Whiplash's Trail

When morning light filtered through the simulated window into the office, Lin Xiao had already been sitting before the data terminal for two hours.

The air carried the faint aroma of coffee, mixed with the subtle ozone scent emitted by running electronics. On the screen before him, follow-up reports on the Bulgaria Incident scrolled past—Fletcher had officially assigned him the task of drafting a "security reinforcement plan," which meant he now had permission to access the base's non-core databases and request technical analysis support. The tapping of keys echoed rhythmically through the quiet room as Lin Xiao's fingers moved across the keyboard, writing the first section of the plan: "Classification and Countermeasures for External Intelligence Infiltration Risks."

A light knock came at the door.

"Come in."

Su Ying pushed the door open, carrying two trays. The savory scent of fried eggs and the warm fragrance of toast instantly overwhelmed the coffee smell. She set the trays in an empty corner of the desk, her gaze sweeping over the contents on the screen.

"You didn't go back to your room last night," she said calmly.

"I was organizing my thoughts." Lin Xiao paused his typing and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes felt dry. Though the "sunlight" beyond the simulated window was bright, it lacked the warmth of real light. He lifted his coffee cup and took a sip. The liquid had already gone cold, its bitterness spreading over the back of his tongue.

Su Ying sat across from him and picked up her breakfast. Her knife and fork struck the porcelain plate with crisp sounds. "Fletcher spoke with me this morning."

"About what?"

"My 'loyalty assessment.'" Su Ying cut off a piece of fried egg, her movements steady. "He needed to confirm whether a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent like me was still trustworthy after the Bulgaria Incident."

Lin Xiao watched her. Morning light fell across the side of her face, outlining its sharp contours. Her eyes remained focused on her plate, but her shoulders were slightly tense—that was her instinctive reaction whenever she was on guard.

"How did you answer?"

"I told him that my loyalty belonged wherever I could put my value to use." Su Ying looked up and met his gaze. "And for now, this place seems more interesting than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bureaucratic games."

The two fell silent for several seconds. In the distance came the footsteps of base personnel changing shifts. Their echoes on the metal floor drew closer, then gradually faded away.

"Did he believe you?" Lin Xiao asked.

"Whether he believed me doesn't matter." Su Ying set down her knife and fork. "What matters is that he needs me. Just as he needs you. Bulgaria proved one thing—in this organization, capable people are always scarce."

Lin Xiao nodded. He looked out the window. The simulated sky was a deep blue, with several "clouds" drifting slowly by. It was a perfect scene created by programming, but fake was still fake. Just like Hydra's seemingly solid loyalties, which were ultimately illusions woven from interest and fear.

"I need you to help me with something," he said.

"Go on."

"Gather Wolf and Nightingale. Small conference room, nine sharp." Lin Xiao closed the security plan document and opened another encrypted interface. "We have something new to do."

8:55 a.m.

The small conference room was located on the east side of the base's second underground level. It was less than twenty square meters in size, with soundproof walls and a heavy alloy door. The room contained only a rectangular conference table, four chairs, and an embedded display screen. The air-conditioning system gave off a low hum, keeping the temperature at a constant twenty degrees Celsius. The air smelled sharply of fresh paint—the room had only completed its soundproofing upgrade last week.

Lin Xiao arrived first. Standing before the display, he swiped across the control panel and brought up a world map. Dozens of red dots were marked across it, each accompanied by a brief note: known S.H.I.E.L.D. strongholds, Hydra peripheral facilities, weapons black-market hubs, high-tech smuggling routes...

The door opened.

Wolf walked in. The former Hydra intelligence officer, a man in his early forties, wore the standard base uniform—a dark gray jacket and trousers—but had loosened two buttons at his collar, revealing the worn collar of the shirt beneath. He carried an old-fashioned leather notebook in one hand. His knuckles were thick, and a light layer of calluses covered his skin from years of using electronic equipment. His eyes swept the room before settling on Lin Xiao. He nodded, then took a seat on the left side of the conference table.

Nightingale followed close behind.

She looked no older than twenty-five or twenty-six, thin and wiry, dressed in a black hoodie and cargo pants. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail, with a few loose strands falling over her forehead. A bulging backpack hung from her shoulders, faint electronic clattering coming from inside. As she entered, her eyes went first to the ventilation grate in the corner, then to the surveillance cameras at the four corners of the ceiling—they were all switched off, their red indicators dark. Only after confirming it was safe did she move to the right side of the table, set her backpack by her feet, and remain standing.

"We can begin." Su Ying entered last and closed the door. The lock sealed with a dull hydraulic sound. She took her place beside Lin Xiao, hands behind her back, her calm gaze passing over Wolf and Nightingale.

Lin Xiao turned around.

The world map on the display zoomed in, focusing on Eastern Europe. The Baltic Sea coast, the areas around the Black Sea, the Caucasus Mountains... Red dots clustered densely across the region.

"After the Bulgaria Incident, we've gained a certain amount of attention within the organization." Lin Xiao began, his voice especially clear within the soundproofed room. "Fletcher has given me authority to draft the security reinforcement plan. That means we can use more resources to conduct some... peripheral intelligence gathering."

Wolf opened his notebook and took a pen from his pocket. The tip hovered over the paper.

"Specific direction?" Nightingale asked. Her voice was soft, but every word was clearly enunciated.

"Arc Reactor technology," Lin Xiao said. "Or, more precisely, the black-market circulation of Stark Industries' core energy technology."

The room fell quiet for several seconds.

The hum of the air conditioner seemed to grow louder.

"That's Stark's lifeblood." Wolf put down his pen and folded his hands on the table. "S.H.I.E.L.D. and intelligence agencies around the world have been watching it for over a decade, yet none of them have obtained the complete technology. What circulates on the black market is either crude knockoffs or fragments of theory."

"I know." Lin Xiao walked up to the conference table and braced both hands against it. "I don't need the complete technology. What I need is... traces."

"What kind of traces?"

"Any trace of attempts to replicate, improve, or reverse-engineer the Arc Reactor." Lin Xiao's gaze shifted from Wolf to Nightingale. "Especially forums, chatrooms, and encrypted channels that communicate in mixed Russian and English slang. Focus on keywords like 'Stark knockoff,' 'Hammer collaboration,' and 'miniaturized energy system.'"

Nightingale raised an eyebrow slightly. "Hammer Industries? That second-rate arms dealer always trailing after Stark?"

"Justin Hammer has always wanted to surpass Stark." Lin Xiao straightened up. "But he lacks the core technology. If someone could offer even part of the technical concept behind the Arc Reactor, he'd latch onto it like a starving wolf."

"And someone like that is very likely active in Russian-speaking circles." Wolf picked up the thought, tapping his fingers lightly against the tabletop. "After the Soviet Union collapsed, a large number of military-industrial scientists ended up scattered among the public. They understand the theory and have experience, but they lack funding, equipment, and... a modern technological outlook."

Lin Xiao nodded.

"The task has two parts." He looked at Wolf. "You'll sort through our existing Eastern European intelligence network and screen for personnel movements and suspicious financial activity related to high-energy physics, materials science, and precision machining over the past six months. Focus on places like Ukraine, Belarus, and Latvia."

Wolf rapidly took notes in his notebook, the pen scratching across the paper.

"Nightingale." Lin Xiao turned to her. "You'll handle the dark web. Start in the deepest corners of weapons technology forums. Use our newly acquired permissions to access the base's crawler programs, but put three layers of disguise on them—no one can be allowed to trace the queries back to their source. I want you to find vague posts, conversations discussing 'interesting projects' in mixed languages. Don't make direct contact. Only observe, record, and analyze the posters' language habits, login times, and possible physical locations."

Nightingale pulled a tablet from her backpack, her fingers sliding swiftly across the screen. "I'll need at least three independent relay servers, preferably in different jurisdictions. The base crawler programs are too recognizable. I'll write a lightweight version myself."

"Fine," Lin Xiao said. "Su Ying will provide you with a list of the necessary equipment. Go requisition it from the warehouse. If anyone asks, say you're testing the network defense module for the security plan."

Su Ying nodded.

"Time limit?" Wolf asked.

"One week," Lin Xiao said. "I want to see preliminary reports within a week."

The meeting ended at 9:37.

Wolf put away his notebook and slipped the pen back into his pocket. As he stood, the chair legs scraped softly against the floor. He nodded to Lin Xiao, pulled open the meeting room door, and left. His footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.

Nightingale was still fiddling with her tablet, its blue light reflected across her face. She suddenly looked up. "If we find the target, what's next?"

Lin Xiao looked at her.

The girl's eyes were bright, her pupils slightly constricted by the screen's glow. It was not curiosity, but the concentration of a technical expert facing a complex problem.

"Next..." Lin Xiao paused. "We'll set out bait."

Over the next four days, life at the base proceeded as usual.

During the day, Lin Xiao drafted the security reinforcement plan in his office, turning the lessons from the Bulgaria Incident into twelve specific improvement measures: increasing the frequency of random inspections between peripheral outposts, establishing a false-intelligence release mechanism to disrupt outside surveillance, implementing dual-encryption verification procedures for transport assignments... Every page of the report was rigorous and detailed, citing numerous Hydra internal security manuals and field cases. After Fletcher reviewed the first draft, he changed only a few phrases before submitting it to headquarters.

At night, Lin Xiao received progress reports from Wolf and Nightingale.

Wolf's intelligence network identified seventeen suspicious targets: three plasma physicists who had disappeared in Kyiv, a High-Energy Materials Institute registered in Minsk but never actually put into operation, five accounts transferring money to Baltic Sea countries through Cyprus shell companies... The information was fragmented and vast, like puzzle pieces scattered across the floor.

But Nightingale's side had made a breakthrough.

11:23 p.m. on the fifth day.

Lin Xiao's encrypted Communicator vibrated. He was revising the appendix of the security plan, and the dense tables and data on the screen made his eyes ache. He picked up the Communicator and unlocked it.

The message came through Nightingale's dedicated channel. It contained only one line:

"Forum depth level three. Target found. Language-pattern match: 87%."

Lin Xiao closed the document and opened the encrypted communications interface. His fingers tapped across the keyboard. "Details?"

Several minutes later, an encrypted file came through. Lin Xiao decrypted it with a preset key. The file opened into a series of screenshots and text transcriptions.

The screenshots came from a dark-web forum called Mechanic's Salon. Its interface was crudely designed, with a dark gray background and painfully bright green text. The forum's sections were a mess, ranging from World War II tank repairs to drone modifications, chemical formula sharing to hacker technique exchanges. The post Nightingale had found was buried deep within a subforum called Energy and Power.

The post's title was in Russian: "Seeking Cooperation: High-Power-Density Energy System."

Posted: three weeks ago.

The content was written in a mix of Russian and English slang:

"We have a project requiring a miniaturized energy solution. Current reference benchmark: Stark Industries' publicly demonstrated 2008 version, known output 3 GW, volume 0.3 cubic meters. Target: maintain output no lower than 2.5 GW while reducing volume to within 0.1 cubic meters, and resolve heat dissipation and stability issues. Existing resources: theoretical calculations 70% complete, partial material samples, basic machining equipment. Requirements: high-precision CNC machinery, five-axis or above; specialty alloy materials, palladium and iridium-based; practical experience with plasma confinement technology. Terms of cooperation negotiable, but face-to-face meeting required. No time-wasters."

There were several replies below, most mocking or questioning it:

"Another lunatic trying to copy Stark."

"0.1 cubic meters? Do you even know what you're talking about?"

"Palladium alloy? That stuff costs enough to buy a small country."

But the poster did not respond to any of the mockery. Two days later, he added another post:

"Hammer Industries' technical approach is too conservative. We need a more aggressive solution. Anyone interested, contact me by private message. Encrypted communication only."

Lin Xiao scrolled down and looked at the analysis report Nightingale had attached:

"Language characteristics: The poster's native language is Russian, but he has a strong command of English technical terminology. His use of slang bears traces of the Soviet-era military-industrial system, such as using 'samovar' to refer to a reactor core. Login times are concentrated between 1:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. Moscow time. He may be located in the Eastern European time zone. The IP address passed through multiple hops, with the final exit located in Riga, Latvia, though it cannot be determined whether that is his true location."

"Technical assessment: The parameters mentioned in the post are highly specific and closely match the real data of Stark's early Arc Reactor version. Those figures were never publicly released and can only be inferred from the armor's power output. The poster's understanding of the technical challenges—heat dissipation, stability, material limitations—is accurate. This is not the fantasy of an amateur."

"Risk assessment: The poster may be Ivan Vanko, son of former Soviet physicist Anton Vanko, who possesses a strong motive for revenge and the relevant technical background, or a member of his technical team. Recommend cautious contact."

Lin Xiao finished reading everything.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The office was quiet, filled only with the low whir of the computer fan. The air smelled of paper and electronic equipment, along with the faint scent of sweat on his own body—he had been working continuously for fourteen hours.

Ivan Vanko.

The name was clear in his memory: a genius driven by hatred, a madman capable of building a miniature Arc Reactor with crude equipment, an avenger who had nearly killed Tony Stark with plasma whips at the Monaco racetrack.

According to the original timeline, Ivan should still have been in some Russian prison, or perhaps just released and beginning to plan his revenge. But now, the timeline had moved ahead. Was it the butterfly effect? Or had this world always been somewhat different from the one he remembered?

Lin Xiao opened his eyes and looked at the screen.

Posted: three weeks ago.

That meant Ivan Vanko—or his team—had already been active for at least a month. They were looking for partners, equipment, materials. They were trying to build a smaller, more powerful Arc Reactor.

And Justin Hammer, that second-rate arms dealer desperate to prove himself, was likely already in contact with them.

A plan took shape in Lin Xiao's mind.

He reopened the encrypted communications interface and sent Nightingale an instruction:

"Do not make direct contact. Create a cover identity: Eastern European secondhand military-industrial equipment dealer, based in Vilnius. Post a sales listing on the same forum: a batch of 'high-precision CNC machines'—five-axis, German-made, ninety percent new—and 'specialty alloy materials'—palladium ingots, iridium powder, 99.9% purity. Urgent sale, favorable price. Additional condition: cryptocurrency only, or... barter with partial 'interesting technical blueprints.'"

After sending the message, Lin Xiao waited five minutes.

Nightingale replied, "Understood. Preparing the cover identity documents will take time. Estimated completion: twelve hours. The sales post will go up tomorrow before dawn."

"Watch your language habits," Lin Xiao added. "Use Russian with a Lithuanian accent, mixed with some German technical terms. Cover background: a merchant who resold Soviet military-industrial stock after the Soviet Union collapsed and now wants to transition into being a 'technology broker.'"

"Received."

The communication ended.

Lin Xiao shut down every interface, and the screen went dark. He stood and walked to the window. Beyond the simulated window, the "night sky" was pitch-black, with only a few sparse "stars" gleaming with false light. The glass was cold, and a faint static charge tingled against his fingertips when he touched it.

The bait had been set.

Now he only had to wait for the fish to bite.

The wait lasted three days.

During those three days, Lin Xiao completed the final draft of the security reinforcement plan. Fletcher submitted it to headquarters, and the feedback was: "Detailed and operationally viable. Recommended for pilot implementation." This meant Lin Xiao's name had once again entered the field of view of middle management—not as someone who had gotten lucky and earned merit once, but as a technical backbone with real planning ability.

Wolf's intelligence network continued operating and identified three more suspicious targets. One of them, a Precision Machining Laboratory registered in Riga, caught Lin Xiao's attention. The laboratory's registered owner was a retired engineer named Mikhail Petrov, but bank records showed that more than five hundred thousand euros had been transferred into its accounts from Cyprus shell companies over the past three months, designated for "equipment procurement."

Meanwhile, Nightingale's bait post stirred some discussion on the forum.

Several users asked about the machines' specific models and prices, but Nightingale brushed them off with a professional yet perfunctory attitude—she was not waiting for these small fish.

11:08 p.m. on the third day.

Lin Xiao was reviewing the internal base security patrol report Su Ying had submitted when his encrypted Communicator vibrated again.

This time, it was not a text message but an encrypted call request.

Lin Xiao put on his headset and answered.

Nightingale's voice came through, more hurried than usual. "We got an inquiry. The encryption level is very high. It wasn't a forum private message—they contacted me directly through the dark-web email address I left in the post."

"Contents?"

"They asked three things. First, the exact figures for the machine tools' positioning accuracy and repeat positioning accuracy. Second, the origin of the palladium ingots and the purity test report. Third..." She paused. "Whether we have experience machining 'core components for miniaturized energy systems.'"

Lin Xiao tapped his fingers lightly against the desk.

Once, twice, three times.

"Reply to him," Lin Xiao said. "Give him the machine accuracy data, but ask him to provide the 'machining specification requirements' for reference. We can send a sample scan of the palladium test report. As for experience..." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Tell him we've 'handled similar projects, but they involve confidentiality agreements. We can provide partial case studies during a face-to-face meeting.'"

"Understood. Should we arrange a meeting location?"

"Let him propose it."

The communication ended.

Lin Xiao removed his headset and leaned back in his chair. The office lights were cold white, reflecting glaring spots off the metal desk. The air smelled of dust—the base ventilation system needed cleaning.

The fish was testing the bait.

And it was being very cautious. It had not used the forum's private messages, but an encrypted email. The questions were professional and specific, especially that veiled mention of a "miniaturized energy system."

This was very likely Ivan Vanko himself, or someone from his core team.

Twenty minutes later, another message arrived from Nightingale:

"They replied. They agreed to provide machining specification requirements, but demand that we send the palladium test report first. Meeting location... they propose an abandoned factory in the Sloka District of Riga, Latvia. Time: one week from now, 9:00 p.m. Only two of us may attend. He will bring three people. Transaction method: inspect the goods on-site. If satisfied, he'll pay a deposit in cryptocurrency, and part of the blueprints will be delivered in advance as a 'good-faith payment.'"

Lin Xiao looked at the words on the screen.

Riga. Sloka District. Abandoned factory.

Everything fit his memory. Ivan Vanko liked working in industrial ruins—they were spacious, secluded, and came with existing power connections and lifting equipment.

He replied to Nightingale:

"Agree. Get the factory's exact coordinates. Tell him we'll bring samples. Also, have him prepare 'a catalog and summary of the blueprints.' We need to evaluate their value."

"Received."

A few minutes later, the coordinates arrived: 56.946 degrees north, 24.116 degrees east. On the edge of Riga's port district stood a machinery manufacturing plant built in the 1970s. It had gone bankrupt in 1998, and its buildings had remained abandoned ever since.

Lin Xiao entered the coordinates into mapping software.

Satellite imagery showed an industrial ruin spanning more than five hectares. The main factory building was a massive steel-frame structure, its roof partially collapsed and every window shattered. Around it lay overgrown open ground, piled with rusted shipping containers and abandoned vehicles. Three roads led inside, but two had been blocked by collapsed perimeter walls, leaving only a barely passable dirt road on the western side.

A perfect place for an ambush.

Or rather, a perfect place for a transaction—if you weren't worried about Black-on-Black.

Lin Xiao closed the map and looked out the window.

The simulated night sky remained black, but a faint gray-white glow had begun to appear along the eastern horizon. The base's simulated day-night system was about to switch to "dawn."

He picked up his Communicator and sent Su Ying a message:

"Meeting tomorrow morning. We need to make a plan for Riga."

Then he looked at the screen, the curve of his smile deepening.

The fish had taken the bait.