Having left Stark's villa, Tim's mind still echoed with Stark's words, especially concerning the meeting place of the Luminous Alliance and the fundamental reason this organization could dominate over others.
It all involved a key figure—Professor X.
Mind-reading ability was both the most feared and desired by people. In Tim's cosmos, no one could truly read minds, and even what Professor Shearer demonstrated was only close to mind-reading.
But in Stark's portrayal, the ability possessed by Professor X was no longer just mind reading; he seemed more like a god of thought.
In an instant, he could alter the thoughts of everyone in the world, a power so immense that it exceeded Tim's imagination.
Now, he understood why the Luminous Alliance could suppress organizations like Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. and ensure the details were executed accurately without any deviation.
Because Professor X could peer into and manipulate anyone's thoughts at any time.
Tim couldn't help but seriously ponder how the humans on this Earth managed to survive.
Hydra itself was already outrageous; for such a global-scale terrorist organization to exist was irrational, yet they were firmly suppressed by S.H.I.E.L.D.
An organization like S.H.I.E.L.D., which dealt with supernatural global events, along with The Avengers, was already far-fetched. Still, they somehow remained ambiguous with the KGB.
For the KGB to act so brazenly on American soil despite S.H.I.E.L.D. having many powerful superheroes was even more absurd, yet to their surprise, there were realms beyond, with the Luminous Alliance proving to be even more formidable.
The Luminous Alliance had grown so strong, and at its core were key personnel who were part of a particular group, the mutants.
Tim had just learned from the internet that among the mutants, there were several others as strong as Professor X.
Magneto's information even made Tim laugh.
There actually existed humans in this world who could control the Grand Unified Theory, not by studying it, nor proving it, but by mastering it.
How can ordinary people even survive?
Does this Earth truly provide a valid reference? Tim began to deeply doubt.
Just as Stark said, he wasn't just idly investigating these organizations and hypothesizing; he wasn't just sitting around with nothing to do.
Tim had long guessed that Bruce was up to something; Earth's structure was bound to undergo massive changes, and he obviously had to prepare early.
Not that he was Bruce's assistant or anything, but primarily because he too was an Earthling, and his family and friends were all on Earth. Unaware, he might have let things be, but knowing the risks, how could he not plan in advance?
Tim knew he wasn't Superman; influencing the battlefield with physical methods was unlikely, so he could only strive within his capabilities, which of course meant business and politics.
The universe he was now in had actually reached the perfect state of business and politics that Tim had envisioned, so of course, he wanted to understand how this state was achieved and maintained.
This way, when his home Earth experienced major upheaval, he could use it as a reference, and perhaps even improve on it.
But the deeper he investigated, the more Tim felt this universe was outrageously ridiculous, like a massive mountain of feces wrapped in nonsense that took a vacation to Russia and got a matryoshka makeover.
Every organization seemed not to be seriously functioning, yet every one of them operated smoothly; relationships between organizations were illogical, yet a perfect balance was achieved; no person appeared where they should be, yet there was always someone to handle the situation; every event occurred at the wrong time, yet somehow the timing always worked out.
If Tim had to describe it, this world was like a colossal mountain of feces code.
What's more interesting was that it seemed all but muck, yet if you swept any pile of it clean, the code would cease to function.
If you removed Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., which thrived on capturing Hydra, would be paralyzed; if you dismantled S.H.I.E.L.D., the FBI, unable to defeat Hydra, would be paralyzed; if you abolished the FBI, Hydra, beaten senseless by S.H.I.E.L.D. over funding disputes, would be paralyzed.
If you disbanded The Avengers, Congress, targeted by mutants, would be paralyzed; if you removed the mutants, The Avengers, targeted by Congress, would be paralyzed; if you eliminated Congress... it seems you really could disband Congress, and with no Congress, no one would get hurt.
If previously Tim had still harbored some utilitarian motives, wishing to learn secrets, now he was truly curious about how this universe achieved such an order within chaos and chaos within order.
Tim and Pamela had found another house in the suburbs of Los Angeles, not as nice as the previous one but still decent enough to live in. And on his way back to this house, he noticed someone secretly following him.
Then he received a call from Pamela.
"Agents are onto us."
"Which agents?"
"Of course, the ones from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Did you forget? You just escaped from there. You don't think they'd let you get away, do you?"
As he drove, Tim glanced at the rearview mirror. The person in the driver's seat of the black car following him looked familiar—it seemed like one of the field agents who had chased him at the FBI base.
After hanging up the call, Tim didn't speed up; he leisurely continued towards his destination, constantly changing lanes and deliberately choosing longer routes, leading the agent on a wild goose chase.
Suddenly, the phone rang again, this time with Jason's voice on the line.
"Be careful, Tim, Hydra is targeting you. When did you offend them?"
"I don't know." Although Tim answered this way, he knew that it was not surprising for Hydra, led by Shearer, to target him after he spoiled their plans.
Not even two minutes had passed when Pamela called again, this time Natasha's voice came through the phone.
"They know you are investigating the KGB. Be cautious."
Tim did not argue; he had long experienced the KGB's persistent harassment, and even the slightest mention of them could make him a target for their tracking.
Soon, Stark's call came through.
"Did you mess with Nick? He just called and told me to detain you, I said you had already left. Drive carefully."
After hanging up, Tim sighed, knowing this day would come.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s plan to fundraise through Hydra had fallen through, Nick would definitely trouble him, he'd spoiled Shearer's plan, Shearer wouldn't let him go, he'd caused a commotion at the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the FBI wouldn't help him, he'd investigated the KGB, and the KGB would certainly be cautious of him.
He had offended all three organizations.
So, the question arose, who had sent the car that was following him?
Tim changed lanes again. Although he had seen this person at the FBI, if the FBI were arresting him, it wouldn't just be one car.
The FBI is America's official law enforcement agency; they don't need to play spy games to arrest someone. They simply block off the area by air, land, and sea. Who would stop the police from making an arrest?
This stealthiness was not the FBI's style; kicking down doors was their way.
It was very likely that the KGB, conducting an operation in the guise of duty, were the ones trying to catch him, which matched the style of those secretive spies.
Moreover, the man's features were closer to that of the Slavs, and the muscles around his lips moved differently from those of a native English speaker, making Tim think it very likely that he was from the KGB.
With that in mind, Tim decided to expose a weakness, as if it were the KGB, they wouldn't want his life, but rather to know what he was investigating about them and what he had discovered.
Tim deliberately changed lanes without signaling and accelerated in the instant he moved over, crashing into a car in the adjacent lane, both vehicles ending up in the far right lanes.
When Tim's car stopped, he pretended to panic, opened the door, and ran. He dashed to the sidewalk and swiftly turned into the nearby alley, and sure enough, the man from the black car came after him.
Tim ran through the alley and quickly crossed the road behind it, took a turn, and continued running into a narrower branching path.
A gunshot sounded with a muffled thump, clearly a silenced firearm, confirming his suspicions that these people did not want to expose their identities.
Using the shadows of the buildings, Tim accurately identified which alleys were dead ends and deliberately ran into one in his panic.
The three men indeed followed him. Tim raised his hands and said, "Don't shoot, don't kill me..."
The leader cautiously approached him with a gun. At that moment, Tim noticed that the gun in his hand was the standard issue for the FBI.
As he was thinking, the man lunged at him, slamming him against the wall and then knocking him unconscious.
When Tim woke up, he found himself in the trunk of a car, tightly bound, and he realized he had indeed been captured. He felt weak all over, probably because he had been drugged.
Tim had long discovered his low sensitivity to various neurological drugs; it even took more than double the dose of anesthetics to affect him, which was also why he drank so much coffee. This was one of his trump cards, waking up earlier than expected.
Despite this, he felt somewhat groggy, and the rough ride made Tim feel nauseous.
The two people in the front didn't communicate much; their voices were very low, almost inaudible. But as the car stopped, Tim faintly heard a sentence—"Hail Hydra."
It was bad. It was Hydra.
When Tim woke up again, he found himself lying in a pristine hospital room and looked up to see an old acquaintance.
Natasha stood beside him.
With blurred vision, he saw people bustling around, and on the wall hung a shield, the emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D.
"How are you feeling, Tim?"
Tim was utterly bewildered.
How could he be at S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Russians from Hydra with FBI weapons had kidnapped him to S.H.I.E.L.D.???
"You saved me?" Tim voiced the only possibility he had thought of.
"Ah... yes, we saved you." Natasha nodded after a pause, and Tim narrowed his eyes.
"From whose hands?"
"From... Hydra... uh... the Federation... um... the KGB? Yes... the KGB! You were about to be kidnapped by that Russian!" Natasha said, nodding vigorously.
"Where is he now?"
"He ran off."
"Didn't you chase him?"
"Well, we thought your safety was more important." Natasha said, "You are an important person that Nick asked us to keep a close eye on; nothing is more important than your safety, that's it."
Natasha left quickly. Actually, Tim hadn't been hurt, just needed to metabolize the anesthetic inside him. After lying in bed for a while, he felt much better, at least his head was no longer spinning, and his limbs no longer numb.
So, taking advantage of the nurse's inattention, he got out of bed and began to wander around the ward. Tim turned his head and saw the medical chart placed at the head of his bed.
In most hospitals in the world, the basic information of the patient, such as name, time of admission, and symptoms, would be written at the patient's bedside. Generally, this is handwritten and not in the sloppy doctor's handwriting, but as clearly as possible.
Tim only glanced casually at first, but upon seeing that line of writing, he became a bit uneasy.
What the hell is this? Is this even English?!
The handwriting on the medical chart at his bedside couldn't be said to be non-Latin script. There was a bit of cursive and a few extra loops, slightly sloppy... Bullshit! Isn't this Russian?!
Tim grabbed the medical chart, looked at it closely, and found that what was written on it was actually English, English in Russian cursive handwriting.
He suddenly had a bad feeling, but he consoled himself that this might be Natasha's doing. This Soviet agent had been here for so many years and hadn't changed her handwriting. How unprofessional!
"What are you doing?!" A rough voice rang out at the door.
Tim turned his head with a puzzled face because he didn't understand what the other person was saying.
The other person seemed to be speaking English, but maybe not. English people could understand it, but weren't familiar with it; Germans were familiar but couldn't understand it. Tim, fluent in both English and German, could neither understand nor was he familiar with it.
A head nurse in a nurse's uniform with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo rushed in, snatched the medical chart from Tim's hand, and refiled it, scolding him, "Don't touch things randomly! This isn't your school infirmary. Keep this up, and I'll have you thrown out!"
"Stop!" Tim interrupted the head nurse and then asked her, "Are you German?"
"Yes, what about it?" the head nurse answered assertively.
"But S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't..."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is an international organization." The head nurse said, "It deals with supernatural affairs all over the world. What's so strange about having Germans?"
Tim couldn't argue with that. He had been able to look up online that S.H.I.E.L.D. indeed reports directly to the United Nations Security Council and although its headquarters is in America, and it receives the most funding from there, the organization actually draws support from various sources. So having a German head nurse wasn't that odd after all.
Tim convinced himself... for only a few minutes. He told the head nurse he wanted to go outside for some fresh air, and then he discovered that, besides Russian accents, there were German accents all over the medical department.
What, I, an old American, have become an outsider?
Tim was a bit baffled. Aren't there hospitals in countries other than Russia and Germany? Do they have to hire doctors and nurses from just these two countries?
His question didn't last long, but the method of resolving it wasn't by answering the question—it was by presenting an even greater one.
He hadn't wandered outside for long when Natasha sent someone to take him to the S.H.I.E.L.D. building, saying Nick wanted to see him.
Tim swore that not once during the journey had he heard a word of English being spoken. The language used by these agents for communication was not English with a foreign accent, but outright foreign languages—part of it was German, part was Russian, some was Russian with a German accent, and some was German with a Russian accent.
This left Tim's head buzzing.
He couldn't help asking Natasha, "Did Little Mustache conquer the world in your universe? Have they reached America now?"
"No, history here has been the same as yours except for the dissolution of the Soviet Union." Natasha shook her head and seemed puzzled why he would ask such a question.
"Then why is the official language of S.H.I.E.L.D. German?!"
"It's not German, there's also Russian being spoken, isn't there?"
"Isn't Russian even more outrageous?!!" Tim roared, "I thought when I woke up, I had arrived in Moscow!!!!"
"You're practically illiterate. Germany has never reached Moscow, you wouldn't hear so much German there!"
"Is that the point??!!"
Natasha waved her hands as if impatiently, "Language is just a tool for communication; what difference does it make which one it is? As long as you understand, right? People just like to learn Russian and German, what can you do about it?"
Tim nearly choked on her words.
They soon arrived at Nick's office. Nick seemed to be organizing his collection of eyepatches. Upon seeing Tim, he stood up to shake hands with him.
"I've heard much about you, Mr. Drake. How have you been lately?"
"Not so good." Tim grimaced and said, "The chaos of your universe is maddening, I don't know what is normal anymore."
"You'll get used to it." Nick said.
Tim was choked up again. He thought, you, as the boss of this supernatural organization in this world, shouldn't you explain things to me? What do you mean 'you'll get used to it'? Is this something one can get used to?
"I actually came here mainly to ask you for a favor," Nick put down what he was holding and interlaced his fingers on the table, "I know you followed Shiller to Los Angeles, and I hope you can get something for me."
Tim heard the implication and sat down opposite him, asking, "What is it?"
"You promise me first, then I'll tell you."
"I don't understand, with all these agents you have, why come to me?"
"I have a lot of agents?"
"Of course, aren't those people out there... Don't tell me they're actually not your agents."
"They are, but do you know what month it is now?"
"Uh, it's almost November, what about it?"
"Yes, it's almost November, which means the end of the year is coming."
"...So?"
"The agents have to write year-end reports."
"If you need someone, just let them skip the reports."
"But their reports aren't written for me."
"Huh???"
Tim then translated the series of German and Russian he had just heard in his head, realizing that the group of agents gathered together were indeed discussing year-end reports.
One of them said, "Remember that case in Tennessee? It was Vincent from your team who blew up the base, right? Can I write it that way, or should I pin it on The Ten Commandments?"
"Don't write about Vincent, he was transferred back to headquarters. He's now my boss. If you said he was still in Tennessee two months ago, it would give us away. I think you can write Anjiele, who's under Gana's command. He recently switched sides to Moscow..."
"What about you? Didn't you go with him?"
"I was originally going back to Moscow, and my brother back to Berlin. My brother's boss hasn't paid him in three months. It's possible that we'll meet in Moscow this year..."
"This year has been too tough. Our boss had me 'killed' over 60 times, only to pay me half of what I got last year. By the way, did you hear about the recruitment in China? They offer high salaries!"
"Cut it out. We're all Caucasians. Whether it's back to Berlin, Moscow, Los Angeles, or Washington, it's the same, but over there, it's Asians. You'd be exposed the moment you went..."
The amount of information in this conversation almost fried Tim's CPU.
"Tim... Tim?! TIMOTHY!!"
Tim suddenly woke up and asked somewhat confusedly, "What's up?"
Nick gestured and said, "This is the most I can give you, don't complain that it's too little. Times have been hard lately, and I've sent the extra hands back to Berlin. I'm doing this only because you are a relative's kid..."
Tim didn't pay attention to the gesture he made. He just asked again, "I can work for you, but you have to tell me what's going on."
"What do you mean 'what's going on'?"
"This damn cosmos, this damn Earth, and these damn organizations, what the hell are they all about!!!" Tim shouted in exasperation.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and all three people in the office turned their heads simultaneously. Nick said, "Come in!"
A tall man holding a folder walked in.
Tim stood up abruptly.
It was the agent who had kidnapped him!!!
The man also seemed surprised to see Tim, but his gaze moved past Tim and landed on Nick. Advancing a few steps with the folder, he smiled awkwardly and said.
"Boss, this is this year's year-end report. I thought I should still write one for you, considering the year-end bonus."
Nick took it and glanced at it, "I knew hiring you was the right decision, your professionalism is admirable. But you didn't come just to tell me this, did you?"
"Yes, I just wanted to come and apologize. Moscow has assigned me another job; I've got to set off for Europe in February..."
Before Nick could respond, Tim asked first, "Moscow? How come I've never heard that S.H.I.E.L.D. has a headquarters in Moscow?"
The man paused, then said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have a headquarters in Moscow, there's only the Russian National Security Bureau there."
Tim was taken aback, and they stared at each other for a few dozen seconds.
"So you're a Russian spy???"
"That sounds too harsh," the man said.
Just when Tim thought the man was about to defend himself, the man continued on his own, "First and foremost, I'm a spy placed inside S.H.I.E.L.D. by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, then I'm a Hydra spy recruited by the Federal Bureau of Investigation; next, I'm a spy sent by Moscow to infiltrate Hydra's ranks, and soon, I'll be a spy sent by Moscow to Hydra, sent by Hydra to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, dispatched by the Federal Bureau of Investigation to S.H.I.E.L.D., and then by S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned to Hydra headquarters."
Tim's CPU burned out again.
"So you're a... er, five-way, quintuple agent?!"
"That's not how you count it," the man said, dismissing with a wave of his hand, "Have you played the matching game? Being undercover in Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. is the same, so they cancel each other out. Getting orders from the KGB to go undercover in S.H.I.E.L.D. and staying at the KGB is no different, so they too cancel each other out. The only ones that count are the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Hydra, so I'm really just a double agent."
Tim's head began to smoke.
The man gave him a look as if to say how dumb can you be, then seemed impatient to continue the discussion and said, "Boss, Moscow is sending me back as a mole in Hydra. Do you think I should report it to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and get the same assignment? That way, I could earn another salary."
"That's fine, but don't forget to 'pay taxes'."
"Don't worry. I'd need to ask the folks in the IT department for a little help with my identity..."
"Sure thing, a 20% undercover tax, 5% fee for identity alteration. Times are tough for everyone, so I won't charge more than that."