The open wasteland directly in front of them ensured that no one could monitor the two from a distance.
And even if soone tried, their counter-surveillance instincts would notice imdiately.
Combined with the chaotic magnetic field covering the area, all electronic devices had beco useless. Every form of detection equipnt had failed completely.
"How many are there?" Clint asked after taking a deep breath.
"Unknown," Coulson replied, scratching at his still fairly thick hair. "But Director Fury believes the number of people we can truly trust may be less than one out of fifty. Possibly even fewer. At this point, he doesn't know who can really be trusted."
"We don't even know who the enemy is or how many there are. This isn't going to be an easy fight." Clint pulled a pack of gum from his pocket, unwrapped a piece, and tossed it into his mouth before handing the pack to Coulson.
Coulson took one as well and began chewing. The sugar stimulated his mind slightly, helping suppress the agitation and fear lingering in his chest.
"Exactly. That's why we need to be careful. We can't expose ourselves, or we might alert them and ruin everything."
"What a ss." Clint was a tough guy; he felt the "ss" wasn't the number of enemies, but the inability to distinguish ally from foe—not knowing where to aim his weapon.
Coulson gave a non-committal hum and looked at Clint. "How is the investigation on your end?"
He was referring to the failed mission in Saint Petersburg.
"Not a single lead. She disappeared completely. There's no direction to investigate," Clint said helplessly.
Back then, he had already concluded that the mission target, Black Widow, had co into contact with a third party before vanishing entirely.
The problem was that this so-called third party simply could not be traced.
Like a ghost.
Honestly, Clint found it hard to believe.
No matter what problems existed inside the organization now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was still the largest violent intelligence organization in the world.
Once it concentrated its resources on investigating a person or event, there should have been no way to find absolutely nothing.
Unless…
At that thought, Clint suddenly froze. He turned sharply toward Coulson, finally understanding why Coulson had brought up that mission.
"You an…"
"This probably wasn't a coincidence, Clint." Coulson's expression turned serious.
"That mission was personally authorized by Director Fury. Very few people knew about it. They only knew I was heading to Saint Petersburg for an operation, yet sohow they were able to lock onto her location and convince her to leave so quickly?" Clint frowned deeply.
"No matter how you look at it, soone inside most likely leaked information about the mission. If we follow that trail, we may be able to trace it back to the source."
Coulson had clearly already thought this through, which was why he specifically requested Fury to bring Clint into the investigation.
He needed to establish an understanding with the only other direct participant involved.
"Just the two of us?" Clint personally didn't mind. As long as there was a target and a mission, he was satisfied. What confused him was whether only he and Coulson would be investigating.
The two of them were far too conspicuous.
Coulson was a Level 8 agent, while Clint himself was a Level 7 operative—a top-tier weapon completely independent of any departnt, one of the organization's true elite figures.
Their authority differed in influence and responsibility, but both were undeniably high-ranking.
If the two of them suddenly started moving together and secretly investigating sothing without a proper reason, it would inevitably attract suspicion inside the organization.
That had nothing to do with capability.
"We can't investigate personally," Coulson said, shaking his head. "Director Fury has authorized to secretly form a team outside the organization's normal structure. I'll command them while they handle the investigation."
"Screening people will take a lot of ti. What's the deadline for the mission?"
"They've likely been embedded for a long ti, so we need discretion and patience." Coulson appeared relaxed.
Investigating internal corruption and tracking down hidden enemies had never been a short-term task. Both Nick Fury and Coulson understood that perfectly well.
This was destined to beco a prolonged war.
Fortunately, while the enemy remained hidden in the shadows, so did they. Those people still had no idea that Coulson and the others had already noticed the abnormalities and quietly begun their investigation.
"OK, mission's clear then. So how many safe houses have you prepared?"
"A lot." Coulson answered with an easygoing expression.
For an agent like him, preparations like that were second nature. And with Nick Fury supporting him behind the scenes, weapons and equipnt were even less of a problem.
"Though before any of that, I think we still need to deal with this place first."
"Yeah…" Coulson looked at Clint as if asking whether he was joking.
Before arriving here, he had still thought they might be able to handle things sohow.
But after seeing the site with his own eyes, he had completely given up.
This place was far too terrifying.
He was one hundred percent certain that even if they discovered the truth behind what happened here, they would have absolutely no ability to interfere.
At best, all they could do was the sa old cleanup routine.
Seeing Coulson's expression, Clint couldn't help laughing out loud.
…
Blackheart regretted everything.
Three full days had passed.
Right now, he deeply regretted ever coming to Earth in the first place.
He had originally believed he could control the situation. By finding the Contract of San Venganza on Earth and gradually building his own legion, he could eventually overthrow his father's rule.
Instead, he had failed before he had even truly begun.
And now?
Now he had been imprisoned in this damned place by a bunch of humans.
Worse still, he was being beaten up by groups of human monsters every single day.
Blackheart was numb.
Whether he cursed at them in fury or eventually lowered himself to begging for rcy, not only did it fail to earn even the slightest sympathy, it seed to excite them even more.
These humans were more demonic than actual demons.
Like right now—
Boom!!
Blackheart's body was physically split cleanly into two halves.
At the South Pacific island base, the specially constructed open training area was packed with soldiers from the Astartes and Raven warbands.
All of them were watching the battle.
The one currently fighting was Natasha.
She wore a gray tank top and athletic pants, black leather gloves covering her fists. Her wine-red hair was tied into a ponytail, and one long leg was still raised elegantly in the air.
Just monts earlier, that very kick had unleashed a blue slash of energy that sliced Blackheart's body cleanly in half.
Looking valiant and graceful, Natasha slowly lowered her leg.
The sharpness in her beautiful eyes gradually faded as she let out a slow breath.
The surroundings were covered in damage left behind by the battle.
"Fuck! You damned humans, do you even know who I am?!"
"How dare you treat the son of a Demon Lord this way!"
Thanks to his near-immortal physique, Blackheart's split body imdiately regenerated. Completely losing control, he furiously cursed at the surrounding soldiers from both Warbands watching the fight.
He felt like he was truly going insane.
For three entire days, from morning until night, he had barely been given any ti to rest. He was constantly forced into battle after battle, only to be killed in every possible way and from every conceivable angle.
Forget humiliation—even slaves weren't treated this brutally.
Unfortunately, no matter how wildly he raged, it could not change his role within this base.
Nobody here cared who he was.
To them, he was nothing more than a live combat training dummy.
And Blackheart couldn't even slack off if he wanted to.
Unless he was willing to endure the soul-deep pain and tornt brought by the seal inside his body.
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