This was incredibly important intelligence. Sometimes, a very subtle habit can become a fatal trump card. A top agent's battlefield is everywhere, especially between the sheets, where a target, even while maintaining high alert, is prone to exposing their true self when in a state of extreme relaxation or immersion.
The jet was silent. Coulson also pricked up his ears, hoping the Black Widow could extract golden intelligence fragments from that "necessary contact."
Natasha was silent. It wasn't the precisely calculated pause of a mission debrief, but a rare blankness, almost suggesting her thoughts had briefly drifted. On the comms screen, her normally serene face seemed to shift for an instant, too minute and quick to catch.
"During the assessment," Natasha began, her voice still steady but with a nuanced fluency, as if describing a commendable work of art. "The target, Hawk Lane, demonstrated extraordinary physical reserves. His core muscle control and explosive power coordination are excellent, and his dynamic balance is at a peak level."
She paused, seemingly recalling the details. "In terms of technique, he combines strength with precision. His tactical execution… was aggressive but not reckless, showing a deep understanding of human mechanics and biological structure, and a skillful mastery of the body's weaknesses. His ability to control the rhythm was masterful, adept at utilizing the environment and applying psychological pressure."
Coulson's jaw dropped slightly. This description sounded… like a combat briefing, but delivered with a strange tone of appreciation? He quickly glanced at Fury.
Fury's face was darker than ever, like cold, cast iron.
"Agent Romanoff," Fury's voice was deep as a muffled thunderclap, every word edged with ice. "I asked if you observed any details that would help us analyze his psychological state, potential weaknesses, or background clues. I did not ask you to write a physical assessment report on his bedroom performance!" Fury bit off the last few words.
Natasha seemed to snap out of her involuntary "professional appraisal." Her face instantly reverted to the absolute calm expected of an agent, as if the preceding evaluation had never occurred.
"Report, Director," her voice became cold and objective again. "The target maintained high concentration throughout the entire process. His defensive mechanisms were fully engaged; no slippage, unconscious habits, or exploitable physiological or psychological weaknesses were observed. His willpower is extremely resilient, and his environmental alertness never diminished." She added, decisively: "Aside from the objective description of his physical function and combat readiness, no effective intelligence was obtained."
Silence descended upon the jet once more. Coulson tactically cleared his throat, feeling the air was too thick to breathe. He dared not look at Fury or the Black Widow beside him.
Fury's single eye bored into Natasha, as if trying to pierce her calm exterior to see what lay beneath. A feeling of "absurdity" swelled in his heart. Was Hawk Lane really that good? Good enough to completely captivate his top agent?! He felt a flicker of doubt about Natasha for the first time. He decided he needed to try again with someone else. Fortunately, he had placed two excellent new agents in Columbia University, Hawk's alma mater.
However, during the fallout of the Bates Capital incident, multiple intelligence agencies had planted spies in Columbia to approach Hawk, and S.H.I.E.L.D. did not yet have their full list. Regardless, S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to move faster than the other intelligence agencies.
After a few seconds of thought, he slowly leaned back, his voice devoid of emotion but heavy with pressure.
"Understood. Complete the mission report with comprehensive details. Agent Romanoff, after the mission is concluded, you will write an extremely detailed post-action review report. Every point of contact, every word of dialogue, and every observed detail, regardless of whether you personally deem it valuable. Additionally, double your physical training regimen." He paused, his single eye flashing with cold intent, adding pointedly: "Especially the Smith Machine Squats… add another hundred."
He leaned forward slightly, his lone eye fixed on Natasha on the comms screen.
"Now, as he suggested, arrange a meeting. The sooner the better."
Fury didn't say "negotiation," using "meeting" instead, both acknowledging Hawk's original words in the elevator and signifying that S.H.I.E.L.D., or rather Fury himself, was willing to begin dialogue on relatively equal terms.
The communication cut off. Coulson held his breath, sneaking a glance at Natasha. Her beautiful face showed nothing but the professional coldness of an agent concluding a mission.
Only Natasha knew that in the "extremely detailed" review report Fury had requested, the only thing she could clearly write about the two hours of "necessary contact" would be the objective, almost complimentary, yet utterly useless "physical assessment." This was because it was the only "detail" she could recall clearly. All other sensory memories had been overwritten by a powerful, heart-stopping sense of control and extraordinary technique, branded into her deep physical consciousness rather than her analytical log as an agent.
Moments later, Natasha took a deep breath. She pulled up Hawk Lane's private contact information—a number not publicly available, one Hawk had personally entered into her phone after their "necessary contact."
She inhaled, then typed on the virtual keyboard, choosing her words precisely:
[Mr. Hawk, regarding your coffee invitation, my employer is very interested. Are you available this evening?]
The message was sent.
Almost instantly, a reply popped up:
[Natasha, so efficient. It seems your boss needs this conversation more than I thought.]
[Tonight at 9 PM, "Tears of the Muse," across from the Bates Building.]
[Top-floor terrace. I've reserved the entire space.]
[Also, let me ask: are you satisfied with my performance during the 'Smith Machine Squats'?]
Blatant flirting, carrying the playful arrogance of someone in complete control. Natasha stared at the words on the screen, feeling as if she could hear Hawk's low voice and subtle chuckle.
She decided to reply in a more direct way, one that met Hawk's expectations—a test in itself.
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