"You're getting engaged next month? On the sixth?"
Lynn Hall raised an eyebrow as he gently lifted Jessica Myers off his lap and helped her kneel in front of him.
Pressing lightly on the back of her head, he asked with clear amusement, "To Andrew Wayne's son? One of the nine Supreme Court Justices, right? He wasn't part of our college fraternity, was he?"
"I distinctly remember you once said you'd only marry someone from our Yale alliance."
Kneeling, her fiery red hair tied back, Jessica replied hesitantly, "It's… political. A strategic alliance. My father—"
"Don't talk. Focus on your assignment."
"Ugh, you're the worst," Jessica muttered with a glare—but obediently got to work.
Leaning back in his chair, Lynn stared at the ceiling, letting her work while his mind turned.
It was clear by now—James Duke had his sights set on becoming the next Director of the FBI.
And he wasn't being subtle about it.
Even before Lynn had returned from the Middle East, Duke had told him that, once the mission was over, he'd introduce him to "some members of the Brotherhood."
There was no question what that meant.
Hydra.
Lynn wasn't surprised. In fact, he wasn't opposed to the idea at all.
If joining Hydra brought him power and influence, then fine—he'd play along. And when Hydra's inevitable downfall came?
He'd flip the table and sell them out without hesitation.
Everyone wanted a bright future. He just knew how to build his.
---
Three Days Later — Press Conference Venue
> "No suspicious individuals identified."
"All journalists cleared. No weapons found."
Lynn nodded as status reports came in over his earpiece. Standing near the prep area, he turned to see Pepper Potts finishing Tony Stark's final touch-ups.
"Mr. Stark," he said politely, "are you comfortable with the speech material?"
Tony rolled his eyes playfully. "Just call me Tony. I think we've passed the 'Mr. Stark' stage, don't you?"
He gave Lynn a crooked smile. "As for the speech, relax. I owe you guys big time for pulling me out of hell, so I promise—my improv will be minimal."
Then, suddenly, Tony leaned in a bit, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Hey, are you free after the press conference?"
"I'm throwing a Welcome Back to NYC party tonight. Real red carpet stuff—Hollywood stars, models, champagne flowing like rivers."
He gave Lynn a very clear wink.
"You might, you know, meet someone."
Lynn laughed but shook his head. "Sorry, Tony. I've already got plans tonight."
Specifically, Duke had scheduled a private gathering—introducing Lynn to key members of the so-called "Brotherhood."
"I see. Guess I'll have to party solo again. Maybe drag Rhodey into it," Tony sighed in mock defeat.
Lynn chuckled and left.
As he walked off, Pepper leaned in toward Tony. "You're hosting a party tonight? I don't recall seeing that on the schedule."
"It's not," Tony replied casually, adjusting his tie. "But if Lynn had said yes, I'd have made a few calls. Ten minutes, I could've had every A-list actress in the city lined up at the door."
Pepper gave him a skeptical look. "So… the party was for Agent Hall?"
Tony's smile faltered for just a moment.
Yes. It was.
Because Tony Stark wasn't an idiot.
He didn't believe for a second that the terrorists who kidnapped him had found him by chance. Someone powerful was behind it—and he needed answers.
And who better to help uncover that than the man who led a covert rescue op in a foreign country, pulled him out, and kept the entire mission off the radar of the military and S.H.I.E.L.D.?
But he quickly masked the thought, flashing a grin. "Doesn't matter now. Just glad to be home."
"Besides," he added, "you've been on vacation for two and a half months. Time to get back to work, Miss Potts."
Pepper sighed and straightened his suit jacket.
---
Elsewhere in the event hall, Lynn scanned the room before waving Sean over.
"Run a final sweep. This press conference has more high-profile guests than usual—over a hundred media outlets, and half the New York elite invited by the Director himself."
Sean nodded. "Already done, boss. My guys have triple-checked every entrance. We've got agents posted at every key spot. If anyone so much as sneezes wrong, we'll know."
"Good," Lynn said. "No mistakes. If anything goes wrong, it's my reputation on the line."
"Yes, sir!"
Just then, a man in a crisp suit with an FBI badge around his neck approached.
Sean frowned.
"Buzzard incoming," he muttered. "Carrion-feeding prick."
"Go," Lynn said with a nod. Sean walked off to continue his checks.
The suited agent arrived—Miller Field, another Assistant Director. Mid-40s, sharp suit, smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Well, Lynn," he drawled, "looks like luck's on your side."
"You managed to find the guy S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military couldn't locate. Director's grinning like a schoolboy."
"Rumor is, after today, you're moving up to D3."
> [Miller Field – Favorability: -1]
Lynn smiled pleasantly. "You seem upset. Something bothering you?"
"Upset? Of course not," Miller replied, teeth clenched behind the smile. "You're the fastest-rising agent in the Bureau's history. The youngest D2. Who could possibly be upset about that?"
Of course, Miller had every reason to be bitter. He'd spent decades clawing his way up, becoming an Assistant Director just a few years ago. And his eyes had long been set on the Special Agent-in-Charge seat.
But now? Lynn Hall had become the golden boy. Endorsed by both Richie Hood and James Duke, Lynn was a threat.
A direct one.
And Miller knew it.
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