Seeing George Stacy step in front of him, blocking the agent's path, a faint warmth rose in Lynn's chest.
Sure, George always looked annoyed every morning when he had to pick him up—but when it came to standing by his people, no one in the entire Manhattan Precinct did it better than George Stacy.
Hearing both George and Jennifer's firm tone, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent looked momentarily helpless.
They weren't wrong. Although S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters was based in the U.S., its local authority was technically below the FBI's—and in some cases, even below the state and county police.
There was nothing he could do about that. In fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the FBI often clashed over jurisdiction, and more than once, the World Security Council had to step in to mediate.
"Mr. Stacy, I think you've misunderstood."
The agent straightened his tie and spoke calmly. "We're not here to detain Mr. Hall for interrogation. We're inviting him to assist in the investigation regarding Ronak and Professor Wilson."
"Our superior reviewed Mr. Lynn Hall's record and found he has an exceptional gift for observation and deduction."
"Since this case involves a supernatural element, our superior believes Mr. Hall's cooperation would be valuable."
Just then, the Director of the Manhattan Precinct entered the room. "Mr. Hall, you'll be working with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on this case," he said with a firm nod.
"Don't worry—you've got the full support of the precinct. That means you can afford to be bold."
"Furthermore," the Director added with a grin, "once this investigation wraps up, the Manhattan Precinct's bonus won't be small. And as for S.H.I.E.L.D.—if they don't give you one, I'll file a complaint myself."
At that, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent could only give a strained smile.
A bonus, huh?
Heh. This wasn't encouragement—it was a warning. The message was clear: even S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't above the Manhattan Police Precinct.
He sighed inwardly. He still didn't understand why Agent Natasha Romanoff had personally requested that Lynn Hall be brought in on this case.
But orders were orders. He was just a field agent—if Natasha said it, he obeyed.
"Alright then," Lynn said, breaking the tension.
Since the Director had spoken, there was no room for argument. He stood up, and Jennifer immediately helped him into his trench coat with her usual thoughtfulness.
"Well, I am a bit curious myself," Lynn said with a faint smile. "Might as well take a look."
A short while later, he left the precinct and climbed into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s black Chevrolet.
As the car pulled out, Lynn glanced around the interior, then chuckled. "Tell me, buddy," he said to the driver, "are all S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles custom like this?"
"Like, umm, loaded with weapons, bulletproofing, explosion resistance… maybe even magnetic levitation and vertical takeoff?"
"Hm?"
The agent behind the wheel glanced at Lynn's amused expression and chuckled. "No, nothing that fancy. It's just a regular car—well, bulletproof, at least."
Lynn smirked. "Then your clearance must not be high enough."
He knew better—Coulson's old classic car could fly.
The drive took them out to the suburbs, where a modest villa was already surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel and bright yellow tape.
Leaning casually against a nearby vehicle, Natasha Romanoff—dressed in a sleek leather jacket—was speaking with Steve Rogers, his iconic shield resting against his arm.
The moment Lynn stepped out of the car, Natasha's eyes lit up. "The man I requested is finally here."
Steve gave her a questioning look. He still didn't quite understand why she'd insisted on bringing an NYPD detective into this case.
Still, the name Lynn Hall rang a bell. He remembered hearing about a detective who'd helped solve that bizarre case by the Hudson River—the one with the body in the suitcase.
"Hi, Detective Hall," Natasha greeted as she walked up with a warm, confident smile, extending her hand. "Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I'm the one who specifically asked for you to assist in this investigation."
Lynn shook her hand with a faint grin. "Nice to meet you, Agent Romanoff. Though maybe I should be calling you… bartender?"
"Oh? You still remember me?" Natasha asked with a teasing smile.
"Of course," Lynn replied smoothly. "Everyone appreciates beauty—and I happen to have a perfect memory for every beautiful woman I've seen."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Especially that day—you were wearing a red dress. Hard to forget someone who stood out that much in a crowd."
Natasha chuckled softly, amused by his unabashed charm.
Just then, Steve Rogers walked over, his shield resting against his arm.
"Bartender?" he asked, glancing between them with mild confusion.
"It's nothing," Natasha said lightly. "Just one of my hobbies. Before the Battle of New York, I used to bartend in Manhattan to unwind. That's where I met Detective Hall."
She smiled faintly. "Unfortunately, after the Battle of New York, I've had to use an electronic mask whenever I do that now."
Before Lynn could respond, a loud crash echoed from the black Chevrolet across the lot.
Natasha immediately dropped into a defensive stance, and Steve raised his shield, ready for a fight.
Lynn, reacting just as fast, drew his gun and aimed steadily.
Seeing his calm, precise movements, Natasha relaxed slightly. "It's Ronak," she said. "He's locked inside that car."
The vehicle shook violently again, its frame warping under the force of the impact.
Steve frowned. "That strength… definitely isn't something a normal person should have."
"Uh… did you guys remember to bring the brains?"
Holstering his sidearm, Lynn glanced at the others. "When George filed the report, he specifically noted that Mr. Ronak needs pig, beef, or lamb brains on hand—to keep him from losing control."
"Of course we did," Steve replied, though his expression twisted slightly. "Still… it's a bit…"
Unable to find the right words, he fell silent and gestured for one of the agents to bring it over.
A few moments later, a large basin filled with pig brains was set down on the ground.
The next instant, the supposedly bulletproof, explosion-resistant door of the Chevrolet was blown clean off!
"Hunger… brains… hunger…"
Ronak burst out of the car, eyes blood-red, the protrusion on his forehead writhing like something alive.
Steve immediately raised his shield, ready to engage, but Natasha caught his arm. "Wait."
As expected, the moment Ronak caught sight of the pig brains, he lunged forward like a starving animal, devouring them in frantic mouthfuls.
The nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents grimaced, some looking away in disgust.
Meanwhile, Lynn's eyes shimmered faintly gold.
Through the lens of the Power of Death, he could clearly see the truth.... Dozens of writhing, eel-like and octopus-shaped soul entities swirling around Ronak's body in a grotesque dance.
Once Ronak finished devouring the pig brains, his breathing slowed, and a faint trace of reason returned to his eyes. The translucent, eel-like spirits that had been swirling around him gradually faded from view.
"Oh God… what have I done?"
The moment his sanity returned, Ronak collapsed to his knees and began retching violently.
But no matter how hard he gagged, nothing came out—not even a trace of the brains he had just eaten.
Another clear sign that something about him defied every natural law of biology.
Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve, then stepped forward toward Ronak.