Inside the Angel Club, New York.
"So this is what the inside of this club looks like!"
Linen took a sip of wine as he looked around. On stage, dancers—each with their own charm, some sweet, some edgy—moved gracefully under the lights, wearing little more than shimmering fabric.
The Angel Club was a private haven for the wealthy and elite, open only by invitation. It was the first time Linen had ever stepped inside—he'd only heard rumors about it before.
"Normally, the Angel Club doesn't open during the day," Tony Stark said, pointing at himself with a grin. "But who am I? I'm Tony Stark—the billionaire genius of the century!"
He raised his glass with a smirk. "Honestly, it's their honor to open for me. They should be thanking me for bringing in style and class."
Watching Tony's smug expression, Linen refilled his glass.
"By the way," Tony added, raising an eyebrow, "you're not even twenty-one yet. Isn't that a bit young to be drinking legally?"
Linen looked at him over the rim of his glass, lifted his middle finger, and took another sip.
Tony burst out laughing. "That's the spirit! You're too serious all the time, kid. You're nineteen—it's time to live a little. Don't end up like that antique who just thawed out of the ice."
"An antique… who thawed out of ice?" Linen asked, feigning curiosity.
"Oh, right—you don't know yet." Tony grinned, clinking glasses with him. "You'll find out soon enough. I'm talking about Steve Rogers—Captain America from seventy years ago. He's back. SHIELD thawed him out of a block of ice, patched him up, and he's back in New York now."
Seeing the look of surprise on Linen's face, Tony nodded with satisfaction. "Yeah, I didn't believe it either. The old popsicle's still alive and kicking after seventy years. Who would've thought?"
He swirled his drink, chuckling. "But you know, after meeting you, my world's gotten a whole lot weirder. Undead, demons, vampires, blood slaves… Tsk."
Tony clinked glasses with him again. "I've got to hand it to you, Linen. You've given me more shocks in a month than I've had in my whole life. Sometimes I even envy your ability to talk to the dead."
Linen set down his glass and said quietly, "Envy? If you knew where my power came from, you wouldn't. It's less of a gift—and more of a curse I can never escape."
He'd already built a believable backstory to explain his powers, blending it seamlessly with his life in this world. He just needed to finish the details before revealing everything to the Avengers.
Tony paused, staring at him.
That line… it sounded familiar.
Right—the same line from the future video he'd seen through the Spoiler System.
Different setting, same words. The video had shown a bar scene just like this one.
It matched. Another piece of the future lining up perfectly.
But still… what had Linen experienced to call his power a curse?
Even SHIELD's files only gave a vague outline of his past.
After a moment, Tony said, "By the way, Linen, I looked into your background."
Seeing Linen glance at him, Tony quickly added, "Don't get me wrong—I had no bad intentions. It's just… your abilities go beyond anything I understand. I was curious."
He hesitated, then continued, "I found out you were once a beneficiary of the Obadiah Stane Charity Foundation. You know, Stane—the guy I… well, killed."
Tony smiled awkwardly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But I won't do anything to you because of that."
Linen placed his glass down and said calmly, "I'm grateful to him. Without that foundation, I might never have finished school. But I don't hate you for it. That chapter's long closed."
He turned his gaze toward the stage, where the dancers had begun removing the last of their fabric, moving to the rhythm of the music. Then he stood.
"I've already placed flowers on his grave. Everything between us ended there."
He started walking away.
"Hey, you sure you don't want another drink?" Tony called out. "Once you leave here, no bar in New York will sell you a bottle of beer, kid!"
Linen didn't look back. He just waved over his shoulder and kept walking.
The performers were beautiful, but he preferred women who were a little more… genuine. Clean.
And Tony was right—ever since joining the Paranormal Investigation Club, Linen had become quite popular with girls anyway.
Watching him leave, Tony leaned back on the sofa and finished his drink.
After a moment, he sighed and said quietly,
"Miss Spy, I couldn't dig up much about Linen's past—and honestly, I don't think it matters. Between what I've seen firsthand and what the future videos show, I already know what kind of person he is."
He swirled the glass, smirking faintly. "Everyone deserves their privacy. Tell Eyepatch Man this is the last time I'm helping him—consider it repayment for returning my father's relics."
"I agree with you, Tony," Natasha's voice came through the earpiece, calm as ever. "But orders are orders. Nick Fury still wants a full report."
She paused. "Still, even without knowing the full story, I trust him. Linen's going to be one of our strongest allies in the future."
Tony removed the earpiece, dropped it into his glass of whiskey, and stood up. Adjusting his cufflinks, he muttered,
"Yeah, well, let's just hope Fury realizes that before he screws it up."
Then, without another glance back, Tony Stark turned and left the Angel Club.
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