Coulson and Melinda stopped in their tracks. The two exchanged a look, the shock on their faces completely unhidden.
After that initial surprise, both of them turned their gazes toward the interior of the room.
What they saw was a pitch-black cloak—floating in midair.
That's right, floating. Both Coulson and Melinda confirmed that they weren't seeing things.
There were no wires, no support stand—nothing. The cloak was simply hovering.
"It seems Mr. Mavis is not as simple as we thought," Coulson said, taking a deep breath before stepping boldly into the house.
If this phenomenon could be explained through technology, then Mavis's scientific capability would be beyond even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current level—because not even they had the means to achieve something like this.
But if it wasn't technology, then Coulson would have to ask Director Fury to redefine Mavis's classification, because this clearly pointed to a power they could not yet comprehend.
Forget magnetic levitation aircraft or nuclear-powered jets—this was just an ordinary cloak. It wasn't some titanium-alloy machine, and they didn't even know what material it was made from.
Melinda nodded slightly, clearly agreeing with Coulson, and followed him inside.
As professional S.H.I.E.L.D. field agents, the moment they stepped through the door, both began scanning the room carefully.
A single bed, a wardrobe, a glass cabinet, a full-length mirror, and a desk—five pieces of furniture stood out most clearly.
At first glance, they all looked ordinary enough. But some of the smaller decorations sent a chill down their spines.
The bed and wardrobe turned out normal after inspection.
But what lay inside the glass cabinet was enough to make their skin crawl.
Dozens of glass jars filled with unknown liquid were placed haphazardly inside, each containing a vivid, lifelike human organ.
Eyeballs, brains, hearts, and all kinds of internal organs.
"Where did he even get all of this?" Melinda asked.
"I don't know," Coulson replied casually.
Judging by what lay before them, they could now be sure—beyond what the file had shown, Patch Mavis had far more secrets hidden away.
At the very least, these human organs were highly suspicious.
"Hey, Coulson, come take a look at this."
Without realizing it, Melinda had walked up to the desk. She called out to him, "What is this thing?"
Coulson walked over and saw a yellowish piece of paper and a quill made from some unknown animal's feather.
The paper was covered in neat but strange symbols. Coulson couldn't tell what they meant.
"Could this be some kind of language?" he asked tentatively.
Melinda pulled out a spectral analyzer and scanned the sheet. After reading the results, she shook her head. "Apparently not. Nothing like this has ever appeared on Earth."
"Special symbols, then? Or maybe some sort of pattern?" Coulson asked again.
"I don't know. This scanner can only detect existing Earth languages. Symbols or abstract markings might be outside its range," Melinda said helplessly.
"Mel, take it with you. At least it's something from this mission. Maybe we can learn more once we bring it back to headquarters," Coulson instructed, continuing to look around the room.
Melinda calmly rolled up the paper and placed it inside her toolkit.
After pacing the room a few times, Coulson returned to the desk area.
"If I hadn't been careful, I would've missed this," he said, crouching down and reaching under the desk. He pulled out a small wooden box etched with strange patterns.
It was very light—almost weightless. Coulson lifted it easily.
"Feels empty," he muttered, frowning as he shook it gently.
There was no sound of anything inside.
"An empty box?" Melinda asked.
"I'm not sure," Coulson said. "We'll only know after opening it. Maybe there's something light inside—paper, or foam, something that doesn't make a sound."
"Uh, Coulson, I think this box has been sealed shut," Melinda said after examining it closely.
Hearing that, Coulson turned the box over several times and found that its seams were indeed glued tight.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, "Let's try brute force first."
He gripped the box and slammed it hard against the floor a few times. Nothing changed.
"Let me try," Melinda said, taking a crowbar from her toolkit.
She wedged it into the seam and pried with all her strength.
---
"Phew." Melinda wiped the sweat from her forehead and exhaled deeply.
"Still not working?" Coulson, slumped to the side, asked.
"No. This wood is strange—I've never seen anything like it," Melinda replied.
For over ten minutes, they had tried everything: slamming it, prying it, hammering it, even shooting it with a handgun. Not only did the box remain intact, it didn't even get a scratch.
"If nothing else works, we'll have to take it back and find another way," Melinda sighed, putting her tools away.
Ever since they stepped into this house, she had felt something off. Not just the preserved organs or the strange symbols—the box itself was wrong. Too wrong.
"Yeah, I guess that's all we can do," Coulson agreed.
"Wait…" Just as he was about to stand, Coulson suddenly froze. He grabbed Melinda's shoulder and whispered close to her ear, "Mel, be careful. There might be a third person here with us."
Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he added, "Listen closely…"
"Thump-thump." "Thump-thump." "Thump-thump."
The first two beats were their own heartbeats.
The third one—
---
Melinda's brow tightened instantly, her entire body tensing as her focus sharpened to a razor's edge.