Sitwell swallowed hard, his gaze trembling as it swept across the ground.
Those red-clothed freaks, who had been carving through his Agent squad like vegetables just moments ago, were now all mangled, still-life objects on the ground.
This way of dying... was far too gruesome.
It wasn't gunshot wounds, nor was it blade slashes.
Some looked as if they had been struck head-on by an invisible giant hammer, their ribcages completely collapsed; others looked as if they had been twisted into pretzels by some irresistible, colossal force.
Sitwell looked at the woman before him in disbelief.
Under the dim, yellowish halo of a distant streetlight, Makima stood quietly in front of the mountain of corpses and sea of blood.
Her black trench coat didn't have a single wrinkle, her white shirt remained crisp, and not even a stray strand of hair by her temples was out of place.
"You... You did this alone?"
Makima didn't speak, merely watching him quietly with those golden, ringed eyes.
The moment he was stared at by those eyes, Sitwell felt a chill run up his spine and his scalp go numb.
Those were simply not eyes a normal human should have.
Those golden concentric circles exuded an indescribable eeriness and malevolence in the dim light.
Being watched by these eyes felt less like being looked at by a human and more like being scrutinized by some cold-blooded creature at the top of the food chain wearing human skin. This caused him to instantly feel a surge of respect, and he subconsciously straightened his back out of fear.
One person, unscathed, had wiped out an elite ninja squad of The Hand and even forced that monster of an old woman to retreat.
What kind of creature was this? And what level of combat power did she possess?
Our HYDRA is truly impressive to have such an extraordinary person!
Sitwell then remembered that he hadn't even responded to the woman's code.
This was a serious political error!
Especially in front of someone far more powerful than himself.
Sitwell broke out in a cold sweat, feeling he had been neglectful. He glanced left and right to ensure there were no survivors nearby, then quickly straightened his back, adjusted his messy suit, and gave Makima a standard salute. Lowering his voice, his eyes filled with flattery, he said, "Hail HYDRA!"
After doing all this, Sitwell asked cautiously and tentatively, "Um... I haven't asked yet, how should I address you, Officer? Under which Lord's command do you serve? And how did you... happen to appear here?"
Although Sitwell was spineless, he was, after all, a veteran Agent.
Even though the other party had used the code and saved him, out of professional habit, he still subconsciously wanted to probe her background.
After all, HYDRA was full of factions... each mountain top operated independently.
It would be troublesome if he sucked up to the wrong person.
Facing Sitwell's probing, Makima did not give a direct answer.
She simply raised a slender index finger, gently pressing it against her red lips in a silencing gesture: "Shh, it's classified."
"I am merely under orders to handle some historical issues left over by The Hand. I happened to notice the commotion here and lent a hand."
"Classified..." Sitwell chewed on the word.
Could he recognize Makima?
He couldn't.
But Makima had directly stated his name and seemed to know him very well.
What did this mean?
It meant Makima knew his background, but he wasn't qualified to know Makima's intel!
In the intelligence world, this kind of one-way transparency meant only one thing—the other party's rank was far higher than his own!
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