Director, is this red bean bun... guaranteed to be cooked through?

Washington, D.C., the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Thirty floors underground, the highest-level biochemical laboratory.

A dozen top scientists, dressed in fully enclosed protective suits, were busily working around a transparent isolation box.

In the center of the isolation box, the red bean bun, still warm from the previous use, lay quietly.

Various colored laser scanning lines swept across the buns, and the data stream on the screen refreshed like a waterfall.

"Spectroscopic analysis complete. Main components: starch, water, red beans, sucrose."

"Radiation detection returned to zero; no radioactive elements were detected."

"The biotoxicity test was passed. After the mice consumed a small amount of the sample, their vital signs remained stable except for a slight increase in blood sugar."

A white-haired chief scientist took off his goggles and looked at Coulson, who was standing outside the glass wall, with a constipated expression.

"Sir, this...this is just an ordinary red bean bun."

"Aside from the slightly excessive sugar content, it's about the same as the three for two dollars in Chinatown."

Coulson remained expressionless, but in his mind, he had already mentally processed the word "ten thousand dollars" a hundred times.

Did I really get scammed?

Just then, the sound of the air pressure valve turning was heard.

The alloy door opened, and Fury, dressed in a black leather trench coat, strode in.

He looked terrible; his only remaining eye was bloodshot, clearly indicating he had just finished a multinational conference.

"Coulson, I heard you spent ten thousand dollars of mine on breakfast?"

Fury's voice was deep and hoarse, carrying an imposing and authoritative quality.

"Chief."

Coulson immediately stood at attention. "This item was purchased from that gashapon merchant, Leon."

"According to him, this is called an honesty bun, which has a kind of rule-like power that compels the target to reveal the truth."

"The power of rules?"

Fury snorted and walked to the isolation box, staring intently at the ordinary-looking steamed bun with his one eye.

"Stark got a suit of armor that can blow up tanks, and this is what you bring back for me?"

"Because it's a random selection, Chief."

"And if that businessman wasn't lying, this thing has strategic value..."

Colson explained.

"If he wasn't lying."

Fury interrupted Coulson, turning to the chief scientist, "What are the test results?"

"Absolutely safe, Chief."

Scientists confidently assured that "there are no toxins, no nanorobots, and no unknown energy fluctuations."

"This is food, and it's even... quite fresh."

Fury was silent for two seconds, but his stomach promptly growled in protest.

He hadn't eaten for twenty hours while dealing with that hammer in New Mexico.

"Open it," Fury commanded.

"Chief, this is not in accordance with procedure..." Coulson tried to stop him.

"I'm the bureau chief, and my words are the procedure."

Fury waved his hand impatiently.

If this were truly a weapon of mass destruction, Leon wouldn't have sold it to Coulson so easily.

The isolation box is opened.

The enticing sweet aroma wafted into Fury's nostrils.

Fury reached out and grabbed the steamed bun; the warm touch eased his tense nerves a little.

"I want to see what this ten thousand dollars tastes like."

Under the horrified yet curious gaze of all the scientists, the king of spies opened his mouth and took a big, hard bite.

chew.

Swallow.

Everyone held their breath.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...

Fury stood there expressionless, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"How's the taste, Chief?"

"I asked cautiously," Coulson asked.

Fury's tightly pursed lips began to twitch uncontrollably, as if something was trying to break through his strong willpower.

"The taste... is good."

Fury spoke slowly, his voice somewhat mechanical.

Coulson breathed a sigh of relief: "That's good, it seems it's just ordinary..."

"But the red bean paste is a bit chewy."

Fury suddenly spoke faster and his voice rose eight octaves, as if some strange switch had been flipped.

"He's as annoying as that old bastard Pierce! Every meeting he spouts that bureaucratic nonsense, I just want to rip his wig off and flush it down the toilet!"

The entire room fell silent.

The scientist's jaw slammed onto the floor.

Coulson's pupils dilated, and the recorder in his hand fell to the ground with a thud.

"The...Chief?"

"Shut up, Coulson! Your receding hairline gives me a headache!"

Fury couldn't stop; he held the half-eaten bun in both hands as if he were giving a personal speech through a microphone.

His face was expressionless, and even his eyes remained sharp, but the words that came out of his mouth were enough to make the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. explode on the spot.

"This damn eye mask! It's making my temples ache!"

"And this leather trench coat! It's not breathable at all! If I didn't have to pretend to be cool, I would have thrown it away long ago!"

"Actually, I want to go on vacation! I don't want to care about the Avengers anymore!"

"Oh, right, I also secretly used public funds to buy a hundred boxes of imported canned food for my cat."

"That little guy is an alien creature, but it doesn't matter, it's just so cute!"

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D., who strikes fear into the hearts of countless terrorists and gives superheroes a major headache.

Right now, she's standing in a top-level laboratory, munching on a steamed bun while ranting like a drunken old lady.

From the World Security Council's idiocy to the awful coffee in the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria.

From the Black Widow's report being too perfunctory to his desire to actually try a massage.

The truth came out like a machine gun, every sentence was top secret, every sentence was a scene of social death.

Coulson was numb.

He wanted to cover his ears, but didn't dare.

He wanted to cover the bureau chief's mouth, but he didn't dare.

He could only look at the scientists around him in despair, signaling with his eyes: Forget it all! Forget it all! Erase this from your mind!

five minutes.

A full five minutes of Fury's solo talk show.

The effects of the medicine gradually wore off as the last bite of the bun was swallowed and metabolized.

The laboratory was eerily quiet.

The only sound was the exhaust fan whirring.

Frena's mouth, which had been in a state of excitement, finally closed.

That scene, though out of control, was vividly etched into his memory like a boomerang.

Go on vacation...

Wig...

Using public funds to buy cat food...

Fury's already dark face was now as black as soot from the bottom of a pot.

If there's a crack in the ground, he'll crawl into it without hesitation and then order Coulson to weld the ground shut.

"Coulson."

Fury's voice was eerily calm, like the calm before a storm.

"Yes, sir."

Coulson straightened his back, looked straight ahead, and resolutely refused to meet the director's gaze.

"What just happened?"

Fury slowly turned around, his remaining single eye sweeping over every scientist present.

"Reporting...Reporting, sir!"

The white-haired chief scientist trembled all over, his will to survive exploding to its extreme at that moment.

"The instrument malfunctioned just now, producing high-frequency noise. We didn't hear anything! Absolutely nothing!"

"Yes, yes, yes! I didn't hear anything!"

The other scientists nodded vigorously in agreement.

"very good."

Fury took a deep breath and straightened his non-breathable leather coat.

He walked up to Coulson, lowered his voice, and spoke with extreme seriousness.

"That Li Ang must be listed as a person of the highest level of concern."

"This isn't a red bean bun at all, it's a weapon of causality!"

Fury still felt a chill run down his spine when he recalled that irresistible urge to confide.

If what he was just asked about was the code to a nuclear bomb...

He really knows how to talk.

To say it without reservation.

This is horrible.

"Coulson, keep a close eye on that store."

"No matter what he sells, and no matter who buys it, I need to know the information as soon as possible."

"besides……"

Fritz paused, then pulled the black expense card from his pocket and slammed it into Coulson's hand.

"Here, take this card. You can try your luck at drawing more times if you have the chance."

Coulson was taken aback: "Sir, didn't you say this was...?"

"Shut up!"

Fury gritted his teeth, a complex expression flashing across his face—a mixture of ferocity and anticipation.

"Next time, give me something that makes people forget their memories!"

"Fuck! How could I have said that again?"