Chapter Twenty-Two: Encirclement
Morning.
Clockwise Cute woke up from a bed covered with pink sheets and adorned with snow-white rabbit plushies. His sky-blue eyes blinked open, brimming with energy for the new day.
“Heave-ho—”
He sat up, giving himself a pep talk.
Clockwise Cute hopped off the bed; his floor was as soft as white clouds, his walls as sweet as candy.
The toothpaste tasted of watermelon, and the shaving cream released a refreshing peach scent.
He gazed at his reflection in the mirror: a chubby little face, adorable tiger teeth, and messy short black hair.
“If only I could tie a flower to my ear—”
Yes!
Today's mission for Clockwise Cute was to pick a beautiful blossom—not a prickly rose, nor a blooming pale yellow chrysanthemum.
He wanted a fragrant flower.
“All right, let’s look for osmanthus.” The thought came to him.
No sooner had Clockwise Cute stepped outside his door than he saw Peter Sweetheart running like the wind down the wide Cotton Candy Avenue.
Following behind were Ben Elder Cute and May Gorgeous, hand in hand, their chubby faces beaming with smiles.
“Hi, Cute! What are you up to today?” Ben Elder Cute flashed his own tiger teeth, smiling as he asked.
Clockwise Cute showed the exact same little sharp teeth, tiny and budding like flowers.
“Hi, Ben Elder Cute! Today, I’m going to pick osmanthus blossoms~”
“Wow, osmanthus is rare—you’ll have to go really far.” May Gorgeous revealed her tiger teeth as well.
“Yes, I plan to look in the north first. If I can’t find any there, I’ll search the south.” Clockwise Cute wore an expression of unwavering determination.
“Then good luck—” Ben Elder Cute and May Gorgeous chorused.
“All right.” Clockwise Cute nodded and headed north.
Suddenly!
He felt a jolt inside, like a surge of electricity.
He abruptly realized: it’s summer—where would osmanthus blossom?
——
Outside Ingram Street.
New York time: 4:31 a.m.
The night was pitch-black and silent, but this corner was bustling—crackling radios, glaring yellow barricade tape everywhere, warning floodlights illuminating the scene as bright as day.
New York police officers, dark circles under their eyes, paced back and forth, clutching burgers and fried chicken.
Their gaze floated with their unsettled mood.
Every so often, they glanced toward Ingram Street beyond the cordon.
There... The wide street was now enveloped by an unknown red glow, a translucent half-elliptical bowl covering Ingram Street.
No sound came from within. None of their equipment worked inside.
Neither drones nor ground-crawling camera cars. The moment they entered the red light, all connection was instantly lost.
Even...
Chief George Stacy of the NYPD frowned deeply, his golden brows resembling wriggling caterpillars.
He still had his wife’s sandwich in his bag at his waist—his favorite food. She always packed extra for emergencies.
But now, he had no appetite at all.
His eyes were locked on the sudden red glow engulfing Ingram Street.
Earlier, some brave officers had tried to enter. For safety, they tied three thick iron chains around the waist of the courageous officer.
But...
When the brave soul stepped into the red light,
All contact was lost. Even the iron chains, hauled back by four or five officers and a muscle car, were cleanly severed.
The break was smooth and even—like the edge made by a samurai sword heated to thousands of degrees, wielded by a master swordsman in a decisive slash.
It also reminded George of a lightsaber from Star Wars.
A strange thought that flashed through his mind.
All the officers were weighed down with heavy hearts—not only had they lost a valiant comrade, but they had no idea where the red light came from, what it was made of, or if it would spread further.
The confidence of these police academy graduates was badly shaken.
After all, they were only ordinary people—faced with the supernatural, they were powerless, secretly wishing for a superhero like Captain America to save them, as he did in WWII.
But Captain America didn’t come—a group of agents in black suits arrived instead!
They emerged from rows of tall, jet-black Chevrolet SUVs, their immaculate suits free from even a crease, sunglasses coolly perched despite the night.
Phil Coulson led the way, greeting the skeptical officers with a silent, friendly smile.
He finally stood before George Stacy.
“Sir, we’re from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We’ll be taking over from here. Your people may withdraw.”
As he spoke, Coulson took out his credentials and a long document.
George studied the badge carefully. When he saw the eagle spreading its wings, his eyes widened slightly.
In his position, he was privy to things others weren’t. He knew about the so-called Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
He’d dealt with them before—these people were experts in handling supernatural cases.
Seeing them arrive, George felt a surge of relief.
He accepted the document, examining it closely. The seventy- or eighty-centimeter-long document was stamped with one heavyweight red seal after another.
Even the current president’s seal was only second to last.
The final red seal was complex, like a mass of chaos—George had never seen it before.
After reading, he looked up at the agents unloading high-tech precision instruments from the vehicles. The silver-white machinery displayed mechanical aesthetics in every detail.
George finally relaxed completely.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.” He folded the document and handed it back to Coulson, speaking politely.
Coulson tucked it away, responding with a professional smile, “It’s our duty. Please have your men withdraw quickly. This area will be totally sealed off.”
“Understood.” George nodded, waved to the officers who were now superfluous in the presence of these agents, and said,
“Hey, folks, return to your posts. Cancel your leave for now—be ready at the station at all times. Don’t talk about what happened today, to avoid panic...” Experienced words to soothe the officers’ troubled hearts.
With flashing police lights, all officers withdrew like a receding tide.
Coulson stood where George had been.
He looked up at the swirling, terrifying red glow, silently took out his phone, and made a call.
“Boss, I’ve arrived.”