Chapter 121: First Glimpse of the Serpent’s Shadow

Michael emerged from the courthouse surrounded by his bodyguards, not responding to a single question from the reporters along the way.

Back in his car, a lingering sense of unease gnawed at him.

Why was that?

It was as if everything had been left half-finished, a feeling of a grand plan unraveling into farce. Their preparation seemed insufficient, almost bungled.

“Red Queen, track Felicia. I need constant updates on her status.”

Felicia was far from safe. Even if she followed their instructions, there was no guarantee she would get what she sought. Worse still, if their scheme failed, she might bear the brunt of their frustration.

As they drove, Michael sensed something was amiss.

“This isn’t the way back to the company, is it?”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

Michael turned to the driver in front of him.

Felicia usually handled that role, but she hadn’t stepped out with them just now.

The driver glanced back with a face Michael did not recognize at all.

“Mr. Mobius, we mean no harm. We just want to take you somewhere,” the man said.

Michael smiled faintly. “Alright.”

The car twisted and turned, soon shaking off the vehicles trailing behind.

Steve asked, “Where is he going?”

Tony grinned. “No idea. Maybe someone’s looking to cause him trouble.”

They had come to watch the drama unfold, to see what obstacles they might face. Instead, it turned into a farce.

“Follow him.”

Happy hesitated, until Tony urged again, “Follow him.”

Then Happy gave no more thought and pursued.

Though not a great fighter, Happy’s driving skills were solid; he could handle various vehicles, not just cars.

Tony pulled out a tablet and, after some flashy maneuvers, successfully pinpointed Michael’s car.

Under Tony’s direction, Happy quickly caught up.

“What’s this place?” Steve asked, eyeing a shop sign adorned with Chinese characters.

“Let me see,” Tony said, tapping the sign and translating.

“A Cantonese tea restaurant?”

Tony glanced at Steve and added, “Sounds like a place to eat.”

Steve replied, “Got it.”

Happy waited by the car as the two went inside.

Once inside, they found the place filled entirely with Chinese patrons speaking Mandarin.

“This place is full of Chinese people,” Steve remarked, surprised at this being his first time in such an establishment.

“Yes,” Tony replied, adopting an air of understanding. “Because we’re in Chinatown.”

Guided by his bodyguards, Michael quickly arrived at a private room on the second floor.

Upon opening the door, he found none other than Alexander Pierce.

Alexander Pierce was the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D., said to have been instrumental in promoting Nick Fury.

Yet his true identity was that of a Hydra agent, the head of the organization. Crossbones and the Bald Man were his subordinates. In the second Captain America film, he nearly eliminated Fury.

He had devised the Insight Initiative based on Dr. Zola’s algorithms, aiming to eradicate all threats to Hydra.

The plan was ultimately foiled by Captain America, and Pierce was shot dead by Fury.

“Hello, Mr. Pierce. What brings you here?”

“Please, Mr. Mobius, have a seat.”

Michael sat down and poured himself a cup of tea from the table.

“I know you like Chinese food, so I arranged this spot,” Pierce said, handing over the menu.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I didn’t order anything. Take a look.”

Michael casually ordered some dishes and then said, “If there’s something on your mind, just say it.”

“I’d like to invite you to join the Brotherhood.”

“The Brotherhood?”

Michael felt a twinge of disappointment; it wasn’t Hydra.

“Yes. This organization selectively invites social elites. Only by joining can you enter politics, even become the President of the United States.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of such a group. Quite surprising.”

Feigning surprise, Michael immediately asked, “What would I have to give in return for joining?”

Brotherhoods were common—many films and prestigious universities featured them. Even mutants had their own.

Regardless of their nature, the mention of brotherhood always implied an unbreakable bond for some reason.

Pierce smiled slightly. “Simple—share your wisdom with us.”

“Your suit, your aircraft, the super serum, interspecies genetic fusion.”

“We help each other.”

Michael grew wary; these agents were clearly not to be trusted and had done their research thoroughly.

Seeing Michael hesitate, Pierce continued, “Rest assured, by joining us, you’ll gain much more. For example, today’s farce will never happen again.”

Michael fixed him with a deep look, understanding now.

Today’s chaos was a staged performance.

Its purpose: to let him know that if they wanted to move against him, they had countless means. The only flaw was the clumsy fat congressman, who made it look like a real mess.

“So today’s farce was your doing?”

“No, no, that’s not important.”

Pierce then said, “If you’re willing to join, we’ll help you secure a congressional seat as a gesture of good faith.”

He stood and approached Michael, speaking in a tempting tone.

“A congressman under twenty, with just a bit of publicity, you’d be America’s shining star—Captain America himself would pale in comparison. I guarantee, within thirty years, you’ll be President.”

Michael smiled. “Thirty years isn’t a bit too long?”

“Not at all. Michael, you should know the world belongs to the few. You and I are among them.”

Pierce pulled out a stool and sat beside Michael.

“Thirty years is enough time for us to conquer the world. By then, you will be the supreme leader.”

“The world belongs to us.”

...

“Gentlemen, may I take your order?” a waiter asked.

Tony scanned the room but saw no sign of Michael on the first floor.

Quick-witted as he was, he immediately guessed Michael must be in a private room upstairs.

“We have an appointment upstairs.”

“Which room? I’ll show you.”

“No, we’ll find it ourselves.”

Fearing exposure, Tony hurriedly pulled Steve to the second floor.

They found a guard at the door.

Disguised with hats and sunglasses, the foolish agent failed to recognize them.

Once inside, they pressed themselves against the wall to eavesdrop.

Steve’s sharp ears helped him translate for Tony.

“By the way, did you pick up Dr. Connors?”

“Yes, he’s working with us. But the interspecies gene fusion is still just shy of perfect.”

Now Michael was certain: this man was lying through his teeth.

He had asked Nick Fury about Connors and learned he was never recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.

This so-called Brotherhood was likely a Hydra front. Pierce’s enticing offers were nothing but empty words—an attempt to get something for nothing.

Michael smiled. “Tell Dr. Connors that it isn’t we who fused the genes, but that the genes chose us.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion. Until next time.”

After finishing the steamed dumplings, Michael disappeared right before Pierce’s eyes.

“What the f—?”

Pierce was baffled as to why Michael had simply walked out.