The stunning Natasha walked into the restaurant. Her breathtaking beauty and alluring figure raised the temperature in the room by several degrees.
Darya mouthed silently to Alvin, "Here for you?" After glancing at the men nearby, she added in a low voice, "She's big trouble!"
Alvin gave a silent nod, confirming Darya's words.
Nearby, Jessica, who was pouring lemonade, pursed her lips angrily and muttered some barely audible foul language starting with a "b."
Matt, who had been eating his steak, suddenly looked up and turned his gaze toward Jessica with a faint smile.
Like a child caught misbehaving, Jessica flashed Matt an awkward grin before realizing—he couldn't see. Just as she floundered, she noticed Matt giving her a warm, encouraging nod, as if saying, "Well said. Keep going!"
Playfully tricked by Matt, Jessica didn't get angry. Amused, she refilled his lemonade and mischievously swapped the positions of the pepper and salt in front of him. She then shot a glare at Foggy, who was stifling a laugh, signaling him to stay quiet.
Meanwhile, Natasha and two police officers approached the counter. The officers exchanged greetings with familiar faces before finding empty seats.
Natasha scanned the packed counter, then walked up to a middle-aged white man staring at her and whispered something.
The man, flustered, tried to play the gentleman. He picked up his steak and squeezed in at another table with an acquaintance. His spineless display earned a round of jeers.
Jessica slid a glass of lemonade in front of Natasha and said coldly, "Miss, we're out of steak for today. Maybe you'd like a sandwich instead?"
Natasha glanced at her and smiled. "You misunderstand. I'm not here to eat—I'm applying for a waitress job." She turned to Alvin. "Mr. Yé, do you need a smiling waitress here?" Then she shot Jessica a provoking grin.
Jessica stomped her foot in frustration, grabbed a rag, and started scrubbing the already spotless counter with excessive force.
"I don't need an agent as a waitress," Alvin said before turning to Foggy. "Foggy, you're an attorney. Ever heard of a government agency called SHIELD?"
"This lady, Agent Natasha, claims to be from SHIELD and wants to slap criminal charges on me to kick me out of my own restaurant. Care to give some professional advice?"
The moment Alvin spoke, the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted instantly. Every man's gaze toward Natasha turned icy, as if ready to tear her apart.
Foggy blinked in surprise, but it was the usually quiet Matt who spoke first. "SHIELD operates under the World Security Council. Their primary mandate is to handle criminals or organizations that pose threats to global safety. Their HQ is at the Triskelion in D.C.—all public info."
"While their missions are classified, unless you've got a habit of eating people, Alvin, her threats mean nothing. If she disrupts your life, Nelson & Murdock would be happy to sue SHIELD for you."
"First, though, we'd need to verify her identity. Her behavior hardly fits a professional agent's standards."
"If necessary, I can call my FBI contacts. They've taken the fall for SHIELD too many times. They'd love to make trouble for them."
Matt's words darkened Natasha's expression. The moment Alvin exposed her identity, her mission had already failed.
In a way, that was good—she never intended to infiltrate this place seriously. Wrapping up this assignment quickly was her goal, so she could hunt down the bastard who nearly got her killed.
But now, Alvin had piqued her interest. Maybe she could test him a little more before Coulson arrived.
This could be fun.
Natasha smiled at Matt and said, "I just need Mr. Alvin to cooperate with our investigation. It's within SHIELD's authority. If he refuses, we can legally requisition his restaurant as an operational site. The U.S. Supreme Court has granted us that right."
Matt chuckled confidently. "Then you'll first need to prove the necessity—like pointing out which criminal around here threatens human safety."
"With all due respect, Agent, your cover's already blown. No point sticking around to make things harder for Alvin. And I can guarantee there's no target within two blocks that falls under your jurisdiction."
Natasha shrugged. "This is my job, and you just ruined it. If anything goes wrong now, will you take responsibility? Or should we rely on those cowardly cops?"
"We'll take responsibility. We're the police here." The older officer stood up, his hand resting on his holster as he stared Natasha down. "Show us your credentials. Right now, we suspect you're impersonating a SHIELD agent. No real agent operates like this."
The younger cop hesitated, then mirrored his partner's stance.
Ignoring the two officers, Natasha turned to Alvin. "You've completely sabotaged my mission. Let me make this clear—my target was Zebediah Kilgrave, aka the Purple Man, a Croatian national living across the street from your restaurant."
"He's suspected of having mind-control abilities. Our intel links him to multiple suicides in D.C., Miami, and other cities. I was sent to observe him undercover. Now, thanks to you, our field team will move in for an immediate arrest."
"Then arrest him," Alvin shot back. "If you knew he was dangerous, why observe instead of taking him down?" (Internally, he sighed in relief—Kilgrave had already been fed to the ghoul vines. Jessica's freedom was proof of that.)
"SHIELD observes all enhanced individuals to assess their threat level before acting. That's why I was here. You blew my mission." Natasha's voice was icy.
Alvin smirked. "Observe? Assess? Sounds more like a headhunting firm recruiting talent." He glanced at the younger cop. "Scott, what would the police do with a guy like that?"
Scott answered without hesitation. "Plan swiftly. Arrest or neutralize him."
"See? Even our local cops know the drill. Meanwhile, you people 'observe' and 'assess.' Let me guess—you'd try recruiting him if he's useful enough."
"And don't pin this on me, lady. You clearly didn't want this mission to begin with."
"It's SHIELD's right to rehabilitate criminals for greater purposes," Natasha fired back.
SLAM!
Jessica's palm cratered the three-inch-thick oak counter. She bared her teeth, jabbing a finger toward the door. "Get. Out. You're not welcome here."
Matt and Foggy shook their heads in unison, their disdain for SHIELD's methods plain. Letting a killer roam free just to evaluate his potential? Ignoring his victims' suffering?
This wasn't justice.