Although this was already mentioned in the first chapter, and Banner was successfully rescued ahead of time, I still need to stress this again here: absolutely no mangling the plot! Absolutely no mangling the plot! Absolutely no mangling the plot! (Important things get said three times.)
With the future plot laid out like face-up cards in his hand, the protagonist will offer a moderate amount of spoilers and intervention.
But he has only one goal in doing so: to secure more say and room to maneuver for himself and those around him before crises arrive.
I've always personally believed that a transmigrator with a functioning brain who clearly has the ability to prevent tragedies, yet chooses to stand idly by, timidly fearing any change to the future, waiting for events to follow their original course, and not daring to lay plans to seize the initiative for himself, is the biggest failure of a protagonist!
(Even if the protagonist is a fun-seeker, he still has to be a fun-seeker with a say in things, standing center stage!)
Of course, rest assured, all this planning is meant to better integrate him into the story. The overall main plot will still respect and fit within the original work's broad framework. There will absolutely be no destructive rewrites.
These little acts of "foreknowledge" will appear again as the story continues. If you're a staunch "original-plot purist," I'd suggest reading with caution or steering clear in advance~ Thank you all for your understanding and support!
Lynn thought for a moment, drained the last mouthful of thoroughly cold coffee from his cup, then stood up and stretched.
"All right, I know what to do. I'll be careful to keep it under control."
He took two steps toward the stairs, then stopped and turned back to Tony. "Oh, right, I forgot to remind you of something. You haven't visited Banner in quite a while, have you?"
Tony was about to pick up his glass of water when his fingers paused in midair.
"Go spend some time bonding when you're free. Don't neglect him. He's living all alone at Kamar-Taj, surrounded by sorcerers, without even anyone he can have a normal conversation with."
"He's doing pretty well at Kamar-Taj. Wong said he can eat three bowls all by himself now..."
"He's turning grief and frustration into an appetite." Lynn was already halfway up the stairs, his voice drifting down from above. "The last time I visited, I saw Senior Brother Mordo ask him what that 'Introduction to Quantum Mechanics' he kept mentioning was. He was so happy he almost turned green. Think about how long it's been since he had a proper conversation with anyone."
By the time Tony hurled his water glass, Lynn had already finished tracing a portal with a smile. The glass passed through the closing orange sparks and struck the banister with a clatter, rolled twice, and stopped in a corner. Ivan Vanko lifted his head from behind his notebook, glanced at the glass that was still spinning, then at the empty stairway, muttered something in Russian, and lowered his head to leaf through his arc formulas again.
The next morning, New Mexico sunshine filtered through the gaps in the blinds, slicing the entire bar counter into alternating stripes of light and shadow. Lynn sat in a corner by the wall, a glass of beer with a little less than half gone in front of him. His reason for choosing this bar was simple... it was neither too close to nor too far from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s restricted zone, just within a distance Coulson could quickly cover, yet outside the sensitive surveillance radius.
The bar owner was a middle-aged man with a full beard, wiping glasses at the other end of the counter and occasionally glancing Lynn's way. There were few customers in the morning to begin with. In the corner, only a hungover old man in work clothes quietly leafed through a newspaper, a glass of ice water beside him. Lynn called Coulson.
"Mr. Lynn." Coulson answered even faster than he had on their previous call. Truck engines and clanging metal still sounded in the background. "Have you arrived? If you need someone to meet you, I can send someone to..."
"No need. I'm at a bar not far from your restricted zone. I just sent the address to your phone." Lynn moved his beer aside and lightly tapped the table twice. "Come over. There are a few things I'd like to talk to you about."
There was a pause on the other end. "What can't we discuss at camp? We're very busy here right now. That hammer..."
Lynn's tone wasn't particularly serious, but there wasn't a hint of joking in it either. "You'll know when you get here. If you want to know the story behind the hammer, I can tell you about that too."
Coulson fell silent for a moment. "All right. I got the address. I'll be there within fifteen minutes."
"Don't hang up yet." Lynn picked up his beer and took another sip. "Are you allowed to drink on duty?"
"...No."
"All right, I'll order you some juice, then." Lynn gestured toward the other end of the counter. Understanding immediately, the owner poured a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and set it on the table at the empty seat opposite Lynn. "Get here soon. The juice won't stay cold forever."
Coulson asked no further questions.
But he hung up more briskly than usual. He had probably already started heading over.
Before Lynn had finished his beer, the bar door swung open. Coulson strode inside, his suit jacket neatly buttoned, though his tie was slightly crooked and the New Mexico wind had left his hair a little disheveled. Still, he wore his usual gentle smile.
"Mr. Lynn." Coulson sat down across from Lynn, glanced at the juice in front of him that was no longer particularly cold, picked it up and took a sip, then set it down and folded his hands on the table. "What can't we discuss at camp? The higher-ups are pressing hard. Right now, I wish I could split every minute in two. You know about that hammer. It's just sitting there, and nobody can lift it. Right now, I..."
"Coulson." Lynn interrupted him, his tone calm but not dismissive.
"Take a moment first." Lynn pushed the juice in front of Coulson a little closer to him. "I have all the answers you want. But there are some things I'd like to discuss with you first."
Coulson stopped speaking and looked at the young man across from him. Having dealt with countless people, the agent could tell there wasn't a trace of joking on Lynn's face.
Coulson stared at Lynn for a few seconds, then raised a hand to his earpiece and instructed the agents outside to clear the bar and stand by outside. As he lowered his hand, Lynn was raising his beer to him in a toast.
"Booking the whole place outright. You really are efficient," Lynn said.
The bar owner had no objections when notified that the place was being cleared. Business was slow in the morning anyway, and having someone book the whole place saved him trouble. He brought over the two more beers Lynn had ordered and set another glass of juice in front of Coulson, then took a set of keys from behind the counter and flipped the sign to "Closed" on his way out. The old man reading the newspaper in the corner was also politely escorted out by the agents outside, still holding his glass of ice water as he left.
The bar fell quiet. Lynn was in no hurry to speak. He closed his eyes and spread his perception outward at an extremely low energy cost, like a silver mist so faint it was almost invisible, flowing slowly along the walls, ceiling, and gaps around the legs of the tables and chairs. There was no electrical feedback from surveillance equipment, no signal frequencies from listening devices. Coulson's suit pockets held only a standard communications earpiece and a S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued work phone. Both were on standby, with neither actively transmitting.
He withdrew his perception and opened his eyes.
"Well?" Coulson asked.
"All clear." Lynn picked up his beer and shifted his chair back slightly, settling into a more comfortable position. "Coulson, I came to see you about three things. All of them are matters of life and death."
Coulson pushed his juice aside and leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped on the table. He didn't urge him on, merely watched Lynn quietly with eyes honed by decades as an agent.
"Which would you like to hear first? A warning beforehand, though: the smaller matter will happen first, and you have the authority to keep the damage to a minimum. The medium one won't happen for a while, but it will overturn your understanding of things. As for the big one, at the rate things are developing, it'll come within a month or two. But there will be thousands upon thousands of casualties."
At the mention of thousands upon thousands of casualties, Coulson's previously relaxed fingers instantly tightened, and his gaze sharpened. As a veteran S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he had an instinctive alertness to disasters on that scale. He looked down at his folded hands, then back up at Lynn. He thought for a moment before speaking.
"Start with the one I have the authority to handle," he said, his tone regaining an agent's calm and precision. "From what you're saying, this has something to do with that hammer out there, correct?"
"Correct," Lynn said.