Afternoon in Washington.
On the Potomac River, the sunlight was blinding.
The Triskelion Building, headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D., sat like a steel behemoth on the river island.
Its belly was filled with secrets that could never see the light of day.
A cafe across the street.
Lin Huai poked at the ice cubes in his cup with a spoon, his gaze fixed on the entrance of the building across the way.
He wasn't there for the scenery.
And certainly not to taste this instant coffee that tasted like dishwater.
He was waiting for someone.
"Great Master."
Arrodes, the silver mirror in Lin Huai's inner pocket, vibrated, and a line of illusory writing surfaced in his mind.
"Why won't you let me just burn down this building's firewall? That Zola Algorithm has some tricks, but before me, it's nothing more than a child's graffiti."
"You need a medium, Arrodes."
Lin Huai replied in his mind, picking up an unread newspaper to cover half his face.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is a mess, but they aren't stupid. The core servers for the 'Insight Project' are physically isolated and not connected to the external network. No matter how powerful you are, you can't rewrite the code on a hard drive from a distance."
"Besides..."
His gaze drifted over the edge of the newspaper, locking onto a bald man who had just stepped out of the revolving doors.
"You can't conjure up what I'm after."
The main material for Sequence 5, Marionettist: Dust of an Ancient Wraith.
Arrodes's divination showed that this item was labeled as a "High-Risk Unidentified 084 Object," locked in a vault on the seventeenth basement floor of the Triskelion.
A purely physical lock could only be opened by physical means.
The target had appeared.
Jasper Sitwell.
A high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent and a mole for HYDRA, he was in charge of the Insight Project's algorithm.
The Agent was making a call with a dark expression, walking hurriedly toward the cafe, clearly looking to refresh himself with some of that terrible coffee.
"Yes, sir. I'll keep an eye on Director Fury. Of course, everything is under control."
Sitwell hung up and pushed open the cafe's glass door.
"Sorry."
A young man rushed out with a newspaper, head down, bumping right into him.
Sitwell's temper was about to flare when the young man steadied him by the shoulders.
"Watch where you're going!"
He snapped irritably, brushed the creases out of his suit, and walked straight to the counter.
He didn't notice at all that in that brief moment of contact, his scent, iris data, fingerprints, and even the garlic breath from his breakfast had all been stolen.
Outside.
Lin Huai turned and slipped into a deserted alleyway.
The bones and muscles in his face shifted beneath his skin, making faint clicking sounds.
His skin became oily, his hairline receded precisely, and his build became slightly pudgy.
A few seconds later.
Another "Jasper Sitwell" stepped out of the alley, straightened his collar, put on a weary face from years of overtime, and swaggered toward S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.
"Good afternoon, sir."
The security guard at the entrance glanced at his badge and immediately let him through.
"Mhm."
Lin Huai gave a nasal grunt in Sitwell's voice, not slowing his pace.
Iris scans, voiceprint verification, gait analysis—all were jokes before a Faceless.
He was Sitwell himself; the building's smart security system showed no reaction whatsoever.
The elevator descended.
Basement Level 17.
High-Risk Item Storage Vault.
It was so cold on this floor that one could hear their own heartbeat; there were almost no living people.
Lin Huai walked up to a heavy vault door labeled "Biohazard."
No key was needed here; it required simultaneous retinal authorization from two Level 7 Agents.
"What a pain."
Lin Huai glanced at the surveillance cameras and smirked.
He reached out and snapped his fingers.
A cluster of non-existent flames flickered across the surveillance lines, causing the screen to jump with static.
In that single second.
Lin Huai's left half of his face rapidly transformed into someone else.
Alexander Pierce.
With the left side of his face as Pierce and the right as Sitwell, he leaned into the dual scanner.
"Beep. Verification passed."
The heavy lead door slid open.
Lin Huai reverted to Sitwell's face and stepped inside.
Among the rows of sealed canisters, he quickly found a small box numbered "084-WR."
Even through the specialized glass, he could feel a bone-chilling cold that made his hair stand on end.
"Found it."
With a flip of his hand, the box vanished, and an identical empty box appeared in its place.
Material secured. Now for the main course.
Lin Huai left the vault, but instead of returning to the surface, he went straight to the data center.
That was where S.H.I.E.L.D.'s largest and most isolated server clusters were located.
Physically isolated.
He found an empty terminal, sat down, and pretended to check files while placing his hand on the computer tower.
An ancient silver mirror silently pressed against the side of the metal casing.
"Dinner time, Arrodes."
Lin Huai commanded in his mind.
"No need to copy; that's too slow. Use your spirituality to crush it directly."
A bloody light flashed on the mirror's surface.
"As you command, my Master. Bypassing physical firewall... modifying Zola Algorithm's underlying priorities..."
This was why Lin Huai had to come in person.
Without delivering the "super Trojan" Arrodes into the fortress of S.H.I.E.L.D. by hand, an external network attack would easily be detected by that digital ghost, Zola.
But now?
With physical contact, something like Arrodes, which involved the authorities of "Concealment" and "Knowledge," was like a god crushing a mortal when it came to electronic data.
"Modification complete."
"New logic in effect: Upon receiving a specific external command, the three Helicarriers of the 'Insight Project' will immediately lock onto friendly forces and open fire on each other."
"Beautifully done."
Lin Huai put away the mirror and stood up like an employee who had just finished slacking off.
The Insight Project now belonged to Lin.
Humming a little tune, he stepped into the elevator, ready to slip away.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a thick arm reached in.
The doors opened.
Several fully armed strike team members crowded in. Their leader had a buzz cut and a face full of scars.
Jack Rollins.
Crossbones' successor.
It really is a small world.
Rollins had just finished training and reeked of sweat.
Seeing "Sitwell," he only gave a cold nod without a greeting.
Inside HYDRA, the muscle always looked down on the paper-pushers.
There was only the sound of breathing in the elevator.
As Lin Huai watched the floor numbers tick by, a wicked idea occurred to him.
Now that the job was done, it would be a waste of the Joker title not to mess with a villain.
The elevator reached the lobby.
Ding.
The doors opened.
Lin Huai walked out, pausing deliberately as he passed Rollins.
He turned his head and leaned into Rollins's ear.
His expression instantly became fanatical and grim. In a voice only the two of them could hear, he whispered quickly.
"Keep your gun polished, Rollins. For HYDRA, there aren't many more fine days like this ahead."
After saying that, he reached out and patted Rollins's stiff shoulder twice with force, then walked out of the elevator laughing loudly.
Leaving behind a seemingly busy retreating figure.
Rollins stood frozen in the elevator, his mind buzzing.
What did that mean?
Not many fine days left?
Was Secretary Pierce going to act early? Or was he hinting that I was about to be purged?
That damn Sitwell, where did he get this inside information?
Lin Huai didn't need to look back to know that Rollins was going crazy.
He lit a candle for this dedicated villain in his heart.
A man's joy is just that simple.
Stepping out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. entrance, Lin Huai returned to his original appearance at the first corner.
He looked up toward the distant sky.
A black-painted helicopter was slowly taking off, flying toward the city center.
His heart skipped a beat.
That was Nick Fury's private craft.
He narrowed his eyes.
HYDRA was about to move to eliminate that meddlesome cyclops.
"Perfect. Now that I have the dust, the actors for the next scene should take their places."
Lin Huai hailed a taxi.
"To downtown Washington."
He said to the driver.
"If you don't mind, could you change the disc? I'd like to hear 'Burning Road'."
Now, it was time to save that braised egg of a Director who was about to be turned into a sieve.