Undercurrents in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Tracking Signal

Lin Xiu's heavy combat boots crushed the rough gravel in the subway tunnel, the stones beneath his feet crunching sharply.

Sam's voice in his earpiece had long since been shredded by electromagnetic interference, leaving only piercing static ringing in his ears.

The Nano Armor on his back was disintegrating at a visible rate, silver particles drifting slowly through the ventilation ducts like flickering starlight—this was the countermeasure he had just devised: disperse the Nanite Swarm into a hundred tiny heat sources and draw a web across S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tracking radar.

"Oracle, confirm the dispersal progress." He lowered his voice, the tiny microphone at his throat nearly touching his collarbone. Its cold touch made him shiver.

The data stream on his retina immediately began to scroll. The green progress bar paused at "97%," then a line of small text appeared: [Secondary clusters have covered Brooklyn's drainage system. Heat signature error: ±1.2°C, within the range of human body temperature.]

Cold sweat slid down the back of his neck and into his collar, and only then did he realize that his hands were shaking.

Not because of fear—as someone who could spend seventy-two straight hours calibrating a Quantum Collider in the lab, he had long reduced fear to probabilities through data—but because of that voice. "Balder's aura..." The deep voice was mixed with static, like some ancient sealed existence suddenly awakening. It seemed to carry a mysterious power that raised goosebumps across his skin.

He touched the Nanocore on his wrist. It was three degrees warmer than usual, and the particles beneath his skin pulsed like a living heartbeat, scorching hot and full of vitality.

"I need to find somewhere that can block electromagnetic signals." Lin Xiu's gaze swept over the wiring labels on the tunnel wall. A red arrow stood out beneath the dim yellow light, pointing toward "Abandoned Substation B-7."

He tore off the hem of his sweat-soaked T-shirt, wrapped it around his hand, and smashed open the ventilation grille. The screech of metal scraping metal exploded through the tunnel, sending several rats squeaking into the darkness.

The instant he climbed into the substation, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A chill washed over him.

The Oracle System projected a warning onto his retina: [High-altitude heat source detected. Altitude: 150 meters. Speed: 32 m/s.] A drone. Its hum was drawing closer, making his heart tighten.

He quickly crouched behind a rusted transformer. The Basic Form of his Nano Armor was fading from the surface of his skin, revealing his original light wheat-colored complexion—camouflage he had learned from stolen Stark Industries files: let the armor particles blend into the gaps between epidermal cells, maintaining defense without triggering thermal imaging.

At that moment, he could feel the rough rust scraping against his back, making it itch faintly.

"May Phillips," he silently repeated the name.

Three hours earlier at the Avengers Compound, the S.H.I.E.L.D. technical analyst's eyes had been like scanners, lingering on his armor for three extra seconds.

Lin Xiu had noticed several pieces of equipment related to S.H.I.E.L.D. network security at the base. He had casually glanced through some of the materials, and a trace of curiosity had crossed his mind.

In the report she submitted, the words "abnormal energy fluctuations" had been bolded seven times—Lin Xiu had seen S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal system before. That was a marker Director Fury would personally open.

At that moment, in the technical room of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York branch, tense, busy technicians moved between various devices. Flashing electronics cast multicolored light, and the entire room was oppressive with urgency.

Mei's fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, producing crisp tapping sounds.

The three screens before her displayed a Brooklyn heat map, traffic camera records, and real-time drone footage. "Camera in the third block, 00:17:23." She issued the command into the air. The middle screen immediately froze on a blurry silver afterimage. "Enlarge it. Scan frame by frame."

The pixels stretched infinitely, and Mei's pupils suddenly constricted.

From 00:17:23 to 00:17:23.3, a full 0.3 seconds of footage had been nothing but static—not a malfunction, not a hacking intrusion, but more like some high-frequency pulse had directly overwhelmed the sensor's photosensitive elements.

She grabbed a marker beside her and drew three overlapping rings on the whiteboard. "Electromagnetic interference, thermal signature camouflage, image overlay..." The marker barrel left dents over the words "image overlay." "This isn't ordinary hacking technology. It's more like..."

"Agent Phillips, the drone has reached the target area." The pilot's voice came through the communicator.

Mei pressed the switch key, and the far-right screen lit up with infrared footage—the building outlines that should have been clear had become distorted waves of heat, as if someone had scattered broken glass in front of the camera. The image shook constantly on the screen, making it hard to look at.

"A thermal interference field," she said softly, unconsciously rubbing the newly formed pimple behind her ear—a sign of excessive stress.

Director Fury's email from that morning was still flashing in her inbox, its subject line reading: "Brooklyn Anomaly: Priority Handling."

Mei suddenly remembered the look in Lin Xiu's eyes when he had left the Avengers Compound. They had been calm as a precision instrument, but when he mentioned the "Mind Stone," there had been a flash of light in their depths...

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tracking algorithm is updating." Lin Xiu's voice mingled with the transformer's hum, low and unceasing, as if warning that danger was closing in.

He crouched before a rust-covered control console and pried open the panel with his fingernails. The copper wires inside had oxidized green, giving off a pungent metallic smell.

A miniature welding torch extended from the fingertips of the Nano Armor. Blue flame licked across the wires with a sizzling sound. "I need to make a jammer that can simulate the frequency of the municipal power grid." The Oracle System promptly projected a circuit diagram into his field of vision, with key nodes marked in red.

When the torch touched the final wire, the substation's emergency lights suddenly flickered on, the glare stabbing painfully into his eyes.

Lin Xiu paused and looked out the window—three kilometers away, the Avengers Compound gleamed coldly in the night, while Tony Stark's private laboratory was still lit. "Psychic Energy Mapping progress: 12%." The armor core's notification sounded like a fine needle piercing his nerves.

Loki's Scepter would be seized by the Avengers during the Battle of New York, and the Mind Stone was embedded at the tip of that scepter...

"If I can get close one more time..." His voice was barely louder than a sigh.

The Nanocore suddenly heated up. The particles around his wrist accelerated, and a string of garbled characters appeared in the Oracle System's data stream before rapidly reorganizing into: [S.H.I.E.L.D. database access permission fragment detected. Location: Sector 42 server cluster.]

Lin Xiu's finger hovered over the jammer's activation button.

Outside the window, the drone's roar gradually faded, but he knew it was only temporary.

May Phillips would not give up, and neither would Fury's eyes.

And the voice that had mentioned "Balder" hung over him like a dark cloud—Balder was Asgard's god of light. Why would his Nanocore be connected to Norse mythology?

"Permission fragment..." he quietly repeated the system prompt.

Too many secrets were hidden in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database: experimental records on the Tesseract, Asgardian energy parameters, perhaps even scattered mentions of Balder.

Lin Xiu took out the memory chip he had swiped from the Avengers Compound. Sam Wilson had left it behind in the tactical room, and it might contain a key for connecting to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal network.

Outside the substation, the wind swept fallen leaves against the rusted iron door with a rustling sound, unusually clear in the silent night.

Lin Xiu pressed the jammer's switch. The sound of electric current abruptly rose, and on his retina, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tracking signal gradually blurred into static.

He stood up as the particles of the Nano Armor gathered over his body once more. This time, it was thinner and closer to his skin—like a layer of breathing silver gauze, soft and smooth to the touch.

"Time to pay S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers a visit." He smiled at his reflection in the glass window, the expression carrying the excitement of successfully calibrating a new device in the lab, mixed with the sharpness of someone breaking through a deadlock.

The moment he pushed open the iron door, the night wind lifted the hem of his clothes. The Nanocore on his wrist flashed with a deep blue glow, like a newly awakened star.