic cars, no matter how complicated the problem was, there was always a solution.

Ted came in from outside carrying the magic box, humming badly out of tune. "Mo, was that guy giving you signals just now? His rearview mirror was adjusted really weird. I think he was filming our shop."

"You saw wrong." Lin Mo turned back into the garage and picked up Peter's wrist guard blueprint. The boy had drawn it carefully, marking the dimensions of every component. Beside it, he had written, "Can disperse 30% of impact force." Lin Mo suddenly felt that no matter how S.H.I.E.L.D. tested him, as long as these people were still by his side, he had the confidence to face anything.

The sunset stretched his shadow long across the place where the silver-gray Chevrolet had been parked. Fallen leaves formed a blurry shield shape on the ground. Lin Mo picked up his wrench and continued replacing parts on the classic car. Within the crisp clinking of metal lay the determination he never voiced—even if he could not avoid it, he would still protect his own small piece of ground.