"I am the master of this game!"
With these words, General Ross and his soldiers were utterly dismayed. They had all been played by Lynch. Like clowns, they had been forced into a ridiculous drama by Lynch's manipulation.
General Ross had abandoned his soldiers for the sake of the bigger picture. Out of a survival instinct, the soldiers turned their guns on General Ross. But now, they realized Lynch never intended to kill them. Yet, the seeds of resentment had already been planted, and the divide had already formed.
This was exactly the effect Lynch wanted. He had no desire to be a butcher. Revenge doesn't always have to end with the destruction of the body. Destroying someone's spirit is far more cruel and effective. Besides...
This farce was nearing its end.
Lynch looked toward the horizon, where a plane and an Iron Man were rapidly approaching.
...
Three minutes later, the plane and Iron Man landed in front of Lynch. An old acquaintance, Coulson, stepped off the plane and walked alongside Iron Man toward Lynch.
"You're late," Lynch said bluntly.
"Better late than never. Are you okay, Lyn?" Tony asked, somewhat awkwardly.
The situation was far from what they had expected. The military camp was littered with the remnants and debris left by the heat vision's rampage. A large number of soldiers sat or squatted dejectedly, while General Ross, like a defeated commander, stood in a circle, looking despondent.
From a distance, Tony had already seen Lynch flying in the air. The situation was clear: things had gone completely opposite to what they had predicted. Lynch had suppressed the entire camp with his overwhelming power. As absurd as it sounded, the truth was right in front of them.
This made Tony, who had rushed to rescue Lynch, feel particularly awkward. If he hadn't brought Coulson here, Lynch could have done whatever he wanted and then fled. But with Coulson here, they might have to stop Lynch from doing just that. After all, Ross was still a general of the country, and despite their differences, they couldn't just stand by and let Lynch kill Ross in a fit of anger.
"You should ask General Ross how he's feeling. I bet it's not great," Lynch said, glancing at Ross.
At this moment, Coulson, with a harmless smile, stepped forward and extended his hand in a friendly manner, introducing himself, "My name is Coulson, from the Strategic Homeland Intervention—"
"S.H.I.E.L.D., right?" Lynch interrupted, not shaking his hand, and coldly scrutinized Coulson. "So, do you have a plan for me? Appease me? Deceive me? Or are you planning to gather forces to take me down? Your boss has a trump card, doesn't he?"
Coulson was taken aback by the amount of information Lynch had just unloaded on him. Or rather, a certain director on the other end of Coulson's secret communication was stunned. After a long silence, Lynch heard the director's command through Coulson's earpiece: "Calm him down and ask him what he wants."
Lynch let out a cold laugh. Before Coulson could speak, Lynch cut him off, "You've got it wrong. It's not about what I want, but about what you should do to satisfy me."
Lynch began to float into the air, but his voice still reached Nick Fury's ears through the earpiece.
"I'm very angry right now. I was almost killed by that guy."
"And maybe you'll regret that he didn't succeed because you have no way to restrain me now."
"Perhaps you could try dropping a nuke on New York to see if that would take me out."
"Or you could try contacting that old friend of yours—maybe she can finish me off."
"Beyond that, any attempt will only make me angrier."
"If I wanted to, I could do anything in New York to calm my anger."
As he spoke, Lynch ascended higher into the sky.
"Punishing this guy is far from enough, and I don't want you interfering. Goodbye. I hope by the next time we meet, you've figured out what to do."
With that, Lynch turned and prepared to fly to New York. Pausing for a moment, he looked back and added, "I have a particular dislike for older and male agents. I'd suggest sending someone next time who gives a better first impression."
Then Lynch quickly flew off without looking back.
As they watched Lynch fly away, Coulson smiled wryly and quietly asked into his earpiece, "What do we do now?"
Back in his office, the S.H.I.E.L.D. director furrowed his brow deeply. His desk was covered with files related to Lynch and Superman.
"Clean up the mess there, then come back, and we'll figure out the next step."
Hanging up, he irritably pushed aside the documents on his desk, opened a drawer, and fumbled around before pulling out an old, worn-out communicator. He hesitated, rubbing the small device, but after a long while, he put it back. Staring at Lynch's photo on the desk, he muttered to himself, "Not yet..."
Coulson ended the communication and exchanged a look with Tony, both somewhat at a loss.
"How can he fly now?" Coulson asked, puzzled.
"Come on, how would I know? He couldn't before," Tony replied, equally frustrated. But after thinking about it, he realized it wasn't so strange for Superman to be able to fly.
"Alright, I've got to clean up this mess. Are you heading back?"
"Then I'll see you next time. I need to get some sleep. This day has been crazy."
...
In a laboratory, a man in a white coat had just finished talking to Coulson, and all the research data on Lynch had been taken by S.H.I.E.L.D. Yet, he didn't seem too upset or disappointed. As soon as Coulson and his team left, he hurried to General Ross's office, knocked on the door, and with a satisfied expression, reported to the stern-faced Ross, "General, the sample wasn't taken away."
General Ross nodded and asked, "How long until you can make the serum?"
The man in the white coat was startled, then hesitantly replied, "General, this... this is different. It might—"
"I'm not asking if you can make it!" Ross shouted angrily. "Don't forget, I haven't held you accountable for letting him escape!"
Suppressing his anger, Ross thought about how he would love to shoot this idiot if he weren't still useful.
"One week! I want results, or you can kiss your life goodbye."
...
In a secret hideout, a stunning woman with wavy blonde hair, dressed in a tight black suit that blended perfectly with the surrounding darkness, suddenly felt her communicator buzz. She frowned slightly and answered the call.
"Director, what is it? I'm in the middle of a mission."
"Abort that mission and head to New York immediately. You have a critical task."
"Critical?" She smiled slightly, her lips curving into a delicate grin. "How critical?"
"It concerns the safety of New York."
Hearing this, she responded seriously, "Understood. I'll head back right away."
"The files have been sent to you. Take a look and think about how you'll handle this mission."
A moment later, sitting in a pickup car, she opened the mission files. After quickly skimming through them, the highly trained agent couldn't help but feel a little skeptical.
"WTF? Superman?"
...
In New York's Chinatown, Lynch strolled down the street with great interest, taking in everything familiar yet foreign around him. With his extraordinary hearing, the occasional Cantonese slipping into his ears felt nostalgic.
But the fusion of American culture in Chinatown also gave him many new and fresh experiences. He had never been to New York before, but while flying, he had ended up here and decided to take a walk.
Suddenly, he spotted a Cantonese restaurant and realized it had been a long time since he had Cantonese food. So, he stopped wandering and headed straight into the restaurant.