Hidden dangers and an art exhibition

The storm in Washington caused only a brief ripple in New York.

For this city, wreckage from the alien fleet still lay scattered in the corners of Queens, and the arguments between gods and monsters on Fifth Avenue felt like yesterday. The collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. was merely another sensational conspiracy theory in the newspapers, something people could brag about knowing in cafés and bars, soon to be replaced by some celebrity scandal.

But for certain people, the world had become entirely different.

One week later, at a newly opened auto repair shop in Queens.

"Seriously, Fan, are you sure we're not on vacation?" Old Dog Jose lay on a brand-new leather sofa, holding a cup of supposedly premium coffee from the Jamaica Blue Mountains and blissfully inhaling the aroma filling the air. "I swear, I've never smelled motor oil this good in my life."

"That's because it's coffee, Old Dog." Benjamin Lee's voice came from a "cockpit" surrounded by more than a dozen holographic screens. He was practically melting into his ergonomic gaming chair. "Besides, our air purification system is on par with what Stark's medical division uses. It can even filter out that stink of socks you haven't washed in a thousand years."

This was S.C.U.'s secret base.

On the surface, it was an utterly ordinary auto repair shop. A few workers recruited from the ranks of "unemployed" D.O.D.C. cleaners even ran a legitimate business out front. But behind the heavy alloy rolling door, thick enough to withstand an antitank rocket, three underground levels had been completely hollowed out and converted into a secret base that would make any intelligence agency envious.

It had a dedicated server room connected directly to Stark Industries' satellite network; a training room for virtual combat exercises; a small armory neatly stocked with the latest energy weapons Evelyn had approved under the pretext of "legal testing"; and even a kitchen and wine cellar overseen by a chef of three-Michelin-star caliber.

These were promises Evelyn had fulfilled, along with spoils Zhao Fan and the others had collected.

Zhao Fan did not join Old Dog and Ben's bickering. He stood before an enormous floor-to-ceiling one-way window, watching people come and go in the repair shop upstairs. The glass was specially made. From his angle, everything upstairs was clearly visible, and the system could even analyze sounds through faint vibrations; from the outside, it was nothing more than an unremarkable wall.

Over the past week, he had rarely left the base. For one thing, he needed to process and adjust to the enormous changes brought about by his absorption and evolution in Washington. For another, he found himself growing increasingly unaccustomed to the world outside.

Every time he stepped into the sunlight, [Weak Energy Perception] passively fed him enormous amounts of information-the mingled emotional fluctuations of the crowd, the invisible electromagnetic waves emitted by electronic devices, and even the residual energy traces of certain individuals hidden in the city's shadows who possessed "special abilities" like his. This information flooded his brain like a tide, leaving him exhausted and irritable.

He was like someone who had lived in a black-and-white silent film, only to be suddenly thrown into an IMAX theater with surround sound.

"What are you thinking about?" Evelyn's voice suddenly sounded behind him.

She had come in at some point, also carrying a cup of coffee. Her tailored business suit made her look like a queen of Wall Street finance rather than the power behind a secret organization.

"About what we've actually become," Zhao Fan said calmly without turning around. "Heroes? Or just another bunch of lunatics hiding in the shadows, convinced they're doing the right thing?"

"Heroes usually don't end well, Zhao Fan." Evelyn walked over and stood beside him, looking out at the noisy, real world beyond. "Captain America is wanted worldwide, Tony Stark is being questioned by Congress, and Black Widow's whereabouts are unknown. In politicians' mouths, the word 'hero' isn't worth a thing. I prefer our new identity-the necessary evil that maintains order."

Zhao Fan fell silent. He knew Eve had hit the mark; they were no longer cleaners struggling at the bottom, but players preparing to take their seats at the table, their every move capable of making waves. Power was the finest wine, and the deadliest poison.

"There's news about Rumlow." Evelyn changed the subject. "With military support, he's put together a special operations team called 'Rattlesnake,' ostensibly to hunt down Hydra remnants and handle superhuman threats. In reality, he's taking in the Hydra agents who escaped the S.H.I.E.L.D. purge. He's like a tumor, spreading rapidly within the military."

"Those military idiots think they can keep Hydra under control. But he'll come looking for us," Zhao Fan said with certainty. "We're going to seize Hydra's 'inheritance.' He won't let that slide."

"Exactly. That's why I came today-to eliminate a vulnerability for you." As she spoke, Evelyn brought up a holographic projection.

In the projection, a young Chinese American man wearing a faded D.O.D.C. work uniform was clumsily helping a blonde female artist carry an enormous picture frame.

It was Zhao Fan himself, along with Maya.

"Maya Chen, twenty-four, a graduate of the Brooklyn Art Institute, specializing in sculpture and contemporary art. Her parents died when she was young, and she completed her education through scholarships and odd jobs. A simple social circle, with almost no close friends besides you." Evelyn's voice was as calm as if she were reading an autopsy report. "She's very talented, but also very naive. Zhao Fan, she's your weakness."

Zhao Fan's gaze instantly turned icy. He slowly turned his head and stared at Evelyn. "You investigated her?"

"Not just her. I investigated every one of your neighbors, every job you've ever worked, even the owner of your favorite pizza place in Queens." Evelyn met his gaze without fear. "I have to know whether the 'sword' in my hand has any chips that might hurt me. And this girl may be your biggest chip."

"If Rumlow, or anyone else, finds out about your relationship with her, what do you think they'll do?"

Zhao Fan said nothing, but the temperature in the air seemed to rise several degrees. The extremis virus energy inside him began faintly surging with his fluctuating emotions.

"Don't look at me like that." Evelyn seemed not to notice at all. She sipped her coffee. "I'm not your enemy. Quite the opposite, I'm here to help you solve this problem. After D.O.D.C.'s restructuring, it needs a new public image. We need to shake off that old stereotype of being 'S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cleaners.' We need to show the public a more... 'friendly' face."

"So?"

"So I've established a new department-the Department of Public Relations and Publicity." A playful smile curled Evelyn's lips. "That department needs a director. Someone talented, with a clean background, who came from the bottom, presents well, and can connect with our 'core principles.' Someone who can use art and creativity to package the work of us 'Scavengers.'"

Zhao Fan immediately understood her intent.

"You want Maya to work for D.O.D.C.?"

"Not 'want.' 'Invite,'" Evelyn corrected. "We'll hold a young artists' competition under the name of the Postwar Urban Reconstruction Art Fund. And the brilliantly talented Miss Maya will be its most dazzling dark horse. She'll win a generous cash prize, along with an employment contract as director of D.O.D.C.'s publicity department. A well-paid job with top-tier benefits and security, where she can put her talents to full use."

"She'll move into the secure apartments D.O.D.C. provides for senior employees, with our people protecting her around the clock. She'll think she earned all of it through her talent. She'll have a bright future, far from the filthy streets and potential dangers of Queens." Evelyn looked at Zhao Fan. "And you'll have patched your vulnerability. Two birds with one stone."

It was a perfect plan, so perfect it sent a chill down his spine.

It meant Zhao Fan would completely sever his connection to his former ordinary identity. It also meant he would use a carefully woven lie to draw Maya into his dangerous world, even if only its fringes.

He would protect her, but the price would be a piece of the "truth" in her uncomplicated life.

"How do you know she'll accept?" Zhao Fan asked.

"Because you understand her talent, and I understand her pride," Evelyn said. "What a true artist wants most is a stage where she can shine. And right now, we happen to have the means to build one for her."

Zhao Fan fell silent again. He walked to the bar, poured himself a glass of strong whiskey, and drained it. The fiery liquid burned his throat, but it brought a little calm to his chaotic heart.

Evelyn was right. This was not an optional question, but a compulsory one. As he kept climbing higher, he could not expect the people he treasured to remain where they were, safe and sound. Either he actively brought them beneath the wings of his protection, or he waited for his enemies to turn them into weapons against him.

"All right." Zhao Fan finally nodded, his voice somewhat hoarse. "You handle this. I won't get involved in person."

"A wise decision." Evelyn gave a satisfied smile. "I'll start making arrangements when I get back."

She set her coffee cup on the table and turned to leave.

"Evelyn." Zhao Fan suddenly stopped her.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Evelyn paused. She did not turn around; only the corners of her lips lifted slightly, and a rare hint of ease entered her voice.

"You're welcome, Zhao. Protecting you also means protecting my private property."

With that, she left the room, leaving Zhao Fan with a complicated yet warm dilemma. He looked out at the city that was still striving to carry on, and for the first time felt so deeply that the price of power was not merely blood and soul, but also the course of the lives of those around him.

And all he could do was keep growing stronger-strong enough to make that price worthwhile.