Raven picked up the USB drive, clutching it tightly.
The cold metal, for the first time, made her feel something beyond mere power.
Lynt looked at the bloody cross on the map, the smile on his lips unchanged, but he added a sentence in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"Of course, we always need a Plan B."
He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.
"We have to be prepared to step into a trap to steal his cheese. Because this so-called ledger, in itself, might just be a more enticing… bait thrown out by Kingpin."
Raven's entire body trembled.
To undertake an impossible heist with the full knowledge that it was a trap?
She smiled, and in her golden pupils, a flame called complicity burned.
This was what… fun was all about.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Triskelion Headquarters.
Natasha Romanoff's office was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
On the desk.
A combat knife was firmly pinning down that Joker playing card.
The tip of the knife was aimed directly at the Joker's wide, grinning mouth.
A declaration of war.
And also an insult.
It had been two weeks.
Fourteen whole days.
That bastard Lynt, and Mystique behind him, had vanished as if into thin air.
Natasha had used every resource at her disposal, even some lines that even Fury, the one-eyed man, didn't know about.
And the result?
Absolutely nothing.
They were like two ghosts, floating in with a smile, leaving behind a mess, and then floating away with a smile.
Damn it.
Natasha cursed under her breath.
This feeling was truly infuriating.
This personal vendetta had her deeply entangled.
That man had used a tattered card to cut a deep gash into her flawless record.
Itched.
And it hurt.
Just then—
Drip.
A soft sound.
The sound came from her military-grade encrypted personal terminal, rumored to be absolutely untraceable.
This channel, in theory, could only be accessed by Fury and Barton.
Natasha's pupils suddenly constricted.
She tapped the screen.
A message.
It just lay there out of nowhere on the pure black interface.
It hadn't been sent in.
It had simply grown out from under her nose.
As if the machine were haunted.
The signature, one word.
Joker.
Whoosh!
Natasha sprang up from her chair.
Her muscles instantly tensed.
Like a Black Panther whose tail had been stepped on, elegant, yet deadly.
It was him!
The message was simple, like a ticket to a show.
[Address: Midtown Manhattan, 1501 Broadway, Top Floor, Dominic Accounting Firm.]
[Time: Tonight, midnight.]
Finally, there was another line.
Polite, yet utterly insane.
[Want to see a good show?]
A provocation.
And a trap laid out in the open.
Natasha's brain worked as fast as a supercomputer.
A trap? Definitely.
A feint? Possible.
A HYDRA probe? Couldn't be ruled out either.
All the textbooks in her mind, all the ironclad rules of survival she had learned in the Red Room, were blaring warnings.
Report! Call for backup! Have the special forces surround that place like an iron tortoise!
But she didn't.
Dealing with such a self-important, mad director, playing by the rules would only make him run faster.
To catch him, she had to step into his theater.
And kill him to his own BGM!
Natasha's fingers flew across the terminal.
She didn't contact Fury.
She activated an emergency protocol code-named Requiem.
An encrypted message chain was instantly activated.
Ninety minutes.
If she didn't enter the safety code, her real-time location, live recording, and this invitation from the Joker would automatically be sent to Fury and Hawkeye.
This was her insurance.
After buying insurance, she was going to open her gift.
She took down two of her most comfortable Glock 19s from the weapon rack, their cold barrels feeling like extensions of her body.
Without notifying anyone.
Her figure silently melted into the darkness of the office.
Tonight.
She was not a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent.
She was a pissed-off hunter.
She would personally tear off that Joker mask and see what kind of dog face was underneath.
Hell's Kitchen, abandoned brewery.
Lynt threw both the laptop and the hard drive into a plastic barrel filled with aqua regia.
Sizzle—
White smoke rose, accompanied by a scalp-tingling corrosive sound.
In a few seconds, a high-precision electronic device turned into a bubbling mess of sludge.
Done.
"You called Black Widow here."
Raven's voice drifted from the shadows, her golden pupils like two will-o'-the-wisps in the darkness.
Scrutinizing, yet dangerous.
"A grand show without a big name to grace the occasion, how embarrassing would the premiere be?"
Lynt shrugged, an expression of nonchalance on his face.
He turned around, put his arm around the blue-skinned woman's waist, and looked at her with a half-smile.
"Just stealing a ledger? That's how third-rate petty thieves play. Kingpin would go crazy and find us both like cockroaches, then stomp us into a pulp."
Raven's brows furrowed.
"So what's your plan?"
"What I want isn't his measly money."
Lynt's voice was light, yet it struck the air like a heavy hammer.
"What I want is his throne!"
He suddenly turned, staring intently at Raven.
"I want all the rats in New York's underworld to open their damn eyes and see clearly how S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace, the renowned Black Widow, stands by, applauding us, and witnesses us tear out Kingpin's heart!"
A glint flashed in Raven's golden pupils.
She understood.
"So, she's not just a spectator..."
"No."
Lynt grinned, his smile both mad and captivating.
"She is both a spectator and our free megaphone."
"She will use S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highest level of encrypted clearance to write a report about 'Joker'. She will describe us as a pair of ghosts with unmatched abilities, appearing and disappearing unpredictably, and with immeasurable power. And this report, guess how many people's ears it will reach through HYDRA's moles?"
He walked up to Raven, reaching out to caress her cheek, his movements as gentle as if he were polishing a work of art.
"This, is the World's most premium free advertisement."
Raven looked at him.
She felt an indescribable shock deep within her.
Every step this man took was a dance on a knife's edge, yet terrifyingly steady.
Directing a play.
A super drama that was about to ignite the entire underworld.
And he used New York as his stage, S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA as his backdrop, and the arrogant King of New York as the fireworks for his opening ceremony.
"Let's go."
Lynt put on his coat, the shadow of his brim obscuring most of his face.
He leaned close to Raven's ear, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement and fanaticism, like a lover's whisper, yet also like a devil's proclamation:
"Our VIP has arrived."
"Now..."
"It's time for the protagonist to appear, and for the show to begin."