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Chapter 30: Allens Shots
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 11:36:05 +0000 UTC“May, keep an eye on Creel at all times. Remember, monitor only—do not scare him.”
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. Airbus base, Phil Coulson, whose hairline had noticeably receded, commanded with a serious expression and steady eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
In the Alexandria neighborhood, Agent May rode a vehicle in pursuit, followed closely by a red-and-white pickup truck speeding at high velocity.
Inside the pickup, Carl Creel’s face was filled with panic.
A crystal-clear gem was embedded in his right arm, turning the entire limb into a rubber-like material.
“Damn it!”
Creel’s face twisted in horror as he slammed the steering wheel. After enduring countless hardships and completing the task assigned by HYDRA, he was furious that the 084 artifact resisted his abilities—he could not devour or transform it.
Back in his cabin, Creel fumbled with the communicator while trying desperately to activate his powers. His body shifted rapidly—stone, rubber, steel—but none could assimilate the Obelisk.
“Damn it! Answer the phone already!” he shouted, dialing quickly. His eyes burned with irritation, but the brainwashing from HYDRA left him unable to resist their orders.
“Parkerson Park. Bring the Obelisk and complete your mission,” a cold, emotionless HYDRA voice commanded through the communicator.
Not far away, S.H.I.E.L.D. elite agent Melinda May monitored the conversation via a high-tech device.
“Parkerson Park… finally, a big catch. Skye, Tripp, Hunter, move in and arm yourselves.”
At the Airbus base, Phil Coulson’s eyes glimmered with excitement. After days of preparation and surveillance, the net was finally closing. Carl Creel would be intercepted, and the HYDRA operatives caught.
Just then, Bionic Agent Koenig approached, his expression serious.
“Phil Coulson, there’s a call on line one. The caller claims to be an old friend of yours and wants to speak to you.”
Coulson raised an eyebrow. Koenig shrugged slightly, acknowledging the strange message.
Coulson answered the communicator. Lena’s voice came through clearly.
“Phil Coulson, it’s been a long time.”
She was still at Alice Bar, wearing a stylish printed dress. Her eyes spoke volumes, every smile and frown radiating charisma.
“Lena… haven’t been caught by S.H.I.E.L.D., have you? Or have you officially joined HYDRA?” Coulson asked, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. He still respected Lena’s skill during the Centipede Project; she could maneuver between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. undetected.
“HYDRA? No. HYDRA is past tense. Once a mystery is exposed, it becomes ordinary and dull. I have no interest in that.” Lena gently swirled the red wine in her glass. Learning that HYDRA was just a group of ordinary people had extinguished her curiosity.
“You called… don’t you want to chat?” Coulson asked, glancing at Koenig, who was tracking Lena’s phone signals. It would take time, so Coulson took the opportunity to converse.
“Let me guess—you’re tracking me now. But to disappoint you, my boss instructed me to tell you not to interfere at Parkerson Park. Otherwise… you’ll bear the consequences.” A sly smile crossed Lena’s face, and she hung up.
At Parkerson Park, after days of surveillance, Carl Creel finally arrived. HYDRA had already prepared—rare, high-quality diamonds were scattered in advance. Among the pedestrians, Creel immediately spotted Sunil Bakshi, a senior HYDRA operative, seated on a bench.
At the Airbus base, Coulson had already deployed his team. May, Skye, Tripp, and Hunter lay in ambush, waiting for a single signal to capture Creel and Bakshi simultaneously.
“Mr. Bakshi, I’ve brought the 084 you requested,” Creel said, setting the box down. He turned his back to Bakshi and handed it over.
“Very well. Obey, and you will be rewarded. Well done, Mr. Creel,” Bakshi said with a smile, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Completing Whitehall’s task was a great honor.
“Very good. Now, act.” Seeing Bakshi relax, Coulson issued the arrest command via communicator.
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
Skye and May stepped from the crowd, weapons raised.
“Bang, bang.”
Gunfire erupted in the park. Creel, seated on the bench, transformed instantly into wood. The bullets struck, but only chipped his wooden form.
“F***k! It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.—those damn hunters!”
Bakshi scowled, lifting the suitcase. “Stop them, Creel!”
At that moment, two figures appeared. The woman was familiar to Bakshi—Lena, once a subordinate of John Garrett. Beside her stood a man shrouded entirely in a hooded robe, his face obscured.
“As you wish, beautiful little flower, Ms. Lena,” Allens said, glancing at her with a gentlemanly smile, raising his right hand.
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