Fletcher's Change and Entrustment

Lin Xiao turned off the workstation screen, and the room fell into darkness once more. The simulated window had switched to night mode, with a virtual starry sky glittering beyond the "glass" as several artificial satellites drifted past. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, but his mind refused to settle. The molecular structure diagram of the blue reagent, the left-handed helical carbon chains, Anna's words—"a designed direction of evolution"—all spun and recombined like scattered fragments in his head. The ventilation system hummed steadily beside him, carrying the distinctive scent of an underground space: metal mixed with ozone. He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the corner of his desk—where the encrypted communicator Nightingale had just delivered lay waiting, its dark red casing stamped with the embryonic gold emblem of the Continental Hotel. Just then, his internal communicator chimed. He pressed the answer button, and Fletcher's secretary said, "Deputy Supervisor Lin, the supervisor would like you to come to his study now. He says... there is something important to discuss."

Lin Xiao's fingers paused over the desk for a second.

Fletcher's study was in the upper-level residential area of the base, one of the few rooms with real windows. Lin Xiao was rarely invited there—reports were usually delivered in the office or conference room. A private, informal meeting like this was unusual in itself.

He rose and straightened the collar of his uniform. The reflection in the mirror looked slightly pale, his eyes bloodshot, but his gaze remained sharp. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the distinctive chill of underground air, then pushed open the door and stepped out.

The corridor lights were brighter than usual, clearly switched to enhanced nighttime illumination. Two patrolling guards saw him and snapped to attention in salute. Lin Xiao nodded in return. Their footsteps created a brief echo through the empty corridor before being swallowed by the soundproofing. As the elevator rose, Lin Xiao felt a faint sensation of weightlessness and heard the subtle scrape of metal from inside the shaft.

The air in the upper residential area was noticeably different.

The smells here were more complex—leather, old books, cigar tobacco, and a faint incense scent resembling sandalwood. Dark carpets covered the corridor, completely absorbing every footstep. Several landscape oil paintings hung on the walls, their thick solid-wood frames glowing warmly beneath the soft wall lamps. Lin Xiao stopped before the double doors at the end of the corridor. They were made of dark brown wood, carved with elaborate vine patterns. He raised a hand and knocked.

"Come in." Fletcher's voice came from inside, lower than usual.

Lin Xiao pushed the door open and entered.

The study was larger than he had expected. Bookshelves covered an entire wall from floor to ceiling, filled with books in various languages—military theory, history, philosophy, technological documents, and even several thread-bound ancient volumes. The opposite wall was dominated by a huge floor-to-ceiling window, its curtains currently open to reveal the real night sky. The base was built in the mountains, at a relatively high altitude, and the stars were exceptionally clear. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens like a hazy band of light. A broad mahogany desk stood in the center of the room, several stacks of documents piled across it beside a brass lamp casting a warm halo. Fletcher sat in a high-backed chair behind the desk. He was not wearing his uniform jacket, only a dark gray shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He held a glass of amber liquid, ice cubes lightly clinking within it.

"Close the door," Fletcher said without looking up.

Lin Xiao did as instructed. The lock clicked softly.

The study was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of burning logs in the fireplace—a real fireplace, not a simulated one. Firelight flickered across the walls, filling the entire room with an ancient, intimate atmosphere. Lin Xiao could smell cigar tobacco, whiskey, old paper, and the resinous smoke of burning firewood.

"Sit." Fletcher pointed to the chair opposite the desk.

Lin Xiao sat down. The chair was genuine leather, letting out a faint creak beneath him.

Fletcher finally looked up at Lin Xiao. Under the combined glow of the desk lamp and fireplace, his face appeared more weathered than usual. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deeper, the bags beneath them more pronounced, and there was a weariness in his eyes that Lin Xiao had never seen before—not physical exhaustion, but a deeper kind of spiritual depletion.

The two remained silent for several seconds.

The flames in the fireplace flickered.

"You've been busy lately," Fletcher finally said in a calm, unreadable voice.

"Base security matters need follow-up, along with some... personal projects," Lin Xiao answered cautiously.

Fletcher lifted his glass and took a sip. The ice clinked again with a crisp sound. He set the glass down, his fingers gently rubbing the rim.

"Lin," he said, his tone suddenly exceptionally direct, "I know what you've been doing."

Lin Xiao's breathing did not change, but his muscles tightened slightly.

"I'm not blind," Fletcher continued, his eyes fixed on Lin Xiao's face. "The safehouse applications, irregular supply transfers, encryption upgrades to the communication channels... and the people under you. Their activity has clearly increased lately. If I couldn't see that much, I wouldn't deserve to have been a supervisor all these years."

He paused, then took another drink.

"But I didn't stop you."

That sentence made Lin Xiao raise his eyes.

Fletcher met his gaze. Complex emotions churned in those tired eyes—helplessness, disappointment, and an almost liberated calm.

"I'm old, Lin," he said, his voice growing deeper. "And I've seen through it all. Hydra has been rotten on the inside for a long time. Factions tear at each other, ideals are twisted. When we joined, we thought we were fighting for a greater order... but what is left now? Nothing but power struggles, exchanges of interest, and extremist plans dreamed up by madmen."

He put down his glass, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the ceiling. The fireplace cast shifting shadows across his face.

"The 'new order' you proposed..." he said slowly, "might be right. At least it would be better than this. At least... it still carries a trace of idealism."

Lin Xiao said nothing. He observed and analyzed. Fletcher's words had come too suddenly, too frankly, making him even more wary. Was this a test? Or some more complicated trap?

"You don't need to doubt me." Fletcher seemed to see through his thoughts. He shook his head with a bitter smile. "I'm not testing you. I'm just... tired. I've sat in this position for over a decade, watching the organization decay bit by bit, watching people with genuine ideals either get pushed out, assimilated, or... disappear."

He straightened up and folded his hands on the desk.

"Lin, you're a smart man. Smarter than most people in this base. You have ideas, you can act, and... you seem to know things the rest of us don't." His eyes sharpened. "I won't ask where you learned them, and I won't ask what you truly intend to do. I'll only say this: within my ability, I can provide cover and resources. That embryonic Continental Hotel of yours... as long as it doesn't cause too much of a stir, I can allow it to develop in the shadows of this base."

Lin Xiao's heart skipped a beat.

Fletcher even knew the name Continental Hotel.

"How did you—" Lin Xiao began.

"Nightingale's encrypted communications may be impressive, but the base's main control system is still in my hands," Fletcher interrupted. "I saw the unusual distribution of data traffic and the activation records of several peripheral nodes. Combined with your recent behavior patterns... it wasn't difficult to guess."

He paused, his tone turning serious.

"But I need to warn you, Lin. Headquarters runs deep, and people like White are only the tip of the iceberg. The more capability you display, the more people will want to use you or eliminate you. Hydra has never been a united whole. It's more like a school of sharks—they swarm the moment they smell blood. Right now, you're still small and not fat enough, so they're merely watching. But if you keep expanding like this..."

He did not finish, but the meaning was clear.

Lin Xiao fell silent for a moment, then said, "Thank you for the warning, Supervisor."

"Don't thank me." Fletcher waved a hand. "I'm only making an... investment. Or perhaps leaving myself a way out."

He picked up the bottle and poured himself a little more whiskey. The amber liquid swayed in the glass as the ice cubes bobbed.

"Also..." He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "I've heard that things haven't been peaceful over at S.H.I.E.L.D. lately."

Lin Xiao's attention immediately sharpened.

"What have you heard?"

"I don't know the specifics, but I still have several old contacts in the S.H.I.E.L.D. system." Fletcher lowered his voice further, nearly to a whisper. "They revealed that a major S.H.I.E.L.D. project has gone wrong. Its classification level is extremely high; even among upper management, only a handful know all the details. Supposedly... a legendary figure is about to 'wake up.'"

A legendary figure was about to "wake up"?

A name flashed through Lin Xiao's mind—Captain America.

The timeline was indeed moving forward.

According to the timetable he remembered, Captain America should have been discovered in 2011 and formally awakened before the Battle of New York in 2012. But now it seemed that the discovery might have come early, or at least S.H.I.E.L.D. had already begun making preparations.

"A legendary figure?" Lin Xiao asked, feigning confusion.

"An old relic who should be sleeping beneath the ice." Fletcher spoke with meaningful emphasis. "A hero from World War II, a symbol of the American spirit. If he can 'wake up,' he will be both an enormous asset and an enormous problem for S.H.I.E.L.D."

He took a sip and continued, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is divided into several factions now. One wants to use him as a propaganda tool, one wants to study the Super-Soldier Serum in his body, and another... fears he will become an uncontrollable factor. In any case, things over there are a mess. For us, that is both an opportunity and a risk."

"An opportunity?" Lin Xiao asked.

"With S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention divided, we have more room to operate," Fletcher said. "But the risk is that if that old relic truly wakes up and stands with S.H.I.E.L.D., many things will become more difficult in the future. After all... he is someone who has truly experienced war, not one of those bureaucrats who only know how to give orders from an office."

Lin Xiao nodded. Fletcher's analysis was accurate. Though he did not know exactly what changes Captain America's awakening would bring, the overall direction was correct.

"Thank you for telling me this," Lin Xiao said sincerely.

This time, he truly was grateful. Though Fletcher had provided little information, it confirmed a crucial point in time—Captain America's awakening process had begun. That meant the countdown to the Battle of New York had officially started.

"No need to thank me." Fletcher waved a hand, then suddenly laughed. There was bitter self-mockery in that smile. "You know, Lin? Sometimes I think I'm ridiculous. I spent half my life working for Hydra, only to end up helping someone who might overthrow it. But perhaps... that's fate."

He rose and walked to the bookshelves, taking down a wooden box from the top shelf. It was small and dark brown, its surface marked by fine wood grain. He returned to the desk and placed the box before Lin Xiao.

"Open it."

Lin Xiao lifted the lid.

Inside was a metal object—roughly the size of a thumb, cylindrical in shape, its surface covered in intricate raised and recessed patterns. It appeared to be made from some kind of alloy, reflecting a muted silver-gray sheen beneath the light. One end had a miniature interface, while the other was engraved with a string of numerical code.

"An encrypted physical key," Fletcher said. "It unlocks my private vault. The vault isn't in the base. It's in... a safer place."

Lin Xiao picked up the key. It was heavier than it looked, carrying a solid weight in his hand. The patterns across its surface felt exquisitely detailed, clearly the product of precision machining.

"What is inside?" Lin Xiao asked.

"Some 'old things,'" Fletcher said. "Things I've collected over the years... call them souvenirs. There are some documents, several encrypted hard drives, and a few pieces of old equipment. They may be useful to you, or they may not. You'll know once you see them yourself."

He paused, his expression becoming especially grave.

"Lin, remember what I'm about to say." His voice was low and powerful. "In this organization, trust no one. No one except yourself... and the partners you truly trust."

Lin Xiao looked at the key in his hand, then raised his eyes to Fletcher.

There was an almost tragic expression on the old supervisor's face. It was the expression of someone who knew his time was short and had begun arranging his final affairs. Lin Xiao suddenly understood—Fletcher was not investing, nor was he seeking an ally. He was entrusting something to him. He was entrusting his unrealized ideals, his disappointment in the organization, and his final sliver of hope for the future to a young man he believed might change it all.

"I'll remember," Lin Xiao said solemnly.

"Good." Fletcher nodded, then sat back down as though those words had drained all his strength. He lifted his glass, looked at the remaining whiskey inside, and said softly, "You may go now. From now on... unless necessary, we should meet as little as possible. It will be better for both of us."

Lin Xiao rose and carefully placed the key into the inner pocket of his uniform. He gave Fletcher a slight nod, then turned toward the door.

The instant his hand closed around the doorknob, Fletcher's voice came again from behind him.

"Lin."

Lin Xiao turned back.

Firelight danced across Fletcher's face, causing his expression to shift constantly between light and shadow. He looked at Lin Xiao, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely waved a hand.

"Take care."

Lin Xiao nodded and pushed the door open, walking out.

The corridor was still quiet, the carpet swallowing every footstep. Lin Xiao retraced his path, his fingers lightly brushing the metal key inside his pocket. Its surface was cold, but after being held for so long, it had begun to take on his body heat.

As the elevator descended, the sensation of weightlessness returned.

Lin Xiao closed his eyes, replaying everything from the study—the exhaustion on Fletcher's face, the dancing firelight, the ice cubes rising and sinking in the whiskey glass, and those words: "A legendary figure is about to 'wake up.'"

Captain America.

The Battle of New York.

Thanos.

The timeline was advancing along its predetermined path, but his interference had already begun to have an effect. The embryonic Continental Hotel, Fletcher's transformation—these were changes that had not existed in the original timeline. The butterfly's wings had already begun to flap. As for where the future would lead, even he, a reincarnator, could not fully predict it.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the corridor on the second underground level.

The lighting was cold white, the walls smooth, and the air thick with the smell of ozone and metal. This was his battlefield for now—Hydra's peripheral base, his undercover post within S.H.I.E.L.D., and the birthplace of the Continental Hotel.

Lin Xiao stepped out of the elevator, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

He needed to inspect the contents of Fletcher's vault as soon as possible. Those "old things" might contain more clues, more resources, more... possibilities.

But before that, he had to do something else.

He entered his office, closed the door, and activated the encrypted communicator. The screen lit up, and the Continental Hotel's emblem emerged from the darkness. He pulled up the contact list and found Su Ying's channel.

"Are you there?" he sent.

A few seconds later, a reply came. "At the training ground. What's up?"

"Come back to the office," Lin Xiao typed. "I have important intelligence to share."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Lin Xiao switched off the communicator and walked to the window. The simulated window still displayed a virtual starry sky, but now, those glittering points of light no longer seemed like mere decorations to him. Every star could be a battlefield, a threat, a world that needed protecting.

And his path had only just begun.