The glow of the holographic screen reflected on Pierce's face, which was etched with the deep lines of time.
After listening to Makima's report, he nodded repeatedly, his eyes showing undisguised admiration.
"This is the fresh blood our HYDRA needs!"
And so, just ten minutes later...
Nick Fury, who was drinking coffee in his office, received a call from Pierce via an encrypted private line.
Fury instinctively straightened his back, prepared to face political pressure or a scolding. Instead, Pierce's tone on the other end was actually very peaceful, even strangely reasonable: "Nick, about Bronski's matter, I've thought it over. You've had it quite tough."
"Since you insist on doing some psychological evaluation, let's do it your way."
"Sending an Agent over to take a look, following the procedure, and confirming the risks isn't a bad thing either."
Fury was stunned.
Has the Sun risen from the west?
Before he could react, Pierce continued:
"However, I have a small suggestion regarding the choice of personnel. I heard that newly promoted Agent Makima under your command has good abilities?"
"Let her handle this operation. It's a good opportunity to train a newcomer."
Before Fury could say anything, Pierce hurriedly hung up the phone.
Beep, beep, beep.
Listening to the busy tone, Fury's single eye was filled with immense confusion.
"Wait... what the hell?"
Fury looked at his phone, completely baffled.
He... agreed just like that?
Pierce had clearly refused no matter what before, his attitude as stubborn as a rock in a latrine. Now, not only did he relent, but he specifically named Makima to handle it?
One must know, Fury's original plan was to send Makima to disrupt the situation.
What does this mean?
What kind of medicine is this old bastard selling in his gourd?
Or could it be that this Makima really has some kind of magic?
Not only could she get Sitwell and Coulson to back her up, but now even Pierce regards her with favor.
Regardless, the outcome is good.
Fury shook his head, suppressing that sliver of unease in his heart.
With a wave of his hand, the official appointment was issued... At this moment, in a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house.
Now Makima was supported by both S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA simultaneously; it was as if she sat on 'Double Gold Water.'
However, this came with a price. She was simultaneously given two seemingly contradictory top-level directives—S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted her to mess this up so Abomination couldn't join the Avengers, while HYDRA needed her to ensure Abomination joined the Avengers to become HYDRA's private soldier.
Double identity, double directives.
Both sides viewed her as a confidante, and both sides were waiting for her good news.
Makima couldn't afford to offend either side, yet she belonged to neither.
Neither Fury nor Pierce knew that Makima belonged to only one person.
And that was Su Modie.
"Alright, the operation begins."
Makima closed the folder, her gaze sweeping over the other two people in the room.
"Are we finally leaving?"
Reze was sitting on the edge of the cabinet next to the refrigerator, her legs dangling and swinging.
She was playing with a pull-ring pin that made Tony's heart skip a beat, her tone full of impatience: "I say, is the efficiency of your S.H.I.E.L.D. always this low? Did we waste a whole half-hour here for these few scraps of paper?"
"This is a necessary procedure, Consultant Reze."
Makima responded with a smile, her tone excessively polite, "Clerical work is always tedious. I hope you can understand."
"Tch, hypocrite," Reze rolled her eyes and muttered softly.
Tony Stark, who was adjusting his headset nearby, paused his movements.
Although this playboy seemed unreliable, he had an intuition comparable to radar when it came to the shifts in atmosphere between women—especially beautiful women.
He took off his sunglasses, his suspicious gaze darting back and forth between Makima and Reze.
"Wait, ladies."
Tony pointed at Makima, then at Reze, "Interrupting for a second, you two... knew each other before?"
The air went silent for a second.
"No."
"Never met."
The two answered almost in unison.
The denial was crisp and neat, without a hint of hesitation.
"If files and news don't count, this is the first time she and I have met," Makima explained, though there seemed to be a hidden meaning in her words.
Reze sensed that Makima seemed to be complaining about her being too high-profile, so she glanced at her: "I was temporarily hired by that black-hearted Braised Egg."
Although Tony didn't know what a Braised Egg was, he knew who was black-hearted. He raised an eyebrow at the words.
"Is that so? That's strange. You two seem to get along quite well."
Makima maintained her smile and didn't respond, but her eyes cooled slightly.
Reze, on the other hand, replied directly—
"Are you sick?"
It was so direct that even Tony couldn't help but shrink his neck back.
Indeed, Reze and Makima of course "didn't know" each other; they had just been squeezed together on that king-sized soft bed in the penthouse of Fisk Tower for the past few days, secretly competing for a certain unknown black-haired beautiful girl in the middle... It was just that last night Reze was still complaining that Makima always pressed on her hair, while Makima was annoyed that Reze didn't sleep still and kicked the blankets... It didn't count as knowing each other.
Of course, Tony would never know these bedroom secrets in his lifetime.
"Mr. Stark, you have a very rich imagination," Makima shifted the topic at the right time.
"If I were you, I would head to the bar now. After all, General Ross's lack of patience is famous."
"Fine, fine, since Miss Makima has spoken."
Tony shrugged, "I'll go deal with that grumpy old man, and you guys go deal with that frozen big guy. A clear division of labor."
He walked to the door and looked back at this strange duo again, always feeling something was off, but unable to put his finger on it... Several hours later, Alaska.
This is one of the coldest regions in the world.
The helicopter's rotors tore through the sky full of wind and snow.
General Ross's cryogenic prison "Warehouse" was located here.
Makima wrapped her black trench coat tightly around her and stepped down the gangway onto the snow.
The cold wind blew her red hair into a mess, with a few strands sticking to her cheeks, but her posture remained exceptionally upright in the snowstorm.
Reze, following behind her, was not nearly as composed.
The Bomb girl had already curled herself into a ball of fur, huddled inside a heavy military cotton overcoat.
Fur ball
Although as a Weapon Human, this level of low temperature wasn't fatal, it didn't mean she enjoyed this feeling of potentially having her nose frozen off.
"Hell... am I back in the Soviet Union?"
Reze tucked in her neck, exhaled a cloud of white vapor, and looked at the back of the person walking beside her who seemed to have no pain receptors. She couldn't help but jab sarcastically: "Hey, Miss Agent, could you please walk a bit faster? Do you want to build a snowman here before moving on?"
"The ground here is very slippery, Consultant Reze."
Makima didn't even look at Reze, her voice sounding somewhat ethereal in the wind and snow, "If you fall, I won't be responsible for helping you up."
"Huh? Me, fall?"
Reze acted as if she had heard a joke.
In order to get into the heated indoors a second earlier, and also to suppress Makima in terms of momentum, Reze gave a cold snort and stepped out to overtake Makima directly: "You'd better worry about your own high hee—Whoa?!"
Before her words could finish, joy turned to sorrow.
The military boots on Reze's feet stepped on a patch of black ice covered by thin snow.
Slip—!
And then—
Thud.
Reze fell solidly on her butt, sitting on the ice, even sliding forward for a meter.
Makima stopped her pace and looked down at Reze on the ground.
As their eyes met, the atmosphere became awkward...
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