The offline engraver in the repair workshop's hidden room, Lynn's overnight review

The metal gate of the elevator came to a halt with the scraping sound of the hydraulic push rods.

Lynn stepped out of the sedan chair, his boots leaving a wet trail of diesel fuel and condensation on the concrete floor.

At the end of the west passage on the third basement level hangs a yellowed metal sign with the words "Stability Maintenance Office Seventh Repair Workshop" sprayed in black paint.

The pungent smell of cutting fluid mixed with the burnt odor of heavy-duty rust-preventive oil wafted onto my face along with the weak breeze from the exhaust fan.

The two iron-clad explosion-proof doors were ajar, and the lead seals along the door frames had been neatly cut off.

Lynn pushed open the door and went inside.

In the center of the workshop, there are three rows of cast iron workbenches, with half-disassembled submachine gun receivers and worn barrels scattered on the workbenches.

Gwen Stacy wore a navy blue anti-static lab coat stained with machine oil inside out, her hands braced against the edge of a green, mottled vertical drilling machine.

Two agents in Liaison Office field uniforms were squatting at her feet, holding unloaded carbines.

Beside the metal tool cabinet against the wall, the repair shop supervisor Old Barry, sat on an empty ammunition box with his hands tied behind his back with engineering plastic cable ties, his face ashen.

"Ten minutes exactly."

Gwen Stacy raised her wrist to glance at her tactical watch, her gaze sweeping over the white frost hanging from the hem of Lynn's trench coat.

"The cold air on the sixth basement level hasn't completely dissipated yet. Looks like Ke'er and his crew couldn't keep you there."

"Ke'er's too busy welding his way out to invite me for tea."

Lynn walked to a heavy oak drawing table on the inside of the workshop.

On the table were three stacks of cardboard transfer slips stamped with red ink, the edges of the pages riddled with burrs from being forcibly torn.

On the right side of the receipt was a portable device no more than forty centimeters in length and width, with peeling paint on its casing and no external Local Area Network cable connected.

"Is this the offline engraving machine?"

Lynn extended his tactical-gloved fingers and wiped away the grease from the brass nameplate on the side of the instrument.

"The Liaison Office pulled it out from the ventilation compartment of the logistics warehouse."

Gwen Stacy walked to the table and tapped the stepper motor on top of the instrument with her right index finger, which was wearing a powder-free latex glove.

"It is not connected to the building's central control system and is powered by two sets of military-grade dry cell batteries."

"The twelve sets of SIM card chips that leaked from the Department of Technology all had counterfeit obsolescence barcodes on their casings, all of which were bitten out by this old machine."

Lynn picked up the top inventory slip, which was labeled "Third Defense Zone Weapon Consumable Parts Transfer and Verification".

The paper has a rough texture, but the micron-printed barcode underneath is surprisingly flat.

"Old Barry, you've worked at the repair shop for nine whole years."

Lynn raised his eyelids, his gaze passing over the drawing table and landing on the old man huddled in the corner.

"Nine years ago, Stability Maintenance Office first reorganized, the gun requisition records you handled were spotless, down to the last primer."

"How much liability exemption did the Joint Conference grant you for cleaning these twelve sets of SIM card chips for others this time?"

Old Barry's Adam's apple bobbed, and blood seeped from his cracked, withered lips.

"Director Lynn, please don't try to put me down with such a harsh label."

Old Barry's voice was dry and hoarse, like a piece of iron being sanded on sandpaper.

"The repair shop only recognizes the receipt, not the goods."

"The boxes that were delivered had a Level 1 loss label from the Logistics Department on them, and the dispatcher from the dispatch center put the slip directly into the receiving/dispatch area."

"I'm just a rough guy who trains apprentices to grind parts; how could I distinguish between a special card core and a scrapped receiver?"

Gwen Stacy gave a cold laugh and pulled a long, thin pair of tweezers from her coat pocket.

With a tweezer tip holding a shard of brass the size of a fingernail, he placed it on the ammunition box lid in front of Old Barry.

"Can't tell?"

Gwen Stacy's voice was flat, yet it carried a chilling, businesslike quality.

"The outer casing of the special card core from the Department of Technology is made of aviation brass with a lead content of 0.3%."

"In the entire building, apart from the precision machining tools on the fifth basement floor of the Department of Technology, only your offline engraving machine's high-speed milling cutter can produce copper chips with this level of curl."

"This piece of waste was sifted out of the dust bag under your workbench. The analysis report should be available within ten minutes."

Old Barry's breathing suddenly became heavy.

He lowered his head even further, his forehead almost touching his tattered cotton trousers above his knees.

Who delivered the order?

Lynn ignored Old Barry's silence and reached into the lining of his trench coat to pull out the crystal card he had retrieved from the sixth basement level.

The translucent card body gleamed with a very faint, eerie light under the pale fluorescent tubes of the repair shop.

Old Barry caught a glimpse of the card out of the corner of his eye and shuddered violently.

"I don't recognize it... I've really never seen this thing before..."

"You recognize him."

Lynn gently pressed the crystal card onto the feed rail of the offline engraving machine.

The two locating pins at the bottom of the clamp body make a very faint mechanical clicking sound as they engage with the groove in front of the guide rail.

Absolutely perfect.

"The feeding clamp of the engraving machine was widened by 0.2 millimeters using a file without authorization."

Lynn let go of his hand and leaned against the edge of the drawing table.

"In the entire building, there are no more than three people who can measure the external dimensions of the card core so precisely, and who also know exactly which mezzanine the engraving machine is stored in."

"Old Barry, if you want to take the blame for the Clockmaker's illegal dismantling of the special pipeline network, you'd better see if your neck is tough enough."

Upon hearing the words "Clockmaker," Old Barry's eyelids twitched violently twice.

He suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot, cloudy eyes fixed on Lynn.

"Director... please stop investigating."

Old Barry's voice began to tremble, with a hissing sound coming from between his teeth.

"Nine sets of SIM card cores never stayed overnight at the repair shop."

"Four hours ago, the delivery person drove off in a military police light troop carrier."

He said this was a random inspection of combat readiness Stability Maintenance Office by Director Hela Stability Maintenance Office, and anyone who dared to obstruct this shipment would be included in the casualty list of the outer development team the next morning.

Gwen Stacy turned to look at Lynn, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Atroop carrier?"

Gwen Stacy lowered her voice.

"Four hours ago, the military police on the outer Defense Line were changing shifts during the curfew."

"Monk just ordered all sewage channels to be sealed off. The military police vehicles moving around at this time must be using special military access routes."

Lynn did not respond immediately.

He reached out and pulled out the spare battery compartment at the back of the offline engraving machine.

Instead of conventional military-grade lithium batteries, the battery box contains a miniature energy module that has been polished into a cuboid shape.

The module's outer shell is made of high-strength polycarbonate resin, which has a slightly reddish, matte finish under fluorescent light.

Lynn gently tapped the seam of the resin casing with the hilt of the Obsidian broken sword.

The latch popped open.

Next to the negative contact of the energy module, a line of micron-sized code etched by cold laser is clearly visible.

It belongs to the same industrial lineage as what he saw at the bottom of the crystal card on the sixth underground level:

[STARK-ENG-SYS-B]

Gwen Stacy's gaze followed Lynn's finger to the line of code.

Her pupils instantly contracted to the size of pinpoints.

"Stark Industries ' underlying energy components?"

Gwen Stacy's voice held a barely perceptible tension.

"This engraving machine is an old one from before the Great Cleanup; back then, the heavy weapons modification workshop of the Stability Maintenance Office hadn't been sealed off yet."

"How could there be such a specially supplied core component for a private heavy industry group?"

Lynn lowered his eyes and snapped the miniature energy module back into the battery compartment.

"During the Great Purge, Tony Stark designed three energy suppressors for S.H.I.E.L.D.. to physically strip high-risk targets."

"The backup power supply assembly for one of the suppressors was listed as a lost asset during the inventory of assets during the Battle of New York."

"Later, Natasha signed off on that expense."

The workshop fell silent, save for the faint ticking sound of the vertical drilling machine motor as it cooled down.

Old Barry slumped on the ammunition box, his breathing rapid like a broken bellows.

Gwen Stacy straightened up, unbuttoned her anti-static coat, and tossed it casually onto a nearby metal rack.

Natasha is still in Containment Room.

Gwen Stacy looked at Lynn's profile.

"Horn was just subdued by your men in the underground cooling tower, and the escape Covert Operatives the Watchmaker gave her was also sealed off by Monk with cement."

"If this engraving machine and the origins of those fake documents can be linked to her, the Internal Affairs Inspection Office will initiate a forced purge first thing tomorrow morning."

Thomas couldn't wait to get this statement.

Lynn flicked his wrist, sheathing the Obsidian broken sword.

Thomas won't get a statement tonight.

"I have had the Logistics Security Section seal up his statement regarding smuggling explosive fuses on the fifth basement level."

"The one who should be panicking now is not us, it's Monk."

Lynn turned around and looked at Old Barry.

What was the license plate number of the troop carrier that took away the SIM card?

Old Barry swallowed hard, his voice barely audible.

"Constitution-094."

"The lieutenant driving the car had the Black Crow Honor Guard's insignia pinned to his collar, but he spoke with a Seventh Defense Zone accent."

"When he took the goods, he circled a red pencil on the receipt stub of the delivery slip."

Gwen Stacy strode back to the drawing table and reached out to flip through the stack of transfer slips.

At the very bottom of the third document, there was indeed no writing in the signature column for the person in charge; instead, a small circle was drawn with a dark red oil-based pencil.

In the center of the circle, there was a tiny red dot.

Gwen Stacy's expression changed.

"This is not the Black Crow Guard's communication code."

Gwen Stacy looked up, her gaze meeting Lynn's in mid-air.

"This is an emergency regrouping marker used by the Liaison Office's field team three years ago during their evacuation from Sokovia."

"The one who led that assault team to cover the rear back then... was Barton."

Lynn stared at the red circle, his expression remaining completely unchanged.

"Barton was removed from the purge list two years ago."

"A dead person can't drive, much less take twelve sets of special card cores from the repair shop."

Lynn reached out and put the offline engraving machine on the table into the radiation-proof lead case he carried with him, and locked the case.

"Take Old Barry back to the Liaison Office for custody, using the internal fire escape, and avoid the checkpoints of the Stability Maintenance Office."

"Tell the guards that if Old Barry is missing even a single hair, I'll hold the Liaison Office's duty adjutant accountable."

Two Liaison Office officers immediately stepped forward, supporting the trembling Old Barry on either side, and quickly retreated through the side door of the workshop.

Gwen Stacy stood in front of the drawing table, motionless.

"What are your plans regarding this machine?"

Gwen Stacy's voice was very soft.

"Once the power supply module inside is disassembled, the messy history between Stark Industries and Natasha from back then will be completely exposed."

"If Wanda knew that the Department of Technology's card cores were being used to etch the master template for this kind of thing, she would tear the entire repair shop, along with the surrounding military police barracks, to shreds."

"Wanda doesn't need to know about the machine's existence."

Lynn lifted the heavy lead box without the slightest hesitation.

"What she wants is the truth about the main reactor shutdown. I've already welded the drain valve on the sixth basement level shut down, and the power supply chain has been restored to normal."

"As for the marker inside this machine, it's for making custom coffins for Monk and Thomas."

Lynn strode towards the blast door.

Gwen Stacy followed three steps behind him, her boots lightly touching the ground, making no sound.

Just as the two passed through the metal gate of the repair shop, a sharp metallic ripping sound suddenly came from deep inside the ventilation ducts above their heads.

Without warning, the backup lighting tubes on all three underground levels switched from white to red.

The low-frequency sound of the air raid siren reverberated through the concrete load-bearing wall frame, wave after wave.

The explosion-proof gate at the end of the passage began to fall heavily, and the hydraulic oil made a dull hissing sound in the deceleration valve.

Gwen Stacy drew her Pulse Pistol from her waist and positioned herself slightly to the side, blocking Lynn's blind spot.

"This is a Level 1 Interception Alert from the Defense Zone Command."

Gwen Stacy stared at the flashing red light above her head, speaking very quickly.

"Monk has initiated wartime riot control procedures; all physical access to the entire floor is being forcibly locked down."

The sound of heavy boots pounding the ground came from around the corner of the passage.

The sound of at least twenty fully automatic assault rifles pulling their bolts echoed through the narrow corridor.

A rough, hoarse voice boomed from outside the blast door through an external loudspeaker.

"By order of Commander Monk of T-03 Defense Zone, a serious arms theft has occurred at the Seventh Repair Workshop!"

"Everyone, lay down your weapons and hand over your personal belongings on the spot, and undergo a full screening by the wartime military police!"

The footsteps abruptly stopped at the corner fifteen meters away from the blast door.

Three blinding infrared laser sights pierced through the dim smoke and dust, landing precisely in the center of the black lead box in Lynn's hand.