Chapter 52: Besides Essence Wine, I Also Sell People (Wishing Everyone a Happy New Year!)
Natasha had never been so tense in her life. Though she wasn’t trembling, her heart, kneaded over a thousand times, was lodged in her throat.
Five million was nothing. But the value of these essence wines, for S.H.I.E.L.D., could far exceed five million!
Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.; her actions, though only reported to Director Fury and known solely by him, could hardly escape detection. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s intelligence network was formidable, and as a legendary agent, she would surely be a primary target for Hydra’s moles, monitored at every turn, her life always at risk.
No one could guarantee her movements these past days hadn’t been tracked, nor her investigations surveilled. Caution was paramount.
Natasha dared not relax for even a moment.
Suddenly—
She sensed something was wrong.
Traffic jam. Impossible!
She had chosen the optimal route in advance, guided by satellite navigation all along.
Danger! Instinctively, Natasha prepared to evade.
Bang! Bang bang!
A series of gunshots rang out, then the sharp, piercing crack of glass.
Bulletproof glass shattered!
A splash of blood burst forth, staining the glass with brilliant crimson.
“Snipers—at least two!” Without looking, Natasha knew: snipers were hidden in high rooms or perhaps on rooftops flanking her, the difference in bullet holes in the glass revealed their positions.
She had to abandon the car. In such a confined space, she could not escape their sights; bulletproof glass and reinforced car body would not withstand specialized armor-piercing rounds. Her only option was to risk leaving the vehicle and seek refuge in the adjacent buildings.
Natasha did not hesitate for even a second.
Even for an agent of her caliber, evading two elite snipers was a slim chance, but she had to try. Otherwise, death was certain.
It was obvious—Hydra.
But were they after her, or the essence wines in the car?
If the former, the danger was hers alone. If the latter, Master Wang was in greater peril...
No. Hydra would not kill Master Wang; they would capture him. Whether for the Iron Fist of K’un-Lun behind him or to obtain more essence wine, Master Wang alive was far more valuable than dead.
Just then—
Natasha heard a barrage of gunfire.
From other vehicles blocking her, men leapt out, firing at her.
Fortunately, these attackers wielded only pistols and submachine guns; their bullets were not armor-piercing, unable to pierce the bulletproof glass and reinforced car body from the Science and Technology Division in short order.
But now, abandoning the car was impossible.
She was not the Winter Soldier or Iron Fist; as a mortal, she could not withstand the assault of so many well-trained, well-equipped elite soldiers.
Was she doomed?
No.
Natasha’s vision flickered; she saw a swift, athletic figure.
A strong man, clad in black tactical gear, wielding a specialized high-tech compound bow, a custom quiver on his back filled with over twenty unique arrows.
He stood about 190 centimeters tall, his physique lean and muscular, bare arms rippling with explosive strength.
He ran across the left-side Chinese-style building, agile and fast.
Like the wind, he drew an arrow.
Bow bent, arrow nocked.
He drew the string, released.
In an instant, the arrow sliced through the air, striking a distant window.
A warm smile appeared at the corner of Natasha’s mouth.
Without doubt, a sniper had been neutralized.
“Clint…”
She whispered softly—a man of unwavering reliability, one she trusted completely, who had changed the course of her life.
He had persuaded her to leave her old organization and join S.H.I.E.L.D.
Hawkeye—Clint Barton, Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, the world’s greatest marksman.
In her eyes, second to none.
With him here, she had nothing to fear!
Suddenly, Natasha wielded two pistols.
Counterattack, begin!
Every arrow claimed a life; in pure combat, Hawkeye, master of both close quarters and ranged battle, was deadlier than Black Widow.
His arrows weren’t faster than bullets, but were infinitely more precise. Combined with his superhuman reflexes, hand-eye coordination, and rare computational prowess, he never missed.
S.H.I.E.L.D. valued unity and cooperation; few agents earned the right to operate alone.
Black Widow was one, Hawkeye another.
Now, once more, they fought side by side.
Like the legendary detectives, always solo, suddenly joining forces.
Bullets flew; arrows whistled.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s support was not limited to Hawkeye.
A dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents appeared, all elite; in moments, ten Hydra operatives were eliminated.
Only then did Natasha understand:
It was no coincidence.
This was not a trap.
If the plan was to use herself—or even Master Wang—as bait to lure Hydra, there would be no need to keep her in the dark. She trusted the Director, believed in her abilities; as an actress, she could easily become a Hollywood star, able to fool Hydra’s informants.
More likely, they had turned the tables.
Director Fury knew her whereabouts.
He’d been watching her.
Sensing Hydra’s move, he dispatched Hawkeye and others for support.
If so, the Director likely hadn’t had time to consider or assist Master Wang.
Would something happen to him?
The battle ended swiftly.
“Natasha!”
Hawkeye rushed over, standing guard beside her, his voice low and steady: “Are you badly hurt? Let’s return to Triskelion Headquarters!”
“No, we’re going to Azeroth Specialty Shop!”
Natasha ignored the pain in her left waist, declaring firmly, “Hydra won’t spare Master Wang—we must save him!”
“Master Wang?” Hawkeye was momentarily confused. “Who is he?”
He had been on vacation. While the child slept, discussing life and dreams with his wife, the Director called. He’d leapt from bed, hurried back to S.H.I.E.L.D. overnight.
The Director was determined to strike at Hydra; S.H.I.E.L.D. needed him.
Upon arrival, he was assigned a single task:
Support Agent Romanoff.
That was all he knew.
So, what had happened during his days off?
“Master Wang is tied to a very important person, someone we must win over,” Natasha said, opening the back seat, lifting a jar and taking several long swigs before wiping her mouth and fixing Hawkeye with a serious gaze. “Clint, Master Wang is a Chinese kung fu master, like Shang-Chi, though probably not as strong... I’ll call him.”
Natasha dialed.
Just as she was about to speak, the call connected.
Thank God—Hydra hadn’t struck yet. Natasha hurriedly said, “Master Wang, Hydra may be targeting you. Find a safe place to hide immediately—we’re on our way—”
“Hydra? Do you mean these guys?” came a muffled groan, then Master Wang’s relaxed, cheerful voice: “Seven in total, all alive... I was about to ask you, if I sell these fellows to S.H.I.E.L.D., how much would you pay me?”
Natasha froze.