Over the past few days, Lucas Reed had felt that something was off.
Yet for the moment, he could not put his finger on what exactly was wrong.
Unlike Clark, he did not possess absurdly powerful super-senses, so he had no way of precisely identifying the source of the problem.
Moreover, the small town where they lived lay beside an interstate highway. There was a steady flow of people coming and going every day, making it difficult to judge which unfamiliar faces might pose a threat.
That day happened to be the weekend, and Carrie was off from school.
Under her relentless pestering—and at his parents' insistence—Lucas could only helplessly take her out for a day of fun.
"Bro, I want a hamburger!"
"Bro, I want fried chicken!"
"Bro, I want fried rice!"
"Bro, I want a chicken wrap!"
"Bro, I want—"
The entire morning and afternoon passed amid Carrie's endless eating.
If Saiyans themselves were not notorious big eaters, Lucas genuinely suspected that watching Carrie eat might have given him anorexia.
Lucas had long noticed that Carrie was anything but ordinary.
But since he himself was no ordinary person either, he had always been extremely tolerant toward her.
Unfortunately, some people had noticed this anomaly as well.
"Bro!" Carrie suddenly tugged at Lucas's sleeve.
Lucas replied instinctively, "What do you want to eat now? Lead the way—at this point I'm just an emotionless credit-card machine."
"No, bro," Carrie whispered. "Someone's been following us."
"Hm?" Lucas's expression darkened slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"It's that guy behind us on the left, the one eating a Mexican-style chicken wrap," Carrie continued.
"Him?" Lucas pretended to squat down to tie his shoelaces while subtly observing.
After standing back up, he frowned.
"He was already there before we arrived. Doesn't look like he's following us."
Carrie wrinkled her small nose.
"No, bro. Everywhere we passed earlier, about every thirty meters there was someone just like him—wearing a microphone, and all of them had their beards cleanly shaved."
"And their gazes would drift toward me for just a moment before immediately looking away. That's how I noticed."
Carrie possessed sensory abilities similar to Clark's—of that, Lucas was certain.
His eyes flickered as a plan quickly formed in his mind.
Taking Carrie's hand, he said gently,
"This is something I'll deal with later. Today is your day off—don't let them ruin your mood."
Carrie immediately beamed and happily continued dragging her brother around the town to eat.
---
That evening, after walking Carrie home, Lucas used the excuse of an urgent client matter. He took a few bites of dinner and then headed out.
At the same time, in a hotel on the southern edge of town, six agents were reporting the day's findings to Phil Coulson.
"Sir, today we screened a total of eight individuals with obvious abnormalities. Three of them have been marked for special observation."
One agent laid out three sets of photographs taken from multiple angles in front of Coulson.
When Coulson examined them closely, he frowned—one of the photos was of a long-haired young girl.
Seeing his reaction, the agent quickly added,
"Sir, I can guarantee that girl is absolutely not normal."
"Based on our records, the amount of food she ate today alone would be enough to feed our entire team for a week."
Coulson nodded.
"Place all three under priority surveillance. Remember—do not alert them."
"Yes, sir!" The agents nodded in unison.
Coulson then glanced at his watch and frowned.
"Strange. Perkins should have returned to change shifts by now."
In the next instant, Coulson's expression changed sharply.
In one smooth motion, he released his holster, drew the handgun from his waist, disengaged the safety, and aimed it at the door.
The other agents, confused but well-trained, followed suit and aimed their weapons at the entrance.
"As expected of Agent Coulson—always alert."
A voice sounded from outside the door.
"Believe me, opening fire will only drag you into the abyss of despair."
Then, before their eyes, the metal doorknob began to slowly deform.
With a clack, it snapped off and fell to the floor.
The door opened by itself.
Lucas Reed stood in the doorway, wearing a harmless smile as he looked at everyone in the room.
"Good evening, agents."
Coulson's grip on his gun trembled slightly.
From the young man before him, he felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation.
It was a feeling he had experienced only once before—in his youth, while training on the African savannah, when he came face to face with a lion king weighing nearly three hundred kilograms.
"W-what did you do to Perkins and the others?" Coulson asked.
He was the only one in the room still capable of speaking; the rest were so tense their bodies had gone stiff.
"Oh, them?" Lucas replied calmly.
"I just let them get some proper sleep. They've been working at high intensity for days."
Lucas stepped into the room.
Each step he took felt like a heavy hammer striking everyone's hearts.
"I'm only here to ask you a few questions."
He casually sat down on a chair and asked,
"What is your purpose in coming here?"
No one answered—not even Coulson.
Lucas suddenly frowned.
"Coulson, I should make this clear. I absolutely hate anything that threatens my family."
"No matter what it is—if it exists, I will find a way to eliminate it."
"So I'll give you three seconds."
"For every second you exceed, one of your subordinates will fall right in front of you."
"Three."
"Two."
"Stop—I'll talk!" Coulson shouted, then began gasping for air.
The pressure he had endured just now was unlike anything he had ever experienced. If not for his S.H.I.E.L.D. training, he might have already collapsed.
He gestured for his subordinates to lower their weapons as well.
If the man before them was truly responsible for those battlefield traces, then their guns were probably not even toys to him.
Coulson then explained Fury's plan—naturally, only the surveillance portion.
"Very good," Lucas said calmly.
"Starting tomorrow, all of you must leave this town."
"But without orders from headquarters, we—"
Before Coulson could finish, Lucas interrupted,
"Before you return to headquarters, the order will be issued. I guarantee it."
With that, Lucas stood and walked toward the door.
Just as he was about to leave, he paused and spoke coldly without turning around:
"Remember—if I come back tomorrow and see even a single one of you still here…"
"I won't mind making them disappear from Earth forever."
With that, Lucas left the hotel.
The next moment, everyone in the room collapsed onto the floor, drenched in cold sweat.
"Sir… what do we do?" one agent asked anxiously.
"Take Perkins with us. We're withdrawing," Coulson said decisively.
"But Director Fury's mission—"
Coulson turned and said sternly,
"I am the highest-ranking officer here. I will take full responsibility afterward. Withdraw."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
No one wanted to face that terrifying man again.
---
Outside, Lucas first called home, explaining that he needed to travel to Washington on a business trip. He then set off immediately.
With a single leap, he soared into the sky.
As early as infancy, he had begun training the energy within his body. By the age of two, he could already float on his own.
Now, his control over ki had reached a level he considered respectable.
Especially after his recent battle with Clark, his mastery had improved even further.
By his own estimation, his combat power had reached roughly Raditz's level.
In the Dragon Ball universe, that would amount to little more than an ant.
But in the current environment, it was more than enough to accomplish certain tasks.
In less than an hour, Lucas crossed roughly one and a half states and arrived in Washington.
Soon after, he located S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters—the precise location of the Triskelion.
Theodore Roosevelt Island.
And yet, the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. had not realized that a grim reaper had already arrived at their very doorstep.