Tony, thick-skinned, posed with a "yay" gesture for some flashing cameras, completely unfazed.
Hawk's smile remained.
Natasha, like a perfect vase, wore a polite smile, as if she didn't understand English sarcasm, but a flash of cold light quickly flickered in the depths of her eyes.
The elevator doors slowly closed behind them, isolating the floors below.
In the top floor air, the scent of champagne seemed to carry an extra hint of gunpowder.
Hawk bypassed Norman directly, comforting other guests.
He didn't even need Shin Shia to tell him—Norman Osborn's genetic illness was already terminal.
Otherwise, the founder of a top conglomerate, a titan who had battled in the business world his entire life, wouldn't lack composure like a foolish college student, acting like a clown.
The suffocating confrontation in the top floor banquet hall's elevator seemed to still be vivid.
Natasha Romanoff, however, had already left the banquet, washed off her makeup, and changed into a practical black combat suit, her red hair simply tied back.
She was in Coulson's car, reporting to Nick Fury, who was on the Quinjet, via a highly encrypted communication channel.
"Target individual, Hawk Lane," Natasha's voice was calm, professional, devoid of any of the charm she displayed at the gala or the tension in the elevator. "He not only completely saw through my cover identity—Natasha Romanoff, international intelligence broker—but more importantly..."
Natasha paused, and the air on the other end of the communication seemed to solidify for a few moments.
"He explicitly knew I was a 'S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,' and, Director, he knew of your existence, knew you were the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nicholas Joseph Fury."
Inside the Quinjet:
Fury's sharp gaze seemed to pierce through the screen, fixing on Natasha.
His hand, resting on the control panel, was slightly white at the knuckles from the force.
Coulson, beside Natasha, gasped, instinctively sitting up straight, his face filled with disbelief.
"He even knew my full name?" Fury's voice was low. "Exact wording? Natasha, verbatim."
"The exact words were: 'However, if S.H.I.E.L.D. is interested in my 'luck,' Director Fury could just ask me out for coffee directly. Why send the famous Black Widow to my bed?'"
Natasha accurately repeated Hawk's words from the elevator, every syllable crystal clear. "He directly named my codename, your full name, and the agency's name."
The Quinjet fell into a dead silence.
Only the low hum of the engine served as background.
Fury slowly leaned back in his chair, his single eye staring intently at Natasha on the communication screen, seemingly digesting this highly impactful information.
Coulson's expression was one of surprise and uncertainty: "This exceeds all our assessments! Director, what measures should we take?"
Fury was silent for a moment, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the control panel, a characteristic gesture when he was thinking rapidly.
But seemingly coming up empty, his gaze refocused on Natasha's face:
"Agent Romanoff, during the middle of the gala, for two hours and seven minutes, your communicator signal was completely silent. Explain."
Fury's voice carried an undeniable tone of questioning; this was a critical part of the mission debriefing.
Natasha's face showed no emotional fluctuations, but the communication screen seemed to subtly freeze for three seconds.
Even Coulson held his breath, looking at Natasha. Had she really been doing Smith squats then?
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her voice still steady, professional, and even with a hint of official statement:
"Director, the communicator was silent because during that period, I was in the core security area of Lane Tower. Any active signal transmission would be detected and located by its advanced internal shielding system, greatly increasing the risk of exposure. Maintaining silence is a requirement of standard covert operation procedures."
She paused, as if merely stating an objective fact, and continued:
"As for the specific activities, as stated in the mission report, it was a 'necessary contact' to gain the target's trust, establish specific channels, and conduct a close-range assessment. Hawk Lane himself clearly regarded it as a... 'warm-up' before negotiations. This operational phase provided the conditions for obtaining the intelligence that he knew about S.H.I.E.L.D."
She spoke extremely euphemistically, carefully choosing words to avoid direct description, but the combination of "establish specific channels," "necessary contact," "close-range assessment," and "warm-up," coupled with the two missing hours, made the meaning perfectly clear.
Coulson tactically cleared his throat, his gaze vaguely drifting towards the car window.
Fury's single eye seemed to twitch slightly at the corner.
A rare, fleeting emotion named "speechlessness" briefly crossed the grim face of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, known for his coldness and control.
He, of course, understood Natasha's meaning.
For the mission, for the great cause of S.H.I.E.L.D., she and Hawk Lane had been at it for two hours.
And it sounded like Hawk had orchestrated this "warm-up," using the opportunity to lay all his cards on the table.
A few seconds of silence, and the atmosphere in the Quinjet was somewhat stagnant.
Fury's fingers stopped tapping.
"Target's... performance during the 'warm-up'?" Fury finally spoke, his tone returning to calm, but the question was exceptionally sharp and crucial, concerning a further assessment of Hawk's physiological and psychological state.
He needed to know whether, in that situation, Hawk was a complacent prey or a controlling hunter.
Natasha's answer was decisive, without any hesitation: "Consistently clear-headed, in full control throughout, vigilance showed no decrease. Director, it was more like a... stress test he orchestrated. The conclusion that the neurotoxin perfume was ineffective on him was also further confirmed."
A flicker of understanding and deeper apprehension passed through the depths of Fury's single eye.
Just as expected.
Hawk Lane, at such a moment, remained as clear-headed as ice, even using Natasha as a stage to display his power.
Subsequently, Fury precisely cut to the next key point: "During that 'close-range assessment,' Agent Romanoff, describe the target's physiological characteristics, habitual small movements, unconsciously revealed preferences, reactions to specific stimuli... anything. Even the most subtle, seemingly insignificant piece of intelligence."