Just then, the white, middle-aged man at the checkout, who was built like a mountain of flesh, finally finished counting the change.
Yawning, he looked out the window at the intensifying rain and cursed in a thick American accent, "God damn it! Why is it so cold? This hellish weather is even worse than bloody Siberia! I'm about to turn into a popsicle!"
Almost subconsciously...
Reze, standing at the counter, and Natasha, standing behind her, both let out a scoff at the same time.
"Heh." Reze slapped a few crumpled bills onto the counter and muttered in a very soft Russian under her breath, "Idiot. If you threw him into Siberia, he wouldn't even survive his first summer."
The Russian was idiomatic, using the kind of biting slang known only to those who had lived in that red nation.
「simulation value +42」
Natasha's originally nonchalant, contemptuous gaze froze for a split second.
Three minutes later.
Under the dilapidated awning at the convenience store entrance.
Rainwater dripped from the eaves, forming a natural water curtain.
"Click."
Reze pulled the ring on a soda can, tilted her head back, and took a large gulp of the sickly sweet liquid, a look of satisfaction appearing on her face. "Ha... Even though it's all artificial flavoring, it's not bad when it's warm."
Beside her, Natasha no longer used that clumsy New Yorker accent, but spoke in fluent Russian as if they were old acquaintances:
"You actually like drinking this stuff? People here don't understand what real bitterness is, nor do they understand what a real aftertaste is."
Reze turned her head and looked at this woman, who maintained an alert posture even on a rainy night, and suddenly found it a bit amusing.
Even though both knew the other's background wasn't clean—one being a top S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent and the other a bomb demon who had just caused trouble—they reached a bizarre understanding in this foreign night, fueled by the nostalgia brought on by the rain.
"I don't understand what a real aftertaste is either," Reze switched back to Russian and continued to complain.
"But the pickles here are as disgusting as mud soaked in sugar water."
Natasha smiled, a rare flash of nostalgia and agreement in her eyes.
"If you get a chance, go to Petrov's Restaurant in Brooklyn. It's one of the few places that makes Borscht without sugar. The owner is a penny-pinching miser, but the taste is passable."
"Got it, Auntie. See you around..."
Reze replied casually, pulled up her hood, and her figure quickly disappeared into the curtain of rain.
「simulation value +27」
Natasha watched her back disappear and stood there for a long time.
She took out a communicator and dialed an encrypted channel.
The voice of the one-eyed Director came through the earpiece. "Contact made? Confirmed it's the bomb girl?"
"Contact made." Natasha looked at the empty street, her tone calm.
"Assessment? Danger level?"
"Very dangerous, and... very simple." Natasha paused, giving an evaluation that didn't fit her usual cool style. "It might be my imagination, but she has a bit of the Red Room's scent about her, like a manufactured weapon."
"You mean she's also a Black Widow?" Fury asked.
In reality, Black Widow had never been a code name exclusive to one person, but rather a group.
Every female Agent who successfully completed training in the Red Room was a Black Widow; Natasha was simply the most famous among them.
This was very similar to Reze's past experience—one could even say it was almost identical.
Except her code name wasn't as pleasant... it was just "Guinea Pig."
"No, it doesn't look like the Red Room's handiwork, but I feel like she just wants to find a corner to stay in quietly."
Natasha shook her head.
"Your recommendation?"
"Just a lost child."
Natasha remembered the girl's eyes; it was a loneliness that only one of her kind could understand.
"I don't recommend a forced capture, Director Fury. For a cornered Beast like this, pushing too hard might not be a good thing."
"Maybe... we could try to give her some time, or even give her a home."
The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, with no reply.
"Continue surveillance. If there are signs of losing control, you know what to do."
"Understood."
The sound of rain gradually stopped.
Reze returned to the apartment and casually tossed the empty coffee can into the trash, producing a crisp "clang."
At that very moment, an emergency news broadcast on the old television on the wall broke the silence of the rainy night.
"Breaking news! A major armed conflict is occurring near Broadway in Harlem! The Military has cordoned off the scene, and casualties are currently heavy..."
In the violently shaking footage, billowing smoke swallowed the streets.
One green, one yellow—two behemoths were in a frenzy, beating each other up.
Reze walked to the bedside, sat down, and pulled her legs up without even taking off her shoes.
She naturally reached out and hugged Su Modie, who was sitting on the bed in her pajamas, leaning intimately against Su Modie's shoulder.
The slightly cool moisture from her body seeped through the thin fabric, making Su Modie subconsciously shrink her neck.
"You're back?" Su Modie still wasn't quite used to such intimate physical contact; her body stiffened for a moment, but she didn't push her away, only asking with forced composure, "How was it? She... should have a lot in common with you, right?"
Reze rested her chin in the crook of Su Modie's neck, pondering for a moment before a playful curve hooked the corner of her mouth. "Mm... quite right. She's just as you said: very smart, but also very emotional. Fortunately, she took the bait smoothly."
After becoming Su Modie's avatar and sharing Marvel-related memories, Reze was surprised to find that this S.H.I.E.L.D. ace Agent's background was actually so strikingly similar to her own.
This was the core of the plan Su Modie had come up with on the fly after seeing Natasha.
In most situations, Natasha was a top-tier Agent, maintaining inhuman calm and cunning, but only when facing "sisters" with similarly tragic pasts would the softest part of her heart be exposed.
Reze and Natasha were both victims raised as "human weapons" by cold-blooded Soviet institutions.
This bone-deep resonance was something no acting could replace.
Su Modie had specifically told Reze to expose that hint of detachment and loneliness hidden beneath her smile, along with her authentic Russian, precisely to throw Natasha off balance and gain the legendary Agent's sympathy—or even a sort of protective instinct born from transference.
Although Natasha would be one of the weakest Avengers in the future, for them at this stage, this was purely beneficial.
Just then, a loud bang on the television broke their reminiscence.
"Wow."
Reze squinted her eyes, watching a police car being swung like a baseball bat on the TV, her tone carrying a bit of lazy amusement. "That guy's got some serious strength."
"It's Hulk and Abomination." Su Modie's eyes shone with excited light.
As a veteran Marvel fan, she naturally knew what plot this was.
However, rather than witnessing a famous scene, she cared more about something else.
Su Modie turned her head and looked at Reze, who was close at hand. "Reze, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Hmm?" Reze hummed nonchalantly, her fingers idly twirling Su Modie's long hair.
"Before, we blackmailed Tony Stark and threw his Mark 5 armor into a scrap yard," Su Modie analyzed quickly, the light in her eyes growing brighter. "That single operation directly netted over three hundred villainess value."
She pointed at the screen, which showed a battlefield as chaotic as hell:
"Now, an out-of-control superhero plus a rampaging supervillain."
"If we take this chance to fish in troubled waters, cause those two big guys some trouble, or make the scene even more lively...."
Reze's fingers twirling the hair stopped.
She slowly raised her head, her emerald eyes filled with the excitement of a predator scenting blood.
"You mean, go blow things up?"
"Exactly. Let's have a blast."
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898