"What exactly do you want from me?"
Draco Mohammed's tone was low, cautious.
Lynn Hall had just promised him not only freedom upon returning to New York—but a legal identity as well.
Draco hesitated. "I can make bombs. That's it. I don't… do terrorism."
"You won't be doing terrorism," Lynn said calmly. "I helped you because one day, I might need something in return. When that day comes, I expect your help."
Lynn's eyes locked onto his.
Draco held the gaze for a long moment… then nodded.
> [Draco Mohammed – Favorability +6]
With that confirmation, Lynn clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his seat to rest. He already had plans for the man.
No one was truly useless—they just needed the right place to be useful. A skilled bomb-maker? In the right context, that was an asset. And Lynn was never short on creative uses for assets.
This wasn't the first time he'd done this, either.
Of course, once they returned to New York, Alice would quietly pull two prison inmates with similar builds. They'd "die" in custody, and Draco would vanish from official records.
---
When the Quinjet finally returned, it didn't land at JFK or any public airfield. It touched down directly on the rooftop helipad of the FBI's New York Field Office.
As the hatch opened, Tony Stark looked around, scanning the area hopefully.
When he didn't spot who he was looking for, disappointment flickered in his eyes.
"I thought you might've told someone from Stark Industries to come pick me up," he said, turning to Lynn. "You know… my assistant's been out of work for two and a half months."
"You mean Ms. Pepper Potts?"
Lynn smirked. "Are you sure you want her seeing you like this?"
Tony glanced down at the old, rusted car battery still strapped to his chest.
"…Right. Good point."
He gave a sheepish shrug. "No need to ruin my image. If Pepper saw me now, she'd probably file for emancipation."
He chuckled, then added, "Hey, can you get me some materials? I need to replace this thing. I'll pay for whatever I use."
"And hey… thanks. For saving my life. If you ever need something—"
Before he could finish, James Duke strolled into view.
"Anything you need, tell our logistics team," Lynn said smoothly. "The Bureau will take care of it. As for thanks… the Director thinks you should express your gratitude publicly."
Tony looked over at Duke, quickly catching on.
Smart as ever, he immediately understood what Lynn was saying.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Sure. I can do that. You guys did pull me out of hell."
Duke arrived just in time to hear that last part. Lynn turned to greet him.
"Director, Mr. Stark is on board. He'll cooperate with the press."
"Excellent," Duke said, beaming. He patted Lynn on the shoulder, clearly pleased.
---
Later, inside FBI Headquarters
With the team dismissed, Lynn returned to his office.
Duke had scheduled the press conference for three days later—enough time for Tony Stark to replace the makeshift battery with something more permanent. Preferably, the arc reactor Stark would eventually become known for.
Of course, Duke had already ordered photos to be taken of Stark in his current ragged state—car battery and all. The more pathetic he looked, the better it made the FBI look.
The rescuers always looked more heroic when the rescued looked ruined.
Lynn was just reflecting on the PR value of all this when someone knocked at his door.
It opened, revealing Jessica Myers—head of Internal Affairs—flanked by two subordinates.
"Director Myers," Lynn greeted with a polite smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Jessica stepped in and placed a folder on his desk, frowning. "Mr. Hall, we're here to follow up on the funding you requested for an operation three months ago."
"That old case? I thought it was already cleared. Richie Hood submitted his review, and it was approved and archived."
"Yes," she said evenly, "but we've since received new information."
She opened the folder but didn't yet hand it over. "According to FBI policy, archived expenses are typically not re-investigated. However, we are allowed to review your current claims."
"And we'd like to go over your recent funding requests—specifically those for the Brooklyn bombing response and the Middle East operation."
Lynn leaned back in his chair, relaxed. "Of course. But both of those ops were direct orders from the Director himself. So if you want details—"
"Are you trying to use the Director to pressure me?" she interrupted, her eyes narrowing.
"Perish the thought," Lynn replied smoothly. "Everyone knows your father is a Deputy Director at Bureau HQ. You don't answer to anyone but D.C., right?"
Jessica held his gaze for a moment. Then, without a word, she turned to her subordinates.
"Leave us."
"Yes, ma'am."
The two agents nodded and exited the office.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Jessica Myers did something that would have shocked any outsider.
She walked across the room—and sat directly on Lynn Hall's lap.
Lynn, unfazed, gave her a playful squeeze.
"Someone trying to climb the ladder through IA, huh?"
Jessica Myers—Yale alum, daughter of the FBI's Deputy Director, and current head of New York's Internal Affairs division—was many things.
But above all, she was connected.
"Richie Hood filing his retirement notice wasn't exactly a secret," she murmured, running a finger down his tie. "Word's already out. Now everyone wants his spot."
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "You already know the Bureau isn't a single entity. The factions in D.C. aren't so different from the ones here in New York."
"Internal Affairs will shield you from any inconvenient scrutiny. But that's all I can offer—at least for now."
"Oh—and don't forget. My engagement party's on the 6th next month. You'd better be there."
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