Choosing the team members

Morning arrived without a sound on the third basement level-or rather, there was no morning here at all.

When Zhao Fan woke, the view beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was a mist-shrouded redwood forest. Dawn light pierced the canopy and fell over dew-covered ferns. A few unidentified birds skimmed the treetops, and he could even hear their clear calls.

The image was absurdly lifelike. Its full 8K resolution was enough to fool human retinas, but it could not fool Zhao Fan's current senses.

He lay in the bed, which was big enough for three people, in no hurry to get up. Slowly, he raised his right hand and loosely clenched it before his eyes.

"Crack... crack."

A string of crisp pops burst from his knuckles.

After yesterday's modifications, which had been called an "onboarding physical" but were actually an "Improved Extremis Virus injection," his body had undergone some strange changes. A sense of strength filled him so completely that he almost felt swollen.

He felt he could now crush a red brick with his bare hand.

[Constitution: excellent (surpassed 95% of human individuals)]

[Energy conduction efficiency: increased by 40%]

[Current status: adaptation period (mild rejection neutralized)]

Several pale blue system notifications flashed across his retinas. Zhao Fan closed his eyes, feeling the strength within his body.

Was this what "making it ashore" felt like?

He rolled out of bed, stepped barefoot onto the carpet, pushed open the bedroom door, and walked into the spacious shared living room.

The sight in the living room made him pause briefly.

Old Dog was sprawled on the couch in a bathrobe-clearly one Stark Industries provided for distinguished guests. He held a steaming cup of espresso in one hand and a freshly baked croissant in the other.

Hearing footsteps, Old Dog turned his head. An indulgent, faintly comical smile appeared on his deeply wrinkled face.

"Hey, our 'super soldier' is awake?" Old Dog bit into the croissant. Crumbs fell onto his bathrobe, and he brushed them off without concern. "Fan, I have to say, these sugar-coated bullets taste pretty good. That bed was as soft as a woman's... ahem, as a cloud. My old back didn't hurt once all night."

Zhao Fan walked to the bar, poured himself a glass of water, and leaned against the cabinet as he looked at Old Dog. "I thought you'd have trouble getting used to this."

"I do." Old Dog sighed and set down his coffee cup, something complicated flashing through his eyes. "It's too quiet. No rats squeaking, no drunk next door cursing while he beats his wife, no sirens. I couldn't sleep at all for the first half of the night. Only after I set that smart speaker to 'New York subway ambience' did I manage to catch a little shut-eye."

Zhao Fan smiled. Jose was a weed from the ruins, suddenly transplanted into a greenhouse. Comfortable as it was, he still felt as though the ground beneath his roots was unsteady.

"Enjoy it, Old Dog." Zhao Fan drained his glass. "We risked our lives for this."

"Our lives?" Old Dog snorted and pointed at the ring of red marks around his neck-left by yesterday's physical. "Our lives are D.O.D.C. assets now. Oh, right, that lady doctor said she'd come this morning. You ready?"

Barely had he finished speaking when the doorbell rang abruptly.

Zhao Fan and Old Dog exchanged a look, the ease in their eyes vanishing instantly. Zhao Fan put down his glass; Old Dog quickly composed his expression, vigilance already returning to his cloudy eyes.

"Looks like the boss is here."

Zhao Fan walked to the door, glanced at the video intercom screen on the wall, and pressed the release.

The metal door slid open. Dr. Evelyn Reed stood outside.

She had changed her outfit today. Though she still wore her signature white lab coat, the shirt underneath was now a deep burgundy, with an exquisite silver brooch pinned to the collar. She looked more aggressive than yesterday. Behind her, there were no security officers, only a recording device hovering along after her.

"Good morning, you two." Evelyn walked into the living room, her high heels striking the floor with crisp clicks and an unquestionable rhythm. "You seem to be settling in well."

Her gaze swept over Zhao Fan from head to toe in an instant, like a pair of scalpels.

"I reviewed last night's data." Evelyn dispensed with pleasantries and walked straight to the holographic projection table. With a tap in midair, dense streams of data instantly filled the living room. "Zhao Fan, your body's absorption rate for the serum was 98.7%. That's nothing short of a miracle. Ordinarily, even rigorously trained special forces soldiers struggle to exceed 80%."

She turned around, a fanatical light shining in her gray-blue eyes. "Right now, you're like a machine that has just finished being broken in."

"I feel pretty good, too." Zhao Fan flexed his wrists, producing crisp cracks. "But I imagine you didn't come here first thing in the morning to compliment me, Doctor."

"Of course not." Evelyn adjusted her glasses, her gaze shifting between Zhao Fan and Old Dog. "S.C.U., the Special Resources Recovery Unit, was officially established yesterday. Zhao Fan is the field captain, responsible for decisions and combat; Mr. Jose is the survival consultant, providing experience-based support. But I've read your files. Your current setup is still missing a leg."

Old Dog frowned and put down his croissant. "Missing a leg? Looks to me like the captain's legs are strong enough to kick a cow to death."

"Information." Ignoring Old Dog's wisecrack, Evelyn brought up several complex underground utility maps and encrypted data streams. "S.C.U.'s targets aren't scraps anyone can pick up. They're the 'problems' conventional cleanup crews can't handle. That often means complex electronic locks, encrypted coordinates, and even remnants of Stark technology with self-destruct programs. Of the two of you, one is muscle, and the other is a guide who doubles as muscle. Who's going to handle these?"

She looked at Zhao Fan. "I originally intended to transfer two top MIT graduates from the technical department to your team. But I'm guessing Captain Zhao wouldn't care for bookworms who only know theory?"

Something stirred in Zhao Fan's mind. This woman really was clever. She knew how to control people, and she knew how to give her subordinates "autonomy."

"You guessed right, Doctor." Zhao Fan walked to the holographic table and looked at the blinking data points. "I don't want your people. Not just because they're delicate, but because I don't trust them."

"Do you have someone in mind, then?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Down here on the third basement level, transferring anyone other than the cleaning ladies requires authorization."

"No transfer needed. He's right upstairs." Zhao Fan swiped across the holographic table and brought up D.O.D.C.'s personnel database for outside contractors.

He deftly entered an employee number.

A youthful-looking round face wearing black-framed glasses appeared on the screen. The person in the photo smiled stiffly, looking like a fresh college graduate.

"Employee number 9801, Benjamin Lee." Zhao Fan pointed at the photo. "Everyone calls him 'Fat Ben.'"

"He hacked into your backend system and switched the 'cushy assignment' that originally belonged to Rick over to me. And your cybersecurity department still hasn't caught him."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes, her tone turning dangerous. "You're saying he hacked into our assignment allocation system?"

"Don't look at me like that, Doctor." Zhao Fan spread his hands. "Without him, I wouldn't have had a chance to prove my worth. This kid's technique is rough, but he has an instinct your academics lack. He once cobbled together a signal jammer from scrapped motherboards in a junk heap. We need someone like that. Someone who knows how to solve problems."

Evelyn fell silent for a moment and reassessed Zhao Fan. He was building his own team, even exposing Benjamin's secret to secure his "ticket in." She had known about Benjamin's intrusion all along, and technically speaking, hacking a peripheral assignment allocation system was hardly much of a feat. She had merely used it as a pretext to apply pressure, but it seemed that pressure had not been particularly effective.

"Very interesting." Evelyn suddenly smiled, with less contempt and more curiosity. "You seem very confident in him."

She raised her wrist and spoke into her communicator. "Security, go to Cleanup Zone Three. Bring employee number 9801, Benjamin Lee, here. Immediately."

"Don't be too rough," Zhao Fan added. "He's timid. Don't scare him out of his wits. That brain of his is an important asset of mine now."

Evelyn switched off the communicator and looked at Zhao Fan with a faint, ambiguous smile. "Since he's someone S.C.U. wants, naturally we should invite him in a 'special' way. Consider it a little... test of his psychological resilience."

Aboveground, Queens, D.O.D.C.'s temporary office area for outside contractors.

The air here was as foul as ever, thick with dust and the smell of diesel. Huge exhaust fans rumbled, yet could not draw away that suffocating sense of oppression.

Benjamin Lee was huddled in a cramped corner, frantically hammering at the keyboard of the brand-new laptop Zhao Fan had provided.

Cold sweat covered his forehead, and his round face had turned a liver-red shade from nerves. His black-framed glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose, but he could not spare the attention to push them up.

"Damn it... damn it... why can't I reach them..."

He muttered obsessively under his breath.

Ever since Zhao Fan and Old Dog had been picked up by that high-end black SUV yesterday, they had been completely out of contact. Zhao Fan's phone signal had disappeared, and even Old Dog's antique phone would not connect.

Ben was panicking.

He had watched those two vehicles bearing the "Tech & Research Division" emblem take them away. Here, being taken by the technical department usually meant one of two outcomes: either they had discovered you were a spy, or they were going to turn you into some kind of experimental material.

"Brother Zhao... please, don't die..." Ben's fingers trembled. "If you die, Rick and those bastards will definitely kill me, too."

Yesterday, he had helped Zhao Fan hack the system. Though Zhao Fan had said it was for "a better tomorrow," no matter how Benjamin thought about it, it felt like a one-way ticket to prison.

"Beep beep beep-"

Suddenly, a red warning box popped up on his screen.

[Warning! External connection forcibly blocked! Location locked!]

Benjamin's heart clenched. He had just tried to use this lousy computer to ping the signal from the communicator Zhao Fan carried, only to hit what felt like an invisible wall. Immediately afterward, he had been traced.

"I'm done, I'm done, I'm done..." Ben's hands shook. "I'm going to get arrested. They'll send me off for human experimentation, or dump me in Africa to work in a mine..."

He was a tech geek, perhaps a minor tyrant online, but in real life, he was just a fat shut-in who could not even win an argument with a cafeteria lady.

Bang!

The cleanup zone's main doors were suddenly shoved open with brute force.

Two internal affairs security officers in black tactical uniforms, sunglasses, and headsets strode inside. The D.O.D.C. badges on their chests gleamed coldly under the fluorescent lights, and the stun guns at their waists were even more intimidating.

The entire area fell silent in an instant. The normally boisterous workers were now like chickens caught by the neck, each shrinking back for fear of meeting these "black-uniformed dogs" in the eye.

With cold gazes, the two security officers walked slowly inside, scanning the crowd before locking precisely onto Benjamin in the corner.

"Employee number 9801, Benjamin Lee?"

One of the security officers asked coldly, his voice sounding as though it came from an ice cellar.

Ben felt his blood freeze instantly. He tried to stand, but his legs were limp as noodles. He wanted to speak, but it felt as though a wad of cotton had been stuffed down his throat.

"Y-yes... that's me, that's me..." he stammered, his voice as faint as a mosquito. "I... I can explain..."

"Come with us."

Without wasting words, the security officers approached from either side, grabbed him by the arms like a little chick, and dragged him out.

"Wait! What are you doing?! I... I didn't do anything!" Ben finally reacted and began struggling desperately, his feet kicking wildly against the floor as he squealed like a pig being slaughtered. "I only... I only looked at the server logs! I didn't steal any data! Don't arrest me! I'm claustrophobic! I'm not going into a dark cell!"

The surrounding workers watched with sympathy in their eyes, though there was, of course, far more delight in his misfortune.

"Tsk, tsk. What did the fatty do?"

"I knew that kid was up to no good, sneaking around on his computer all day."

"Probably got caught stealing, just like those two yesterday. That's a total party wipe for their trio."

Amid everyone's chatter, Benjamin was dragged out of the office area in despair and shoved into a fully enclosed armored transport.

Bang!

The door slammed shut, and the world plunged into darkness.

Benjamin curled up in a corner, hugging his knees as tears spilled despite himself. He thought of his mother, his collection of limited-edition Captain America figures, and The Legend of Zelda, which he had yet to finish.

"Zhao Fan... you liar... what happened to carrying me to the top...?" he sobbed, a bubble of snot forming at his nose. "Great, now I'm being carried straight into prison..."