Tony waved unconcernedly at a few flashing cameras, making a "thumbs up" gesture with his characteristically thick skin. Hawk's smile remained flawless. Natasha, meanwhile, was the perfect ornament, wearing a polite smile as if she didn't understand the English sarcasm, but a sliver of icy focus quickly crossed her deep-set eyes.
The elevator doors silently closed behind them, isolating the floors below. On the top floor, the scent of champagne seemed to carry an extra hint of gunpowder. Hawk immediately bypassed Norman to greet other guests. He didn't even need Shin Si-ah to know that Norman Osborn's genetic disease was reaching its critical stage. Otherwise, the founder of a top financial group, a leviathan who had fought on the market for a lifetime, would not behave like a callow, uncomposed college student, making a fool of himself.
....
The stifling confrontation in the top-floor ballroom seemed recent, yet Natasha Romanoff had already left the gala. Washed of her elaborate facade, she was now dressed in functional black tactical gear, her red hair simply tied back.
She was inside Coulson's car, delivering a report to Nick Fury aboard the Quinjet via a highly encrypted communication channel.
"The target subject, Hawk Lane," Natasha's voice was calm and professional, devoid of any of her gala allure or the recent tension. "He not only fully saw through my cover identity—Natalia Romanova, the international intelligence broker—but more importantly…"
Natasha paused, a silence that seemed to thicken the air on the other end of the line.
"He knew, unequivocally, that I am a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. And, Director, he knows of your existence, that you are the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nicholas Joseph Fury."
Aboard the Quinjet:
Fury's sharp gaze seemed to bore through the screen and pin Natasha in place. The knuckles of the hand resting on the control panel were slightly white from tension. Coulson, seated next to Natasha, gasped and instinctively sat bolt upright, his face etched with disbelief.
"He knows my full name?" Fury's voice was low and dangerous. "Exact phrasing? Natasha, word for word."
"The exact quote was: 'However, if S.H.I.E.L.D. is interested in my 'luck,' Director Fury could simply invite me for coffee. Why send the famous Black Widow to my bed?'" Natasha precisely repeated Hawk's words from the elevator, every syllable crystal clear. "He explicitly named my codename, your full name, and the organization's name."
A deadly silence fell over the jet. Only the low hum of the engine served as background noise.
Fury slowly leaned back against his chair, his single eye fixed on Natasha on the comms screen, seemingly processing the shocking information.
Coulson looked astonished. "This is beyond all our assessments. Director, should we take action?"
Fury remained silent for a moment, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the control panel—a sign of intense thought. Getting nowhere, his gaze locked back onto Natasha.
"Agent Romanoff, your communicator signal was completely silent for a period of two hours and seven minutes midway through the gala. Explain." Fury's voice carried an undeniable demand for accountability. This was a critical part of the mission debrief.
Natasha's expression didn't change, but the comms feed seemed to subtly freeze for three seconds. Even Coulson held his breath, looking at Natasha. Had she really been doing Smith Machine Squats that entire time?
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her voice remaining steady, professional, and almost clinical. "Director, the communicator was silent because I was within the core security zone of Lane Tower during that period. Any active signal transmission would have been detected and located by their internal, advanced shielding systems, greatly increasing the risk of exposure. Maintaining silence was required by standard covert operating procedure."
She paused, as if merely stating an objective fact, then continued, "As for the specific activities, as outlined in the mission report, it was 'necessary contact' to gain the target's trust, establish a specific channel, and conduct a close-range assessment. Hawk Lane himself clearly viewed it as a… 'warm-up' before negotiation. This operational stage provided the condition for acquiring the information that he was aware of S.H.I.E.L.D."
She was highly tactful, her precise wording avoiding direct description. However, the combination of "establish a specific channel," "necessary contact," "close-range assessment," and "warm-up," paired with the two missing hours, made the meaning perfectly clear.
Coulson tactically cleared his throat, his gaze drifting toward the car window.
Fury's single eyelid seemed to twitch. A fleeting, extremely rare moment of "speechlessness" crossed the dark face of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., a man known for his cold composure and absolute control.
He understood Natasha's meaning perfectly. For the mission, for the great cause of S.H.I.E.L.D., she had spent two hours with Hawk Lane. And by the sound of it, Hawk had initiated and dominated this "warm-up," using the opportunity to thoroughly lay his cards on the table.
After a few seconds of silence, the atmosphere in the jet remained tense. Fury's fingers stopped tapping.
"The target's performance during the… 'warm-up' phase?" Fury finally spoke, his tone regaining its cool composure, but his question was sharp and crucial, intended for further physiological and psychological assessment of Hawk. He needed to know if Hawk was a relaxed, careless prey in that situation, or a calculated hunter in full control.
Natasha's answer was decisive, without the slightest hesitation. "Completely alert, in control the entire time, with no reduction in vigilance. Director, it felt more like a… stress test led by him. The conclusion that the nerve agent perfume had no effect on him was also further confirmed."
A flash of understanding and deeper apprehension crossed the depths of Fury's single eye.
Just as he suspected. Hawk Lane's mind remained clear as ice even at that moment, and he had even used Natasha as a platform to display his power.
Fury then cut to the next crucial point. "During that 'close-range assessment,' Agent Romanoff, describe the target's physiological characteristics, habitual mannerisms, unconscious preferences, reactions to specific stimuli… anything. Even the most minute, seemingly irrelevant piece of information."
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