Makima, no surname, an independent intelligence broker active in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, had served multiple private military companies, specializing in criminal psychological profiling, negotiation, and handling certain "non-traditional security threats."
Which meant supernatural events.
To make the resume more authentic, Sitwell had thoughtfully forged several records of her assisting Interpol in cracking cult sacrifice cases.
A very clever resume.
Professional enough, and because her activity area was in war zones, it would be extremely difficult to fully verify.
This is the advantage of HYDRA infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D.
They are like parasites within the body of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Whenever they want, they can open a backdoor in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s immune system to introduce more parasites.
"We're here." Sitwell slowly parked the car in the underground garage of the Triskelion.
"The background check is just a formality; our people are in charge of stamping it, so no one will look too closely at the vague details."
Sitwell unbuckled his seatbelt, his expression turning serious: "But there's one hurdle that absolutely can't be bypassed, and it's the only place where things might go wrong."
"The psychological evaluation."
"The one in charge of evaluating newcomers lately is Agent Harold. He's a notorious mad dog in the agency, specialized in breaking down a newcomer's psychological defenses before they join to test their stress resistance."
Sitwell paused and cautioned carefully, "He might be... quite aggressive."
Makima closed the dossier, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Aggressive... is he?"
Leaving the parking lot, the magnificent Triskelion came into view, standing right on the banks of the Potomac River.
The massive S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle emblem shone brightly in the sunlight.
Sumire's heart beat a little faster. Although she had seen it many times in movies and comics, standing before the power center of this Marvel Universe—and even about to walk inside—a sense of excitement akin to a holy pilgrimage welled up.
Makima didn't have as many filters as Sumire. She pushed open the car door, wearing the green contacts Sumire had specifically chosen, her eyes calm and unperturbed as she straightened her collar, a standard, impeccable smile on her lips that hinted at a subtle aloofness.
A kind smile; at a glance, she looks like a hardworking woman who respects her colleagues and superiors.
"Let's go. Take me to meet my new colleagues."
After all, Makima was originally someone from a public institution.
In the World of "chainsaw man," Tokyo Public Safety's Special Division 4 and S.H.I.E.L.D. were actually quite similar in nature.
Joining S.H.I.E.L.D. now was like returning to her old profession, but with a bit less power in her hands, so naturally, there were no ripples in Makima's heart... The psychological evaluation room.
The furnishings in the room were monotonous and oppressive, with only a steel table, two chairs, and a deathly pale incandescent light overhead.
The air was a mix of stale tobacco and instant coffee, along with something only Makima could smell—the scent of "anxiety."
*Slap!*
A thick file was slammed heavily onto the steel table with a loud bang.
Sitting opposite was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and deep bags under his eyes.
He was Agent Harold, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s legendary "Newcomer Killer."
At this moment, he was staring intently at the red-haired woman before him, who had maintained an elegant posture since entering, with the gaze of someone scrutinizing a criminal.
"Makima? Hmph, sounds like some stage name from a cheap bar."
Harold pushed up his heavy black-rimmed glasses and leaned forward, staring at Makima aggressively: "Your resume is quite pretty. An independent intelligence broker from Eastern Europe? Even handled a curse murder case in Kyrgyzstan?"
He sneered, poking the forged dossier forcefully with his finger: "Don't think I don't know the background of you so-called experts. You're either frauds or well-connected hires pushed in by some higher-ups."
"Tell me, what is that Sitwell who recommended you to you? Did he take your money? Or have you two slept together?"
This crude and offensive questioning was Harold's usual trick.
Provoke the other person, humiliate them, and then, at the moment they lose emotional control, capture their truest reaction.
Previous newcomers, when asked this, would either argue until they were red in the face or tremble with fear, but Makima did not.
She didn't even move an eyebrow.
She just watched Harold quietly, those light green eyes as still as a mirror, reflecting Harold's distorted face.
This silence lasted for five seconds.
Harold's originally arrogant aura actually lessened by half for some inexplicable reason in this eerie silence.
He felt like a Joker roaring at a mirror.
"Are you finished cursing, Agent Harold?"
Makima finally spoke, her voice gentle without a hint of anger, instead carrying a... hair-raising concern.
A look of caring for the mentally disabled.
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