Chapter 17: Shock Your Heart – Part 1

"May I see your ticket, please?"

I handed over the ticket.

This was Manhattan.
The harbor.

Before me stood a massive ship—so large it might as well have been the biggest vessel I’d ever seen, even counting my previous life.

I handed over an ID to verify my identity.

But the name written on it wasn’t “Michelle Jane.”

“Mikael Jones, correct? One of our attendants will guide you.”

With that, I stepped aboard the ship.

I was wearing a casual-style dress.
A black, one-piece dress with sheer lace shoulders.

…My legs felt oddly exposed.
Yeah, skirts… I still wasn’t used to them.
Would it be okay to wear shorts underneath?

…No, probably not, given the dress code.

At a glance, it was a fashionable dress.
But it wasn’t an ordinary one.

It was slash-proof, bulletproof, heat-resistant, waterproof, and insulated.
A special piece that couldn’t be torn with a knife or pierced with bullets.

Tinkerer made it.
…That guy’s got an eye for design, I’ll give him that.

So why was I wearing something so extreme?

Because I was here on work.

This mission wasn’t an assassination.
It was protection—and defense.

A deal between A.I.M. and the Life Foundation was set to take place on this ship today.

A.I.M.—Advanced Idea Mechanics—is an organization built around advanced science and technology.
Originally, it was the science and weapons development branch of a group called Hydra.
But during the war, Hydra was taken down by Captain America, and A.I.M. broke off, continuing independently as remnants.

Their goal is world domination.

It sounds like the stuff of a child’s fantasy, but if it’s coming from scientists with no ethical restraints… then it’s no joke.

The Life Foundation, meanwhile, is a major foundation that also supports a pharmaceutical company operating in the public eye.
There are rumors—no, facts, judging by their ties to A.I.M.—that they’ve been running clinical trials barely distinguishable from human experimentation.

It’s a foundation funded by a collection of wealthy elites… and apparently, they possess something of great importance.

This deal is about handing over that important object.

If any interference were to occur, I was summoned to eliminate it.

Both of these organizations are notorious for their inhumane practices and are under close watch by numerous heroes and teams.

It wouldn’t be surprising if someone tried to intervene.

That’s exactly what the Life Foundation feared, which is why they paid a hefty sum to have me dispatched from the Unseelie Court.

For the record, when they contacted A.I.M. and the Life Foundation, all they said was that “Red Cap” would be coming.
They don’t actually know that I am Red Cap.

Right now, I’m nothing more than a regular passenger boarding a luxury cruise ship on the organization’s dime.

An attendant led me to a room that looked more like a hotel suite.

My suitcase was already there.

I sat down on a chair inside and picked up one of the fruits placed on the table, popping it into my mouth.

…Eventually, the ship’s horn blared, and we departed.

Looking out the cabin window, I could see the land slowly fading into the distance.

And with that, the ship became a perfect setting for a black market deal, completely isolated from the outside world.

…But there’s still time before the exchange.

I picked up the keycard to my room and stepped outside.

I’d already studied the ship’s layout on a map, but walking through it myself would be more reliable.

…Hm, is it dinner time now?

There was food laid out across the plaza.
It seemed to be buffet-style—take whatever you like.

But this wasn’t the time to be dawdling.

I walked over to the dessert section, grabbed a pudding, and stuck a spoon into it.

I wasn’t here to play around.

Even if there was time to spare, acting too relaxed would—whoa, this pudding is good...

I returned the empty container to the table and reached for a second one.

My name is Natasha.

Natasha Romanoff.

I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., an intelligence organization dedicated to maintaining global security.

My codename is… Black Widow.

S.H.I.E.L.D. received intel that A.I.M., a remnant of the enemy organization Hydra, was planning a suspicious deal.

As a result, S.H.I.E.L.D. has deployed several agents aboard the ship.

But not through sneaky means like stowing away or climbing in through a window.

They purchased cruise tickets using fake identities and boarded right through the front gate.

I’m an agent tasked with covert operations, but… I’m somewhat—no, quite—well-known publicly.

That’s partly because I belong to that friendly little superhero team of mine.

Not that I’m complaining.

To someone like me, with no family of her own, they’re as close to a family as I’ll ever have.

I’ve dyed my usual red hair blonde and am disguised in a casual dress that’s just a little on the revealing side.

My weapons and regular gear are stashed back in my room.

Right now, I’m conducting intelligence work aboard the ship—scanning the passengers for anything suspicious.

To gather information, I go where the people are.

…Apparently, dinner is being served in the plaza.

I leaned back against the wall, closed my eyes, and focused my hearing.

By shutting off one of my senses, I sharpen the others.

The clatter of silverware.

Idle small talk.

Conversations between couples.

Minor disputes between passengers.

…Conversations without concrete details.

I opened my eyes.

A group of men, the kind who spoke in pronouns only, like high-ranking officials trying not to be overheard—no doubt, they were hiding something.

I took a step forward… and passed by a girl.

A sharp, chilling sensation ran down my spine.

Feigning perfect calm, I slowly turned my head to look back.

Blonde hair streaked with white. Eyes—deep, clear blue.
Untanned white skin. Balanced, refined facial features.
A delicate young girl, still visibly youthful, wearing a black dress that completely contradicted her angelic features.

For a moment, I caught my breath.

Was it because of how beautiful she was?

No… that wasn’t it.

Beneath that beauty, I sensed a polished violence.

Yes… something about her felt similar to me.

Her hair was platinum-blonde, mine was red.
Our eye colors, skin tones, our appearances were totally different.

And yet, deep in my core, something in me whispered, She’s like me.

Not the me I am now—but the me from the past.

The me from my time in the evil organization known as the Red Room.
The me that had been thoroughly rotten.

I am a top-tier agent.

Drawing conclusions based on intuition alone is what third-rate agents do.
Second-rate agents rely only on logic and reason.

But first-rate agents…

They choose conclusions based on both intuition and logical deduction.

Better safe than sorry.

I discreetly activated the high-voltage stun gun disguised as a wristwatch.

“…Is something the matter?”

Our eyes met.

She looked at me with suspicion.

“…No, it’s just… you were so beautiful, I couldn’t help but watch you for a moment.”

“I see.”

Click—her hand moved slightly.

I shifted my gaze from her cobalt-blue eyes to her hand and…

A spoon?

She was holding a glass cup with pudding inside.

“…Is that tasty?”

“Eh? Ah, yes. It’s delicious.”

Her expression softened, as if the tension had drained from her face.

…Was it just my imagination?

I thought I sensed something familiar in her—
But… the idea of a spy eating pudding in the middle of a mission is ridiculous.

Maybe my instincts are getting dull.

“Sorry for staring.”

With that, I walked away from her.

…I deliberately turned my back to her, leaving myself open—but she didn’t attack, nor did I sense any attempt to follow me.

I turned off the stun gun on my wrist and continued on.

Time is limited.

I need to extract the time and place of the deal before it begins.

I shoved that strange feeling I’d sensed from her to the back of my mind, dismissing it as just my imagination.

I had returned to my cabin.

While I was eating pudding in the plaza… a woman—clearly an agent from a hostile organization—had grown suspicious of me.

She seemed to let her guard down after seeing me with dessert… but truthfully, I’d been panicking inside.

I hadn’t done anything suspicious.

To be suspected just from passing by… could she be a psychic?

In my previous life, that would’ve sounded like a joke—but in this world, espers really do exist.

Those born with supernatural powers—mutants.

Some possess telepathy, the ability to read others’ minds and thoughts—telepaths.

The most famous would be… Professor X.

But Professor X is an older man in a wheelchair. At the very least, the woman who had suspected me wasn’t him.

If it was a low-level telepath, there’s no issue.

My mind is protected by a chemical conditioning and light brainwashing barrier—a mental safeguard.

A counter-interrogation measure implemented by the Organization: encrypting subconscious memories… or something like that.

…Even now, remembering that training makes me sick.

The visceral revulsion, the nausea, the unsettling sensation of my consciousness being twisted into a mess… I frowned as the memories surfaced.

As long as I don’t consciously surface anything in my thoughts, a telepath shouldn’t be able to extract it.

…Unless it’s a top-tier telepath like Professor X—those are unavoidable.

The fact that the agent-like woman didn’t pursue me likely means she wasn’t fully convinced.

No problem, then.

I reached that conclusion and placed my suitcase on the bed.

I pressed my finger to the lens embedded in the suitcase handle.

A fingerprint scan unlocked the case, which opened automatically.

Inside were my familiar red mask and a black armored suit.

I quickly suited up.

"Booting system—ON."

Air hissed out as the suit sealed tightly to my body.

Various system functions flickered briefly across the inside of the mask before disappearing.

Once I confirmed the suit’s functions had activated properly, I retrieved my weapons from the case.

…Due to suitcase size restrictions, I hadn’t been able to bring the shotgun or grenade launcher.

What I had with me were only compact, pistol-type weapons.

They fired standard-caliber rounds—effective enough against ordinary humans.

The pistol itself was made by Tinkerer, but the ammunition was commercially available.

I holstered it at my right hip.

Then there were the two special alloy knives stored on my thigh.

…Still, if someone on the level of that unusually perceptive agent—or worse, a superpowered hero—shows up, I might be in trouble.

But I’m not the only one brought in for this mission.

Aside from the private soldiers hired by A.I.M. and the Life Foundation, there’s another villain—someone like me—who was also summoned.

…A man I happen to know.

There’s still time before the deal begins.

But we should meet face-to-face in advance.

I slid one of the ceiling panels aside and slipped into the ventilation duct.

The ship had already entered lights-out hours.

There shouldn’t be anyone wandering around—but still, better to stay cautious.

I moved through the darkness, eventually reaching an empty room.

I opened the metal grate and landed silently.

This is where the vibranium suit comes in handy.

No matter how soft my landing is, any ordinary metal suit would make noise.

But the vibranium alloy absorbs impact, letting my soles diffuse the force like a cushion.

Sound is vibration—fluctuations in the air, or physical shocks.

With vibranium woven into the alloy, not a single sound escapes.

Even fully clad in metal, the suit makes no noise—not even the faintest rustle.

It really is the perfect material for assassinations.

I stepped out of the room and walked a short distance.

This was the engine room—an area off-limits to civilians.

That’s right.

This ship belongs to Kingpin.
Wilson Fisk.

He’s my employer for this mission, and he offered up this ship specifically for the deal.

In other words, every crew member aboard… is one of Fisk’s men.

Normally, an area like the engine room would be under patrol.

But a deliberate gap had been left in the security.

I stood before the door to my destination and reached for the knob—

“Aaah!? I told ya, I’m enough on my own!”

I pulled my hand away from the doorknob and activated the enhanced audio sensors and infrared thermal imaging inside my mask.

I watched and listened carefully to what was happening beyond the door.

There were a few people inside... most likely mercenaries from either "A.I.M" or the "Life Foundation."

And then, there was a single man sitting boldly in the center.

...Doesn’t seem like there’s any internal conflict going on.

So my worries were unfounded.

"I dunno who you called in, but as long as I am here, everything's gonna be just fine! If you’re just gonna be dead weight, then stay the hell out of the way—"

I placed my hand on the doorknob and opened the door.

Clack. The sound of the door unlocking echoed through the room, and every gaze turned in my direction.

I looked at the man sitting down.

He wore a faded yellow suit and had reddish-bronze armor equipped over it.

His full-face mask completely hid his features, with sharp, upward-slanted lenses that glowed yellow like glaring eyes.

Several cartridge-like devices were attached to the belt around his waist.

The most notable part was his arms.

They were thick and oversized—not because his actual arms were large, but because they were encased in devices that looked like massive gauntlets.

The moment he saw me, that man quickly turned toward me in a fluster, his posture instinctively straightening.

...He was, to put it simply, a coward.

He pushed around the weak and feared the strong... a perfectly natural reaction.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Quite the bold statement you made... Shocker. How about it? Want to see for yourself if I’m just dead weight?"

Still seated in his chair, Shocker shook his head rapidly—cutting me off before I could even finish.