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Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 13:16:28 +0000 UTCAs everyone knows, besides Hiroshima in that small island nation, there are also priests in America who have earned a… questionable reputation.
After all, parents in China trust their children to Shaolin Temple without worry, but American parents? They’d think twice before leaving their kids with a priest.
Of course, not all priests are like that.
Take Father Randall, for example — a man deeply respected by the local community.
And that respect wasn’t blind faith; S.H.I.E.L.D. had run a full background check on him.
Inside a two-story villa in Queens—
On the bed lay a young girl, her face twisted with fury and her eyes burning with hatred as she glared at the two people before her.
Standing beside the bed, Natasha Romanoff held a pistol in one hand, her expression serious.
“Father Randall,” she said evenly, “are you certain you can handle this?”
The priest clutched a silver cross in one hand and a vial of holy water in the other. His voice was calm but resolute.
“God loves the world, Agent Romanoff,” he said. “And He will stand with us.”
Stepping forward, Father Randall pressed the cross to the girl’s forehead.
“Demon, I command you in the name of God—leave this child and return to Hell!”
As the priest began the exorcism ritual, Natasha instinctively turned to glance out the window.
According to her investigation, Jessica, a member of the Paranormal Investigation Agency founded by Linen, and the daughter of New York’s deputy mayor, had already taken on this so-called possession case.
If her timing was right, Linen and his team should be arriving soon.
That was exactly why Natasha had inserted herself into this operation — to observe them firsthand.
Just as she was thinking, a cold, eerie laugh echoed through the room.
Father Randall froze.
The girl’s lips curled into a grotesque smile. Her body lifted several feet off the bed, floating midair, her eyes glowing blood-red. A strong stench of blood spread through the air.
Natasha tightened her grip on her pistol.
Outside the villa—
A dark sedan came to a halt by the gate. The doors opened, and Linen, Jessica, and Barbara stepped out.
“This is the place,” Jessica said, glancing at the house. “Strange… no one came out to greet us. Aunt Lina usually—”
Before she could finish, a loud crash came from the second floor.
The windows shattered, and two figures — a man and a woman — were thrown out by an invisible force.
Jessica and Barbara both gasped and stumbled back in shock.
But Linen’s eyes narrowed sharply.
The red-haired woman who instinctively rolled midair to break her fall… was unmistakable.
Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.
Meanwhile, at Tony Stark’s Malibu Beach Villa—
“Tony, what are you planning to do?”
Pepper Potts crossed her arms, staring at the two large crates in the living room — along with an old, detailed city model that Howard Stark had designed years ago.
Tony was busy rummaging through one of the boxes with Happy Hogan’s help.
“Uh… how should I explain this?” Tony said, glancing at her. “Let’s just say it’s something sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. — yeah, that S.H.I.E.L.D. The one with Coulson.”
Taking the Blueprint of the Future City from Happy, Tony examined it, then smiled slightly. “I’m going to make something.”
Pepper frowned. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me, Tony.”
“Pepper,” Tony said with mock seriousness, “trust me. I’ll tell you everything… just not right now.”
Seeing his determined look, Pepper sighed and nodded. “Fine. But I’m heading to Washington for a few days. I’ll bring you something back.”
As she turned away, Tony rolled his eyes. “What am I, a kid now?”
The moment Pepper left, Jarvis’ calm voice echoed through the room.
“Sir, regarding your request — I’ve compiled all the information about the Asian youth named Linen, who’s enrolled at several New York universities.”
Tony immediately straightened. “Show me.”
“Right away, sir.”
A holographic projection appeared before him, displaying Linen’s profile and background.
Tony scrolled through the data silently, his expression tightening.
After a few moments, he said, “Jarvis, investigate this kid’s connection to Obadiah Stane.”
He remembered the video from the Spoiler System — his conversation with Linen had mentioned that Linen was “grateful” to Obadiah.
“Sir,” Jarvis replied, “there is no direct record of contact between Linen and Obadiah Stane.”
Tony frowned deeply. “No connection? That doesn’t make sense.”
Was the video fake?
If it was, then everything — the creation of a new element, his cure for the palladium poisoning — would also be false.
That couldn’t be right.
Just as doubt began to creep in, Jarvis spoke again.
“Sir, ten years ago, Obadiah Stane made a charitable donation through the New York Charity Foundation, and continued donating every year until his death. The fund provided scholarships to underprivileged but high-achieving students.”
“One of the long-term recipients,” Jarvis added, “was Linen. He received support from age nine until college.”
Tony’s expression softened.
“So that’s it…”
He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
“No wonder he said he was grateful.”
He looked at the data again — Linen, adopted by a member of the Digital Gang, yet academically brilliant and self-sufficient.
Without Obadiah’s scholarship, a kid like that would’ve had no chance to go to school.
Tony nodded thoughtfully. “I get it now.”
He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe the kid’s got more in common with me than I thought.”
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