A talk in the top office: a leader's warning and full disclosure
Lynn temporarily converted a side hall of the White Bone Hall into his office.
There is no Throne here, only a large Obsidian desk and two simple guest chairs.
The light screen on the wall didn't play the heart-pounding countdown found in the Department of Technology's computer room. Instead, it quietly displayed the real-time consumption curves of various resources in the Negative Zone —cold, precise, and devoid of any emotion.
There was a knock on the office door, three knocks, neither too loud nor too soft, with a steady rhythm.
"Enter."
Gwen Stacy pushed the door open and came in, then gently closed it behind her.
She stood ramrod straight, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze level with Lynn's desk, but her focus wasn't on any particular spot.
Lynn didn't look up; he was processing an electronic document about the Undead Legion's quarterly rest schedule and had only asked a question casually.
"How are the talks with the Department of Technology going?"
"Minister Wanda requires the Liaison Office to provide all original TVA communications data for underlying comparison." Gwen Stacy's reply sounded like reciting a formal document, clear and emotionless. "Our department has rejected this request in accordance with Section 19 of the Interdepartmental Information Security Regulations and has advised the other party to submit a list of compliant data requests."
Lynn signed his name on the document and sent it out.
He then raised his head, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Gwen Stacy a few steps away.
"Then what?"
"Then, the underlying encryption code triggered a self-destruct countdown, with 23 hours and 41 minutes remaining."
Lynn didn't say anything, she just looked at her.
For a moment, only the faint hum of the equipment running could be heard in the office.
Gwen Stacy's professionalism is exceptional; even under such silent pressure, her posture remains impeccable.
But Lynn's gaze fell on her clasped hands.
Her hands were trying hard to control themselves, but the whitening at her knuckles from the exertion betrayed the turmoil in her heart.
Lynn stood up and came out from behind the table.
He didn't go to Gwen Stacy, but instead went to the tea station in the corner of the office.
He picked up a clean glass, filled it with hot water, and then took a few slices of dried lemon from a metal can and put them in.
The whole process was neither rushed nor slow.
Hot water is poured into the cup, and the lemon slices unfurl and tumble in the water.
He took the cup and walked up to Gwen Stacy.
Gwen Stacy instinctively reached out to take it.
Lynn didn't give it to her; instead, she held the cup herself, her gaze piercing through the rising steam to look into her eyes.
"Chief Stacy."
He spoke, his voice flat.
"Yes, sir."
Do you know what the most important quality is for a department head?
Gwen Stacy's lips moved, as if she wanted to answer with "loyalty" or "ability," but in the end she chose to remain silent.
"It's stable."
Lynn said.
"Emotional stability, decision-making stability, and the ability to maintain the stability of oneself and the entire department under any pressure."
He handed the glass of warm lemonade to Gwen Stacy.
Gwen Stacy's fingers trembled involuntarily as they touched the warm glass.
"Your hands are still shaking." Lynn stated a fact, his tone devoid of any blame, yet carrying more weight than any reproach.
"Your mood has been off ever since you came back from the subway station. In the server room, you followed the department rules well in front of Wanda, which was commendable. But that was just your professional instinct, not your true self."
Lynn took a step back, creating distance again, his gaze sharpening.
You're panicking.
"Your father's situation, the death of B-15, Wanda's pressure, and that damn countdown—everything's all mixed up and has thrown you into a panic."
Gwen Stacy's face turned deathly pale in an instant.
All her pretense, all her professional mask, were shattered by these few simple words.
"Sir, I..." She tried to explain, but found her throat dry and she couldn't utter a single word.
"I don't need your explanation," Lynn interrupted her. "I only care about the results."
"Now, you have two paths before you."
"First, put everything down, including that piece of code, and go back to get some rest. I'll let Wanda take over; she's capable and ambitious, and she can most likely handle it within 24 hours. As for you, you need to write a thorough self-criticism for your emotional outburst this time."
"Second..."
Lynn paused for a moment, walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a storage key that was only the size of a fingernail, completely black, and without any markings.
He placed the key on the edge of the table.
"Use it to access all the resources you deem necessary, including the Highest Access Privileges files accessible only to me. Decipher it before the countdown ends."
Lynn sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and placed them on the table.
"Chief Stacy, now, please make your choice."
The office fell silent once again.
Gwen Stacy stood motionless, her head bowed, staring at the glass of lemonade in her hand, which was slowly losing its steam.
She could feel Lynn's gaze, like Scalpel, falling on her, dissecting her every heartbeat, every breath.
beat.
Then, the details were explained.
She instantly understood Lynn's intention.
He first ruthlessly exposed all her weaknesses and panic, forcing her to confront her most vulnerable state. Then, in her most helpless moment, he offered her an extraordinary level of trust and empowerment.
This trust is as heavy as a mountain.
It was both an immense burden on her shoulders and the steel backbone that supported her in standing up straight again.
She slowly raised her head, the last trace of confusion and panic in her eyes fading away, replaced by an unprecedented clarity and determination.
She walked to the desk without saying anything to express her loyalty.
She simply reached out and steadily took the black key in her hand.
Then, she turned around and walked out of the office without saying a word.
The door closed gently behind her.
Lynn stared at the empty doorway for a long time before finally looking away.
He picked up the cup on his table and took a sip of the now-cold coffee.
It's a bit bitter.
Independent Analysis Room, Liaison Office.
Gwen Stacy inserted the black key into a hidden interface on the Control Console.
In an instant, all the Data Stream on the screen in front of her stopped.
The next second, a brand new, extremely simple login interface popped up. In the center of the interface, there was only a constantly rotating vortex made up of countless Runes.
The highest access key has been authenticated.
Welcome, Commander Lynn.
Gwen Stacy took a deep breath and re-imported the Composite Encryption Code into the analysis program.
This time, those solid, incomprehensible Underlying Logic were peeled away layer by layer, like snow in spring, under the Highest Access Privileges of access.
Countless dusty archives, marked "Absolutely Forbidden to Touch," opened their doors at her command.
She saw behind the "Project T.A.H.I.T.I." the torn-up Loaned Unit— "S.P.E.A.R.."
She saw the prototype of another project her father had participated in within the "S.P.E.A.R.," codenamed "Battleworld."
At this moment, all the fragments were pieced together.
Time passed by, second by second.
Just as the countdown on the screen reached its final three seconds...
`Drip.`
A soft sound.
The encrypted code that had troubled everyone and caused a huge uproar was finally completely deciphered on the light screen.
What finally appeared was neither a piece of text nor a picture.
Instead, it is a physical coordinate located in Manhattan, accurate to six decimal places.