Stark's "Invitation"

Lin Xiao released Su Ying's hand and walked to the encrypted terminal. The screen was dark, but the channel marker Stark had forcibly broken into still flashed in the corner like a silent warning. He pulled up the compiled file on the Extremis Virus, his finger hovering over the send button. Outside the simulated window, night had fully fallen, and the "stars" had appeared once more, false and tranquil. Su Ying stood beside him, breathing steadily, her gaze fixed on the screen. Nightingale's footsteps approached from the corridor outside the door. She had brought the backup system status report. Lin Xiao took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool air of the underground space. Then he pressed send.

The file was encrypted, split apart, and sent through seven relays to that locked channel.

There was no added message, no signature—only a timestamp: now.

Then he shut down the terminal and pulled the power cord. The room was left with only the desk lamp's glow and the breathing of three people waiting.

Time flowed in silence. Every second stretched and magnified. Lin Xiao could hear his own heartbeat, steady but slightly faster than usual. He could smell the faint mint-like scent of cleanser on Su Ying, the standard-issue body wash used in the base. He could feel the nearly imperceptible vibrations coming through the metal floor beneath his feet—the base's air circulation system was running. The desk lamp cast sharp shadows across the table, and the shadows along the edges of the documents swayed gently with the light's tiny flickers.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

"He received it," Lin Xiao suddenly said, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence. "If he wants to reply, he should have already..."

Before he could finish.

The encrypted terminal—the terminal that had been unplugged—suddenly lit up on its own.

It was not a normal startup screen, but a field of pure, blinding white. Then the white began to twist and spin, forming a vortex. At its center, a line of text slowly emerged, not typed through a keyboard, but as though someone were writing directly onto the screen with an invisible pen:

"Interesting. But not enough."

The handwriting was elegant, carrying a certain irreverent curve.

The air in the room froze instantly.

A chill ran down Lin Xiao's spine. It was not fear, but the instinctive alertness that came when facing a threat far beyond expectation. He forced himself to remain where he was. He did not retreat or make any defensive move. Su Ying's hand was already on the grip of the gun at her waist, her knuckles slightly pale. Nightingale drew in a sharp breath and took half a step back, staring at the screen. Her lips moved soundlessly, as if repeating the words, "Impossible."

Tony Stark had not only received their message.

He had also bypassed the defense of a physical disconnection and displayed text directly on a device with no power.

What did that mean?

It meant that the technology Stark possessed—or rather, the technology his artificial intelligence, JARVIS, possessed—had already exceeded Lin Xiao's understanding of this era's technological limits. It meant that the encryption, relays, and physical isolation they thought were secure might all be meaningless before Stark. It meant...

"Stay calm," Lin Xiao said, his voice steadier than he had expected. "He's only showing his strength. A... way of saying hello."

He walked over to the terminal. The text on the screen began to change, new words covering the old ones:

"I know who you are. Or rather, I know what you are not—you are neither official Hydra members nor registered S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. You are a group of... clever people operating outside the system."

Lin Xiao's pupils narrowed slightly.

Stark knew more than he had expected.

"The Extremis Virus is a problem. I've been monitoring A.I.M.'s network activity for three months. Their data flow showed abnormal fluctuations two weeks ago, their encryption pattern changed, and their transmission routes gained seven additional relays—very similar to the method you just used, though not as refined."

The words continued to appear, like a calm, unhurried one-sided speech.

"I followed the fluctuations to several nodes. One of them suddenly became active three days ago, began receiving and transmitting a large volume of biometrics under secondary encryption. I cracked the outer layer and found keywords like 'Extremis,' 'heat source,' and 'instability.' Then I traced the signal source and found your channel."

"You're monitoring A.I.M. Or are you some branch of A.I.M. that's having an internal dispute?"

Lin Xiao's mind raced. Stark's chain of logic was clear: he had targeted A.I.M. long ago, discovered signs of the Extremis Virus, and then followed their network activity to this channel. Their channel had indeed generated enormous amounts of data traffic through matters such as handling the Fletcher Key and establishing the Continental Hotel communications network. Though they had encrypted and disguised it, they might still have exposed a flaw before technology at Stark's level.

More importantly, Stark had misjudged who they were.

He thought they were A.I.M. insiders, or another organization monitoring A.I.M.

This was an opportunity.

And a trap.

"Reply to him," Lin Xiao told Nightingale. "Use the backup channel. Maximum encryption. Activate physical isolation mode."

Nightingale's fingers trembled, but she quickly sat before another terminal. It was connected to an independent power source and network, surrounded by a lead shielding layer. She began operating it, the keyboard clicks especially crisp in the silence.

Lin Xiao dictated:

"We are not A.I.M. We are people who saw danger coming. The Extremis Virus will spiral out of control. Dr. Killian's goal is not treatment, but the creation of 'ultimate soldiers.' The virus's heat source is unstable. Within three weeks, the first large-scale experimental accident will occur at Warehouse Seven in the Miami port district."

He paused.

"The evidence is on abandoned Hammer Industries servers. Access route: Alpha-7-Delta. It is leftover data from the early cooperation between A.I.M. and Hammer Industries. The servers were forgotten after Hammer went under, but the data remains."

Nightingale encrypted the message and sent it.

This time, they waited longer.

Fifteen minutes.

The desk lamp's light began to feel harsh. Lin Xiao walked to the simulated window. The "stars" outside still flickered falsely. He recalled information from his previous life: the Extremis Virus's first public exposure had indeed happened during an experimental accident in Miami. A volunteer injected with the virus had lost control and exploded, causing limited casualties. That incident had drawn Stark's attention and exposed Killian's ambitions.

But that had happened in 2013.

It was only early 2012 now.

Would his intervention, the information he had sent to Stark, cause the event to happen sooner? Would it change the scale of the incident? Would it...

"The butterfly effect."

For the first time, those words weighed on his heart with such reality.

The screen lit up again.

This time, it was not a white vortex, but a normal reply interface. The text appeared normally, after decryption:

"I checked the Hammer Industries servers three hours ago. The route is correct, and the data exists. So you're telling the truth—at least that part is true."

"But who you are remains a mystery. Your encryption methods are highly professional, but they don't match the style of any known intelligence agency. Your network nodes are spread across seventeen countries, but the core signal source cannot be located—this level of anti-tracking capability is not something ordinary hackers can achieve."

"So let's skip the probing stage."

"I need a complete technical assessment and risk projection for the Extremis Virus. In exchange, I can provide some... technical support. For example, helping you reinforce that communications network full of holes."

Lin Xiao looked at the words, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

It was not a smile. It was the expression of a chess player seeing an opponent make a move he had anticipated.

Stark was proposing a deal.

Technical support in exchange for intelligence.

But what lay behind it? A sincere desire to cooperate, or another form of probing? Would Stark implant a backdoor while "reinforcing" their network? Would he use this deal to lock down their location completely?

"He wants more," Su Ying said quietly. "He wants to know exactly how much we know."

"Yes." Lin Xiao nodded. "But his offer is tempting too. If we can obtain Stark's technical support, the Continental Hotel's network security will rise by several levels. And..."

And if this deal succeeded, it would mean they had established some sort of connection with Tony Stark.

A potential, unofficial alliance.

That would be an enormous bargaining chip in the future.

"What about the risks?" Su Ying asked.

"Very high," Lin Xiao said frankly. "Stark may genuinely want to cooperate, or he may be trying to lure us out. But either way, we need to make a choice—continue hiding and give up this opportunity, or take the risk of making contact and fight for this potential ally."

He returned to the table, his fingers tapping lightly against its surface.

"Nightingale, reply to him: We can provide a technical assessment, but we need time to organize it. As a gesture of sincerity, we can first provide one crucial piece of information: Dr. Killian has an opponent within A.I.M. named Maya Hansen. She is a co-developer of the Extremis Virus, but she opposes its militarization. She is currently a visiting professor at the California Institute of Technology and under surveillance. If Mr. Stark wants to learn more, he can start with her."

"Also, regarding the technical support: we accept, but it must be conducted through an intermediary node. We will provide an encrypted data package containing a 'limited model' of our network architecture. Mr. Stark can provide reinforcement plans based on that model, and we will implement them ourselves."

"Finally, add this: We are not enemies. At least when it comes to stopping the Extremis Virus, we share the same goal."

Nightingale typed quickly, encrypted it, and sent it.

This time, the reply came quickly.

"Maya Hansen. I know her. We met at the 1999 Bern Technology Summit in Switzerland. She was researching an early version of the Extremis Virus then, and I... gave her some false hope."

"An intermediary node is acceptable. Send the model to the following address: [a string of encrypted coordinates]. I will respond with a reinforcement plan within forty-eight hours."

"As for whether we are enemies—that depends on what you do next."

"Keep the channel open. I will contact you again."

The text disappeared.

The screen went dark.

This time, it truly went dark. It did not light up again on its own.

The room fell silent once more, but the atmosphere had changed. The drawn-bow tension eased slightly, replaced by a complicated emotion mixed with vigilance and anticipation.

"He accepted," Su Ying said.

"For now," Lin Xiao corrected. "This is only the beginning. Over the next forty-eight hours, we need to prepare that 'limited model.' It must demonstrate enough technical sophistication to make Stark take us seriously, but it cannot expose our actual architecture or location. Nightingale, this is yours. Can you do it?"

Nightingale took a deep breath and nodded. Her fingers no longer trembled, and her gaze became focused again.

"Yes. I'll design a model based on the real architecture but remove all critical nodes. I'll raise the encryption to the highest level and add a self-destruct protocol. Once it detects unauthorized deep analysis, the model will erase itself automatically."

"Good," Lin Xiao said. "Also, begin monitoring all public information related to Maya Hansen. Stark will likely contact her, and we need to know what happens."

"Understood."

Nightingale began operating the terminal. The keyboard clicks resumed, steady and forceful this time.

Su Ying walked to Lin Xiao's side and lowered her voice.

"Do you think Stark can be trusted?"

Lin Xiao looked at the false starry sky beyond the window and fell silent for a moment.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Tony Stark is a genius, but he's also self-centered and unpredictable. He may help us on a whim, or destroy us over a moment of suspicion. But one thing is certain: he hates being deceived, and he hates being used. So as long as we remain honest—at least honest about the goals we share—there is a chance he will cooperate."

"And we need that chance," Su Ying said.

"Yes." Lin Xiao turned and looked into her eyes. "The Continental Hotel cannot remain hidden in the shadows forever. We need allies, resources, and technology. Stark is one of the best options available. This contact, no matter the result, is a step we have to take."

He went to the table and reopened the document outlining the Continental Hotel concept. The desk lamp shone over the pages, and the handwritten plans, charts, and timelines appeared exceptionally clear in the light and shadow.

"The storm is coming," Lin Xiao said softly. "But we are not people who passively wait for it to pass. We will build a shelter in the storm, establish order amid chaos, and light fires in the darkness."

He picked up a pen and added a line at the end of the document:

"February 2012: Establish initial contact with Stark. Objective: Obtain technical support and create an unofficial intelligence-sharing channel."

The pen scratched across the paper.

Outside the window, the "starry sky" began to move slowly, simulating the passage of real time. Faint machinery hummed from deep within the base as the life-support systems changed shifts. The wind from the air circulation system carried a faint scent of ozone and stirred the scattered papers on the table.

Lin Xiao set down his pen and looked at Su Ying.

"The next forty-eight hours will be critical. We need to ensure the model is flawless, monitor developments around Maya Hansen, and continue advancing the Continental Hotel's foundation—selecting safehouse locations, conducting preliminary personnel screening, establishing operational protocols..."

"Let's divide the work," Su Ying said. "I'll handle operations: field surveys of the safehouses, background checks on potential personnel, and planning basic defensive facilities."

"Nightingale will handle the technical side: preparing the model, network surveillance, and intelligence gathering."

"And you," she said, looking at Lin Xiao, "will handle strategy: analyzing every move Stark makes, anticipating his intentions, and formulating responses."

Lin Xiao nodded.

It was the most reasonable division of labor. Su Ying's operational ability, Nightingale's technical skill, and his own strategic planning—only by combining all three could they deal with the complicated situation before them.

"Then let's begin," he said.

Su Ying turned and left the office, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Nightingale was completely immersed before the terminal screen, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she occasionally muttered encryption algorithm parameters to herself. Lin Xiao sat back down and reopened the Extremis Virus file, carefully sorting through every detail—the virus's biological principles, the physical mechanism behind the heat source instability, Killian's personality traits, A.I.M.'s organizational structure...

Time passed second by second.

The "stars" outside gradually dimmed, and simulated "dawn" was about to arrive. The desk lamp had begun to heat up from continuous use, its shade faintly hot around the edges. Lin Xiao rubbed his sore eyes, picked up his long-cold coffee, and took a sip. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, bringing a brief moment of clarity.

His gaze fell upon a line in the document:

"Extremis Virus Phase Three test subject, designation 'Reaper,' estimated completion date: May 2012."

Phase Three.

That was the crucial stage in the transition of the Extremis Virus from an "unstable biological weapon" to a controllable Super-Soldier Serum. If Killian succeeded, he would be able to create soldiers with regenerative abilities, high-temperature attacks, and near-immortality.

It would be a disaster.

Lin Xiao's fingers tapped lightly against that line.

The information he had sent Stark only mentioned that the virus would lose control and that an experimental accident would occur. It did not mention the specific timing of Phase Three. That was deliberate—he needed to retain some leverage, and he also needed to observe what Stark would do.

If Stark truly contacted Maya Hansen, and if he could stop the development of Phase Three in advance, then the threat posed by the Extremis Virus would be greatly reduced.

But if he could not...

Lin Xiao closed his eyes.

Fragments of memories from his previous life flashed through his mind: the explosion in the Miami port district, out-of-control test subjects rampaging through the streets, Stark in armor fighting Extremis soldiers, Pepper Potts being kidnapped, Stark's mansion destroyed by missiles...

Would those events still happen?

How would they happen?

What, exactly, would his intervention change?

He did not know.

The only thing he knew was that he had to keep moving forward. Keep laying plans, keep calculating, keep placing pieces upon the chessboard in the darkness.

Until one day, he could truly control the game.

Until one day, he could protect everyone he wanted to protect.

Until one day, he could reverse that predetermined ending.

"Dawn" arrived beyond the window.

False sunlight streamed through the simulated window into the room, dispersing the last trace of shadow left by the desk lamp. A new day had begun.

And the storm was still continuing.