Tim knew that his words were not without basis; the prototypes he referred to were actually the Guardians of the Universe, the Little Blue People, and their various Lantern Corps.
The relationship among them was exactly like this, and even the Little Blue People, in order to counterbalance the Green Lanterns, had actively created the Yellow Lanterns, primarily aiming to keep the conflict between the Green and Yellow Lanterns within beneficial limits.
The outcome was naturally not as wonderful, and it could even be said to have been counterproductive. Without the Yellow Lantern Corps, perhaps the Green Lantern Corps might have been easier to control. The fact was, now both the Green and Yellow Lanterns were out of control.
At the root of it, Tim felt that the Little Blue People having personal agendas was one reason, and their failure to cover all bases was another.
A lack of control over the details allowed errors to accumulate, leading to developments straying from the intended path until they burst forth all at once, by which point the deviation was already irreversible.
Tim believed that if there were an organization on Earth similar to the Little Blue People, they would also hardly avoid a similar tragedy.
But the reality was that they seemed to be controlling it well, and Tim wanted to know how they managed it.
Upon hearing his question, Steve smiled and said, "I won't deceive you, there indeed is such an organization, but it is a secret agency, and I am not authorized to disclose any related matters."
Tim sensed this was not a refusal—Steve was merely hinting at him to investigate on his own, which was precisely the reason Tim was brought in proactively.
"Alright, let's stop here for today." Steve stood up and winked at Tim before leaving.
After Steve left with his notebook, and before other agents arrived, Tim sat pondering in his place.
He deliberately brought up Steve being sent by Nick as a peace of mind to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, essentially to test Steve; if he were adamant not to reveal anything, he needed to appear completely loyal, naturally not taking the bait.
But now it seemed that Captain America was not afraid of the FBI, perhaps because even if the FBI knew what he was here for, they still had to use him.
In that case, if something went wrong with the people Steve brought in, there was nothing the FBI could do about it.
This let Tim know that stirring up trouble here wouldn't cause any issues for Captain America, who wouldn't step in to stop him, even tacitly approving it.
He then confirmed from Steve's mouth that there truly was an organization that superseded many others, although he couldn't speak of it, there must be relevant information inside the FBI.
Combining these two pieces of intelligence, although he had prepared himself before being brought in, the other party surely knew his intentions for capturing him as well.
Perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D. and Captain America were eager for him to make a scene within the FBI, any intelligence loss would be on the FBI's head.
This was probably also why Jason stressed to Captain America that he was very clever; he was telling Captain America and S.H.I.E.L.D. that he could certainly disrupt the FBI's peace.
Trusting Jason's assertion, Captain America brought him here.
"With that being the case, why wait?"
Tim stood up and slammed the table, "Someone! Come quickly! I need to report that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psychiatrist, Schiller Rodriguez, is Hydra! Someone, hurry!!!"
Pamela was taken to another room, and people outside the door changed wave after wave, their hurried conversations also continued to resound.
After about fifteen minutes, the door finally opened, and a familiar redhead figure walked in and turned to the regular agent following behind, saying, "This is a superpower criminal, not within your FBI jurisdiction. I'm taking over, you guys go ahead and leave first."
The leading regular agent seemed somewhat resentful, but looking at the redhead figure, he felt a bit intimidated and eventually didn't say anything and left.
"You're really capable," Natasha placed the notebook on the table. "Why don't you seal up the Rocky Mountains while you're at it?"
Pamela shrank her neck and said, "I'm an accomplice!"
"To whom?"
"If I say it's not Schiller, you definitely won't believe me, you know I need money," Pamela looked at the female agent and said.
"How much did he give you?"
"Just 5 million so far."
"He's quite generous," Natasha sat down and said, "5 million to buy you off?"
"My power isn't something I cultivated myself; it's basically like manna from heaven. To exchange someone else's effort for money, 5 million isn't a small amount,"
Natasha rolled her eyes slightly and said, "That's all the ambition you have, but let me tell you, according to the newly enacted Superpower Management Act, any economic losses caused by the misuse of superpowers must be borne by the superpower users themselves."
"That's the good thing about my power," Pamela said. "Don't worry, those flowers and plants will return to their places and grow even better than before; the Santiago City government still has to pay me a gardening maintenance fee."
Then she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table and looking at Natasha, "Did you get your hair done? Those waves really suit you."
"Pamela Ashley! It's a working hour, go back and sit down," Natasha stern with her face, Pamela reluctantly sat back down.
"What deal did you make with Schiller?"
"He pays me money, I help him seal up the mountain," Pamela said.
Natasha pondered it quietly, seemingly considering Schiller's motives.
But it wasn't long before the door was knocked on again, Natasha showed an impatient expression, walked out, and soon another person came in.
Pamela, even lacking sensitivity, knew Natasha was from S.H.I.E.L.D., and this place was a Federal Bureau of Investigation prison. The two sides were bound to rigorously dispute this matter.
Unexpectedly, Natasha left for the entire night, and until dawn was breaking, she hadn't returned. Pamela could only listlessly deal with the interrogators while secretly thinking that if the FBI also sent a beautiful agent, she would grudgingly tell them the truth.
Unfortunately, the interrogators in the FBI were all burly and fierce-looking. Forget about beauties, there wasn't even a handsome guy. Pamela endured until morning this way.
In fact, in her half-awake state during the early morning, she heard some noise. The agent interrogating her even left halfway, but at that time she was so sleepy she didn't understand what was happening.
Only when daylight came, due to staying up all night, did Pamela regain her hyper-alert state and eavesdrop from the office potted plant, learning that last night someone had caused a disturbance in the prison.
Honestly, Pamela was not surprised at all. Tim being a crazy teenager and not stirring up trouble would have been strange.
However, she indeed hadn't expected Tim would opt for martial arts tactics; she thought he would try to gather intelligence.
Once awake, Pamela began using prison plants to locate Tim's position and discovered that the kid hadn't run off but was hiding in a storage room on the fourth floor.
"How did you end up here?"
When Tim heard a voice above him, he looked up and saw a vine sticking out of the ventilation duct and immediately knew it was Pamela.
"Help me check where the data room is," Tim said, looking up.
"All the important data is underground. Do you want me to distract the agents for you?"
"That would be perfect, but I won't pay you."
"You're so stingy."
Despite this, Tim managed to reach underground smoothly. The West Coast was FBI territory, and they had strong control here with each base facility fully equipped, storing the documents for the work this base was responsible for.
With Pamela's superpower aid, Tim made a direct approach and reached the data room easily to start searching.
The majority of the documents were about insignificant tasks, and the quality of the special documents was only slightly better than bland reports. Fortunately, Tim's reading skills were strong, and he quickly finished going through the cabinets on the left.
When he got to the right-hand cabinets, Tim finally found some clues.
Theoretically, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the National Intelligence Bureau, one focused domestically and the other internationally. The National Intelligence Bureau didn't have domestic law enforcement authority.
But what about spies encountered domestically?
Generally, capturing domestic spies relied on the National Intelligence Bureau's work abroad, whether finding a spy nest or following up on other cases that revealed domestic clues.
When these clues were relayed back, it wasn't agents from the National Intelligence Bureau who made the arrests, but the domestic FBI agents, whose scope of work included protecting national security.
Therefore, Tim was not surprised to find information about spy-catching operations at the Los Angeles base. Was such a large country without a few spies?
Of course, Tim still focused on this information and stereotypically saw several Russian names.
He knew a bit about the history here. In this universe, the Soviet Union had long dissolved. The large entity at the top of Asia was called Russia; the smaller countries that had constituted the Soviet Union were now huddled beside it, shattered beyond repair.
Yet, even though they had split, America and Russia weren't close—on the contrary, they were archenemies.
Or it could be said that Russia was pro-West, but America, representing the West, unilaterally didn't accept them.
In any case, the two countries kept quarreling back and forth, and exchanging spies was too normal. The Russian National Security Bureau, inheriting the spirit of the KGB, had numerous spies on both coasts.
Tim silently noted the crucial information, then continued flipping through until suddenly he saw a paper on an old case.
This incident seemed to have occurred on the East Coast, but the FBI, after shifting its focus to the West Coast, had brought some work reports over, and this was one of them.
Tim, looking at the lengthy work report in front, initially didn't see any clues, but as he turned the page, a massive medal sample image appeared before him.
What was this? Tim leaned closer. He was fluent in Russian, but the picture was blurry, and he couldn't make out the small text on the medal.
Luckily, the report below mentioned the medal's name—"Soviet Union Red Flag Medal."
Turning another page, the header stated "suspected medal owner," and Tim froze in shock.
Because he was very familiar with every face in the passport photos on this page.
"Oh my God, Pamela," Tim called out Pamela's name and then said, "you need to see this."
A vine moved closer, and Pamela's voice came through, "What is it? Is it The Avengers' list?"
"No, it's..."
Bang! The door was forcibly slammed.
Tim turned around, then hurriedly stuffed the document to the bottom of the filing cabinet and looked up towards the ventilation duct.