Time seemed to freeze.
For a long while, Coulson didn't feel the pain he was expecting. The strange pressure on his body vanished, and only then did he slowly open his eyes.
The silver doll's blade-like hands had been withdrawn at some point, and she now stood quietly a meter away. Beside her stood a man dressed in a black robe.
"Hey, May, you okay?" Coulson asked, nudging Melinda slightly.
"Hoo—" She let out a long breath before replying, "I'm fine."
But as soon as she spoke, her eyes fell on the silver doll—the one that had nearly killed them—and on the black-robed man now beside it.
"Who… are you?" She immediately raised her gun, tense and alert.
"Who am I?" The man let out a short laugh, casually sitting down on the chair by the desk. "I was about to ask who *you* are."
"You know, breaking into someone's home isn't exactly something normal people do. According to U.S. law, I actually have the right to shoot you."
Patch's tone turned sharp, his gaze locking onto Coulson and Melinda with clear hostility.
"Master, these two intruders came in without permission and even opened my Heart Restoration Vessel," said the silver doll, stepping forward to pick up the black jar Melinda had just found.
"Oh? They found your vessel?" Patch sounded a bit surprised. Looking back at the two agents, he said meaningfully, "That means you're not ordinary people, are you?"
"Now then, tell me—why did you break into my house while I was gone? What are you after?"
"And also, could this lady put down her gun? I don't like people pointing things at my head. Besides, that little toy you're holding can't harm me anyway."
Patch added the last line coldly, glancing at Melinda with irritation.
That single glance hit her like lightning—her body stiffened, and before she realized it, her hand had dropped the gun.
Noticing her reaction, Coulson frowned slightly, then calmly stepped forward, smiling politely.
"Mr. Patch Mavis, we didn't mean to intrude on your privacy. It's just that some of your recent activities have drawn the attention of my department, so we came to investigate."
Despite having just escaped death, Coulson quickly regained his composure. He had already recognized who the man in front of him was, and spoke in a measured tone.
"Special activities? Investigate me?"
Patch frowned, giving the two of them a curious look. "You people from the FBI?"
Coulson shook his head.
"CIA?"
Another shake of the head.
"Then what department are you from?"
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Coulson said, showing his badge. "And this is Agent Melinda May."
"The what…? Say that again?" Patch blinked. Even with his solid grasp of English, that thirty-word name made his head spin.
"Yeah, it's a mouthful," Coulson admitted awkwardly. "You can just call us S.H.I.E.L.D."
S.H.I.E.L.D.
At that word, Patch's pupils contracted sharply, his expression darkening.
"So, they've finally found me after all."
S.H.I.E.L.D.—the full name was exactly what Coulson had said. Its roots stretched back to ancient Egypt, founded around the same time as Hydra.
But it wasn't until World War II that it officially formed, created by Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, and several others. Back then, its only purpose was to fight the Nazis and Hydra.
Today, however, its definition had expanded. Within the organization, they saw themselves as a bridge between the known and the unknown, protecting global security from hidden threats.
Four years ago, when Patch first realized he had arrived in the dangerous Marvel universe, he listed all the people and organizations that could pose a threat to him—and S.H.I.E.L.D. was high on that list.
Even now, after becoming a capable sorcerer, he still didn't dare underestimate them. Who knew what kind of hidden cards they held? Patch wasn't about to risk his life testing them.
When he first started acting as the street hero "Cloakman," Patch had already expected that S.H.I.E.L.D. would come knocking. He just hadn't thought it would happen so soon.
He quickly reviewed his recent actions. None of them, as far as he remembered, had left any obvious traces. So how had they noticed him?
"Could it be those men in suits I burned to ash?"
"Or maybe that deal I made was caught on satellite?"
"Or perhaps…"
---
A dozen guesses flashed through his mind.
Despite his thoughts racing, Patch's expression remained calm. He spread his hands and said, "So, Agent, what exactly do you want from me? I'm a law-abiding citizen, and I don't recall doing anything to disturb the peace."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is an organization dedicated to protecting global security," Coulson said seriously. "To prevent mass panic, we don't make certain matters public. You could say we stand as the barrier between the known world and the unknown. And you, Mr. Mavis…"
"Don't you think you yourself are quite an unknown element? At least, to ordinary people like us."
Patch feigned confusion. "Me? An unknown element? You must be joking."
"We're not joking."
Melinda, who had been silent, stepped forward and handed him a phone. "Mr. Patch Mavis, care to explain this?" she said coldly.
Patch took the phone and looked. It was a video—from the night he punished a thug and took every dollar the man had.
He watched it twice, frowning deeply. He clearly remembered destroying all the cameras that night. So how had this footage been recorded?
Without dwelling on it, he handed the phone back, his face calm. "Cool video. That cloaked guy's got some interesting abilities. But…"
He raised his eyes to look at Melinda and Coulson.
"What does any of that have to do with me?"