Chapter 60: The Widow Is Not So Cold

Inside the office of the battleship.

Satana was completely unaware that she had just brushed past the edge of death. She simply gazed at Kyle seated in the office chair, her eyes filled with concern, quietly awaiting his next command or instruction.

Seeing this, Kyle couldn’t help but smile to himself. The agents trained by the Soviet Red Room were indeed among the world’s elite. From the super agent serum to every necessary skill and trait, nothing was lacking. Though the girl standing before him was still a trainee, her combat abilities surpassed nearly all soldiers and officers at the main base of the U.S. military; few could best her in a fair fight.

Yet, it wasn’t just her formidable combat prowess. Her talent for infiltration—disguising herself as a timid and delicate American military nurse—seemed as effortless to her as drinking water.

It was a pity, really, that she had encountered him.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. Satana’s disguise was flawless, but before his card-drawing ability, it was worthless. No matter how meticulously she planned, no matter how convincing her performance, the glaring blue ability card—“Super Agent”—hovering above her nape exposed everything.

The office was silent for some time. After taking a few sips of warm water, Kyle beckoned to her with a slight frown. “I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Do you know how to massage the head and shoulders? Give me a quick rub, will you?”

“Ah.” Satana hesitated, then nodded rapidly, taking small, careful steps around the desk to stand behind his chair.

She didn’t notice that as she passed, a cold glint flashed through the azure eyes Kyle had half-opened.

The perfect opportunity for an assassination had been carefully orchestrated. Now, Satana’s life hung entirely in her own hands. Whether or not she was destined for greatness, the moment she made the slightest move to attack, Kyle would not hesitate to strike her down. That was his unyielding principle: anyone who became his enemy would only leave as a corpse.

“General, you can close your eyes if you like. The massage will feel much better that way,” Satana murmured softly, her slender hands reaching toward the back of his head.

“All right. Don’t be afraid to use some strength,” Kyle replied, closing his eyes, though his mind remained taut as a drawn bow.

She carried no weapons; her physical strength alone was insufficient to break his neck. Even so, he had already readied his Venom suit for defense, just in case.

Soon, Satana’s ten delicate fingers pressed firmly onto the back of his head, massaging down to his neck and shoulders, then up toward his forehead.

Kyle, whose body had been tense and rigid, let out an involuntary sigh of relief. The unexpected comfort surprised him. Satana’s technique was deft and practiced—no doubt one of the many professional skills taught during agent training. Combined with the unique strength of a young girl’s nimble fingers…

Wait, that wasn’t the point!

“Is she not planning to make a move?” Kyle wondered, puzzled. He couldn’t quite understand. The Soviet Red Room had sent a super agent to infiltrate at the brink of war. If not for him, then for what? Was he not the target? Or was the mission’s goal something other than assassination?

On second thought, it made sense. The Soviets enjoyed sowing chaos but wouldn’t risk sending an agent to assassinate the newly promoted American hero general during an alliance of three nations.

Lost in thought, Kyle let Satana massage him for ten full minutes before she finally stopped, exhaling softly as she flexed her sore fingers. This man’s bones and muscles were even denser than she’d expected—just as the mission dossier had indicated: super soldier abilities.

Satana made up her mind, and leaning close to Kyle’s ear, she asked in a breathless whisper, “General Kyle, how do you feel? Any dizziness left?”

Kyle tilted his head back, still savoring the sensation with his eyes closed. “Much better.”

“That’s good,” Satana replied, her tone turning professional. “But with a major campaign about to start, it’s best to investigate any symptoms in advance. Just to be safe, General, would you mind pricking your finger for a drop of blood? Let me take it back to the medical bay for testing—it will give us a detailed read on your current condition.”

“Oh, a blood test?” Kyle’s eyes opened completely, a subtle look of understanding crossing his face. So this was the mission: to secure a sample of his blood. With the Venom suit, he’d never left a trace of his own blood on the battlefield, not even from superficial wounds.

A single drop might seem insignificant, but in this world of advanced technology and biological marvels—Marvel’s world—who knew what schemes the Soviet scientists might hatch with it? He wouldn’t put it past them to create a clone or something even more outrageous.

Now that he understood her purpose, there was no need to play along any longer. His tone turned cold. “So that’s your objective?”

“What… objective?” Satana froze behind the chair, forcing herself to remain calm. “General Kyle, what do you mean? It’s just a simple blood test…”

Kyle delivered the final blow to her last hope of deception. “Are you still going to pretend, Red Room agent?”

Before he’d even finished speaking, Satana’s face shifted dramatically. Her hands sliced like blades toward the back of Kyle’s neck, aiming to knock him unconscious in one swift move.

“Let’s see how you play,” Kyle sneered. His reflexes were far quicker; he raised both hands behind him, catching her wrists before the blow could land.

Satana struggled to free herself, but Kyle’s grip was like iron; she couldn’t move a single finger. As she prepared to switch tactics and kick, an overwhelming force surged through her arms. In the next instant, her entire body was hoisted up and flipped over, swinging one hundred eighty degrees over Kyle’s head before being slammed down onto the hardwood office desk.

With a resounding crack, the desk split and collapsed, leaving Satana sprawled amid splintered wood and scattered documents, groaning in pain.

Coughing, Satana barely managed to push herself up. Her eyes widened in fright as she saw the handsome young man shrug off his general’s coat, revealing beneath it the cold, lethal form of the Venom suit.

“Good. Stand up just like that. Let me see what the Soviet super agent is truly capable of!” Kyle’s gaze was icy as he watched her. His muscles shifted visibly beneath the black suit, and his murderous aura filled the entire room.

He flexed his fists, a slight smirk on his lips, and said quietly, “I hope you can help me warm up before the war begins.”