Black Widow: I can't stay in this team anymore, I'm going to spend money too!

Washington, D.C., top floor of the Tri-Wing Building.

Snapped!

A tablet computer was slammed onto the mahogany desk. The image frozen on the screen was Rumlow leading the Rapid Reaction Special Forces in a raid on Captain America at the sanatorium.

Give me an explanation, Alexander.

Nick Fury braced his hands on the table, his single eye blazing with suppressed rage, and even the green ring on his hand gleamed slightly with his emotional outburst.

"These people actually used S.H.I.E.L.D. weapons to hunt down WWII heroes and the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D.?!"

At this moment, the one-eyed bureau chief's aura was fully unleashed.

If this weren't the office of the Minister of the World Security Council, he probably would have already blasted him with a Mafia energy wave.

However, Pierce, sitting behind his desk, appeared even more shocked, and even... angry, than Fury.

"That's what I wanted to ask you too, Nick!"

Pierce stood up, and the political authority that erupted in that instant actually withstood Fury's piercing gaze.

He pointed to the screen on the tablet, his fingers trembling, as if he were heartbroken.

"Rumlow is your subordinate; the rapid reaction force reports directly to you!"

"Now they are not only openly defying orders, but also creating chaos in the city on the scale of a terrorist attack!"

"I gave you this sharpest knife, and you can't even hold the hilt?"

Pierce walked around the desk, pressing closer, his voice low and forceful: "Nick, I'm disappointed in your control."

"If it wasn't a major management oversight on your part, did you secretly instruct them to do this?"

This move, turning the tables on the guest, was executed with masterful skill.

"I gave the order?"

Fury laughed in exasperation, his chest heaving violently beneath his black leather jacket.

"I will have the council investigate this matter."

Pierce remained expressionless, a cold glint in his eyes. "Nick, whether it's dereliction of duty or betrayal, such a huge scandal within S.H.I.E.L.D. must be taken responsibility."

"Until the investigation is over, you'd better pray you can clear your name."

"you……"

Fury gritted his teeth, looking at his former friend and boss.

Just as the two were on the verge of exchanging blows, the air seemed to be thick with the smell of gunpowder.

Drip!

A piercing red alarm suddenly blared throughout the top-floor office.

Fury and Pierce were both startled and looked at the monitor screen on the wall.

The display showed the underground Pegasus Project research base, which was flashing a deep red warning light indicating extreme danger.

"Energy peak has exceeded the critical point! The Cosmic Cube is activating autonomously!"

Agent Hill's anxious voice echoed throughout the building via the loudspeaker.

"Looks like we'll have to put our argument on hold, Nick."

Pierce's eyes flickered, and his expression turned serious: "Compared to internal reforms, the safety of the world should be the top priority, shouldn't it?"

Fury gave Pierce a deep look, the sense of unease he felt making his fingertips tingle.

"This isn't over, Alexander."

Fury snorted and strode out of the office.

But as he turned around, he whispered into the communicator, "Coulson, activate Level 7 backup plan."

"There are hardly any people left in this building who can be trusted."

……

A safe house in Queens, New York.

The raindrops outside the window pattered against the glass.

Natasha Romanov sat cross-legged on a single sofa, holding an unopened can of beer in her hand, staring blankly at the center of the living room.

There, Peggy Carter, now young and blonde, leans on Captain America Steve's shoulder, flipping through channels with a remote.

Meanwhile, the seventy-year-old popsicle was using his superpower, Fire Release, to heat up milk for Peggy with a look of doting affection.

If this scene gets out, Captain America's image will definitely collapse, and he will be cursed by countless people.

"The temperature is just right, around 45 degrees Celsius."

Steve extinguished the flames in his palm and laughed like a 300-pound child.

Natasha: "..."

She tilted her head back and took a swig of beer, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth.

As a top agent, she shouldn't have these kinds of emotions.

But just now, after learning about the recent series of battles, a feeling of anxiety called "I am a piece of trash" arose spontaneously.

Let's talk about the current configuration of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Hawkeye Patton used to be an archer, but somehow he learned kung fu and can fly by stepping on his own foot with his left.

Director Fury, originally just a head of secret service agents, now has a green ring that can turn swear words into frying pans and allow him to easily open a door and escape.

Steve, who was originally just a bit stronger and had a tougher shield, has now transformed into a humanoid fire dragon.

Tony Stark has become a human hero, with news of him saving lives all over the world.

Even the Punisher and Daredevil, who were hidden in the shadows according to intelligence, have been transformed into invulnerable monsters and Jedi Knights.

And what about her?

Natasha looked down at the two Glock 19s at her waist and the stun plates on her leg rings.

Black Widow's Bite?

This thing probably can't even burn a single hair on a monster right now.

In this chaotic version, she, once the top female agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., now looks like a lowly soldier who has stumbled into a high-level game.

If she encounters another battle of this magnitude, what can she do?

Are you going to shout from the sidelines, "Captain America, Coulson has been abducted by aliens!"

hum.

My phone, which was on the coffee table, vibrated.

Natasha picked it up and saw it was a text message from Barton.

The content is very simple, consisting of only a location address and a sentence.

Clint: Go try it. The stuff he sells is really tough. Trust me, it's way more reliable than S.H.I.E.L.D. weapons.

Natasha looked at the location of the gashapon shop.

"What's wrong, Natasha?"

Steve keenly sensed his comrade's emotional fluctuation. He handed Peggy the warmed milk, turned to her, and asked gently, "Worried about Fury?"

No, I'm worried about myself.

Natasha gave a wry smile, crushed the empty beer can, and threw it into the trash can. "Captain, to be honest, I feel like a monkey that hasn't fully evolved yet."

Steve paused for a moment, then said seriously, "Power is just a tool; what matters is the person who uses it."

"However... if you want to go to that store, I support you."

"In this dangerous world, it's always good to have an extra layer of protection."

"Go on, Agent." Even Peggy, who was drinking milk next to Captain America, looked up and said in a childish but mature voice.

"Even though I look only twelve years old now, I don't want to end up protecting you."

That hurts, old bureau chief.

The confusion in Natasha's eyes faded, replaced by her former decisiveness.

She took out her phone and opened the bank's encrypted account.

That contained all the savings she had accumulated over the decades as a secret agent, which was also her money for her funeral.

Looking at that string of numbers, although it is an astronomical figure for ordinary people, in that legendary store where the starting price for a draw is ten thousand US dollars, is it possible to draw a miracle?

"Let's give it our all."

Natasha stood up, grabbed her coat, and stuffed all her bank cards into her pocket.

"Captain, please keep an eye on the house for me..."

Natasha paused, then her alluring yet dangerous smile returned to her face.

……

a few days later.

Queens, New York.

The gashapon shop was still lit up with warm orange lights, which seemed particularly out of place on this rainy night.

jingle.

The wind chimes on the door made a crisp sound.

As Natasha pushed open the door, a pleasant aroma of black tea wafted towards her, dispelling the chill she felt.

The shop is small, but decorated in a retro and cozy style.

Several brightly colored gashapon machines stood quietly by the wall, like treasures waiting for their destined owners.

Behind the counter, a young, dark-haired Asian man was hunched over a table, holding a pen and looking at a blank sheet of paper with a troubled expression.

Hearing the door open, the man looked up.

Those dark eyes lit up the moment they saw Natasha.

It wasn't the kind of amazement you feel when you see a beautiful woman, but rather the joy of seeing "labor force".

"Welcome! We are honest and fair to all customers, young and old, and do not offer credit."

Li Ang put down his pen, revealing his signature cunning smile.

He looked the Black Widow up and down; her clothes were slightly damp, but her sexy figure was still undeniable.

"Looks like our Black Widow has finally succumbed to the urge to spend money to become stronger?"

Li Ang made a joke.

Natasha's tense nerves relaxed slightly. She walked to the counter and slammed her bank card on the table.

"This is all my savings, about two million US dollars."

Natasha stared into Leon's eyes, her tone firm, "I want to know, what can this money buy? Can it let me keep up with those monsters?"

Li Ang glanced at the bank cards but didn't rush to take them.

Instead, he picked up the half-written piece of paper on the table and handed it to Natasha.

Money is important, but sometimes, fate is more important.

Li Ang pointed to the contents of the paper and smiled meaningfully, "Actually, I'm short-handed here rather than being a customer."

"Miss Black Widow, interested in changing tracks?"

Natasha looked down and saw several large words written at the top of the paper:

Job Advertisement

We urgently need to hire one female shop assistant. Requirements: good-looking, fit, able to clean, and preferably also able to cook.

Meals and accommodation are provided, salary is negotiable, there is no social insurance or housing fund, but there is a regular employee gashapon perk at the store.

Natasha: "..."

"Are you kidding me? You want me to be your cleaning lady? And also your cook?"