Twelve hours after the Queens incident.
The night was as dark as ink.
A drizzling autumn rain began to wash over the streets of New York, as well as the dark secrets hidden within its sewers.
Raindrops tapped against the glass, refracting blurred halos under the neon lights of the bustling metropolis.
Yet, there were always places in this world that neither sunlight nor rain could ever penetrate.
SHIELD, Triskelion Headquarters, Strategic Operations Center.
Inside the massive circular room, only streams of data drifted silently across the screens.
Nick Fury stood alone in the dark, his single eye fixed on the face of an East Asian youth on the central screen, as if trying to pierce through the soul behind the arrangement of pixels.
Leon Hall.
“Hill, report,” Fury’s voice was low and raspy, echoing in the empty operations center.
“Sir, the conclusion is just as troublesome as Coulson’s field report.” Maria Hill’s figure appeared on the communication screen, the busy data analysis room serving as her background.
“At the core of the incident, the engineering robot from Stark Industries released a burst of intense light energy that was highly unusual.
It was more like the entire energy of an Arc Reactor being dumped at once through some kind of lens technology.
Our analysts believe this violates the known laws of conservation of energy.”
Fury tapped his fingers rhythmically against the armrest.
“The key isn’t Stark, it’s the boy.
Tech going out of control can be predicted, but the human heart cannot.”
“Yes, Sir.” Hill immediately pulled up another file.
“Background check: Target Leon Hall, Chinese-American, parents were first-generation immigrants, deceased.
He has a complete educational record, graduated from Columbia University with a degree in history, and has a clean record.
However, about three weeks ago, his life trajectory and behavioral model suddenly took a 180-degree turn.
He cut off contact with all his friends, and then appeared under the Brooklyn Bridge as the ‘One-Dollar Seer.’ His behavioral patterns became completely different from his past records.”
Hill’s tone became exceptionally grave.
“We verified every ‘client’ we could find, including tourists looking for fun and desperate homeless people.
The conclusion we reached is—his divination accuracy is an astonishing 100%.”
Fury’s single eye narrowed slightly.
A seer who could predict the future with 100% accuracy meant that the world’s most secure encrypted communications were virtually nonexistent before him, and the most meticulous strategic deployments were nothing but child’s play.
This in itself was more threatening than any off-the-charts energy reading.
“Place this individual on the Level 8 security watch list.” Fury’s voice carried no emotion; it was an extremely high level of internal security clearance.
“Formally open a case.
Codename—’Seer’.”
“Inform Natasha that her vacation in Budapest is over.
“Understood, Sir.”
At the same time, Stark Industries, CEO’s Office.
Ever since Tony Stark’s disappearance, Obadiah Stane had occupied this place as the interim CEO.
Behind the priceless mahogany desk stood floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the entire Manhattan nightscape.
Right now, the face of this kindly-looking “Uncle Obie” was even colder than the autumn rain outside.
His private investigator had just sent an urgent report—Tony had actually made close contact with that street seer under the Brooklyn Bridge who had risen to fame with his “100% accuracy” claim.
What’s more, the incident in Queens was resolved by Tony himself, specifically with that seer’s intervention!
Obadiah’s panic did not stem from any specific prophecy, but from the fact that an unpredictable, goddamned variable had been thrown into his meticulous plans!
He had spent his entire life calculating; what he hated most was a chess piece he couldn’t compute.
He could not tolerate his own destiny being dictated by the “randomness” of a street charlatan!
No, he had to find out exactly what Tony knew!
He picked up the phone, dialed Tony’s number, and instantly switched his face back to that warm, genial smile of a kindly elder.
“Tony, my boy, I heard you made quite a splash in Queens today?”
Inside the workshop, Tony looked at the caller ID and gripped his phone tightly.
His knuckles turned slightly white, but he soon loosened his grip, letting his muscles relax.
Ever since Leon Hall had proven himself, Tony had been trying to find ways to investigate the truth behind his kidnapping, spurred by that prophecy: [Obadiah Stane is your enemy.
He wants the “heart” in your chest].
But he couldn’t show his hand just yet.
The Mark II was not yet complete; he still had to wait.
“Just a little application of technology, Obie,” Tony’s voice sounded as arrogant and exhausted as always, perfectly masking the murderous intent in his heart.
“Helped the CDC sort out a bit of a mess.
Don’t worry, it’s good for the stock price.”
“I never worry about that, I worry about you,” Obadiah probed subtly.
“Stay away from those strange street characters.
Your safety is what matters most.”
“Oh, you mean Leon?
He’s not strange.
He’s a very interesting ‘investment advisor’.” Tony deliberately spoke in the excited tone of someone who had found a new toy.
To Obadiah, it sounded like his usual playboy cynicism.
“Don’t worry, Obie.
He’s useful.
I know what I’m doing.”
Investment advisor…
Obadiah felt as if his heart had been gripped by an icy hand.
But he actually trusted that charlatan this much already!
This was more terrifying than if Tony had confronted him directly!
It meant that goddamned variable was quietly changing Tony!
Hanging up the phone, the smile on Obadiah’s face vanished instantly, replaced by the savage snarl of a man driven into a corner.
He couldn’t wait any longer!
He had to have his own armor and power source!
He grabbed another encrypted phone and dialed the head of his secret laboratory.
“Listen!
Something uncontrollable has cropped up on Tony’s end!
I don’t care what method you use, speed up the progress of the reverse engineering!
I gave you three months before, but now you only have three weeks!”
Meanwhile, inside the newly opened Divination Parlor in Queens.
Leon Hall was using a soft piece of chamois cloth to carefully wipe down a glass jar on the table.
Inside, black ash left over from the burning of Hermes runes emitted a faint, barely perceptible luster of spirituality under the dim yellow light.
The encrypted phone on the desk rang, its chime sounding rather jarring in the quiet room.
“Not bad, kid,” Tony’s voice came through, sounding in high spirits.
“Your performance was spectacular.
I’m very satisfied.
Now, it’s time to talk about your reward.”
“The ‘hardware’ on my end is just about ready.
Stark Industries’ most advanced deep-sea submersible is ready to go at any moment—it could kiss the Bermuda Triangle’s ass.
But my engineers tell me a ship alone isn’t enough.”
Tony’s tone shifted, carrying a hint of the playful banter shared only between intelligent minds.
“That thing you divined, ‘Ancient Ballad of Homecoming’…
it doesn’t sound like any MP3 I can find in my database.
Give me its ‘frequency.’ When software meets hardware, our ‘Deep Sea Fishing’ can truly begin.”
“My pleasure, Mr.
Stark,” Leon Hall replied calmly.
Hanging up, he let out a long breath, his tense nerves finally relaxing.
He finally had a lead on the first main ingredient to become a Sequence 9 [Seer].
All the risk had been worth it.