Marvel: Open Up, It’s the FBI

Among all the "unfair terms" Gwen had strong-armed Lynn into agreeing to, attending an all-female rock band's concert was just one of many.

At the concert venue, the stadium was packed to the rafters—thousands of screaming fans filled every seat. On stage, the lead singer danced and belted out her lyrics with electrifying energy.

Gwen was beaming, her hand tightly wrapped around Lynn's arm as she waved the other to the beat of the music, completely immersed in the show.

Sitting on Lynn's other side, however, was Phil Coulson—who looked mildly uncomfortable.

The music was too loud for his taste. He preferred something a little more… refined. After all, his girlfriend was a cellist in a symphony orchestra.

"Quit sneaking glances at me, Agent Coulson," Lynn said with a smirk. "This arm's already taken."

Coulson chuckled. "Relax. I wouldn't dare. If my girlfriend found out I linked arms with a guy during a rock concert, I think she'd dump me on the spot."

Then, more seriously: "And call me Phil. Or Coulson. Either works."

"Oh?" Lynn replied, raising an eyebrow as Coulson leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"Did you know the lead singer isn't just a pop star?" Coulson said. "She's got a… legacy."

Lynn followed his gaze to the woman on stage, swaying to the music under bright lights. "She does?"

"She's part of the Gressler family."

"Never heard of them."

"Not surprising," Coulson replied. "That name's mostly whispered in S.H.I.E.L.D. circles. The Gresslers were once one of the four great hunter bloodlines in medieval Europe—specialized in exterminating vampires, werewolves, demons... all the stuff from fairy tales."

"But times changed. The bloodlines faded. Most of their supernatural powers are long gone. The only one still keeping up the tradition is the Bloodstone family. Meanwhile, the dark side of the world—what we call The Shadow World—is growing stronger."

"The Shadow World?"

"Our term," Coulson explained, pleased to have piqued Lynn's curiosity. "It refers to all those hidden societies and creatures that exist outside public knowledge. Vampires. Lycans. Demonic cults. The kind of thing the public isn't ready to face."

"And she—" Lynn nodded toward the stage. "—comes from a vampire-hunting bloodline."

"Exactly. The Gresslers may have faded, but the blood still runs in her veins. And S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps tabs on her, just in case."

He paused, then turned to Lynn. "You'd fit in well with S.H.I.E.L.D., you know. Ever thought about seeing the world from a different angle?"

"You're recruiting me?" Lynn asked, amused.

Coulson smiled. "Let's just say I'm planting seeds. You know our two agencies butt heads all the time, but that's just bureaucracy. At the end of the day, we're both trying to protect—"

Before he could finish, both he and Lynn snapped their eyes to the stage.

A man had suddenly appeared—wearing a red jacket, a long scar running down his cheek, and holding an automatic rifle.

Without warning, he turned and opened fire on the lead singer.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

A spray of bullets tore through the woman on stage, dropping her instantly. Panic erupted. Dancers screamed and fled in all directions.

Without hesitation, Lynn tackled Gwen and shielded her beneath the seats.

The red-jacketed gunman didn't stop. He aimed into the crowd and fired indiscriminately, unleashing chaos.

Screams tore through the venue. Stampedes began as terrified concertgoers pushed and trampled each other trying to escape. The venue had become a war zone.

Bullets zipped past Lynn's back, tearing through seat cushions.

They were in the third row, near the front. That gave Lynn just enough time to pull Gwen under the seats and cover her.

Blood pooled beneath the chairs. The cries of the wounded echoed from every direction.

Gwen clung to him, trembling uncontrollably.

"It's okay, I've got you," Lynn whispered, trying to keep her calm as he slipped a pistol from his holster.

Next to him, Coulson was crouched behind another row, gun drawn and already aiming at the assailant.

But as soon as Coulson fired—the man vanished.

He reappeared a second later on the opposite side of the stage.

"Teleportation," Coulson muttered.

"A mutant," Lynn confirmed grimly.

They both raised their weapons and fired.

BANG! BANG!

The bullets tore through where the man had stood—but he teleported again, narrowly dodging the shots and retaliating with a volley of automatic fire.

RAT-TAT-TAT!

Chairs exploded into splinters. The air was filled with smoke and screams. Lynn and Coulson ducked low.

"I called for backup," Coulson shouted over the noise. "S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are en route—but if we don't stop this guy now, there's going to be a massacre!"

"He can teleport," Lynn said, still shielding Gwen with one arm. "We need to figure out his pattern—his limits. Otherwise, we're just sitting ducks."

Coulson gave him a knowing look—and stood up.

He drew the mutant's attention with a burst of gunfire, forcing the man to teleport again—this time from the edge of the stage to a private box on the left.

He shot back wildly, forcing Coulson to dodge and weave between seats, barely keeping ahead of the bullets.

Lynn kept his head down but watched carefully, calculating.

Stage.

Right flank.

Balcony edge.

The man was teleporting to specific zones. Not random. Predictable.

As the mutant reappeared near the edge of the stage again, Lynn rose, aimed fast, and fired a quick burst.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The shots hit their mark—his right arm exploded in a spray of blood, and the SMG clattered to the floor.

The gunman clutched his wounded limb, eyes blazing with hate as he glared at Lynn.

And then—he vanished.

He teleported several more times through the crowd—and then he was gone.

The shooting stopped. The venue was eerily quiet except for the sobs of the injured and the shriek of sirens drawing closer.

Lynn gently pulled Gwen up into his arms. She was shaking, still clinging to him.

He quickly checked her over—no injuries. Just fear.

He exhaled in relief, then looked toward Coulson.

"You good?" Lynn asked.

Coulson nodded, but Lynn added, "You were a little slow on that last flank. If we'd coordinated the angle better, we could've dropped him."

"I was reloading," Coulson replied, holding up his now-empty sidearm. "But don't worry—we'll find him again.