Chapter 149: Fury's Warehouse
"Second."
Natasha set down her teacup.
"While you were gone, Fury established a new database."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of database?"
"The God-Level Threat Database."
Natasha watched his reaction carefully.
"The masked man is ranked first."
"I know."
Natasha blinked.
"You know?"
"I guessed."
Lynn calmly took another sip of tea.
"Fury's thinking pattern is remarkably consistent."
"When he encounters something beyond his control, his first instinct is always the same."
"Create a file."
"Conduct a threat assessment."
"Identify weaknesses."
"Develop contingencies."
Natasha studied him for a moment.
"Aren't you worried?"
"Worried about what?"
"The database."
"The assessments."
"The possibility that Fury decides to act against you."
Lynn shook his head.
"He won't."
The answer came without hesitation.
Natasha frowned.
"You're that certain?"
"He needs me."
Lynn placed the teacup on the table.
"The next time an Avenger is bleeding out on an operating table."
"The next time someone suffers injuries that modern medicine can't fix."
"The next time a superhuman crisis occurs."
"He'll come looking for me."
"Until my usefulness disappears, Fury won't make a move."
Natasha remained silent.
The statement sounded arrogant.
Unfortunately, it was also true.
After several seconds, she spoke again.
"You've analyzed everyone around you very thoroughly."
"It's part of my job."
"Your job is being a doctor."
"Doctors should understand their patients."
The conversation ended there.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
Natasha had already delivered everything she came to say.
She glanced at the clock.
Then stood.
"That's all."
"I'm leaving."
"Alright."
She walked toward the back entrance.
Her hand settled on the doorknob.
Then she paused.
"Lynn."
"Hm?"
"The place you disappeared to..."
Natasha turned slightly.
"It wasn't on Earth, was it?"
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
"What makes you think that?"
"Intuition."
"Your intuition isn't very reliable."
His expression remained perfectly calm.
"I stayed on Earth."
"The signal was just terrible."
Natasha looked at him for several seconds.
Then she opened the door.
And left.
The darkness outside quickly swallowed her silhouette.
Lynn closed the door.
Locked it.
Then returned to the counter.
He washed both teacups.
Placed them back in the cabinet.
"The signal was terrible..."
He repeated the sentence quietly.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Technically speaking, he wasn't lying.
At over six thousand meters above sea level in the Himalayas, ordinary mobile reception was virtually nonexistent.
For most people, even breathing would be difficult.
Fortunately, he wasn't most people.
...
The next day.
2:00 PM.
Lynn arrived precisely on schedule at Warehouse C-17.
The facility was located inside an aging industrial district on Manhattan's western side.
At first glance, it looked completely ordinary.
Rust-covered gates.
Peeling paint.
Weathered concrete walls.
Two anonymous white cargo vans parked outside.
Nothing about it suggested strategic importance.
Which was exactly the point.
The actual facility extended three underground levels.
More than fifteen meters below the surface.
The concrete walls contained vibranium-reinforced support structures.
The total underground area exceeded two thousand square meters.
Nick Fury was already waiting.
Black trench coat.
Arms folded.
Single eye bloodshot.
The man looked as though sleep had become an optional luxury.
Two heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D. security officers stood nearby.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Both remained alert.
"You're late."
Fury glanced at his watch.
Lynn checked his own.
"I'm thirty seconds early."
He looked back up.
"Your watch is fast."
Fury chose not to respond.
Instead, he turned and opened a side entrance.
"Follow me."
The group entered the building.
A secure elevator carried them downward.
Level B2.
The elevator doors opened.
Immediately, the smell hit.
Metal oxides.
Cryogenic preservation fluid.
Industrial sterilization chemicals.
The distinctive scent of a high-security storage facility.
Lynn stepped out and surveyed the area.
The underground warehouse was enormous.
Nearly one thousand square meters of visible storage space stretched before him.
The facility had been divided into multiple containment sectors.
Each section was isolated behind transparent blast-resistant barriers.
Temperature and humidity were tightly regulated.
Rows of cool white LED lights illuminated every corner.
The nearest containment chamber housed a massive section of dark-blue metallic hull plating.
A fragment of a Kryptonian assault vessel.
Its surface still carried scars from atmospheric reentry.
The edges had been cut cleanly.
Industrial plasma equipment.
Possibly Stark Industries technology.
Further inside stood dozens of sealed storage containers.
Large.
Small.
Rectangular.
Cylindrical.
Each carried different labels.
CHITAURI INFANTRY ARMOR FRAGMENT
LEVIATHAN BIOLOGICAL TISSUE SAMPLE
WORLD ENGINE OUTER SHELL SEGMENT
And many more.
The deeper sections became progressively colder.
A third containment area housed more than a dozen cryogenic preservation tanks.
Thin frost coated the outer surfaces.
The All-Seeing Eye effortlessly penetrated the reinforced containers.
Information flooded into Lynn's vision.
Mutant genetic samples.
Extraterrestrial parasite specimens.
Fragments of Soviet super-soldier research recovered during the Cold War.
Several unidentified biological anomalies.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Everything promised in our agreement is here."
Fury crossed his arms.
"The Kryptonian wreckage."
"Recovered alien technology."
"And the biological archive sections covered by your access privileges."
Lynn didn't immediately answer.
Because his attention was elsewhere.
The All-Seeing Eye continued expanding its scan.
The visible warehouse represented only a fraction of the facility.
Behind the public containment sectors existed another reinforced zone.
Hidden.
Additional security.
Additional shielding.
Additional secrets.
His vision passed through the barriers.
And revealed what Fury hadn't shown him.
Three damaged Chitauri energy cores.
A largely intact World Engine gravity-control module.
And two black storage containers marked:
CLASSIFIED — OMEGA
Lynn wasn't surprised.
Nick Fury always maintained backup plans.
Backup contingencies.
Backup contingencies for his backup contingencies.
The one-eyed director trusted nobody completely.
Not even himself.
Lynn chose not to mention it.
Instead, he walked toward the Kryptonian hull fragment.
Then placed his hand on the alloy.
The instant physical contact occurred, information exploded across his vision.
Molecular composition.
Crystal lattice arrangement.
Energy conduction pathways.
Structural density.
Atomic stabilization systems.
Within seconds, the alloy had been completely analyzed.
A perfect three-dimensional molecular model unfolded before him.
"Not bad."
Lynn withdrew his hand.
"You preserved it well."
"Of course."
Fury sounded mildly offended.
"These artifacts cost taxpayers a fortune."
"They cost you money you owed me."
A vein pulsed near Fury's temple.
Lynn turned around.
Then looked directly at him.
"Director Fury."
"I have a proposal."
Fury immediately became suspicious.
"What proposal?"
Lynn casually pointed around the warehouse.
"This entire facility."
A pause.
"Give it to me."
Fury blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then stared.
"What?"
"The warehouse."
Lynn gestured again.
"Everything inside."
"Transfer ownership."
For several seconds, Fury genuinely wondered whether he had misheard.
Then reality sank in.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"This is S.H.I.E.L.D. property."
"The contents alone are worth billions."
Lynn interrupted.
"I'll compensate you."
Fury narrowed his eye.
"How?"
"The next time one of your people needs a house call..."
Lynn smiled.
"I'll do it for free."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the security personnel looked slightly stunned.
Because everyone present understood what those words meant.
A free house call.
For anyone else, that sounded trivial.
For Lynn?
That was terrifyingly valuable.
During the Battle of New York alone, his emergency deployment fees had exceeded one billion dollars.
The Metropolis incident had been even worse.
This time he had demanded access to alien technology and biological archives.
A single free intervention from Lynn could be worth more than everything currently stored inside the warehouse.
From a purely financial perspective...
It wasn't even a bad deal.
Fury's expression darkened.
His mind began calculating.
Warehouse value.
Replacement cost.
Research value.
Future medical emergencies.
Potential casualties.
Probability models.
Risk assessments.
Fifteen seconds passed.
Then Fury finally spoke.
"What exactly does this free house call cover?"
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