I Have a Good Impression on Marvel

When: July 22, 2009, 4pm

Coordinates: unknown

An underground fortress about 100 meters above the ground, in an empty room.

Under the light, Coulson, who was in a suit and leather shoes, was sitting behind a table, staring at the document in his hand, frowning tightly.

On the document bearing the eagle logo are details of a female S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

A moment later, the sound of pushing the door and the footsteps that followed, like a sudden thunder, interrupted Coulson's thoughts.

When I saw Coulson raised his head, he saw a black-haired woman in a hospital gown sitting on the seat opposite Coulson with a smile on her face.

Putting down the document in his hand gently, Coulson's trademark friendly smile suddenly appeared on his face:

"Agent Steve, how are you feeling today?"

"Very good, very good."

Looking at the calm expression on the other's face, Coulson's heart was filled with waves.

Reining in his mind, Coulson continued to ask:

"Do you remember how you got here?"

"I voluntarily." The black-haired woman paused, then continued to add: "I'm about to die. When I woke up, everything was normal."

"Very good, if you have any discomfort or need, you can ask me, and I will try my best to satisfy you..."

Before Coulson could finish speaking, the black-haired woman interrupted him:

"Then when can I be discharged? Return to the team again?"

Not caring that the other party interrupted him, the corner of Coulson's mouth rose, and a kind smile appeared on his face again.

"I promise you, soon. As long as you observe it for a while to confirm your postoperative fitness, you can be discharged from the hospital."

"Thank you, thank you very much for all your help, Agent Coulson..."

After a brief conversation, the black-haired woman was escorted away by two agents standing at the door.

In the simple room, it returned to the state where only Coulson was alone.

After thinking for a while, Coulson opened the document just now, picked up the pen, and began to write "swish" in the blank space below the file:

"The postoperative adaptation is good, and there are no side effects for the time being..."

After writing the words "immediately recommended to be discharged from the hospital!", Coulson, with a stretched face, put the pen in his hand lightly aside, and murmured unconsciously:

"A good start..."

However, five minutes later, Coulson realized that he was too optimistic...

In the same hospital gown, the same operation, on another dying agent, what Coulson saw was another terrifying sight.

"#%￥@#@..."

A series of indistinguishable self-talk, combined with the appearance of a god, a bearded man sitting across the table, like a patient with cerebral palsy, completely immersed in his own world, unable to extricate himself.

"Agent John? Agent John?"

Coulson even shouted a few times, but the other party did not respond.

In the end, Coulson, who frowned, had no choice but to wave his hand and motioned to the two agents guarding the door to take the man back to the ward.

Watching the agent leave, Coulson picked up the pen on the desk, and wrote on the agent's file again "swish":

"Positive post-surgery, aphasia started to appear..."

After writing, Coulson suddenly stopped, rubbed his temple with his other free hand, and said in a slightly tired voice:

"Next."

A few minutes later, sitting in front of Coulson was a middle-aged blond man.

The blue and white hospital gown, worn on the other party's body, could not hide the slightly bulging muscles. With a solemn face, you can clearly see the scars left by the battle between the corners of the eyebrows and the neck.

This is a fighter.

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

From the other party's tone, it can be heard that this Aegis agent,

Very dissatisfied with being "locked" here.

Coulson just frowned slightly, glanced at the file in his hand, and said pleasantly:

"Agent Jerry, after the operation, you need time to recover and adapt, not only your mind, but your body as well..."

"Let me ask you first, have you felt any discomfort recently, or have any discomfort in your body..."

Before he finished speaking, the blond man interrupted him impatiently:

"I feel so good, I feel like I can show up anytime!"

Coulson, who was interrupted, changed his expression slightly, and just wanted to speak:

"This is…"

At this moment, the man named "Jerry" suddenly made an unexpected move:

I saw him suddenly stretched out his hand and rudely snatched the pen on the table!

Then, he started to doodle on the table with a look of obsession.

Raising his brows, Coulson stopped the two agents who were about to come over and focused his attention on the table.

What the man painted on the table was a bizarre pattern composed of circles, diamonds, and straight lines.

Coulson looked at it carefully for a moment, confused.

Just when Coulson was thinking, should he find a language or pattern expert to see what these patterns represent, with a "bang", the man suddenly slammed his hands on the table, frightening Coulson. Moved back a bit.

Looking at the man's face full of confusion and anger, Coulson frowned and said to the two agents who were already ready to go:

"Send him back to the ward!"

. . . . . .

After staying in this underground base for about a week, Coulson's inner unease became stronger and stronger.

He knew that this project was originally a plan that was very beyond the imagination of ordinary people. I also know that not every scientific research project will be smooth sailing. Most of them take a certain amount of time to slowly achieve the original goal.

However, the more in-depth the project, Coulson's conscience, began to constantly question himself, the same question:

"Is it right to do so?"

Especially when he saw that the six test subjects who had adapted very well after the operation gradually began to deteriorate after the initial period of physical recovery.

He slowly began to feel that this was a very wrong decision.

After tossing and turning for several nights, Coulson finally made a decision that was long overdue!

. . .

In a dark office, Coulson, who was at one with the darkness, sat in front of an encrypted laptop and looked at the camera solemnly.

After a few "cough coughs", Coulson cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and pressed the confirm button on the keyboard.

With a beep, the computer starts recording:

"Good morning, Chief Fury."

"I'm sorry to tell you, I'm going to submit my resignation..."