Tick tick tick
Henrietta crossed off another item on her list as she finished counting the latest shipment. The warehouse behind Fang Square was a busy place. Forklifts beeped as they moved between large stacks of goods. Workers called out as they checked the inventory. Crates with the product manufacture words were placed against the walls, leaving narrow paths through the building.
The front of the store might be a huge draw in Times Square, but this was the engine that kept one of Manhattan's largest supermarket running.
A forklift backed up beside them, beeping. Henrietta watched as Hendrick pointed to a stack of rice bags near the loading dock. After thirty years of marriage, and twenty-five years working for the Fang family, they knew each other's moves.
"Arvin!" Henrietta called out. "Take those lychee cans over to section C, please."
Arvin looked up from inspecting some instant noodle boxes. The fake glasses Fang Chou had given him were slightly askew, but it was fine. He looked like any other teenage worker in Chinatown.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, adjusting the glasses as he walked over.
Ugh
He bent down and picked up the fifty-kilogram crate with little visible effort. The others had seen this every day for the past eight days, and they still shook their heads in disbelief. The boy looked like a strong gust of wind could knock him over, yet he lifted things that even made grown men grunt.
Thud
The crate landed in its place and Arvin brushed his hands off then returned to his quality control station, where he had a series of crates of imported goods to inspect.
Henrietta watched him go, smiling. He was a polite boy, bowing to her and Hendrick as he did. It was almost like they were his grandparents. She hadn't seen that kind of manners since their own children were young.
She made another mark on her inventory sheet. It had been eight days since Fang Chou had introduced Arvin as a "relative from China" who was considering a trial run at the job for the summer. This was the trend right now. Many people, especially immigrants, invite some of their younger relatives to here and feel out a situation before making the decision to move permanently to chase their dream in this free country.
Except that it didn't explain the boy's strength. Or his accent, which was nothing like the mainland Chinese workers they had hired before.
"Henrietta!" Hendrick called from across the warehouse. "The truck is here with the produce delivery."
"Coming!" she called back, tucking her clipboard under her arm.
Arvin continued to inspect the boxes of instant noodles, checking for any damage or expired dates. He moved efficiently, but not hurriedly. Almost as if he had learned to pace himself for long work days.
(If they saw me lifting boulders back in the mountains,) he thought as he set aside a dented package, (they'd think I was some kind of monster.) This was exactly why he kept his full strength hidden. The fifty-kilogram crates were heavy enough to impress without raising serious questions. Back in the mountain with his master, he'd routinely carried twice that weight during the warm up before the real exercises begin. Here, such displays would only draw unwanted attention.
His boots scraped against the concrete as he moved to the next stack. The boots were slightly too big, but they did the job. Christina had insisted on buying him proper work clothes after his first day when he'd worn Fang Chou's work outfit. He'd looked so ridiculous in that even reserved Cynthia had laughed. But he didn't accept that as this was enough.
The warehouse work suited him perfectly. It included physical task that kept his body active and didn't require any complex English conversations. If he didn't understand some words, the old couple would just gesture what it mean to him. And most importantly, it let him contribute to the family's livelihood instead of just taking their generosity for granted.
Creak
The loading dock door rumbled open, letting in a blast of warm air. A delivery truck backed up to the platform, its warning beepers adding to the warehouse symphony.
Hendrick was already there with his clipboard, ready to oversee the unloading process.
Arvin watched the organized chaos with appreciation. Everyone had their role and their rhythm. It reminded him of his grandparents diner. They would prepare for the influx of customers from nearby place as they dine in.
The difference was scale. The responsibility felt heavier but also more meaningful. He was part of something that mattered, even if his role was small.
Stamp Henrietta's clipboard hit the crate beside him as she checked off another completed inventory section. "You're like a machine back here," she said with genuine admiration. "Hendrick says you finish in four days what usually takes us a week."
Arvin looked up, understanding her tone even if some words escaped him. "Thank you," he said carefully in English. "I try to help good."
"Your English is getting better too," Henrietta observed. "Cynthia teaching you? "
"Yes. She very good teacher." Arvin nodded earnestly. "Very patient with me."
Hendrick approached from the loading dock, wiping sweat from his forehead with a red bandana. "Hey, kid! Come help us with these produce boxes. They're too heavy for the forklift to manage safely."
Arvin set down his checklist and hurried over. The produce boxes required careful handling. Fruits and vegetables bruised easily, especially after long shipping journeys from farms across the country.
He hoisted a crate of apples, noting how the weight distribution felt different from the canned goods. Fresh produce had more give to it, requiring adjustments in his grip and movement. H
The work felt good. Honest and straightforward in a way that reminded him of helping at his family's diner. Back then, he'd carried sacks of rice from the storeroom, arranged vegetables for his grandmother's prep work, learned to handle ingredients with the care they deserved.
Thump
Another crate found its place in the refrigerated section. The cold air felt refreshing after the warehouse's stuffiness. Arvin paused for a moment, appreciating the sensation of cool air against his skin. It reminded him of mountain mornings when mist would roll down from the peaks, bringing relief from the summer day's heat.
Chime chime
The speaker crackled to life overhead, announcing the lunch break time. Workers began setting down their tools and heading toward the break room where Fang Chou provided daily meals. It usually were either burgers, hot dogs, or takeout food depending on individual preferences.
"See you after, kid!" Hendrick waved as he passed by.
"Yes, sir. Enjoy your meal," Arvin replied.
The warehouse grew quieter as workers dispersed. Arvin made his way through the bustling store aisles toward the main office. The contrast between the industrial back area and the polished retail space never failed to impress him.
He passed the checkout stations where Jeremy and Cynthia worked as temporary cashiers during their summer break. Jeremy chatted easily with customers, his natural friendliness making the mundane transaction feel more alive. Cynthia, at her own register, processed purchases with quiet efficiency that somehow felt warmer than it appeared.
Christina remained at her supervisory post through lunch, managing the front operations while her family took their break. She coordinated with staff members, handling the weekend rush carefully.
Knock knock
Arvin knocked lightly on the office door before entering. The familiar space had become his lunchtime place over the past week. Fang Chou looked up from his computer screen, his face brightening as he saw Arvin approach.
"Perfect timing," Fang Chou said. "How's the morning going back there?"
(Chinese) "Very well, Mr. Fang. Hendrick and Henrietta have been teaching me about the different storage requirements for fresh produce."
Today lunch was stir-fried chicken and vegetables over rice, portioned generously to accommodate Arvin's appetite. The aroma made his stomach rumble appreciatively.
"The Hernándezes seem to like you," Fang Chou observed, settling into his own meal. "That's not always easy to earn. They've seen plenty of temporary workers come and go over the years."
(Chinese) "They remind me of my grandparents," Arvin replied between bites. "The way they work together, how they care about doing things properly."
This was their usual thing to do. From time, to time Arvin still respond what Fang Chou or Cynthia said in Chinese to train his memory of the what the words mean and whether he translated it correctly of not. If he was wrong, they'll correct him . But nowadays, the times he speak Chinese became less and less. Especially after he moved to learn the other things beside English as he know from experience, one will learn much more faster if they keep using the language.
Jeremy burst through the door as usual, clearly still on his lunch break. "Yo, Arvin. Hendrick says you're like a machine out there! Moving those heavy crates like they're empty boxes."
Arvin smiled modestly. "Just helping the family business."
"Family business," Jeremy said with a grin. "I like that. You're getting the hang of this English better now."
Cynthia entered more quietly, carrying her own modest lunch. She sat down at the small table in the corner. "Your pronunciation is improving," she observed. "The lessons definitely helps."
"Thank you for teaching," Arvin replied. "You very good teacher."
"Are very good," Cynthia corrected. "Remember, subject-verb agreement."
"You ARE very good teacher."
Fang Chou watched the exchange with satisfaction. Arvin was slowly learning the language, earning respect at work, finding his place within their family structure. Even Cynthia, who'd initially been skeptical, had warmed up after she started teaching him.
"Oh, by the way, Christina will heads home at four-thirty to prep dinner today," Fang Chou informed them. "We'll walk back together like usual at 6."
Ding ding
The front bell chimed, signaling new customers arriving for the afternoon shopping wave. Lunch break for the ware house crew would be over soon, and everyone would return to their respective duties.
Jeremy stretched and stood up. "Better get back to the register before the afternoon rush hits."
Cynthia nodded, gathering her lunch containers. "Same here. Sunday afternoons get busy with people doing their weekly shopping."
Arvin finished his meal and rose as well. "I'll return to warehouse. Thank you for lunch, Mr. Fang."
"Keep up the good work back there," Fang Chou replied warmly. "Hendrick mentioned you've already finished the weekly inventory rotation two days ahead of schedule."
Pride flickered across Arvin's face at the compliment. It felt good to be recognized for his labor. As they filed out of the office, each returning to their respective afternoon duties.
Inside the warehouse, Arvin returned to his quality control station. The afternoon sun slanted through high windows, creating patterns of light and shadow across the concrete floor.
He picked up the next box to inspect.
Shuffle
Arvin settled into the familiar flow, his mind quiet and focused. Three more hours until the family would walk home together. Three more hours before they got home and maybe had another evening of some English or common knowledge lessons after dinner.
It was the perfect routine. Simple, productive, surrounded by people who'd accepted him despite he still hide something. For the first time since waking in that alley, Arvin felt like he belonged somewhere not just a stranger.
______________________________
Clint stepped through the doors of Fang Square during the morning rush. The store was bustling as it was weekend and lot of people coming here to stock up their food or buy something. There were aisles upon aisles of shoppers looking at produce, spices, instant food, and snacks. He pulled his cap down. "This place is big," he said to Natasha. "Let's split up. Look around and listen. See if you can found anything about the boy."
Natasha nodded. "Alright. I'll go to instant food section." She began to walk off.
She made her way to the instant food section then walk around for some times before she go to the noodle section where she she just happen to overheard two worker there talking. She pretend to pick up a pack of Japanese noodle and listened in as two workers restocked shelves nearby.
"That new kid, Arvin's was real workhorse," one of them said. He was stacking boxes of noodles. "How could he lift weight like they were nothing. I heard he was Boss's cousin son from China, right?"
"Yeah. He mostly work in the warehouse. Quite shy, but gets everything done fast."
"From what I heard, he still learn how to speak English. Maybe that's why he rarely speak."
"Could be. He'll come around after some time I guess."
When she heard that, her mind immediately recalled the information of the boy (So, he was working in the back. Cousin son? It's definitely a cover story then.)
She stayed for some time and then move along as there's no more information of Arvin she could get from their conversation.
Clint meanwhile looked at the shelves of canned goods nearby. After picking some, he go to get some snacks. He scanned the checkout station before moved toward the one with a chatty cashier and wait behind the people in front of him. It seemed that they had a little chat as the cashier scan the customer's things.
After some minutes, it was his turn. He placed the the things he bring and paid for it. As the cashier start scanning the product, Clint tried to start a small talk. "Hey. This place is quite the establishment. I was just move here with my sister. How long have you been here?"
The cashier smiled as she scans. "Oh, a newcomer? Welcome then. Ha ha, it's been three years now. Yes, it was a nice isn't it. The store been for almost fifteen years here. So most people here will know. Where are you from?"
Clint smiled back. "Been in Iowa all my life. Just moved here like I said, you know looking some job and all. First time here and then saw this place and I thought, I'll check them out."
"Oh... midwest, eh. That's explain the way you talk. Ha ha, It was quite the eyecatch, right? After all it was near the Times Square. Alright, that'll be 10$."
Clint then paid for it and smiled. "Here, thanks for the chat. I'll come back later if I need to buy something."
The cashier returned his smile. "Of course, meet you soon."
He met Natasha outside. "No luck."
"Same but, I heard someone mentioned a new kid in the warehouse. They said he was the Boss's cousin son from China. Definitely a cover made for that boy."
Clint smiled. "Bingo. By the way, remember the sign for a house for rent next to their house What if we move in there? We'll have a better view while being closer to them."
Natasha paused. "That makes sense. So, you'll call the HQ?"
Clint nodded. He pick the a special secure phone that had eagle mark on the back before dialing Fury's number. He wait for a few second before the call went in. "Commander Fury, Barton here. We've scoped the store and Natasha overheard the talk of a new worker in the back. From what we gather, it match the boy's description. No visual yet. But there is one thing. We saw a house for rent right next door to the Fang's residences. So, we think that perhaps we could move in. That's why we need a permission to rent that house to see thing closer. We can pose as a family, a siblings moving in from Iowa to look for job. What do you think, Sir?"
Natasha's mind flashed to a smiling girl when she heard Clint said siblings. The memory lasted for a few seconds before she shrug it off quickly as she refocused.
Fury's voice came back. "Good. I'll give you the permission and let Hill handle the paperwork. You could make some contact now but make sure to not arouse suspicion. Don't aggro on them unless the boy do something drastic that might endanger the Fangs."
"Understood." Clint hung up and looked at Natasha. She nodded.
Now, they'll just need sometime before the lease got through and move in.
______________________________
Warren paced back and forth inside his penthouse in Upper East Side. Unlike most of the time, his white wings visible behind his back.
His parent, their family attendants, his trusted assistant Candy, and a few others aware of his wings. Especially here, as all the staff here was a loyal aide exclusive to his family. They had all willingly sworn to serve them, The Worthingtons, for generations.
The place was huge and neat, with leather furniture, famous painting that one only saw in museum, and a bar cart filled with premium alcohol that most people could only had dreamed to taste. Outside, he could see the Manhattan skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but that wasn't the thing he paid attention to. He thought of the boy in Midtown, who had become a major focus for them.
Especially as SHIELD's interest only made it more important.
As he lost in the thought and the view outside, his phone suddenly buzzed. He picked it up to see that Chloe was calling. As the current CEO of Worthington Industries, he had built his own personal business like his predecessor. He start to dabble in real estate arms from scratch at 22, multiplying his already vast family wealth into an empire that even the FED would time to time visit them to ask for 'donation' when the country was in danger. And Chloe was his right hand-woman that taking care of the private side of operations including but not limited to his real estate business.
"Good evening. Mr. Worthington," Chloe's voice came through the phone. "We just flagged a fast-tracked rental in Midtown, next to that address you asked us to watch. It's a vacant house, prime spot near Times Square. The application came through unusually quick. Looks like government strings were pulled."
Warren stopped pacing. Last week, Sean had mentioned something about checking out the Fang neighborhood about the agents that were watching the boy too, were about to move.
If SHIELD was planting someone next door to the Fangs, where Arvin was hiding, thing could escalate fast. (They're getting bold. But why now? What thing that the boy had they got locked on him? Is there something we miss?)
"Look into it," Warren ordered. "Find out who is renting the place, aliases, backgrounds, anything unusual. Cross-reference with federal databases if necessary. Keep it secure and make sure there no traces that could lead back to us."
"Of course, sir," Chloe replied. "I'll have a full report by the next few days, or next day if we got lucky. Should I flag similar properties in the area?"
"Do that. And monitor for any unusual activity." Warren ended the call.
He then dialed Charles Xavier's private line. (SHIELD's finally moving in. We need to know why. Time to get the team in on this. Charles will want to hear about it. Could be the break we've been looking for.)
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
Hey guys, sorry for vanishing out for quite some time.
It's been a rough weeks for us.
Though, finally a piece of good news was arrive. My relative was now had got out the hospital.
I'll be honest guys, it's good news but, I felt this was the start of her fight.
If you remember, I did say if she got out, the amount of the meds she'll take was half of that plate right?
Well, now, she'll begin that fight.
The amount of those colorful pills was unnerving for me. But she need to consume that if she want to....
I'm sorry, I can't type that four letter as I felt heavy writing this. But I did, promise you to give some update. So, I'll do it along with the chapter that I had written here.
So yeah, I'll keep writing but the schedule will not be like the usual one chapter a week. I'll post when I done with it but the writing itself might take time. Well unless, something drastic take place which force me to put this one on hiatus like I said last time, of course.
We need to works harder as the meds not gonna pay for their own.
Alright, that's all I had to say for now.
Hope you'll enjoy reading this one!
Also, please take care of your health, guys.
See you later.