Besides, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In the back of Lance's mind, he had already noted the possibility of exploiting this.
What Lance truly wanted to do couldn't be monitored with just a few SHIELD agents sitting on a park bench pretending to be flirting. But these people... would certainly be suitable for use as "cleaners."
In the future, if Lance killed people who didn't know what was good for them, Lance would enlist these SHIELD men to help clean the floors—and who knows, maybe even mop his path with their expensive suits.
"I'm Jimmy Woo, a level six agent with S.H.I.E.L.D."
The middle-aged man slowly opened his jacket and took out a thin business card with only a phone number on it. The paper was slightly wrinkled, but the ink was still fresh. "I'm the captain of this team. If you don't want us to get too close, we can try to stay away. If you need anything in the future, you can call me directly."
"Jimmy Woo?" Lance raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, then he picked up the card with a lazy movement. Lance's fingertips pressed against the corner of the card, as if weighing whether it would explode. "How many Jimmy Woos are there in S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
The middle-aged man—Jimmy Woo—didn't know why Lance was asking, but answered honestly anyway, raising his hand slightly. "As far as I know, there's only one."
Lance nodded slowly, as he twirled the card between his fingers like a lazy magician. A lopsided smile appeared on Lance's lips. "Oh, so you're that Jimmy Woo."
In the Marvel universe, Jimmy Woo is no mere lowly agent. He first appeared as an FBI agent before being recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D. A few years there, Jimmy Woo chose to leave and take over control of the Atlas Foundation—a secret organization whose history can be traced back to the era of the Mongol Empire.
Rumor has it that every Atlas Foundation leader is a descendant of the Golden Family, a hidden dynasty that has hoarded wealth, secrets, and technology for centuries, forming a shadowy empire that secretly rivals S.H.I.E.L.D.
In Jimmy Woo's hands, the Atlas Foundation has evolved. No longer just a black syndicate operating behind the scenes in business and crime, it's now the headquarters for the Agents of Atlas—a transcontinental superhero team comprised of warriors of Asian, African, and other origins rarely seen on the global hero stage. One of them is Shang-Chi, Master of Kung Fu—a shadow-like warrior, dubbed by many as "Marvel's Bruce Lee."
Slowly, Jimmy Woo has become known as the "Nick Fury of the East"—a spy, mentor, and walking bank for unsung heroes. Half of Jimmy Woo's feet remain immersed in the swamp of the criminal underworld, the other half standing among the ranks of heroes. Jimmy Woo is a balance. Often blurred: a villain to some, a savior to others.
And today, Lance faces the future of humanity.
Lance spun the card between his fingers, looking at Woo with a faint smile. "I'll call you if I need you. Other than that, keep your men away from me. If I find any spy toys around my house…" Lance leaned in, his voice dropping coldly. "…you know the consequences."
Jimmy Woo adjusted his jacket collar, held his breath, and then smiled faintly. "Rest assured, Mr. Lance. S.H.I.E.L.D. has no intention of causing trouble. We know your reputation. We're not that stupid."
Lance simply nodded in response. "Good." Lance opened "Kyōka Suigetsu"—a shimmering crack of air in his hand—and then slowly vanished, like smoke swallowed by the night wind.
From that moment on, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were nothing more than pawns on Lance's chessboard.
Lance turned at the end of a narrow alley, looked up at the dull black brick wall, tapped twice, and then traced a circular symbol with his fingertip.
Swish.
The sound of space cracking. The dark wall cracked, revealing a softly glowing door. Lance stepped through the thin gate.
In an instant, the world around him changed.
Behind the door stood an old tavern reeking of history—18th-century European style, with odd decor that sent shivers down the spine. The walls were covered with strange-leafed vines that pulsed as if breathing. Glass bottles filled with colored liquids floated gently in the air. From the corners of the ceiling, antique masks stared blankly at the guests.
There were no windows. No electric lights. The only light came from ancient lanterns in the corners, but there were no dancing flames within them—instead, they were bluish-green orbs of light that floated slowly, flickering like fireflies. This dim light crept through the wisps of tobacco smoke, seeping into the corners of the wood, making the room appear dim and bitter.
There was no sign on the front door. No waiter stood waiting. Whoever had found this door was certainly no ordinary person.
This bar was a secret den for magicians—hidden beneath the concrete heart of New York, but its entrance extended far and wide through dimensional gateways. A magician could sip a drink here tonight, then emerge in London or Kyoto the next day. There were no cameras. There were no police. The law here belonged to anyone with sufficient power.
And the owner—the "Prince of Magic" of Monaco—was rumored to have sold gin to the devil and hot coffee to angels.
Lance had just closed the door behind him when laughter erupted from the corner of the bar. An old man in a black silk robe sat on a high chair, waving his long pipe as he spoke loudly.
"You believe it? That fool actually planted Hami spider venom in my food! Hahaha! Apparently he's never heard of Count Kaoz! I took a sip of his soup under his nose, then I twisted his neck before the poison could take effect. Weakling."
Lance just smiled slightly, pulled up a chair in the corner, sat down, and waited.
...
...
...
Inside the Bar With No Doors.
Here was Count Kaoz—or rather, Ygor Kaoz—with a thick beard, as tangled as the sleepless Siberian jungle of the last winter.
------------------------------
[Announcement: A New Novel Has Been Added!
The Puppet Maker in the World of Naruto
A man who is a scientist, researcher, and expert mechanic in robotics dies in a massive explosion that occurs in his laboratory while developing an advanced robot project. However, instead of experiencing death as he thought, the man awakens in another world—a strange place with vast stretches of desert.
There, the man is surrounded by people who can jump high, calling themselves ninjas. The confusion he initially felt grows as he realizes that this world is not unfamiliar to him. This is the world of Naruto! However, there is one thing that surprises him.
"Isn't this Sunagakure? Why am I not in Konoha? This poorest village... Oh my God, this is serious!"
Now, in the midst of a new life filled with danger and uncertainty, the scientist must find a way to survive in Sunagakure, a harsh place full of limitations. With his robotic knowledge, can the man change his fate in this ninja world, or will he fall along with the village?]
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