Lin Xiao left Su Ying's room, and the cold air in the corridor cleared his head somewhat. He returned to his office, shut the door, and spread every file on Brock Rumlow across the desk. Photographs, access records, fund flow charts, intelligence trade lists... every document pointed to the same conclusion: a dangerous opponent was watching from the darkness.
He picked up Rumlow's S.H.I.E.L.D. ID photo, his fingertips brushing across the hard, cold face in the image. Light reflected faintly off the photo's surface, making those sharp eyes seem as though they were staring directly at him.
Just then, the internal communicator on his desk rang. Fletcher's voice came through the receiver with rare gravity. "Lin Xiao, come to my office. Headquarters just sent an order regarding your team. Immediately."
Lin Xiao put down the photograph, his gaze sharpening. He straightened his uniform and headed for the door. The corridor lights cast his shadow long behind him, like a blade drawn from its sheath.
Fletcher's office was on the third floor of the base command building, its windows facing the training grounds. When Lin Xiao knocked and entered, Fletcher was standing before the window with his back to the door, holding a paper document. The room smelled of cigar smoke and old leather, while the radiator gave off a soft hiss.
"Close the door." Fletcher did not turn around.
Lin Xiao closed the door and stopped in front of the desk. Outside, soldiers shouted training slogans in neat, powerful unison, though the thick glass made them sound distant and blurred.
Fletcher turned around, placed the document on the desk, and pushed it toward Lin Xiao. It was a printed encrypted order, headed by the Hydra headquarters emblem—a scepter entwined with a serpent's head—followed by dense text in a mixture of