The Three-Party Lock Inspection Standoff, Thomas Carrying a Demagnetizer

The Department of Technology is located on the fifth basement level, at security checkpoint number three.

Two rows of wall-mounted cool fluorescent lights illuminated the corridor in a stark white light, while the floor had a matte, dark gray sheen from an anti-static coating.

The ventilation ducts emitted a gentle, metallic, rusty air, and the temperature hovered around 16 degrees Celsius.

A two-way security gate made of heavy lead alloy was installed in the middle of the corridor.

Above the door frame, three green motion-sensor indicator lights remain constantly lit.

Thomas, the special envoy of the Internal Affairs Inspection Office, walked at the front, his leather boots making quick, hard footsteps on the concrete.

He changed into a dark gray anti-radiation windbreaker, buttoned up at the collar, and carried the thickened document sampling box in his right hand.

Two second-level inspectors followed closely behind, with Body Camera slung across their shoulders and the tactical holsters hanging from their waists unbuckled, their thumbs resting loosely on the edge of their sidearm grips.

Thomas stopped as he turned the corner of the passageway.

The registration desk, which was originally guarded by civilian staff from the Department of Technology, was moved away from the gate.

Instead, there are two rows of triangular barricades, painted with black and yellow stripes representing a state of defense readiness.

Six fully armed internal security personnel stood behind the barricades, holding short-barreled pulse rifles with the muzzles pointing downwards at a 45-degree angle and the safety catches already in the half-open position.

Lynn sat on a folding wire chair next to the barricade.

He held a paper cup half-filled with instant black coffee in his hand, and a newly delivered "Emergency Lockdown Record of Underground Facilities of the Management Committee" was spread on his lap.

Hearing footsteps, Lynn raised her hand and took a sip of the warm, bitter liquid, without getting up.

"Special Envoy Thomas."

Lynn put down the paper cup, which landed on the folding metal table with a soft thud.

"The broadcast for the entire defense zone outside just stopped, and instead of organizing the briefing for the Joint Conference in your office, you ran back to the fifth basement level to stand in the cold air?"

Thomas stopped three meters away from the first barricade.

He glanced at his watch on his left wrist, his expression tense.

"Director Lynn, I have been jointly assigned by the Joint Conference and the Internal Affairs Inspection Office to conduct the tripartite lock verification procedure at the Department of Technology's underground transit area."

Thomas pulled a neatly folded work order from his pocket, held it between two fingers, and handed it to the sentry post.

"Twenty minutes ago, the special defense supervision order was announced across the entire network. According to Article 3 of the ' Wartime Asset Disposal Regulations,' the Inspection Office has the right to immediately seal off and inspect any damaged sites involving L-level sealed assets, and extract data backups."

Thomas pushed the document forward.

"It's rather improper for Director Lynn to personally block the entrance."

Lynn did not take the order slip.

The sentry standing on the left side of the barricade wore a black tactical helmet, his face completely black, and he also did not reach out.

"You've memorized the regulations quite well."

Lynn leaned back in his chair, flipping through the documents on his lap.

"But you missed a detail. The special supervisory order comes with a level-two combat readiness blockade authority; currently, the Jurisdiction over the fifth underground floor is directly under the Director's Office."

Lynn lifted her eyelids and her gaze fell on the suitcase Thomas was carrying in his right hand.

"Lock inspection is allowed. You can go in, but leave the box behind."

Thomas frowned and pulled the box half an inch behind him.

"This is a radiation-proof evidence collection box used by the Inspection Office. It contains an optical recorder and environmental sensors. Without evidence collection tools, the third-party verification team simply cannot issue a compliance report."

Lynn remained calm.

"The three broadband monitoring units at the top of the channel are now operating at full capacity."

"The instant you crossed the corner, the monitoring device's strong magnetic deflection reading jumped twelve basis points."

"The server room on the fifth basement level houses twelve sets of highly sensitive Chip substrates. Anyone carrying unregistered strong magnetic equipment near it can be considered as committing sabotage under defense regulations."

Thomas's Adam's apple bobbed.

"My box only contains standard testing equipment; there are absolutely no illegal Magnetic Field sources."

"Since there's nothing there, then let's go through the quarantine gate."

Lynn pointed to the security gate behind her.

"The turnstile is connected to the degaussing Probe in the inner guardhouse. As long as the box goes around the conveyor belt once and the reading is normal, I'll personally open the door for you."

Thomas's expression changed.

Inside the sampling box, a military-grade portable pulse demagnetizer was clearly encapsulated.

That was a trump card that was specifically brought in to completely burn out the remaining flash memory chips inside the L-03 dedicated outer cabinet.

Once inserted into the demagnetizing Probe channel of the inner chamber, the high-voltage electromagnetic induction will immediately induce a short circuit in the capacitors within the interlayer, exposing them on the spot.

"Director Lynn, the Internal Affairs Inspection Office's independent investigative powers are protected by the Supreme Joint Conference."

Thomas stepped forward, his tone turning somber.

"According to the Special Envoy Confidentiality Act, my personal evidence box is exempt from inspection, and no secondary department of S.H.I.E.L.D.. has the right to open and inspect it without authorization."

Two second-level inspectors followed behind him, their leather boots stomping rhythmically on the ground.

One of them had his right hand fully gripping the handle of his sidearm, the safety latch silently opened by his thumb.

The temperature inside the passage seemed to have dropped another two degrees.

The hum of the air filter echoed deep into the corridor.

Lynn picked up the paper cup, drank the remaining half-mouthful of residue, casually crushed the empty paper cup, and threw it into the trash can next to her.

He stood up.

The movements weren't fast, and his uniform wasn't even straightened, but the two inspectors opposite him visibly paused for a moment.

"Immunity is for legitimate people to do their jobs, not a fig leaf to cover up violations and smuggling."

Lynn looked into Thomas's eyes, his voice not loud, but it struck the concrete walls on either side clearly.

"The guard."

"Exist."

The six guards behind the barricade all took half a step forward in unison.

The crisp sound of metal bolts being pulled back rang out in succession, and six pulse rifles were simultaneously chambered, held level in front of their chests, their muzzles locking tightly against the chests of Thomas and his two companions.

The sergeant at the front raised his left hand and pressed the red combat readiness button on the passage wall.

Three sharp beeps sounded, and the alloy explosion-proof baffles on both sides of the passage slowly slid out of the grooves, blocking half of the escape route.

"Under a state of defense readiness, Impact or blocking outposts is considered defection or armed mutiny."

Lynn looked at Thomas, her eyes calm and utterly unmoved.

"Take one more step forward and test pull the trigger of your sidearm; the guard has the right to empty the magazine on the spot."

The backs of the two second-level inspectors were instantly soaked with cold sweat.

They are civilian law enforcement officers in the internal affairs system, who usually run rampant in various departments by virtue of their special status. They have never really faced actual combat internal guards who are armed and ready to fight under the war preparedness regulations.

The fingers gripping the gun handle were so stiff they couldn't move; they didn't even dare loosen the latch, fearing that the slightest movement would cause a bullet to pierce the barrel.

Thomas stood still, his toes only ten centimeters away from the yellow and black steel barricade.

A bead of sweat slid down his forehead, dripping onto the collar of his dark gray trench coat.

He knew very well that Lynn was not bluffing.

In this enclosed space five underground, Lynn held the special supervisory order that had just been issued to the entire network. If he were to fire a shot under the pretext of preventing espionage, the Joint Conference would at most give Lynn a disciplinary warning for excessive use of force, while he himself would only become a corpse in the freezer.

The corridor fell into a deathly silence.

The cold air blowing from the ventilation duct brushed against Thomas's cheek.

Just as the two sides were locked in a stalemate, Thomas's chest heaved rapidly as he prepared to back down,

A faint yet high-frequency, piercing electronic buzzing sound suddenly emanated from deep within the briefcase that Thomas was clutching to his chest.

"Beep--beep--beep--"

Those were short, consecutive triplets.

In the defense regulations, this specific encrypted frequency band beeping has only one interpretation—the highest priority tail-cutting command.

Thomas's pupils contracted sharply, and his face drained of all color under the pale fluorescent light. Chapter 673: Seizing the Unauthorized Sampling Kit on the Spot, Lynn Turns the Tables to Check and Balance the Inspector

The air inside the passage instantly froze.

As the buzzer sounded for the fourth time, Thomas gripped the edge of his briefcase tightly, his nails almost digging into the leather.

"Turn it off."

Lynn stood still, his gaze unwavering.

"Or, have the guards' pulse guns shut it down for you."

The sergeant took half a step forward, his gun barrel pressed against Thomas's chest, less than ten centimeters away.

The cold blue arc of electricity on the metal barrel flowed silently, emitting a slight hissing sound.

The two second-level inspectors behind Thomas were utterly terrified. Almost instinctively, they loosened their grip on their pistols, raised their hands, and stepped back, pressing themselves against the concrete wall.

"This is a system malfunction of the private pager..."

Thomas's voice was hoarse as he tried to hide his briefcase behind his back.

"Private pagers will not occupy the third-level defense security frequency band."

Lynn turned his head and gestured with his chin toward the sergeant beside him.

"Detain it."

Without any hesitation, the two fully armed guards pounced on them like two hunting dogs.

One person grabbed Thomas's wrist and twisted it outwards, while another person raised their knee and struck him in the abdomen, swiftly snatching the thick sampling box and briefcase from him.

Thomas stumbled and fell onto the cold floor tiles, his forehead slamming against the crossbar of the triangular chevaux-de-frise with a dull thud.

"Lynn! This is blatant resistance against the Internal Affairs Inspector!"

Thomas pressed his swollen forehead and roared in a disheveled manner.

"This is a provocation against the Supreme Joint Conference!"

Lynn completely ignored his barking.

He walked back to the folding iron table, opened the drawer, took out a non-magnetic ceramic scalpel, and handed it to the technical officer beside him.

"Dismantle it in front of everyone."

The technical officer put on insulated gloves and placed the sampling box, which was originally claimed to contain only optical equipment, flat on the iron table.

The radiation-proof lead seal on the side of the enclosure was cleanly cut open with a ceramic blade.

The lid popped open, revealing an ordinary radiometer inside, and at the bottom of the inner liner, a strangely shaped module wrapped in multiple layers of lead mesh.

The sergeant used tweezers to pry open the lead mesh.

A tiny cylinder, about the length of a thumb and with a matte bronze finish, is exposed to a cold light.

The cylinder is connected to an extremely precise microwave crystal oscillator circuit at both ends, and the encapsulating resin at the pins is still slightly warm.

"Report to the Director."

The technical sergeant looked up, his voice cold and hard.

"Military-grade directional microwave detonation fuse, with a built-in high-frequency delay capacitor, can induce lattice burn-through of all semiconductor Chip within a half-meter radius within 0.3 seconds when linked to an external demagnetization signal."

The corridor fell completely silent.

The two second-level inspectors, who were posted against the wall, looked ashen-faced.

The act of illegally possessing military-grade explosives and bringing them into the core experimental area on the fifth underground level is punishable under the National Defense Preparedness Act by being taken to the firing range and executed on the spot.

Thomas collapsed to the ground, his lips trembling, unable to utter a complete explanation.

Lynn walked to the iron table, picked up the small fuse with tweezers, and examined it closely.

Under the harsh light of the fluorescent lamp, a line of micron-sized anti-counterfeiting intaglio printing was clearly etched along the edge of the copper pin at the bottom of the fuse:

[WB-GUARD-09]

Internal weapons repair batch stamp of the Stability Maintenance Office Office's Black Crow Guard.

Lynn put down the tweezers and looked down at Thomas on the ground.

"The special envoy, carrying Black Crow Guard military-grade explosive fuse, forced his way into the damaged site under the pretext of checking locks."

Lynn pulled out a blank "Memorandum of Investigation into Serious Violations" and casually threw it at Thomas's face.

The edge of the paper cut Thomas's cheek, drawing a tiny bead of blood.

"Signature, admitting to illegally carrying highly dangerous explosives and damaging primary assets of the Management Committee."

Lynn pulled a pen from his pocket and tossed it to Thomas.

"Alternatively, in accordance with the ' Rebellion Prevention Regulations,' I can have the outer defensive artillery positions perform a precision firing parameter calibration on the Internal Affairs Inspection Office building."

Thomas stared at the pen on the ground, his whole body trembling violently.

He knew Hela was a madwoman, and Lynn was just as ruthless and vicious.

Once this fuse falls into the hands of the Director's Office, the Internal Affairs Inspection Office will be completely at their mercy.

With a trembling right hand, Thomas grabbed the pen, gritted his teeth, and scribbled his name in the self-identity section of the memo, pressing down his bloody fingerprint.

Lynn bent down to retrieve the document and blew on the still-wet ink.

"Disarm him and remove his access card. Take him to the third sub-cell in the underground detention area. Not even a fly is allowed to enter without my order."

The guards quickly stepped forward, lifted the limp Thomas up like a dead dog, and dragged him swiftly to the end of the corridor.

Lynn, clutching the stamped fuse, turned around and looked at the tightly closed airtight door of the Ministry of Department of Technology's Main Control Room.

Hela's reach went too far; the Black Crow Guard had even sent the fuse to the Inspection Office.

He needed to meet with the woman in charge of Stability Maintenance Office.

Chapter 674: A Midnight Summoning Under the Broken Sword Order; Hela Demands Special Permit for the Outer Defense Line

The rooftop terrace of the Stability Maintenance Office.

The night wind at high altitude was as sharp as a knife, making the black windproof battle robe flutter loudly.

Lynn pushed open the heavy, lead-sealed security door, his leather boots stepping onto the wet alloy deck.

A thick protective Force Field ionized aura enveloped the sky, and the dark purple glow outlined the entire base in a desolate and cold manner.

Hela stood with her back to him at the edge of the railing, her black hair dancing wildly in the wind.

She toyed with a slender black flying blade in her hand, her fingertips gleaming with a faint, eerie green Death Force, as if it could slice through the void at any moment.

"You locked Thomas in the third triage room?"

Hela did not turn around; her voice was deep and carried an imposing, superior air.

"The explosive fuse, bearing the Black Crow Guard's maintenance stamp, was pressed into the fifth basement level of the Department of Technology."

Lynn walked three steps away from the railing and slammed the confession of violation, signed and stamped by Thomas, onto the concrete wall.

"Director Hela, the rules of the Joint Conference are that Tripartite Custody, but your subordinates have planted gunpowder in my backyard. Their behavior is simply too disgraceful."

Hela let out a cold laugh.

She slowly turned around, her deep, cold eyes fixed on Lynn.

"If I hadn't had those fragments burned, Wanda's Chaos Magic would have turned the entire Department of Technology upside down by now."

Hela took a step forward, her black combat boots making a dull metallic clang.

"Lynn, you and I both know just how deep the mess left by the Great Purge goes. That rat Natasha is causing trouble in Containment Room, the Department of Technology's furnace has stopped three times, and those scraps of paper you retrieved outside the defense zone won't save your life."

She raised her hand, her slender, long fingers, yet imbued with world-destroying power, pointing towards the starry sky surrounding the base.

"Give me full control of Berth C-9 on the perimeter of Starport."

Hela got straight to the point, her domineering aura hitting Lynn squarely in the face.

"The Bloodfang Fleet is patrolling the perimeter, Gwen Stacy's private army is infiltrating the pipeline network. As long as you assign Berth C-9 to the Black Crow Guard's defense zone, I can treat the fuse Thomas brought in as a traitor within the Internal Security Bureau misappropriating it, completely silencing those old bones in the Inspection Office."

Lynn faced the chilling killing intent head-on, his expression remaining completely unwavering.

He pulled out a Obsidian seal representing the Director's Office from his pocket and casually tossed it between his fingers.

Berth C-9 is the only Anchor in the entire defense zone connecting to the deep-space supply line.

Lynn looked at Hela, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a lunch menu.

"Giving it to you is like stuffing the Liaison Office's escape route and the valves of the entire peripheral smuggling line into your stomach. Hela, the constraints of the tripartite review are still in effect. If I sign the demarcation now, the Joint Conference can revoke all the emergency privileges of the Director's Office tomorrow on charges of betraying the base's defense."

"Do you think I care about that bunch of deadbeats in the Joint Conference?"

The forest-green light in Hela's eyes surged, and a dense Aura of Death instantly enveloped the entire terrace, even causing the alloy plates on the ground to frost over.

"You may not care about them, but you care about the original master tape of the Forty-Second Execution."

Lynn put the Obsidian seal back into his sleeve and calmly uttered a single sentence.

Hela's murderous aura suddenly froze.

The night breeze seemed to be abruptly cut off at that moment.

Hela stared intently at Lynn, and after a very brief pause, she gradually suppressed the violent fluctuations of her divine power.

She raised her hand to brush away the stray hairs from her forehead, a sickly, dangerous smile flashing in her eyes.

"You really remembered everything."

Hela sneered, pulled something from the lining of her War Armor at her waist, and casually tossed it at Lynn's feet.

Clang!

A broken piece of black sword tip pierced the alloy deck, its tail still trembling violently.

It was a fragment of Asgard Obsidian greatsword, with dried, blackened blood still clinging to the broken edge.

"It fell out from under your interrogation chair during the Great Purge."

Hela turned around and looked back at the vast night sky, her back view revealing endless arrogance and stubbornness.

"Keep the broken sword for self-defense, Lynn. Some things, the more you try to understand them, the faster you'll die... Next time, there won't be another Deity to collect your corpse."

Lynn glanced down at the broken sword at his feet but did not reach out to pull it out.

He straightened the collar of his windswept trench coat, turned around, pushed open the emergency exit, and stepped back into the dark corridor.

Chapter 675: Monk Cuts Off His Own Smuggling Route, Locks Up the Sewage Outlet of Containment Room Confinement Cell in Advance

Command hall of the Defense Zone Command.

Commander Monk stood before the enormous holographic Star Map, his face ashen.

On the holographic screen, a red alert indicating that Thomas, the special envoy of the Internal Affairs Inspection Office, had been detained flashed incessantly, while news that the fifth basement level of the Department of Technology had been completely physically sealed off had just been transmitted to his terminal.

"Idiots! A bunch of useless, incompetent office workers!"

Monk slammed the electronic tactical board he was holding onto the command platform, causing a crack to appear in the alloy frame.

Thomas made a mistake; Lynn caught him red-handed with the microwave detonation fuse.

Even more devastatingly, news that Xiao Li had been eliminated by Gwen Stacy at the Liaison Office had already been relayed back via coded communication.

"Commander, the orbital parameters of the seventh reconnaissance satellite have been retrieved from the Director's Office."

The military police adjutant stood to one side, his voice trembling.

"Furthermore... the Liaison Office, under the guise of joint supervision, is deploying armed Shuttlecraft to the outskirts, and the target is very likely our directly subordinate gun repair shop."

Monk's chest heaved violently, and the veins on his thick neck bulged.

He knew very well that Lynn and Gwen Stacy were trying to follow the trail and pin the charges of treason and misappropriation of weapons on him, the district commander.

Continuing to maintain those Covert Operatives is tantamount to setting ourselves on fire.

"Issue a top-level curfew order from my headquarters."

Monk wiped the cold sweat from his face, his eyes turning extremely fierce.

"Immediately cut off all underground pipelines leading to the core experimental area from T-03 Defense Zone, and activate the physical interlocking procedure for the three-level sewage valves!"

The adjutant was stunned, and his expression changed drastically.

"Commander, the main sewage pipe connects to the bottom ventilation shaft of the Third Confinement Zone. That's... that's the only escape route ' The Watchmaker ' reserved for Black Widow! If we weld it shut now, the people over there won't be able to get out!"

I don't care if he's Watchmaker or a shoe repairman!

Monk suddenly grabbed his adjutant by the collar, spitting in his face.

"Lynn's knife is already at my throat! Hela's Black Crow Guard is patrolling the perimeter of the defense zone. If they find any smuggling ships discharging sewage, my whole family will be in cryogenics! Seal it off! Go now! Activate the hydraulic lock and pour in high-strength cement!"

"Yes!"

The adjutant dared not say a word and stumbled out of the command center.

at the same time.

Third Confinement Zone, cell number twelve, severe punishment cell.

The room was dimly lit, with only a faint yellow energy-saving light flickering in the corner.

Natasha leaned against the headboard of the metal bed, her knees slightly bent, her fingertips resting on the concrete wall beside her.

Her ears twitched slightly, trying to catch the sounds coming from inside the ventilation ducts.

A muffled, rapid clanging sound of mechanical hydraulic valves coming from the main sewage pipe buried deep underground, accompanied by the heavy rumble of mud being injected, grew louder as it approached.

Natasha's eyes instantly turned cold.

The passage is blocked.

Driven to desperation, Monk abandoned his pawns to save himself, cutting off his escape route.

The escape plan the Watchmaker drew for her became utterly worthless.

Natasha remained calm, sliding off the iron bed with remarkable flexibility.

She reached into the tiny gap between the bed frame and the wall, pulled out an extremely fine alloy hairpin, and quickly pried open a disguised panel inside the baseboard at the corner of the wall.

Inside was the wreckage of the miniature terminal that had just been overloaded and damaged.

Without any hesitation, Natasha stuffed the wreckage into her mouth, enduring the sharp pain from the metal, and used her molars to completely crush the main control Chip, swallowing it down along with her saliva.

Just as I put the baseboard panel back in place, the sound of rapid tactical boots came from outside the door.

Natasha rolled back onto the bed, pulled the thin blanket over her body, closed her eyes, and breathed normally.

Seconds later, the infrared scanning beam of the patrolling military police swept across the crack in the door.

Deep underground within the base, in the control room for the seventh sewage valve.

A captain in a military police uniform had just pulled the last manual locking valve and, seeing the high-pressure mud pressure on the screen reach its maximum, let out a heavy sigh of relief.

He raised his hand and pressed the Communicator on his chest.

"Reporting to headquarters, the outer perimeter of T-03's pipeline network is completely locked down. Evacuation point..."

"Puff!"

A very faint, silenced gunshot interrupted his report.

A special armor-piercing round, glowing with a ghostly blue electromagnetic spark, shot out from the shadows and instantly pierced the back of the captain's tactical helmet.

Blood splattered onto the cold control panel.

The Communicator lay in a pool of blood, only Monk's frantic calls remaining inside.

A blurry, dark figure dressed in a maintenance uniform emerged from the shadows of the pipes, coldly pulled out the offline data card from the captain's waist, and then quickly disappeared into the deeper darkness.