Chapter 102: Infiltration
When she heard Natasha's words, Smith Doyle's smile faded. He grew serious and said:
"There's a problem."
"From the intel I've gathered, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s problems aren't just minor—they're substantial."
He wasn't lying. S.H.I.E.L.D. had issues far beyond what most knew. At this point, it was practically Snake-H.I.E.L.D.
And then there was Nick Fury—a walking magnet for trouble. All his shady dealings, his role in "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.," the agency's constant surveillance, secret imprisonments, covert experiments—it was a mess. Not to mention the whole "Secret Invasion" plotline.
Natasha was visibly shaken. Smith Doyle claiming S.H.I.E.L.D. had major problems suggested deep, dangerous secrets.
Catching the curious glint in her eye, Smith continued:
"Maybe because you're more of an outsider, you haven't been fully absorbed into their system yet. That's why you haven't noticed anything."
"But once this mission's over and you return to S.H.I.E.L.D., start observing—dig a little deeper. You might find it's not the agency you thought it was."
"As for what exactly the problem is, I'm not going to hand you the answer. You'll have to uncover it yourself."
Natasha nodded. There was something appealing about uncovering the truth on her own.
"In there… who can I contact? Anyone I can trust?"
Clearly, Natasha suspected that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been infiltrated by people from the Assassin's League. She wanted to know if there were any handlers or trustworthy contacts.
Smith chuckled inwardly. So she thought he had planted multiple operatives inside?
"Our contact stays one-on-one—for your protection."
"The only person you can fully trust is yourself. As for everyone else, you'll have to judge them on your own."
"If you gather intel and aren't sure what to do with it, you can bring it to Fox—or discuss it with me."
Natasha gave a firm nod and said,
"I understand."
"I'll do everything I can—I won't let anyone down."
"And the rot inside S.H.I.E.L.D.? I'll root it out."
Smith locked eyes with her, then said,
"Return to Fox. Continue your infiltration assignment within S.H.I.E.L.D."
Natasha turned to leave the meeting room, but as she reached the door, she looked back and asked:
"Will S.H.I.E.L.D. end up like the Red Room—wiped out?"
Smith didn't answer. Instead, he smiled faintly and replied:
"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
Something clicked in Natasha's mind. She stepped out the door, a theory forming in her head.
Could Nick Fury be hiding something beneath that eyepatch?
And people call me the Hunter of Heads for a reason…
---
After Natasha left, Smith Doyle took out the Black Widow control platform and an identity ring.
Staring at them, he considered his next move.
Dreykov was dead. The Red Room's airborne facility had been destroyed. Yet the remaining Widows were still under the influence of the information-based mind control toxin. If he wanted, he could command them all to drop dead—strangled by their own hands.
That wasn't the plan, though. Smith decided these women couldn't be left to wander unsupervised. That would only lead to disaster.
They needed to be recalled in an orderly fashion. Once that was done, detoxification, reassignment, and perhaps recruitment would follow.
Coincidentally, the Assassin Brotherhood needed more personnel. With Continental Hotels being converted around the world, even assigning one or two Widows per location would strain his resources. The intelligence division also needed fresh blood.
Now all he had to do was wait—wait for Buma to finish developing the antidote. Once it was ready, the recall could begin.
With everything settled, Smith Doyle stowed away the control platform and ring and left the room.
---
Evening.
Smith Doyle returned to the lab. Seeing Buma hard at work, he called out:
"Buma, that science prodigy I told you about wants to meet today. Let's go together."
Buma froze in surprise, then stopped what she was doing.
"Ah!"
"So soon? Wait for me!"
Without another word, she dashed out of the lab toward her room.
Smith blinked. Did I just forget to give a girl time to dress up? Looks like I'm going to be waiting a while.
He wandered around the lab. It was larger than before, equipped with more gear. Nearby, the recently recovered Yelena lay unconscious inside a pod-like stasis chamber.
Over an hour passed before Buma returned—full of youthful energy.
She latched onto Smith's arm and chirped,
"Let's go, Brother Smith!"
Dressed in a long, pink dress and wearing a violet scarf, she looked radiant. Smith ruffled her hair with a smile.
"Alright—let's head out!"
Buma leaned on him with a happy sigh.
"Let's go~"
Together, they climbed into Smith's red Ferrari and drove toward Tony Stark's seaside mansion.
As twilight settled in, Buma marveled at the scenery through the car window, constantly comparing the differences between their world and this one.
Smith replied casually as he drove, though deep down, he was thinking: I really should take Buma out more often. She deserves to enjoy her youth...
Funny enough, he forgot he was only 18 himself.
About an hour later, they arrived outside Tony's mansion.
Just as Smith parked the car, Tony Stark stepped out to greet them.
As Smith and Buma got out of the car, Tony raised an eyebrow at the sight of the young girl beside him.
"Dude, you've got me seriously surprised."
He gave Smith a quick hug, then leaned in and whispered:
"This the friend you mentioned?"
"She looks really young."
Tony paused, then gave Smith a playful punch.
"Damn—I forgot you're only 18!"
Turning to Buma, he smiled and said:
"Hi there. I'm Tony Stark—this kid's friend."
Realizing the age gap, and seeing the girl's youthful energy, he dropped any pretense of formality. Smith was now "this kid."
Buma smiled sweetly.
"Hello, Uncle. I'm Buma."
---
—End of chapter—
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