Old Bridge Town
A fierce battle had occurred here. Two-thirds of the town had been flattened, leaving little more than ruins in its wake. The New Mexico government was still lodging complaints, and SHIELD found itself responsible for cleaning up the mess, or at the very least, trying to keep the grievances from escalating.
Yet, a little over two weeks later, the town looked exactly as it had before the destruction. Even Coulson, who had personally made the call for the repairs, found it difficult to believe his own eyes.
"How did you manage this?" he asked, staring at the man in the white hat. The logo on the cap was distinctive: a hand holding a wand, encircled by stars.
The man, who introduced himself as Johnson, simply grinned. "We're good at this." Johnson was the manager of Silverhand Fashion Construction. He held a report in his hand and presented it to Coulson. "If everything is satisfactory, you can sign here."
Coulson could not suppress the astonishment that washed over his face. This group of people had been on site for only three days, and in that short time, an entire small town had been completely restored. And it was an exact replica. What was truly remarkable was that this group hadn't even used architectural drawings or photographs. How had they accomplished it?
Coulson's scrutinizing gaze fell upon the construction team. Each member wore a hat; some were yellow, others blue. Without exception, their clothes were clean and tidy. They looked less like a construction crew and more like a tour group out for a day trip.
After reviewing the repair costs, Coulson's hand paused as he was about to sign. "Can you approach the state government and ask the governor for reimbursement?"
Johnson smiled brightly. "We only deal with the individual who made the initial call. Because you dialed a special number, we provided you with special treatment."
Coulson was at a loss. He estimated that all his bonuses for the latter half of the year would likely be deducted to cover this. But special treatment… what did that entail? He would never know that the so-called special treatment involved a significant increase to the original base price. In a way, it was an honor. After all, not many people had the distinction of being tricked by the Witch King in such a manner.
Taking the bill, Johnson shook hands with Coulson. "We look forward to serving you again."
Coulson's smile was a little stiff; he certainly did not wish for a repeat of this situation. He watched as the purported construction team boarded a tour bus, looking more and more like a group of sightseers with each passing moment.
*********
John had not forgotten about his vacation. Hammer Industries was set to be inundated with large orders for the next six months, leaving basically nothing for him to oversee there. Taran Industries, on the other hand, had commenced its energy research. They aimed to develop an energy source distinct from Stark Industries' offerings while also ensuring superior efficiency. Neither of these endeavors aligned with John's particular expertise.
So, John simply decided to grant himself a vacation and embarked on a trip. He did not take a car and also gave his driver, Ferdinand, a holiday.
"You have half a month's vacation," John told him. "You can explore the nightlife or perhaps find a girl in the red-light district if that's what you wish for as a driver. Alternatively, you could visit the library or audit some classes at the university to learn more things."
How Ferdinand chose to spend his time was entirely up to him. Ferdinand had begun to experience a life that did not belong to the lower class, and he was increasingly unwilling to revert to his former existence as a street gangster. Even his brother Roman found it incredible that Ferdinand would now willingly go to the library. Mrs. Pierce, observing the changes in her eldest son, also began to consciously modify her own habits, such as trying to speak more politely.
John was currently in search of a teahouse. He had no specific plans; he simply wanted to find a pleasant spot to enjoy some tea. He selected a restaurant that looked appealing. By the time he arrived for his tea, it was already evening.
Under the yellow sign, John paused for a moment. He then chose to open the door and go inside. The warm-toned lighting lent the small establishment a cozy atmosphere. There were not many customers in the shop. John pulled up a chair and sat down. Several road maintenance workers finished their meal and departed.
The proprietor looked at this unfamiliar guest and asked, "What would you like to order?"
"A cup of tea would be nice," John chuckled, "preferably something to soothe my legs after a long day of walking."
The proprietor also smiled. "I'll prepare something especially soothing for you."
A cup of hot tea was quickly served.
Someone else entered and walked directly to John's table.
"It seems I have taken your seat," John observed as the newcomer approached.
"No, I will just find another spot." It was a kind-looking, dark-skinned man, dressed in a plaid shirt and a black coat, holding a blue book in his hand. "If you do not mind, could we sit together?"
This particular location was very good. The man, whom John internally referred to as 'uncle,' thought for a moment and agreed.
When the proprietor saw the regular customer arrive, he brought over boiling water. The uncle opened a folded paper towel, revealing a tea bag inside. The proprietor placed a cup down, and the uncle dropped the tea bag in. Boiling water was poured, and the aroma of tea quickly filled the air.
John said nothing, gazing out the window at the light rain that had begun to fall.
"Where are you from?" the uncle inquired.
"If we are talking about my hometown, then London," John replied, beginning to chat.
"London, that is a good place. As a British person, you certainly cannot live without tea," the uncle smiled.
The two of them chatted together. The patter of rain gradually subsided. After finishing his cup of tea, John was ready to leave.
"It was nice to meet you. You are a true connoisseur of tea."
"Me too," the uncle smiled in response.
The two parted ways just like that. They left nothing behind, not even their names. Sometimes, it is truly wonderful how people can become good friends without many words. Because of this man, John found himself entertaining the idea of visiting this teahouse a second time.
Walking into a deserted alley, John raised his eyebrows and drew his wand.
"Looks like a fish has taken the bait."
With a wave of his wand, he Disapparated and vanished.
*********
Wick's house.
The door lock had been picked. The dark house was illuminated only by the ambient light filtering in from the bustling neighborhood outside. The outline of a figure was silhouetted against it. The figure ascended to the second floor, step by step.
Apparently, this person knew something about the layout of the rooms in the Wick home. Without stopping, they bypassed several vacant rooms and paused in front of John's door. A hand carefully reached for the door handle, slowly turning it. The door creaked open. After taking three steps inside, the figure stopped abruptly.
A wand was already pressed against the visitor's neck.
"I thought a fish was taking the bait," John sighed. "Did you change your mind and decide to come assassinate me instead, my female assistant?"
Natasha did not panic, even with the wand at her throat. She turned to face John and flipped her hair. "I am leaving."
"So, what does that have to do with you coming into my room?" John said, exasperated. "I do not subscribe to unspoken rules."
Natasha rolled her eyes at John. "I just want to make sure you will not be suddenly killed by someone else while I am gone."
"Then do not worry." John lowered his wand, snapped his fingers, and the room lights flickered on.
"I am not kidding, John," Natasha said seriously. "I am going to be away for a while, so you need to be careful during this period."
"If the news spreads that you are not dead, the assassination attempts on you will not cease."
"Let me think about it. Are you requesting a leave of absence, or are you resigning?" John twirled the wand between his fingers and said with a smile. "It could also be considered an absence from work."
He turned and walked downstairs.
Natasha followed. "You are always so optimistic about these matters."
"Optimistic?" John smiled. "That is because I have seen people in far more desperate situations."
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, John put his hands in his pockets. "Did you just want to rough me up a bit to make me stay alert?"
Natasha sighed. "You truly are perceptive."
"Thank you for the compliment. You have not mentioned what you were doing before you departed," John asked casually.
"An old man fell into the water and is now hospitalized," Natasha said.
"That is genuinely unfortunate. By the way, do you recognize this?"
John flicked his finger, and a badge flew towards Natasha.
Natasha caught it, and her pupils contracted. "Where did you get this from?"
"This is… Hydra."