Everyone around was secretly wondering in their hearts:
Who exactly is this seemingly ordinary young man?
Why would Iron Man—someone with immense influence in the United States—come looking for him specifically?
Questions swirled through the minds of the onlookers, but Wes behaved as if he existed apart from the world. He paid absolutely no attention to the curious gazes around him.
After finishing his lunch, Wes calmly walked out of the restaurant.
The moment he stepped outside, a black SUV rolled smoothly to a stop in front of him.
Agent Coulson—whose hair was becoming noticeably thinner—stepped out of the vehicle with his usual gentle smile.
"Mr. Elwin, long time no see," Coulson greeted, his tone mild and steady.
Wes wasn't surprised in the slightest. With his keen senses, he had already detected Coulson's presence long before.
"You people really do get into every corner," Wes replied with a faint, mocking tone.
Under the astonished looks of Coulson and the surrounding agents, Wes got into the car.
"Let's go. Take me to your boss."
His voice was calm and decisive.
"Of course, Mr. Elwin."
Coulson immediately signaled the others to move.
The engines roared to life, and the convoy sped away, leaving behind a crowd filled with curiosity and restless speculation.
The vehicles moved smoothly through street after street, wheels rolling steadily along the asphalt.
Eventually, they arrived at the bustling heart of New York City.
Skyscrapers dominated the skyline, and the busy traffic reflected the city's vibrant, chaotic energy.
The convoy slowly entered an imposing tower, a magnificent structure gleaming under the sunlight with an air of modern authority.
"Most people would never imagine a secret organization would place its base in such a busy, eye-catching place," Wes remarked.
Coulson replied with pride,
"This is one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s largest bases."
Inside the underground parking area, armed patrols could be seen everywhere.
Their expressions were stern, their eyes sharp, their alertness unwavering.
"The security level here is the highest. This building can withstand a magnitude 10 earthquake, and it has reinforced bunkers that can survive a nuclear strike."
Coulson described the defenses in detail, his voice full of confidence.
The vehicle came to a stop beside an elevator.
"Coulson, long time no see."
A fully equipped, rugged man with a model-like physique and a thick beard strode toward them, flanked by a squad of armed agents.
His steps were firm and powerful, exuding a dangerous aura.
"Crossbones? What are you doing here?"
Coulson asked, surprised. He didn't remember Crossbones being on the patrol schedule today.
"Oh, Brock has an emergency assignment. The boss told me to cover for him. There goes my hard-earned vacation…"
Crossbones complained with a helpless expression.
Coulson patted his shoulder sympathetically.
Crossbones glanced at Wes. "And he is…?"
"A guest," Coulson replied briefly, offering no further explanation about Wes's identity.
"Got it."
Crossbones nodded knowingly.
"According to procedure, we need to run a check."
"Crossbones…" Coulson tried to stop him.
"Coulson, you know the rules. Rules are rules."
Crossbones's tone was firm. Two burly agents behind him stepped forward, preparing to search Wes.
Wes gave them a single, casual glance.
Instantly—
Both men froze in place, absolutely motionless.
They couldn't move a muscle.
They couldn't even blink.
"What are you two doing?" Crossbones barked.
Crossbones urged them on.
However, the moment he realized he himself could no longer move—frozen in place like a statue—shock surged through his heart.
Wes walked into the elevator without any expression, then gestured for Coulson to enter.
Coulson quickly stepped in, filled with awe toward Wes's mysterious power.
The elevator doors slowly closed, leaving behind a group of people standing like sculptures.
"Mr. Elwin, they didn't mean any harm. It's just standard procedure," Coulson hurriedly explained, his tone carrying an apologetic note.
"Whether they meant harm or not, I already know."
Wes responded calmly. With that, he closed his eyes, completely ignoring Coulson.
Seeing this, Coulson didn't say another word. He knew that anything more would be pointless.
"Ding!!"
The elevator arrived at the top floor.
Coulson led the way. This entire floor was eerily quiet—so empty it made one doubt whether the place belonged to a real company at all.
However, Wes easily sensed the truth: the whole floor was filled with hidden mechanisms.
With the firepower arranged here, even a fully trained Navy SEAL team wouldn't make it inside alive.
Coulson opened a door and respectfully stepped aside.
After Wes entered, he gently closed it behind him.
Inside the room, a man in a black leather coat—Nick Fury, the bald cyclops himself—stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the thriving city of New York.
Wes ignored Fury's dramatic attempt at mystique, settled into the sofa, and took out a book.
For a while, neither man spoke.
The only sound in the spacious room was the quiet rustling of pages as Wes read.
Ten minutes passed, still silent.
Half an hour later, Nick Fury finally broke.
"You know," he began, "you're not the only special person in this world."
Whether he'd seen enough scenery or simply run out of patience, Fury finally spoke: "This world is vast. There are beings far stronger than you…"
"You mean the gods of Asgard's Norse pantheon, or the Skrulls and the Kree out there in the universe?"
Wes replied without even lifting his head.
Fury's one eye nearly popped out.
"Where did you learn that? Did you hack our intelligence databases?"
The king of spies had planned to intimidate Wes and seize control of the conversation—but instead, it felt like someone had ripped his security blanket off and waved it around.
"These are basic facts. You're the only ones who treat them like top-secret treasures."
Wes's tone dripped with mocking disdain.
He lifted his chin ever so slightly, a trace of contempt in his eyes.
"Like a beggar clutching a loaf of bread, thinking it's the most exquisite delicacy in the world."
The metaphor was sharp and merciless, tearing right through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s narrow worldview.
For a brief moment, Fury's heart must have been filled with shock and irritation—but his hardened face remained composed.
"Are you an alien?" Fury asked, staring intently at Wes, trying to catch even the slightest reaction.
"Believe whatever you like. I'm only here for one reason."
Wes closed his book with clean, crisp finality.
"I don't like having flies buzzing around me twenty-four hours a day. It's annoying."
His tone was firm—utterly non-negotiable.
"Withdraw your people. Or you'll never see them again."
"You're threatening me?"
Fury's voice sank, heavy and imposing, carrying a pressure that brooked no challenge.
°°°
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