Hells Kitchen, the fringes.
Phil Coulson wore a neat black suit, his face set in that harmless, good-natured smile.
He was a veteran Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and this kind of field investigation was second nature to him.
In fact, Coulson had already visited over a dozen shops and residences these past two days, but the owners either knew nothing or impatiently chased him away.
Now, he was walking through a scrap metal yard smelling of grease and rust.
"Hey, old man." Coulson stood at the entrance of Old John's Scrap Yard and politely knocked on the iron door that was about to fall off: "I'm an Agent from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, and I have a few routine questions for you."
Old John, who was stuffing a pile of scrap copper and iron into the hydraulic press, looked up with a blank expression:
"What division?"
Old John, unable to remember the name, grew impatient: "Whatever division you are, if you're selling insurance, get lost. If you're here for taxes... this pile of junk is all my assets."
"We handle special cases."
Coulson maintained his smile and flashed his badge, "A while ago, there were some... very loud incidents around here. Did you see anyone suspicious? Perhaps someone smelling of gunpowder, or a stranger with strange movements?"
"Suspicious people?" Old John spat out a mouthful of saliva, "In Hells Kitchen, people wearing suits and ties are the most suspicious."
Coulson:... "Alright, sorry to bother you." Coulson wasn't angry; he was used to the attitudes of the residents here.
He turned to leave, habitually sweeping his gaze across the recycling yard.
As a top Agent, his observation skills were extremely sharp.
Mountains of discarded tires, rusty bicycle frames, scrapped refrigerators, car wreckage pressed into blocks... everything looked normal.
However.
Just as Coulson's gaze swept over the corner... that pile of metal blocks just pushed out of the hydraulic press.
His eyes suddenly froze.
Among that pile of dusty scrap iron, one block looked exceptionally... 'alluring'.
Although it was pressed flat like a compressed biscuit, completely obscuring its original shape, the unique red paint job and the twisted, deformed silver titanium alloy surface still shimmered with an expensive luster in the sunlight.
Coulson's smile froze on his face.
Having dealt with Tony Stark frequently, he was all too familiar with this color scheme and material.
Hiss—
Coulson sucked in a sharp breath.
He pressed the communicator near his ear with a trembling hand: "Officer... I think I found the reason Stark went crazy last night."
... Ten minutes later.
Boom—!!!
Accompanied by a deafening sonic boom, a gold and red figure plummeted from the sky, crashing heavily onto the muddy open ground of the scrap yard.
The strong airflow blew away a circle of surrounding soda cans.
"Where?! Where is it?!" Tony Stark's anxious voice came out before the faceplate was fully opened.
Coulson stood before the pile of metal blocks, his face showing a complex expression of sympathy mixed with the urge to laugh.
He stepped aside and pointed to the red and silver 'metal brick,' about the size of a microwave oven, at his feet.
"..."
Tony stared at the block.
It was his Mark 5.
The pinnacle of cutting-edge technology he had developed, sacrificing defense for portability, costing hundreds of millions of dollars.
Now.
It had become a brick.
"villainess value +83"
"That old man said..."
Coulson watched Tony's face gradually turn the color of liver and reported, suppressing a smile: "A girl with purple hair brought this here to sell two days ago."
"She said it was a bread machine made by her idiot cousin."
"The purchase price... fifty dollars."
"Fifty... dollars?!" Tony's voice suddenly pitched up an octave, almost cracking.
He clutched his chest, "My Mark 5! Just one knuckle joint costs more than fifty thousand dollars! She sold it for only fifty?!"
"And she called it a bread machine?!"
"This demon!"
"villainess value +116"
Meanwhile, in Queens, Su Modie and Reze exchanged smiles upon hearing about two sudden large deposits.
Su Modie and Reze exchanged smiles.
As expected, their little prank seemed to have been discovered.
Back at the scrap yard, Tony paced around in anger, feeling both heartbroken and frantic over the 'brick'.
"Alright, Tony, calm down." Coulson took out a recorder, his expression turning serious, "Do you know that girl?"
Hearing these keywords, Tony stopped his tantrum.
"Know her? Of course..."
"Yes, of course I know that lunatic." Tony leaned against a scrapped car, arms crossed, his tone turning cold, "She calls herself the bomb demon, and two days ago, she was the one..."
"bomb demon?" Coulson quickly searched the database for this title, but clearly found nothing.
"Don't bother, Jarvis searched the global database using her facial data, but she doesn't exist."
Tony recalled that figure, his brow furrowed, "Her abilities are very... bizarre."
"She can turn herself into a bomb, using explosions for super-speed movement. Her strength is terrifying, and also..."
Tony pointed at the metal block, "She is an absolute madwoman."
"She hugged me, trying to take us both out, just to extort two million in cash from me, and then she stole my suit."
"Two million?" Coulson raised an eyebrow, "It sounds like... she's very short on cash?"
"Who knows? Maybe demons need to pay rent too," Tony replied irritably, "In any case, this is an extremely dangerous target. My scanner showed her internal energy reaction was extremely unstable at the time, like a walking miniature nuclear warhead."
"If she loses control and self-detonates in a crowded area..."
The two exchanged a look, seeing the gravity in each other's eyes.
That small-scale explosion in Hells Kitchen was just the beginning.
A demon with this level of destructive power, a volatile personality, and completely illogical actions (like selling a suit of armor for 50 dollars) roaming this city... was simply a ticking time bomb.
Well, not a metaphor; a real ticking time bomb.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. will take over this matter," Coulson closed his notebook, "We will establish a maximum-level surveillance file."
"Characteristics: Purple hair, green eyes, collar, capable of converting body parts into high explosives."
"Codename: bomb demon."
"Whatever you want." Tony looked heartbrokenly at the 'Mark 5 block' on the ground, "If you find her, remember to notify me."
"I can let go of the two million, but I need to settle this bread machine bill with her properly."
Boom—
Iron Man ascended again, leaving the scrap yard with a chest full of grievances and that brick.
Watching Tony's receding back, Coulson pressed his communicator:
"Sir, confirmed as a supernatural ability individual.."
Fury paused for a second, then issued an order: "I will assign Romanoff to handle this matter. As for you, Coulson, since you've confirmed Stark wasn't crazy, your mission is complete. Come back and write your report."
"Received, Sir."
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