Motoko Kusanagi placed a file on Lynn's desk.
It contained the evaluation report on Barbara Minerva.
"After observation and conditioning, the target has basically grasped the concept of obedience."
Motoko Kusanagi's voice was as steady as ever.
"However, the wildness and insubordination deep within her have only been suppressed, not eradicated. She is an unstable weapon."
"An unstable weapon can only unleash its maximum value when used in the right place."
Lynn tapped his finger lightly on the report, his gaze falling on Barbara's exotic-looking ID photo.
"It's time to let her go out and see the light, to bask in the Sun."
He looked at Motoko Kusanagi.
"What has Peggy Carter been busy with lately?"
"The preparations for S.H.I.E.L.D. are nearing their end. She is using Howard Stark's funds and General Phillips' connections to recruit extraordinary people for this new agency on a global scale."
"According to intelligence, next Wednesday at 3:00 PM, she will go to the Metropolitan Museum to meet with an information broker codenamed'Scholar' to investigate a group of HYDRA remnants who escaped from Europe."
"Very well, then arrange a chance encounter."
...
New York.
The Metropolitan Museum.
Peggy Carter, dressed in an elegant trench coat, strolled slowly through the Egypt hall, pretending to admire the exhibits.
The Shadow of her hat brim obscured most of her face, making her look like an art student looking for inspiration.
Her peripheral vision remained locked on a man wearing a fedora not far away.
Just as she was about to step forward to make contact using the agreed-upon code.
A magnetic female voice with a slight British accent sounded beside her.
"This exhibit is a fake."
Peggy tensed up, but on the surface, she just turned her head naturally.
A tall woman with a unique aura was standing beside her.
The woman had long, wavy flaxen hair.
Her amber eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts.
She pointed at a statue of the cat goddess Bastet in the glass case, her tone certain.
"The real Bastet statue was bought by a private The Collector in 1938 and has not appeared since."
"Its base should have a line of sacrificial inscriptions carved in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but this one does not."
Peggy was a bit surprised.
She wasn't an archaeology expert, but she could sense the confidence of the woman in front of her.
"Who are you?"
"Barbara Minerva, a nobody with some research into history."
Barbara smiled at her, that smile carrying a touch of wild charm.
Just then, a sudden change occurred!
A piercing alarm suddenly rang out inside the museum!
Several thugs wearing Joker masks sprang up from among the tourists, their automatic weapons spitting Fire, sending debris flying from the ceiling.
The crowd immediately fell into hysterical chaos.
The thugs' target was very clear, pointing directly at the several treasures of the museum.
Peggy reacted immediately.
She drew her pistol from her handbag, ready to fight back.
But Barbara beside her was faster!
In Barbara's amber eyes, the gentleness belonging to a scholar faded away.
The woman who had just been lazy and charming turned into a female leopard locking onto its prey!
A thug noticed them, their stunning looks, and grinned, aiming his muzzle at Peggy.
"Go to hell, babe!"
"Bang!"
The gunshot did not ring out.
An afterimage, too fast for the naked eye to capture, flashed by.
Barbara's figure had already appeared in front of the group of thugs.
Her hand chop struck the opponent's neck, and the thug collapsed to the ground without even a groan.
Her movements were elegant, deadly, and possessed a primitive beauty!
Peggy's pupils constricted.
This was a combat technique she had never seen before.
Barbara did not stop.
Her body weaved between the crowd and the display cabinets.
Every time she struck, a thug fell to the ground.
She didn't kill anyone.
But every one of the fallen thugs had lost the ability to act.
In just thirty seconds.
An armed robbery was easily solved by her alone.
When the Police arrived, they only saw thugs groaning on the ground and a woman tidying her skirt.
Peggy walked over, looking at her with complex eyes.
"Miss Minerva, who exactly are you?"
Barbara turned around, the terrifying fierce light in her eyes fading, turning back into that charming archaeology scholar.
She licked her lips and gave a helpless, bitter smile.
"Someone... who is cursed."
This answer, far from resolving Peggy's doubts, instead piqued her greater interest.
A scholar with profound knowledge.
A mysterious woman with skills comparable to a top Agent.
Someone who claimed to be "cursed."
Wasn't this the perfect candidate, someone outside the norm, that she had been desperately searching for for S.H.I.E.L.D.?
"We can find a place to have a good talk."
Peggy extended an invitation.
"About your curse, and... a future where you can unleash your talents."
Barbara looked at her, "hesitation" and "vigilance" flashing in her eyes.
Finally, she nodded.
"Okay."
Lynn took it all in through the surveillance.
A perfect nail was thus buried.
June 25, 1950.
An invisible line stretching across the Korean Peninsula was ignited by the flames of war.
The clouds of war shrouded the World.
News traveled back to the United States.
The Pentagon's phone call went straight to the Vought InternationalPresident's office.
The call was made personally by General Chester Phillips.
His tone was tough and urgent.
"Lynn, the country needs them."
"We need Soldier Boy and Human Torch to rush to the Far East; this is the President's order."
Lynn leaned back in his boss chair, playing with a pen.
"General, I think you have misunderstood one thing."
"They are contracted artists of Vought International, not assets of the Department of Defense."
"Their commercial endorsement contracts are already scheduled until the end of next year. Any unilateral breach of contract will bring tens of millions of dollars in direct economic losses and immeasurable brand value losses to Vought International."
"Does the Department of Defense intend to pay this money?"
General Phillips on the other end of the phone was choked up.
Contracted artists?
Commercial contracts?
This bastard actually used such an excuse to put him off!
"Lynn Morris! This is not a business negotiation! This is war!"
Phillips roared.
"It is precisely because it is war that I must be more responsible for my assets."
Lynn's voice turned cold.
"In the last war, they shed enough blood for this country."
"Now, peace is hard-won. They have the right to enjoy the Sun and the beach, instead of going to the quagmire of a strange country to risk their lives for politicians' ambitions."
"You..."
"Beep... beep... beep..."
Lynn hung up the phone directly.
A week later, the door to Lynn's office was kicked open.
Soldier Boy burst in, smelling of alcohol, his handsome face full of rage and confusion.
"Why?!"
He slammed a newspaper onto Lynn's desk; the front-page headline was about the outbreak of the Korean War.
"The country needs me! Why did you refuse?!"
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