What he didn't know was that the moment he left, the blue body on the bed suddenly opened its eyes in the darkness.
Golden beast eyes, without focus, only a cold void.
That broken Dodge on the street corner was his $300 package deal, with a wad of cash thrown in.
The intelligence broker, Ghost, had said, "The 'fireworks' deal you want is at Brooklyn Pier 9. Whether you can catch a fish depends on your own luck."
That's enough.
The old car finally lit up after a long struggle and plunged into the capillaries of New York's late night.
Brooklyn Pier 9.
The salty smell of the sea, mixed with the stench of rust and dead fish, drilled straight into his nose.
Huge cranes stood in the night, like steel monsters hunkering down.
Lin Ent left his car in the distance, put on a greasy work uniform, and casually smeared some ash on his face.
In one second, he transformed from a pretty boy into a common dock worker, a poor wretch risking his life for a few bucks.
A drop of Water melted into the stinking ditch.
His five senses, enhanced by the battle with Mystique, quickly scanned his surroundings.
He could hear the faint wail of a screw in the sea wind a hundred meters away.
After a moment of searching... he found it.
Lin Ent's eyes narrowed, like a sniper scope locking onto a target.
On top of the high stack of containers, in the deepest part of that Shadow.
A Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, merged with the darkness itself.
If it weren't for his enhanced mental perception detecting her faint, almost non-existent heartbeat, he would never have known anyone was there.
Natasha Romanoff.
Black Widow.
Her pitch-Black, tight-fitting combat suit perfectly accentuated her deadly figure.
Truly captivating.
As the wind blew, her red hair flickered like a flame.
She was holding binoculars, monitoring the center of the pier.
Lin Ent didn't move.
He was like an old hunter, not just watching the prey, but also watching what the prey was focused on.
His gaze quickly swept across the entire pier, engraving the terrain, cover, and escape routes into his mind.
Soon, he found a perfect stage prop.
Not far away, a huge cargo container stood askew due to ground subsidence. One of its securing buckles was already rusted through, making it look precarious.
A perfect variable.
He wasn't here for romance; he was here for an interview.
An interview requires a pledge of allegiance.
Hero saving the beauty?
Clichéd, but effective.
Especially when the hero looks as weak as a chicken and is utterly bewildered, the dramatic effect is maximized.
Half an hour later.
Two Black vans drove in silently.
A group of burly Russians got out of the cars, all in suits and ties, with bulging temples—clearly not good people.
On the other side, a few people in dark green combat suits emerged from the shadows.
Their movements were uniform, their eyes hollow, like robots.
Lin Ent's pupils suddenly constricted.
HYDRA!
Damn, I came to the right place!
Business is booming!
Sure enough, when the two groups were inspecting the goods, something in their exchange went wrong.
The Russian boss jumped back and roared something in Russian.
The next second, gunfire erupted!
The Fire from automatic rifles tore open gashes in the night. Bullets hit the containers, sending sparks flying!
Natasha moved.
She pounced from the shadows like a leopard, landing silently.
Two Glocks in her hands were like the God of Death's scythes.
Every time the muzzle twitched, a HYDRA soldier's head burst open, and he fell headfirst.
But there were too many HYDRA agents.
They quickly discovered the female killing Deleted who had appeared on the flank, and half of their firepower instantly poured towards her!
A fan-shaped encirclement, a crossfire net.
Textbook tactical suppression!
Natasha's figure darted between the containers, but her movement space was increasingly restricted.
She was pinned down.
Lin Ent grinned.
It was his time to perform.
His heart began to pound—with excitement!
He stared intently at the battlefield.
A HYDRA soldier, crouching, circled to Natasha's blind spot!
Just as she rolled to dodge a volley and hadn't yet regained her footing!
The soldier raised his hand and fired a shot!
Whoosh—!
A bullet tore through the air, heading straight for Natasha's back!
At that position, at that moment, not even a deity could dodge it!
Now!
Lin Ent's eyes blazed with light! He didn't charge out; instead, he suddenly turned and crashed into the huge, crooked cargo container he had already chosen!
He gathered all his strength, twisting it into a single rope, and poured it all into his right shoulder!
Damn it!
Bang—!
His shoulder slammed into the steel with a dull thud!
Creak... Squeak... Snap!
The rusted buckle let out its most desperate shriek and broke on the spot!
Balance shattered!
The multi-ton steel behemoth, losing its only support, began to tilt!
Like in slow motion, with the momentum of crushing the very sky, it crashed down with a roar!
Boom!!!
The entire pier trembled with it!
The ground beneath Natasha's feet seemed to have been struck by a hammer!
And the bullet?
Clang!
A crisp sound.
The bullet that was heading for her back hit the thick steel plate, like a pebble thrown by a child, only chipping off a bit of paint.
Dust filled the air.
The gunfire across the entire battlefield paused for half a second because of this.
A deathly silence.
Natasha suddenly turned her head. In the dust, she saw a man in a dirty work uniform.
His face was pale, and he was scrambling to get up from the ground, his eyes filled with terror and confusion, as if asking, 'What the hell is this? What happened?'
His acting was flawless.
Damn, the Oscars owe me a statuette!
However, he chose the wrong person to act for—Natasha Romanoff.
Astonishment lingered in her green eyes for only Zero point five seconds.
It was immediately replaced by a cold, sharp, surgical-knife-like scrutiny.
She didn't even look at the startled HYDRA agents.
Because her brain's threat assessment system instantly flagged this unexpected event as the highest level of Red alert!
A dock worker?
Appearing right beside her amidst a hail of bullets?
In an utterly impossible way, within a few tenths of a second, he brought down a multi-ton cargo container, blocking a fatal bullet with perfect precision?
In Natasha's World, there are no coincidences.
Such an event, with a probability infinitely close to Zero, has only one explanation—a setup.
She didn't even need to think; her body instinctively reacted with the utmost professionalism.
The Black muzzle, without a tremor, steadily pointed at Lin Ent's forehead.
Her voice, husky and sexy, whispered next to his ear, yet it was colder than the metal of the gun.
"Don't move."
After a pause, she uttered three words, each carrying the weight of death.
"Who are you?"
The muzzle.
Cold metal pressed firmly against Lin Ent's forehead.
A mix of gunpowder and death, a smell that made his brain ache.
Lin Ent's entire body erupted in goosebumps.
Exhilarating.