File Holder

The town's sheriff was currently feeling quite frustrated. He was crouched under a large tree just outside the police line, taking drags from his cigarette.

But he could swear to God that he definitely wasn't slacking off!

The face under his police hat was chubby, perhaps due to the decent perks of the job. Two old police cars were parked, and young officers were chatting.

The town was in the border region of the United States, far from the reach of higher authorities, let alone in a world filled with dangerous individuals like those in the Marvel Universe.

While the order wasn't chaotic, they had their own set of rules.

The sheriff unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and took a sip. His face was gloomy, looking like he had just been caught by his wife cheating on him last night!

The sun was shining high, and his build really wasn't suitable for working in such temperatures. He didn't dare crouch again, fearing his sizeable rear end might split his uniform pants.

Sighing, hands behind his back, he even managed a hint of leadership demeanour. He paced back and forth, seemingly contemplating some complex issues, but his steps never left the shade.

The crime scene was not far ahead of the sheriff, but he was denied entry. Because... it was occupied by FBI personnel.

Thinking of this, the shades of colour on his chubby face changed again. As the town's sheriff, he naturally dealt with those gang members.

Moreover, those people had given him quite a bit of "political donations." He had thought it would be an easy issue to resolve, but it turned out to have attracted the attention of the FBI.

This was serious trouble. The sheriff licked his dry lips, unable to contain his anxiety. He knew all too well what life was like inside a prison, and with his features so fair and tender, he might even be coerced into certain activities on his first night.

Sweating profusely, the sheriff shuddered.

His gaze turned back to the police line, and he couldn't fathom why the FBI personnel wore hazmat suits.

Another sigh, and he decided against fleeing. Finding another spot in the shade, he relit his cigarette.

"Sheriff!"

He raised his head slightly and saw one of his own. He didn't bother to stand up. "What's up?"

The young man looked confident but had a hint of cunning in his eyes.

"They said they need the nearby surveillance footage."

The sheriff took another drag from his cigarette, and smoke billowed from his large nostrils. Nonchalantly, he said, "Is that so? Give it to them then."

The young man grew anxious and crouched down, whispering into the sheriff's ear, "All the footage from last night was systematically deleted. There's no trace left."

The sheriff was surprised, remembering it was the drop-off point for that gang. Though they had done it many times, there would always be some oversight. Instead of cutting the line as he used to, he just deleted the footage this time.

His eyes flickered, considering the pros and cons of the situation.

Suddenly, several black SUVs zoomed up to the police line. The officers were about to approach when the FBI agents walked up.

Dressed in black suits and sunglasses, the sheriff snorted inwardly. They looked like members of the mafia, standing before the FBI, quite an impactful scene!

"Damn it! This is under our jurisdiction!"

The sound of a heated argument reached the sheriff's ears, and he dropped the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground in surprise.

The one arguing was a representative from the FBI, which frightened the sheriff. However, the officer in the black suit seemed to be fighting back.

Although... no matter how you looked at it, people would feel that the FBI was the weaker side in this scenario.

The man in the black suit smiled, seemingly saying something, but the distance was too far for the sheriff to hear.

A document was handed over to the FBI representative. The man's face alternated between pale and flushed before turning bright red, like he'd been forced to eat something unpleasant.

While the sheriff didn't know who the man in the black suit was, this display was enough to make him have some goodwill toward him.

The man made a few calls, and then his expression darkened. He directed his personnel to enter the cars and leave without even acknowledging the sheriff.

On the other hand, the men in black suits efficiently unloaded some equipment from their vehicles that the sheriff couldn't even understand.

The man who seemed like the leader walked toward him, still wearing his sunglasses. He was short, but a smile at the corner of his mouth made people naturally feel a sense of goodwill.

"A skilled operator," the sheriff thought to himself.

The man extended his hand first, and the sheriff shook it hastily.

"We're the Bureau of Land Strategic Defense and Logistics Support."

"Huh?" The sheriff was somewhat confused. The name sounded impressive, and combined with the fact that the man easily bested the FBI, he thought... he might be dealing with a "big shot."

The man seemed nonchalant. "Although our name is a bit lengthy, I've suggested changing it to the director. But I haven't come up with a better name, so..." The man shrugged. "It's stuck like this."

"Also," the man continued before the sheriff could say anything, "we'll be temporarily taking over this area. If there were security cameras, that would be even better. Don't you think so, Sheriff?"

A barely perceptible twitch appeared at the corner of the chubby face, and the sheriff felt nervous. "Unfortunately, the power in this area went out last night and was only restored in the early morning."

"That's sufficient."

The sheriff hadn't managed to say much before the man interrupted.

...

The turn of events was beyond the sheriff's expectations. The other party entirely restored the files he'd formatted. Just when he mentally prepared himself to spend the second half of his life in prison, the man patted his shoulder and said, "We don't have jurisdiction here."

It wasn't until the afternoon, with the sun leaving only an afterglow, that the sheriff returned to his senses.

Leaning back in his office chair at the police station, he felt his plump body showing signs of dehydration.

"Ring, ring~" The phone rang, and the sheriff picked up languidly. "Hello."

...

"Thump, thump, thump~"

"Come in."

A man in a black suit entered the room, holding a document folder that was sealed quite tightly.

Behind the desk, a black-skinned man with an eye patch and shades sat there.

He stopped what he was doing. "Coulson, is something important?"

The man looked severe, his expression lacking the amusement the sheriff had seen in the afternoon.

"Director, there's something I need your judgment on."

"Oh? Has the case exceeded your authority?"

"The situation inside is a bit complex."

Seeing the man's serious expression, the black director relented. "Alright, show me."

"Snip."

The folder was opened, revealing essential documents and two small bags inside.

The black director picked up one of the bags, and it felt almost weightless. The other bag had a noticeable weight, indicating it contained a metallic object.