Closed-door access to the old archives, the retired senior official's

White Bone Hall, the spatial rift slowly closed, completely isolating the cold air from the Queens subway station.

The main hall returned to its usual deathly silence.

Hela, filled with silent rage, walked straight to the side hall where the Stability Maintenance Office was located, her back radiating a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay. Wanda, on the other hand, returned to her Technology Integration Department; the string of code she had just copied was the only thing that interested her at the moment.

Lynn returned to the Throne but did not sit down.

He looked at Gwen Stacy standing below the prince.

Just now, Lynn used his unquestionable authority to suppress Hela's attack and preserve Gwen Stacy's power. But this does not mean that the matter is over.

Trust is one thing, procedures are another.

He gave Gwen Stacy twelve hours, both to produce results and to give her a chance to prove her innocence.

Gwen Stacy's face was still pale, but her eyes had regained their composure. She knew very well that now was not the time to dwell on personal emotions.

"Sir, regarding the code deciphering, I need an absolutely secure, independent environment, as well as all the archived files from S.H.I.E.L.D.. and the New York Police Department from the 1990s to the present as a reference," Gwen Stacy spoke up, her voice clear and articulate.

"Especially all the cases handled by my father, regardless of their classification level," she added.

Lynn looked at her but did not immediately agree.

Accessing sealed files, especially those involving old matters from both the former S.H.I.E.L.D.. and the New York Police Department, grants extremely high authority. Even as the highest-ranking official in the Negative Zone, he cannot directly bypass the encrypted firewall of conventional rules.

There is only one key that can open this door.

Lynn walked to a hidden compartment on one side of the main hall, where an old, dusty red telephone lay quietly.

Without hesitation, he picked up the microphone.

After a brief busy tone interspersed with a faint static, the call was connected.

There was no sound coming from the receiver, only a deep, silent stillness.

Lynn didn't speak first either.

He knew the other person was waiting.

A full half minute passed before a hoarse, tired, yet all-knowingly lazy voice finally came through the receiver.

"It seems you're in quite a bit of trouble."

It's Nick Fury.

"Sir, excuse me." Lynn's tone was calm, as if he were giving a routine work report. "There's a legacy security vulnerability that needs to be investigated, involving a batch of old files from the 1990s. I need you to open a temporary port."

"Historical legacy?" Fury chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Lynn, the 'historical legacy' you're talking about usually means a problem that could turn Manhattan upside down twice. So, tell me, which fool has messed with you this time?"

"A routine security check," Lynn repeated, ignoring the other person's teasing. "The file number might be related to the ' Tahiti ' project."

He brought up the key word from Gwen Stacy's memory.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

The hum of electricity seemed to become clearly audible.

Lynn could imagine that Fury's one eye must be squinting at that moment.

"Tahiti..." Fury's voice lowered, "That's an ancient relic. Coulson treasures it like it's something special. What do you want to do by investigating it?"

"Clean house," Lynn said succinctly.

These three words are more effective than any explanation.

Fury paused for a moment, seemingly quickly assessing the weight and risk behind those three words.

"You want to check George Stacy's file, right?" Fury asked abruptly.

Lynn's hand holding the microphone tightened slightly at the knuckles.

He neither answered yes nor no.

At this point, any answer is wrong.

"His encryption skills were truly unique within S.H.I.E.L.D.." Fury continued, as if reminiscing about an old friend, "What a pity."

"What a pity?" Lynn keenly grasped the word.

"It's a pity that a good cop died in a pointless accident." Fury's tone was completely indifferent.

Lynn listened quietly.

He knew the real drama was about to begin.

"However..." Fury changed the subject, "Sometimes, there are many kinds of accidents. There's one kind of accident called 'being the one who is caught in an accident.'"

Lynn's eyes narrowed.

"Back then, some departments within S.H.I.E.L.D.. weren't under my jurisdiction, or even the World Security Council Council's." Fury lowered his voice further, as if speaking close to Lynn's ear, "They borrowed people from outside, and sometimes the paperwork... wasn't complete. Once the person was gone, all that was left on their file was an 'accident'."

"Which department?" Lynn pressed.

"A department that doesn't exist." Fury's answer was airtight. "That's all I can tell you. Investigate any further, or you'll spill the beans."

"Thank you for your guidance, sir," Lynn said in a deep voice.

He has gotten what he wanted.

"Access granted to you in three minutes. One-time use, self-destructing message." Fury's voice regained its lazy weariness. "Lynn, don't forget our deal. My people in New York need a safe place."

"They are safe," Lynn assured him.

"That's good."

The call ended.

Lynn put down the microphone and turned to look at Gwen Stacy.

Gwen Stacy stood motionless, but her clenched fists betrayed her inner turmoil.

She heard the entire conversation clearly.

My father did not die in an accident.

This realization struck her like a heavy hammer blow.

"Control your emotions," Lynn's voice was icy. "It's work time now."

Gwen Stacy's body jolted, she abruptly raised her head, took a deep breath, and nodded vigorously.

"Yes."

Three minutes later, the light screen in the center of the hall lit up, and an extremely rudimentary data login interface without any markings popped up.

Gwen Stacy walked to the control panel and her fingers flew across the Virtual Keyboard.

Countless Data Stream cascaded down the light screen like a waterfall.

The New York Police Department's archived files, the old S.H.I.E.L.D..'s encrypted servers... all the firewalls were rendered useless in the face of Fury's open temporary ports.

Gwen Stacy quickly located a yellowed file folder marked "Top Secret".

File number: L-74.

Project Title: Project T.A.H.I.T.I. - Individual Regeneration Research Report)

Gwen Stacy's finger hovered in mid-air. Instead of clicking on it immediately, she first retrieved the records of the people who handled the file.

At the very end of the long list, George Stacy's name was prominently featured. Her job title was listed as: External Security Consultant.

Gwen Stacy opened the file.

It contains a wealth of experimental data on extraterrestrial biological tissues and failed regeneration cases, which are enough to send chills down your spine.

Gwen Stacy flipped through the pages quickly; her goal was clear.

She skipped directly to the last part of the file—the attachments and personnel transfer records.

A series of secondment orders, Confidentiality Agreement, task reports...

She finally found the document that belonged to George Stacy.

That was a personnel secondment order.

However, when the document was clearly displayed on the screen, Gwen Stacy's pupils contracted sharply.

It was a yellowed paper document that had been scanned into the system.

The document header, number, and issuance date are all clearly visible.

However, in the crucial sections for "Loaned Unit" and "Reason for Borrowing," the paper shows unnatural, rough, torn marks.

That page had its most crucial section deliberately torn out.