Countdown and Coulson's Business Card

The late autumn rain carried a chill, drizzling steadily for an entire week. Lin Mo crouched before the repair shop workbench, replacing the heads on an old VCR. His Basic Phasing Ability could now precisely avoid the circuitry, and his movements were twice as fast as they had been three months ago.

The wristband on his arm suddenly vibrated softly. Pale blue digits flickered through his vision like a raindrop falling onto a still lake: [Countdown: 100 Days 0 Hours].

Lin Mo paused, his heart jolting as if something had struck it. One hundred days. It had already been exactly 265 days since he had crossed into the Marvel universe. In those 265 days, he had gone from a homeless man sleeping on park benches to a valued apprentice at a repair shop; from an ordinary person who could not even outrun a mugger to a "mutant-in-training" capable of phasing through two-meter-thick concrete walls; from someone terrified of the future to a "night watchman" who could calmly face the countdown.

"What are you spacing out for?" Carlos set a cup of hot coffee beside him, smoke curling from his nostrils. "That VCR has to be fixed today. The customer's coming to pick it up this afternoon."

"Got it, Carlos." Lin Mo smiled and took a sip of coffee. Warmth slid down his throat, chasing away the late autumn chill and the inexplicable tension in his chest.

Over the past three months, his life had become remarkably routine: up at seven in the morning, working out in the basement with makeshift equipment to improve his physical fitness—even without superpowers, he was much stronger than before; at the repair shop by eight, fixing computers, installing operating systems, and occasionally helping Carlos deal with parts that "couldn't see the light of day," such as wiring stripped from scrapped armored vehicles; off work at six, either going to Aunt May's for dinner—Peter's plant growth agent could already make seeds sprout within two hours, nearly making Aunt May throw the test tube—or returning to his basement to study the wristband and improve his "armory." He now had an enhanced phasing ability that could pass through five-meter-thick steel plates, leg boosters as fast as a motorcycle, and a simple shield made from discarded bulletproof glass.

Old Martha's cat, Snowball, had long since received its third-generation collar bell, which Lin Mo had made from titanium alloy scraps. It was lighter and rang more clearly. Now, whenever the fat cat saw Lin Mo, it would rub against his legs on its own initiative, making Martha curse it as an "ungrateful little traitor."

Ted had found a stable job as a warehouse manager at a logistics company. He occasionally came to Lin Mo's basement for drinks and complained that his boss was "even stingier than Stark."

Everything was moving in a better direction, except for the steadily approaching countdown.

Lin Mo set down his coffee. As his fingertips brushed over the VCR casing, the wristband suddenly displayed a new notification: [Unknown energy fluctuation detected. Distance: 50 meters.]

His heart tightened, and he looked toward the repair shop entrance. In the rain stood a man in a black suit beneath the awning, holding a black umbrella low enough to obscure his face. But his posture was as straight as a spear, utterly unlike the homeless drifters and street punks common in Queens.

"A customer." Carlos clicked his tongue and stubbed out his cigarette in a grease-stained ashtray. "Looks like he's got money."

The man pushed open the door. The wind chime gave a crisp ring, blending strangely harmoniously with the rain outside. He folded his umbrella and shook the droplets from it, revealing a mild-looking face—around forty, with a slightly receding hairline, rimless glasses perched on his nose, and eyes as gentle as warm water. There was nothing overtly aggressive about him, yet he was impossible to underestimate.

"Good afternoon." The man's voice was even and measured, each word as clear as if it had been printed. "Can you recover data here?"

Lin Mo's heart lurched, and the screwdriver in his hand nearly fell to the floor.

Phil Coulson.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace agent, the embodiment of a "nice guy," and one of the most dangerous people in the Marvel universe when it came to smiling while extracting information. Why was he here? Was it a coincidence, or was he here for Lin Mo?

"Y-yes, we can." Lin Mo tried to make his voice sound normal, but his fingers instinctively clenched around the screwdriver until his knuckles whitened. He could feel that although Coulson's gaze was gentle, it swept over him like a scanner—from his repair shop uniform, to the half-exposed booster beneath the workbench, and finally to his wrist. Fortunately, the wristband was normally invisible.

Carlos held a cigarette between his lips and narrowed his eyes at Coulson. "What's broken? A hard drive? A USB stick?"

Coulson took a black hard drive from his briefcase. A S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem had been engraved into its metal casing—subtle, but Lin Mo had seen similar classified equipment in Huaqiangbei. "It's an encrypted hard drive. It was accidentally dropped and now it can't be read." He placed it on the workbench with a soft click. "There's important information inside. Money is not an issue."

The instant Lin Mo's fingertips touched the hard drive, the wristband began vibrating wildly. Pale blue warning text flooded his vision:

[Warning! S.H.I.E.L.D. Level-One encrypted device detected!]

[Device contains high-risk information (Level: 7). Contact may trigger a tracking program!]

[Associated hero: Phil Coulson (S.H.I.E.L.D.).]

[Recommendation: Refuse repairs and leave immediately!]

Cold sweat instantly soaked Lin Mo's back. High-risk information? Level 7? That meant the contents of the hard drive were likely connected to alien technology, mutants, or Hydra. He was merely a small fry trying to live peacefully until the sign-in date. He had no desire to get dragged into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s muddy waters.

"I... I can't fix this." Lin Mo drew back his hand and pretended to fiddle with nearby parts. "We only repair civilian equipment. We don't understand encrypted stuff."

Carlos froze, clearly not expecting him to turn down business that had walked right through the door. "You brat..."

"That's all right." Coulson interrupted Carlos. The smile on his face did not change, but his eyes deepened slightly. "I heard you're very skilled at handling 'special situations,' such as... passing through things you 'shouldn't be able to pass through'?"

Lin Mo's heart nearly leaped out of his throat. He knew! He definitely knew! Had a surveillance camera caught him when he saved Snowball last time? Had Peter accidentally let something slip? Or had S.H.I.E.L.D. satellites been watching this apartment building all along?

He forced himself to remain calm. Picking up the hard drive, he pretended to inspect it while quietly activating his Basic Phasing Ability. His fingertips passed through the casing and rapidly scanned the internal structure—the drive heads really were damaged, but a tiny red light blinked on one of the chips. A tracker!

"I really can't fix it." Lin Mo pushed the drive back, his palms drenched in sweat. "The encryption is too complicated. We don't have the equipment."

Coulson looked at him in silence for three seconds. Those three seconds felt like three centuries. The only sounds in the repair shop were raindrops tapping against the window and Carlos smoking.

"All right." Coulson suddenly smiled, put away the hard drive, and returned it to his briefcase. "Then I'll look somewhere else." He turned to leave, but stopped at the door and looked back at Lin Mo. "By the way, my name is Phil Coulson."

Lin Mo's breathing stopped. He had actually introduced himself! What did that mean? Was it a warning, or... a test?

"Lin Mo." He heard his own voice trembling like a fallen leaf in the autumn wind.

Coulson nodded and pulled a business card from his pocket, setting it in the corner of the workbench. It was black, with only a name and phone number on it—no company, no title, simple as a code phrase. "If there's trouble in Queens, you can call me." He paused before adding, "For example... if you encounter muggers, or more 'special' trouble."

With that, he opened the door and stepped into the rain. His black umbrella soon vanished around the street corner.

Lin Mo stared at the business card, sweat beading at his fingertips. He did not even hear Carlos curse him for stupidly letting a major customer walk away.

Coulson knew about his ability. There was no doubt about that.

But he had not arrested him, interrogated him, or even threatened him. He had merely left behind a business card and said, "If there's trouble, call me." What exactly did that mean? Did he see Lin Mo as a potential "asset"? Or was he warning him, Don't cause trouble. We're watching you?

"Hey! What are you spacing out for?" Carlos bumped him with his elbow. "That guy looked like bad news. Might've been a gangster. Good thing you didn't take the job."

Only then did Lin Mo snap out of it. He picked up the black business card, his fingertips so hot they nearly seemed capable of melting it. "Carlos, do you know him?"

"No." Carlos blew out a smoke ring. "But he looked like government. When the factory got investigated before, a few guys in suits came by. Same eyes as him—smiling with knives hidden behind them."

Lin Mo said nothing. He slipped the business card into the inner pocket of his work uniform, close against his heart. His heartbeat pounded like a drum, making even the card feel faintly warm.

That afternoon, when the customer came to collect the VCR, Lin Mo was still distracted and nearly installed the heads backward. Carlos cursed him a couple of times but did not ask further questions—in this repair shop, everyone had secrets. Carlos always took mysterious calls late at night, for instance, while the fisherman who frequently came in to repair satellite phones was actually an arms smuggler.

When work ended, the rain had stopped. The sunset stained the streets of Queens gold and crimson. As Lin Mo walked home, he constantly felt someone watching him from behind, but every time he turned around, all he saw were children returning from school and elderly people walking dogs.

Passing the community park, he saw Peter lying on a bench doing homework, with a huge insect net beside him. The boy had recently become obsessed with studying spiders, claiming he wanted to find "the most promising species."

"Lin!" Peter looked up, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "Look at this new spider I found. It can spin sticky silk!" He raised a glass jar. The spider inside was furry, with black bands around its legs.

Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat. This spider... was almost identical to the one that had bitten Peter!

"Be careful. Don't let it bite you." Lin Mo's voice tightened slightly as he crouched to look at the jar. "Some spiders are venomous."

"I know!" Peter proudly shook the protective gear on his wrist. "I took precautions. Oh, and don't forget about the science fair this weekend."

"I won't." Lin Mo smiled, but his heart felt heavy. He knew it was only a matter of time before Peter got bitten by a spider. When that happened, what should he do? Warn him? Or pretend he knew nothing?

Back in the basement, Lin Mo threw himself onto his air mattress—it had long since been replaced with a real mattress that had cost him half a month's wages—and stared blankly at the mold stains on the ceiling. Coulson's business card sat on his desk. The black card reflected a cold gleam beneath the desk lamp, like a silent gravestone.

He picked up the card and ran his fingertip over the phone number, suddenly recalling Coulson's final words: "If you encounter muggers, or more 'special' trouble."

Special trouble... Did that mean mutants? Or Hydra? Or the coming Battle of New York?

The wristband suddenly lit up: [Host emotional fluctuations detected. Mental strength decreasing (65/100).]

[Recommendation: Remain calm and avoid exposing abilities. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s monitoring level for unknown mutants is "Orange." Abnormalities will trigger compulsory measures.]

Lin Mo took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He could not panic, not yet. Since Coulson had not acted directly, S.H.I.E.L.D. clearly did not intend to move against him for the moment. That business card was more like a "test," or perhaps... a signal of recruitment.

He turned on his computer and searched Coulson's name. Very little information could be found online, only scattered reports about a "Stark Industries security consultant," without even a clear photo. Lin Mo closed the browser, more certain than ever—Coulson was definitely a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and not a low-ranking one.

He dragged a box out from beneath his bed. It held the fruits of his work over the past few months: improved leg boosters that could now reach fifty kilometers per hour, a shield made of bulletproof glass that could stop handgun bullets, and a listening-device detector modified from discarded headphones, a skill he had learned from Carlos.

"Even if they're watching me, I can protect myself." Lin Mo muttered, a little more determination appearing in his eyes. He picked up the shield, used his Basic Phasing Ability to make a hole near its edge, threaded a strap through it, and tried it on. It fit perfectly.

Just then, Ted shouted from next door, "Lin Mo! Come watch the news! They found a strange meteor crater in eastern Queens, and there are green stones inside!"

Lin Mo's heart sank. He rushed into Ted's basement. News footage played on Ted's television: a huge crater surrounded by police tape, several people in protective suits collecting samples inside it, and a faint green glow visible at the bottom. The anchor spoke excitedly: "Experts say this may be a meteorite from outer space containing unknown elements..."

Lin Mo's heart began hammering. Green stones? A meteor crater? Was this a fragment of the Tesseract? Or perhaps... a Kree energy core?

"That stone looks pretty valuable." Ted clicked his tongue. "If I could pick up one piece, I might get rich."

"Don't even think about it." Lin Mo's voice trembled slightly. "That thing might be radioactive." He remembered Coulson's business card and suddenly understood—Coulson had not come to the repair shop to fix a hard drive at all. He had come because of this meteor crater! He had been testing Lin Mo, seeing whether he would react to a "special incident"!

Returning to his own basement, Lin Mo shoved Coulson's business card into the deepest part of a drawer and placed a copy of Principles of Machinery on top of it. He knew that from this day onward, his life would never return to its former peace. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eyes were on him. The appearance of the meteor crater foretold an even greater crisis approaching, while the sign-in date a hundred days away hung over him like the Sword of Damocles. He had no idea whether it would bring a pleasant surprise or a terrifying shock.

He went to the workbench and began assembling new equipment—this time, an energy fluctuation detector made with military-grade components he had "borrowed" from Carlos. He needed to be ready. Whether it was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s test or the secret behind the meteor crater, he would have to face it.

The moon rose outside, illuminating the streets of Queens. Lin Mo touched the wristband on his arm. Its countdown remained clear: 99 Days 23 Hours.

He knew the next hundred days would be harder and more dangerous than the previous 265. But he was no longer the homeless man who could only hide in a basement and tremble. He had friends—Peter, Aunt May, Martha, and even the somewhat harsh Carlos. He had abilities—an enhanced Basic Phasing Ability. He had equipment—boosters, a shield, and a detector. And he also had... the courage to face danger.

"Bring it on." Lin Mo spoke softly to the wristband, his eyes holding no fear, only calm resolve. "Whether it's S.H.I.E.L.D., the meteor crater, or the superpower waiting in a hundred days, I'll take it."

The wristband warmed slightly, as though responding to his determination.

Early the next morning, on his way to the repair shop, Lin Mo saw several people in black suits lingering near the apartment building. One of them, seen in profile, looked very much like one of the workers collecting samples from the meteor crater in yesterday's news report.

Lin Mo lowered his head, pretended to look at his phone, and hurried into the repair shop. He knew the game had begun. And he had to win.

Carlos handed him a cup of coffee, smoke rings swirling above his head. "We've got a batch of 'special parts' to handle today. I'll pay you extra later."

Lin Mo took the coffee, familiar warmth spreading through his fingertips. "All right." He smiled, but he knew these "special parts" probably came from that meteor crater.

The repair shop's wind chime rang again. A man in a suit stood at the entrance. He was not Coulson, but like him, he had gentle eyes and an upright posture.

Lin Mo's heart jumped. He tightened his grip on the screwdriver in his hand.

A new day had begun.