Chapter Nine: The Lich King Finds Spider-Man Utterly Annoying [Please Add This New Book to Your Favorites and Recommend It!]

How could Roald not know about S.H.I.E.L.D.? Anyone who crosses into the Marvel universe—how many of them are unaware of S.H.I.E.L.D., or don’t end up involved with it in some way? It’s practically a law of causality, just like with Coulson. He was merely pretending ignorance, but now he’d probably picked up another piece of fairly reliable information: Peter Parker might not yet know the specifics about S.H.I.E.L.D.

When Roald responded with such a retort, Coulson didn’t get angry. Instead, he displayed the composure of a seasoned agent. Compared to Peter Parker, whose secrets had been more or less uncovered, Coulson sensed that Roald was the one hiding something significant. This was the intuition of a true professional. You might not believe it, but sometimes, intuition is the most useful tool—like magic, it defies scientific explanation.

“To be honest, that name has been complained about before, but the Director thinks it’s super cool. There’s really nothing I can do about it.” Coulson shrugged with a helpless smile, explaining to Roald and Peter.

“Though you might not believe it, S.H.I.E.L.D. is an organization dedicated to protecting global security. That’s our guiding principle. Based on this, one of our most important missions is to shield ordinary civilians from the disturbances of supernatural events or ultra-advanced technology—and to keep them safe.”

“Oh, man, that’s awesome! You know, it’s been my dream since I was a kid to be a superhero like you guys. I mean, you must understand a little boy’s yearning for heroism, right? It’s like everyone’s feelings about Captain America.” Peter Parker, warming up to the conversation, turned to Roald as he spoke.

“Of course, I completely understand. That’s the romance of all boys,” Coulson replied, playing along cheerfully. Even though Roald had rejected him, Coulson showed no irritation, standing there with a smile, skillfully steering the conversation. From Peter’s enthusiasm, he found a way in and began to talk with ease and humor.

“There truly are many anomalies in this world, as I’m sure you, Mr. Reporter, understand. Like Captain America, or the Spider-Man making waves online recently—there are many people working in secret to keep society stable.” As he mentioned Spider-Man, he covertly observed Peter’s reaction, while also watching Roald’s expression closely.

At this moment, Natasha walked over and added, “As humanity’s first line of defense, we are the barrier between this world and the stranger, more dangerous realms.” Her eyes held a deep wariness toward Roald, though for a moment, she couldn’t recall exactly why.

“Oh, that’s really something. So, you’re kind of like a firewall? Or maybe antivirus software? Or maybe you’re the cheese layer on the outside of a baked apple pie?” Peter Parker, notebook in hand, quickly jotted down his thoughts as he looked at Coulson and Natasha. Even as an intern reporter, he was convinced today’s interview would make tomorrow’s headlines.

He felt as though he’d uncovered a secret hidden within this world.

A promotion and a raise might just be around the corner—and then he’d have money for a date; maybe.

“If that’s how you want to put it, I suppose that’s not so far off. What do you think, sir?” Coulson nodded in agreement with Peter’s analogy, simultaneously steering the conversation back toward Roald.

Roald raised an eyebrow. “So, as antivirus software, instead of fighting viruses, you’re here questioning me? As you can see, I’m just an average, law-abiding, helpful citizen passing by.”

“A helpful citizen passing by?” The corner of Coulson’s mouth twitched inexplicably. “But isn’t your shop two blocks from here?” With that, he handed a file to Roald.

“You’re investigating me?” Roald’s brows furrowed. He passed the file to the obedient Erica beside him. It outlined the suspected connection between his shop and the recent disappearance of local gangs, with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s marks circling his name.

Once you enter S.H.I.E.L.D.’s sphere of suspicion, they swarm like flies.

Profiling—a method of deducing someone’s psychological state from their behavior, thus analyzing their personality, environment, profession, and background—is one of the main tools of psychological analysis.

“I wouldn’t call it an investigation, just a necessary procedure. We’re not about to pin everything on you without evidence, Mr. Roald. But as agents, maintaining a healthy suspicion is part of the job, regardless of whether the subject is truly suspect,” Coulson said, giving Roald a meaningful look, as if his words carried a deeper significance.

But Roald had no patience for his rambling.

“This is all you’ve got? No other evidence?”

“That’s it,” Coulson replied readily, making him seem all the more sincere.

“Erica.” At Coulson’s words, Roald waved his hand dismissively.

“If you have no evidence, why are you throwing around accusations? I’m a law-abiding taxpayer—careful, or I’ll sue you for defamation!”

“Wait, don’t get so worked up!” Seeing the dangerous glint in Erica’s eyes, Coulson and Natasha both grew alert, hastening to interject.

“What is it?” Roald asked, puzzled.

“If you keep this up, S.H.I.E.L.D. will classify you as an ‘uncooperative subject’ and determine your fate through internal review,” Natasha said, already drawing her weapon. “Frankly, I don’t recommend you go down this path. It could get you either executed or imprisoned for life.”

Clearly, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s investigation wouldn’t end just because Roald refused to cooperate. If they suspected you, they would dig up every scrap of useful information.

Seeing Roald hesitate, Natasha’s expression grew stern as she declared, “On behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., I’m ordering you to cooperate, or we will arrest you for endangering public safety. Wherever you go in New York, as long as it’s under our jurisdiction, we have the right to act as we see fit.”

She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Beside her, Coulson’s lips tightened as he too drew his gun. The agents hidden nearby tensed, giving Roald no room to refuse.

Humans fear anomalies due to lack of firepower; yet, when armed, they become emboldened. Given power and necessity, fear often drives them to control or eliminate what scares them.

Facing Roald, Natasha was a perfect example.

Roald found himself once again recognizing the sheer authority wielded by S.H.I.E.L.D. If he were truly just an ordinary man, he might easily have ended up “dealt with” for the mere suspicion.

“Though I don’t know exactly what S.H.I.E.L.D. is, I will say this: if you wish to accuse a citizen of any crime, call the police or the FBI. And make sure they bring a warrant. If all you have is baseless suspicion, I assure you, I will defend myself.”

Feeling a sharp sting between his brows, Roald knew instinctively that someone had a bead on him. He raised his hand, fingers closing in a subtle gesture.

Any attack would first be drawn to his taunt-bearing minion—only Vicarne would take the hit. He had no fear.

[Death’s Grasp]

[Property: Harness the energy that pervades all things to pull the target before you.]

[Description: Come here, I have something marvelous to show you.]

Just as Barton was drawing his bow, sighting down the arrow, his vision suddenly flipped. It was as if spring-loaded shoes had launched him, somersaulting through the air, covering a hundred meters in a flash. In the blink of an eye, as the others stood dumbfounded, he found his neck delivered squarely into Roald’s waiting palm.

“Oh, man, what was that?” Peter Parker was full of curiosity. Maybe Coulson and the others hadn’t caught what had just happened, but his eyes had seen it all.

“So is that, like, some legendary Eastern rope magic, or are you a super soldier entering your second transformation—maybe you built tech like Spider-Man’s web shooters? I’m telling you, spider silk is super cool!”

Roald: “...”

Erica: “(￢_￢)”

Neither wanted anything to do with his endless chatter.

Ignoring the astonished Natasha and her colleagues, Roald calmly adjusted Barton’s collar as the archer stood there, utterly befuddled.

“I’m sorry, sir. Your neck just collided with my hand.”

“Compensation, please!”