Disguises and Deals

New York in the early morning always carried the weariness of a hangover that had yet to fade.

For most people, the explosions and gunfire in the suburbs last night amounted to nothing more than a casually mentioned "gas leak" on the morning news.

In an age when superheroes filled the skies and aliens occasionally paid a visit, the citizens' nerves had long since been forged into steel.

But to Zhao Fan, the sunlight that morning was so dazzling it felt almost unreal.

He woke on his apartment bed, which was as hard as a stone slab, every bone protesting and every muscle aching.

It was the aftermath of overusing [Kinetic Repulsion]-although his stamina on the system panel had climbed out of the red danger zone, it still hovered near the low yellow warning line.

But he had survived.

Not only had he survived, he had brought back enough wealth to change his fate.

Zhao Fan pulled the burner phone from beneath his pillow, deftly removed the back cover, took out the battery and SIM card, snapped them in half, then went into the bathroom, tossed them into the toilet, and flushed.

As the water swirled, the last physical link to his deal with "Shadow" disappeared.

"It's over."

Zhao Fan looked at himself in the mirror. After a night's rest, yesterday's viciousness had retreated deep into his eyes. He was once again the somewhat malnourished-looking, taciturn young Chinese American, employee number 9763, who could be replaced at any moment at D.O.D.C.

Throughout that chaotic battle, he had worn a specially made mask that not only concealed his face but also screened out most of his biometric features.

The tactical camouflage suit he had worn was unbranded gear from the black market. Afterward, he had burned it to ashes and washed them away through the wastewater flowing into the Hudson River.

As for Kestrel... that proud hunter probably would not admit he had been driven back by a nobody, much less broadcast it to the world.

Except for that drop of blood.

Zhao Fan unconsciously touched his shoulder blade, where Kestrel had badly wounded him. The wound had already scabbed over.

The bone-chilling touch of cold water eased Zhao Fan's nerves a little, but the eyes in the mirror remained utterly still.

"Signs of exposure have already surfaced. That woman Evelyn is no pushover." Zhao Fan wiped the cold water from his face. "But D.O.D.C.'s official status and supply channels are too rare-legitimate access to salvaged materials in broad daylight. There isn't another route like it in all of Hell's Kitchen. It's worth the gamble."

His fingers curled into a fist, the muscles beneath his sleeve tightening slightly.

"If it really comes to a falling-out... if I want to leave, probably no one can stop me."

Light flashed deep across his retinas, and the repulsion field that had blasted Kestrel away last night erupted into a wave of heat in his memory.

His gaze swept over the backpack in the corner-inside were three smoke grenades containing special metal powder and a black metal card printed with the coordinates of the Wreckage bar.

He changed into his faded D.O.D.C. work clothes, deliberately rubbing a little dust onto the knees and elbows to make himself look more like a bottom-rung laborer heading out for hard labor.

As he left the apartment building, he ran into Maya.

The young artist was struggling to drag a huge cardboard box upstairs, filled with all sorts of things she had picked up at the morning market.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Zhao Fan, and that pure delight warmed his heart.

"Morning, Zhao!" Maya wiped the sweat from her forehead. "You left the party so early last night. Everyone was asking about you."

"Sorry, I suddenly remembered something urgent." Zhao Fan lied without blushing or missing a beat. "Besides, I'm not really used to lively gatherings like that."

"It's fine. I know you work hard." Maya nodded understandingly, then leaned closer with a conspiratorial air. "Oh, did you see the news? Things apparently got pretty bad over in the industrial district last night. Even D.O.D.C.'s special response team was deployed. Are you going to be working there? Please be careful."

Looking at her concerned eyes, Zhao Fan felt a faint tremor in his heart.

"Don't worry. I only handle cleanup around the perimeter. Dangerous places like that aren't for me." Zhao Fan smiled, and the smile was sincere. "That sculpture... really is wonderful. I believe you'll succeed."

"Here's hoping!"

After saying goodbye to Maya, Zhao Fan boarded the commuter bus bound for the Queens camp.

Most of the workers were dozing or quietly complaining about rising prices. No one discussed last night's battle. At their level, the less they knew, the longer they lived.

When he reached the camp, however, the atmosphere felt subtly different.

The normally chaotic assembly square was unusually quiet today. Several SUVs were parked beside the command tent, high-end vehicles belonging to the technical research team. The Stark Industries logos on their bodies stood out glaringly in the morning light.

A group of special response soldiers in full exoskeleton armor patrolled the area, their energy rifles ready to fire as their gazes swept over every cleanup worker entering the grounds.

"Isn't this a little excessive...?"

Fat Benjamin appeared from somewhere and sidled up to Zhao Fan, his voice lowered to a near whisper with a trace of a tremble. "Brother Zhao, look at this... that she-devil Evelyn is really furious today. I heard they arrested plenty of people last night. Even a few of Rick's men were taken away."

Zhao Fan's expression did not change. He maintained that same numb look, as though none of this concerned him. "Who did they arrest? What about Rick?"

"Rick got lucky. Apparently someone knocked him out in the ruins last night. Apart from a few broken bones and a concussion, he actually escaped the worst of it." Ben pushed up his glasses. "His lackeys weren't so lucky, though. I heard a drone caught them while they were retreating... anyway, the higher-ups are investigating hard now. They say they're rooting out a mole."

"A mole?" Something stirred in Zhao Fan's mind.

"Yeah. They suspect someone leaked information about the restricted zone." Ben shrank back. "Good thing I cleaned up properly last night and blew up the jump server. Otherwise, I'd be in an interrogation room right now."

"Good work." Zhao Fan patted Ben's shoulder, applying a little pressure. "As long as we don't panic, no one can trace it to us. We had perfect alibis last night."

Yes, alibis.

Before last night's operation, Ben had exploited a system vulnerability to fabricate perfect overtime records for Zhao Fan and Old Dog-they had worked in another low-risk area until the early hours. Such electronic records might not withstand close scrutiny from an expert of Evelyn's caliber, but amid the chaos of a large-scale investigation, they were enough.

"Well, if it isn't our 'lucky star'?"

A sarcastic voice reached them.

Zhao Fan turned and saw Old Dog.

The old fellow actually looked refreshed today. Although he still had trouble getting around, his deeply wrinkled face glowed-clearly, last night's twenty thousand dollars had bought him a comfortable evening. He had changed into brand-new work clothes and even held a bottle of premium beer, a luxury that would once have been unthinkable.

"Keep a low profile." Zhao Fan walked over and warned him in a low voice. "Are you afraid people won't know you've come into money?"

"What's there to be afraid of?" Old Dog took a careless sip of coffee. "I've worked half my life. Can't I enjoy myself a little? Besides, I'll just say I won it betting on horses. Who can prove otherwise?"

Despite his words, Old Dog sheepishly reined himself in when he met Zhao Fan's gaze. He glanced at the heavily armed soldiers around them, fear still flickering deep in his eyes.

"Seriously, kid... this setup is pretty scary." Old Dog leaned closer. "I heard down there last night... it was practically a meat grinder. It's God's blessing that we made it out in one piece."

"That's in the past." Zhao Fan cut him off. "Right now, we're just ordinary cleanup workers. Remember that."

Just then, the loudspeakers in the square crackled to life.

"Attention, all personnel! Employee number 9763, Zhao Fan; employee number 7541, Jose Rodriguez. Report immediately to Administration Building Three. I repeat..." The voice over the broadcast was cold, mechanical, and utterly devoid of emotion.

The entire square instantly fell silent. Hundreds of eyes swung toward Zhao Fan and Old Dog. Some held sympathy, others delight in their misfortune, but most held the knowing look of people thinking, "This unlucky bastard is finally finished."

At this camp, being summoned to the administration building over the loudspeaker usually led to one of two outcomes: dismissal or detention for questioning. On this particular morning, everyone leaned toward the latter.

Benjamin went deathly pale. He instinctively looked at Zhao Fan, his lips trembling as he tried to say something.

Zhao Fan gave him a look, signaling him to keep quiet and step back. At a time like this, any unnecessary exchange could become a flaw in their cover.

Old Dog's hand shook, spilling beer onto his brand-new work clothes.

"We're finished..." Despair filled Old Dog's voice. "They found out! I knew it! I knew they wouldn't be that easy to fool!"

"Shut up, Jose."

Zhao Fan's voice remained calm, but he spoke rapidly, quietly enough that only Old Dog could hear. "If they'd really discovered anything, it wouldn't be an announcement. Those special response soldiers over there would already have us pinned to the ground. Don't panic. Stick to the script."

With that, Zhao Fan took the lead toward the administration building.

His steps were steady, without a hint of panic, but beneath his sleeve, where no one could see, his fingers had quietly reached for the hidden compartment at his waist.

If this really is a dead end...

Then I'll just have to kill my way out.

Administration Building Three had originally been the industrial park's office building. It had now been requisitioned as D.O.D.C.'s temporary command center.

Inside, the floor shone like a mirror, even reflecting the mud spots on Zhao Fan's trouser legs.

The stark contrast in surroundings silently proclaimed the class divide here.

After passing through a long corridor, Zhao Fan and Old Dog were brought to a conference room. The administrative staff member guiding them knocked, then gestured for them to enter.

When he pushed open the door, the first thing Zhao Fan sensed was not oppressive pressure but an almost obsessive sense of order.

The conference room was large, but it held only one table, with a woman seated behind it.

She wore a white coat over dark business attire, her blonde hair pinned up behind her head. Wearing glasses, she focused on the waterfall of data flowing across the holographic screen before her.

Dr. Evelyn Reed.

This was Zhao Fan's first time observing the person Benjamin called the "she-devil" at such close range. She was beautiful, but her beauty possessed the sharpness and chill of a scalpel. She looked less as though she were studying data than dissecting some organism.

Hearing the door open, Evelyn looked up.

Her gaze settled on Zhao Fan. It was like observing an interesting specimen under a microscope.

"Zhao Fan, Jose."

She spoke, her voice cool and clear, betraying neither pleasure nor anger. "Please, sit."

Old Dog nervously pulled out a chair and sat with only half his backside touching the seat. Zhao Fan appeared much more composed. Before sitting, he even deliberately brushed the dust off his trousers, as though trying not to dirty the expensive chair.

A flicker of amusement crossed Evelyn's eyes at that small gesture.

"Do you know why I called you here?" Evelyn switched off the holographic screen and laced her fingers on the table.

"No, ma'am." Old Dog rushed to answer, his voice trembling slightly. "If it's about yesterday's security scanner malfunction, I swear it really was an accident! I'm willing to pay for it..."

"The security scanner?" Evelyn seemed briefly taken aback before a faintly mocking expression appeared. "Oh, that. The little incident where improper operation caused a dust leak? Security has already handled it. It was an aging equipment issue. It had nothing to do with you."

Old Dog let out a sharp breath of relief and slumped into his chair like a deflated balloon. "That's good... that's good..."

But Zhao Fan's heart tightened.

If it isn't about that, then what is it about?

Evelyn's gaze shifted away from Old Dog and focused once more on Zhao Fan's face.

"I read your files," she said slowly. "Yours in particular, Zhao Fan. You joined D.O.D.C. three months ago. Before that, you were an ordinary office clerk. After the Battle of New York, you lost your job and home and became one of the first externally hired cleanup workers."

"Yes, Doctor," Zhao Fan replied, neither servile nor overbearing.

"But your performance over these three months has been... unusual." Evelyn pulled a sheet of paper from a stack of documents on the table. "The areas you helped clear had an accident rate forty percent below average, yet recovery efficiency was twenty percent higher. Especially during several sudden collapses and secondary energy eruptions, you always survived unscathed, and even managed to save your partner."

She paused and leaned forward slightly, her gray-blue eyes fixed on Zhao Fan. "Some call that luck. But in science, luck is merely a probabilistic advantage that has yet to be analyzed."

"I just value my life." Zhao Fan's palms had begun to sweat slightly. "In the ruins, you can never be too careful."

"You value your life? An excellent quality."

Evelyn suddenly smiled, but it sent a chill down Zhao Fan's spine.

"Last night, a very interesting... gathering took place beneath the industrial park," she said unhurriedly. "A few ignorant thieves tried to take things that didn't belong to them. The outcome was gruesome. Most of them died or were captured."

Zhao Fan's heartbeat remained steady, but only because he forcibly controlled it.

"However," Evelyn shifted her tone, "the scene investigation indicated that one... or rather, two 'survivors' successfully escaped multiple layers of encirclement. Not only did they evade all surveillance, they even disposed of several security robots along the way."

She took a photograph from beneath the documents.

It was a high-resolution photograph of the scene. On a wall riddled with bullet holes and laser burns, a hydraulic line had been severed by a sharp weapon.

"This cut is extremely precise, extremely... decisive." Evelyn pointed to it. "This isn't something those scavengers wielding sledgehammers and chainsaws could do. It requires exceptional judgment and execution."

Zhao Fan remained silent. He knew he had left that cut while evading the robots' attacks.

"Ma'am, are you accusing us?" Zhao Fan met her gaze, even adding just the right amount of anger. "We spent all last night working overtime in Zone C. The surveillance footage and clock-in records there can prove it."

"Of course. You have perfect 'alibis,'" Evelyn said casually. "That technician named Benjamin does have a little cleverness. His masking code was beautifully written. It even fooled those incompetents in Security."

Zhao Fan's pupils abruptly contracted.

She knew! She even knew about Benjamin!

In that instant, Zhao Fan nearly sprang into action. His muscles tensed, and the energy hidden within his body began to surge. At this distance, even if she had agents beside her, Zhao Fan was confident he could take her hostage within two seconds.

"Don't be nervous."

As though she had seen through his thoughts, Evelyn gently raised a hand and pressed it downward.

"If I were here to arrest you, the people sitting before you wouldn't be me. They'd be Federal Bureau of Investigation agents, or those humorless agents from S.H.I.E.L.D."

She stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, turning her back on them.

"D.O.D.C. is in an awkward position right now." Her voice grew somewhat distant. "Although it was jointly founded by the federal government and Stark Industries, there are too many interests involved and too many complicated relationships. Many people resent D.O.D.C. recovering this precious alien technology. Pressure is coming from all sides, and work in many areas is difficult to carry out. For now, Stark Industries is also waiting and watching. And this city... is full of 'rats' like you, trying to steal dangerous things from the ruins. Ordinary security measures are no longer enough."

She turned around, standing against the light, making her look like a silhouette holding the power of life and death.

"What I need isn't soldiers who only follow orders, or fools who only write reports. I need genuinely useful talent. People who can survive in the ruins, who possess keen instincts, and even... a little special ability."

She walked up to Zhao Fan and looked down at him.

"Zhao Fan, I don't care what you did down there last night, or what you took. Those things are secondary to me."

"What interests me is you as a 'person.'"

She picked up two documents from the table and tossed them in front of the two men.

They were not arrest warrants.

They were contracts. D.O.D.C.'s gold emblem was printed on the cover, with a conspicuous line of bold black text beneath it:

Special Cleanup Unit (S.C.U.) Employment Agreement

"Congratulations." A trace of a victor's smile touched Evelyn's lips. "You've been promoted."

"This is..." Old Dog picked up the document with trembling hands, unable to believe his eyes. "Permanent positions? Double pay? And... full medical insurance?!"

For Old Dog, this was more than a job. It was the chance to "make it ashore" that he had dreamed of, yet had never dared imagine he could have in his lifetime.

But Zhao Fan did not look at the tempting contract. He looked at Evelyn. What he saw in her eyes was not appreciation, but a kind of... look a hunter gave prey caught in a trap.

"This is both an opportunity and an order," Evelyn added. "Starting today, you are no longer temporary outside hires. You will report directly to me and handle more dangerous special assignments that regular cleanup teams cannot manage."

"Of course, if you refuse..." She shrugged. "Then I can only have Security reexamine last night's data. I'm sure that, if they look carefully, they'll find some evidence of 'falsifying records' or 'theft of public property.' Wouldn't you agree?"

It was an overt scheme.

Either accept recruitment, put on these golden handcuffs, and become her guinea pigs and pawns, or refuse and immediately face imprisonment, perhaps even secret disposal.

Zhao Fan looked at the contract on the table, then at Old Dog beside him, ecstatic yet too frightened to show it.

He had no choice.

"Thank you for recognizing our worth, Doctor."

Zhao Fan slowly stood and picked up the contract. His face assumed the grateful expression expected of a subordinate toward a superior.

"We accept."

"Very good." Evelyn seemed to have anticipated this outcome. She pressed a button on the table.

"Now that we're on the same side, let's finish your onboarding first. There's some 'equipment' you need to put on right away."

The door opened.

Two technicians in white coats entered, pushing a small cart. On it sat two silver metal cases.

A powerful sense of unease rose within Zhao Fan.

"What's this?" Old Dog asked with some curiosity.

The technicians opened the cases. Inside were neither weapons nor badges.

Instead, there were two black metal wristbands with a distinctly high-tech appearance. Dozens of tiny probes and sensors densely lined their inner surfaces.

"The latest model of vital signs monitoring wristband," Evelyn introduced with a smile. "Stark Industries designed these specifically for personnel performing high-risk work. They can monitor your heart rate, blood pressure, hormone levels, and even... the energy radiation index inside your bodies in real time. There are more functions, but I won't introduce them one by one."

"For your safety, wearing them is mandatory."

She picked up one of the wristbands and walked up to Zhao Fan.

"Hold out your hand."

Zhao Fan looked at the bracelet that resembled a shackle. He knew this was not meant to protect them at all. It was a monitor, a round-the-clock mobile laboratory. Once he put it on, he would have no secrets left before Evelyn. Every heartbeat, every fluctuation of energy when he used his system abilities, would be displayed on her screen without reservation.

That was her purpose.

She had not captured him outright because she wanted to turn Zhao Fan into a living experiment, observing his evolution and uncovering his secrets in a "natural" state.

"Don't look at me like that. Compared to monitoring you from the shadows, I've already shown considerable sincerity. I think sincerity should be mutual. What do you think?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her gaze probing.

Zhao Fan took a deep breath.

He held out his hand.

"No problem, Doctor."

"Click."

The cold metal band snapped around his wrist. Its dozens of probes instantly pierced his skin, plunged into the dermis, then retracted.

[Authentication successful. Welcome, Zhao Fan!]