Time: July 22, 2009, 4 pm
Coordinates: unknown
The underground fortress about a hundred meters above the ground, in an empty room.
Under the light, Phil Coulson in a suit and leather shoes was sitting behind a table, staring at the document in his hand, his eyebrows furrowed.
The document printed with the eagle logo shows the details of a female S.H.I.E.L.D agent.
After a while, the sound of pushing the door and the sound of footsteps that followed, like a sudden thunder, interrupted Phil Coulson's thoughts.
When Phil Coulson raised his head, he saw a black-haired woman in a hospital gown sitting on the seat opposite Phil Coulson with a smile on her face.
Putting down the files in his hand gently, Phil Coulson's iconic friendly smile suddenly hung on his face:
"Agent Steve, how do you feel today?"
"Very good, great."
Seeing the gentle expression on the other's face, Phil Coulson's heart was full of waves.
Retracting his mind, Phil Coulson continued to ask:
"Do you remember how you got here?"
"I volunteered." The black-haired woman paused, then continued to add: "I'm dying. When I woke up, everything was normal."
"Very good. If you have any discomfort or need, you can ask me and I will try my best to satisfy you…"
Before Phil Coulson could finish, the black-haired woman interrupted him:
"Then when can I leave the hospital? Return to the team again?"
Not caring that the other person interrupted him, Phil Coulson's mouth raised, and a kind smile appeared on his face again.
"I assure you, very soon. As long as you observe for a while to confirm your postoperative fitness, you can be discharged from the hospital."
"Thank you, thank you very much for all your help, Phil Coulson agent…"
After a brief conversation, the black-haired woman was escorted away by two agents standing at the door.
In the simple room, it was restored to the state where only Phil Coulson was alone.
After thinking for a moment, Phil Coulson opened the file just now, picked up the pen, and began to write in the blank space at the bottom of the file:
"Adapted well after the operation, and there are no side effects for the time being…"
After writing the words "It is recommended to be discharged immediately!", Phil Coulson, with a stretched face, put the pen in his hand lightly aside, and whispered unconsciously:
"A good start…"
However, after five minutes, Phil Coulson realized that he was too optimistic…
The same hospital gown, the same operation, on another dying agent, what Phil Coulson saw was another shocking sight.
"#%￥@#@…"
A series of indistinguishable self-talking, coupled with a babbled appearance, a bearded man sitting across the table, like a cerebral palsy patient, is completely immersed in his own world, unable to extricate himself.
"John agent? John agent?"
Phil Coulson yelled several times without any response.
In the end, Phil Coulson, with his eyebrows furrowed, had to wave his hand and motioned to the two agents guarding the door to take the man back to the ward.
Watching the agent leave, Phil Coulson picked up the pen on the desktop, and again wrote "swish" on the agent's file:
"Poor adaptation after the operation, aphasia began to appear…"
After finishing writing, Phil Coulson's figure suddenly stopped, rubbed his temple with his other free hand, and then said in a slightly tired voice:
"Next."
A few minutes later, sitting in front of Phil Coulson was a middle-aged blond man.
The blue and white hospital gown was worn on the opponent's body, completely unable to conceal the slightly bulging muscles. With a solemn face, you can clearly see that there are scars left by the battle between the corners of the eyebrows and the neck.
This is a fighter.
"How long do you want me to stay here?"
From the other party's tone, you can hear that this Aegis agent is very dissatisfied with being "closed" here.
Phil Coulson just frowned, glanced at the file in his hand, and said in a pleasant tone:
"Agent Jerry, after the operation, you need time to recover and adapt, not only your spirit, but also your body, the same…"
"Let me ask you first, do you feel any discomfort recently, or what is your body?"
Before he could speak, the blond man interrupted him impatiently:
"I feel good, I think I can be there anytime!"
Interrupted Phil Coulson, his expression changed slightly, just about to speak:
"This is…"
At this moment, the man named "Jerry" suddenly made an unexpected move:
He suddenly stretched out his hand, and rudely snatched the pen on the table!
Afterwards, he began to graffiti on the desktop with an obsessive expression on his face.
With a frown, Phil Coulson stopped the two agents who were preparing to come over and focused his attention on the desktop.
The man painted on the table with strange patterns composed of circles, diamonds, and straight lines.
Phil Coulson looked carefully for a moment, confused.
Just as Phil Coulson was thinking, should he find a language or pattern expert to see what these patterns mean, he made a "bang" and the man suddenly slammed his hands on the tabletop, making Phil Coulson back in shock. Moved a bit.
Looking at the man's face full of confusion and anger, Phil Coulson frowned and said to the two agents who were already ready to go:
"Send him back to the ward!"
. . . . . .
After staying in this underground base for about a week, Phil Coulson's inner anxiety became stronger and stronger.
He knew that this project was originally a plan beyond ordinary people's imagination. Also know that not every scientific research project will go smoothly. Most of them take a certain amount of time to slowly achieve the initial goal.
However, the deeper the project, the conscience of Phil Coulson began to constantly question himself, the same question:
"Is it really right to do this?"
Especially when he saw that the six testers who had adapted very well after the initial physical recovery phase began to deteriorate gradually.
He slowly began to feel that this was a very wrong decision.
After several nights of tossing and turning, and after a long night of difficulty falling asleep, Phil Coulson finally made a decision that should have been made long ago!
. . .
In a dark office, Phil Coulson, who blended in with the darkness, sat in front of an encrypted laptop and looked at the camera solemnly.
With a few "cough cough", Phil Coulson cleared his throat. After Roar took a deep breath, he pressed the confirm button on the keyboard.
With a beep, the computer began to record:
"Good morning, Director Nick Fury."
"I'm sorry to tell you that I want to submit my resignation…"