Chapter 902

That had been dangerously close.

Captain America had participated in countless life-threatening battles. He had faced opponents every bit as strong as himself, and fighting evenly matched enemies was practically his specialty.

But most of his previous opponents preferred straightforward combat. They threw punches, traded blows, and relied on overwhelming strength. Someone capable of performing a few Brazilian martial arts moves was usually enough to keep him entertained for a while.

This time, however, he had encountered something entirely different.

Noriko was a master assassin.

She could disappear from his field of vision, circle behind him, and strike without warning. Even when forced into direct combat, she constantly employed subtle tricks to bypass his defenses and exploit the smallest openings.

Fighting someone like that was exhausting.

Fortunately, she was dead now.

Steve glanced at Noriko’s motionless body and released a long breath.

"Leave two men here to guard the body. I want her identity confirmed."

A corpse couldn’t answer questions. Whatever information Noriko possessed about her employers, her mission, or the organization behind her would have to be uncovered through conventional investigation.

There was another matter troubling Steve.

During their fight, he’d noticed that Noriko’s raw strength was inferior to his own, but still considerably greater than that of an ordinary human. Her speed and reflexes had been particularly impressive.

In fact, some of her physical attributes had surpassed his.

Could she be another super-soldier?

The possibility concerned him more than he wanted to admit.

"Understood, Captain."

Rumlow nodded and raised one hand, signaling two operatives over.

They approached Noriko’s body cautiously. One of them pulled away her face covering while the other activated the tactical computer mounted on his forearm.

The device scanned her facial features and compared them against the available databases.

Rumlow was even more eager than Steve to discover who Noriko was.

For Captain America, the mission was straightforward: rescue the hostages.

For Rumlow, however, this ship represented something considerably more important.

Its cargo and activities were connected to HYDRA’s ultimate plans.

And now two separate groups had infiltrated the vessel, apparently interfering with one another in the process.

A third party had effectively crashed their operation and helped itself to the spoils.

If Rumlow returned to Alexander Pierce without a single useful lead, he might as well cut his own throat and jump overboard.

At least that would save him the trouble of explaining his failure.

"Continue the mission," Steve ordered.

"We don’t know whether the enemy has any accomplices still aboard. From this point forward, nobody moves alone. Three-man teams will be our minimum operating unit. One man watches the front while the other two cover the rear. Maintain contact at all times."

His expression grew serious.

"If you’re attacked, call for backup immediately. Don’t try to handle an assassin like that by yourself. Otherwise, you might disappear without anyone even realizing you’ve been killed."

Steve cleared his throat.

That was the best plan he could come up with.

He glanced once more at Noriko’s body.

If there were other assassins aboard with comparable abilities, even a three-man team might not survive an encounter. At least, however, they would have a chance to raise the alarm.

The strike team immediately reorganized according to his instructions.

They advanced in groups of three, carefully watching one another’s blind spots as they searched the ship.

Yet nothing happened.

Not a single ambush.

By the time they regrouped outside the kitchen where the hostages were being held, they hadn’t encountered another enemy.

Was she the only one?

Steve couldn’t help wondering.

And if there really had been only one assassin aboard, what were the odds that he’d been the one to encounter her?

His luck was something else.

Still, it was better that he’d run into her than one of the less experienced operatives.

The thought made him pause.

He looked around again, carefully examining the surrounding area.

"Cough. Captain?"

Rumlow cleared his throat.

He had noticed Steve’s sudden vigilance and looked at him questioningly.

"Nothing."

Steve shook his head.

"That assassin attacked me the moment I relaxed. We can’t afford to give someone like her another opportunity."

Rumlow nodded.

If Captain America was being this cautious, he certainly wasn’t about to lower his guard.

"The hostages are all inside the kitchen," he said. "If there’s another enemy aboard, that’s probably where they’d choose to hide."

"Agreed."

Steve nodded.

"Most people see a group of tied-up hostages and immediately rush to free them. Their attention shifts away from their surroundings. If an enemy is hiding among the prisoners, they could launch an attack before anyone realizes what’s happening."

"So..."

Rumlow looked toward him.

"Maximum-force hostage extraction?"

"We don’t have much choice."

Steve approved the suggestion.

"After the standard entry procedure, I’ll go in first."

"No problem."

Rumlow exchanged a glance with one of his men.

An operative with a particularly intimidating expression stepped forward and carefully attached a breaching charge to the kitchen door.

Steve and the others took cover along either side of the entrance, preparing to storm the room as soon as the explosives went off.

Under normal circumstances, their ideal approach would have included another team rappelling down from the upper deck to provide cover through the kitchen windows.

But after what Noriko had demonstrated, nobody was particularly enthusiastic about that plan.

If another assassin possessed comparable skills, all they’d have to do was cut the ropes.

The operatives would go straight into the ocean.

A rather undignified end to a rescue operation.

"Cough... Are we really going to sit here and do nothing?"

Inside the kitchen, a S.H.I.E.L.D. technician wearing a blue uniform looked around anxiously.

He eventually turned toward the only senior agent among the hostages.

Agent Sitwell.

The technician wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about remaining helpless.

He might have been a technical specialist rather than a field operative, but he was still a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Sitting around like a frightened animal while nobody was guarding the room seemed rather embarrassing.

After all, there wasn’t even a guard watching them.

Surely they could do something?

"Don’t do anything reckless."

Sitwell’s warning was immediate and stern.

"Have you already forgotten what kind of enemy we’re dealing with? Have you forgotten how those pirates who captured us ended up dying?"

He looked around the kitchen.

"That assassin could be hiding somewhere nearby, watching us right now. We wouldn’t even know."

His words quickly extinguished the enthusiasm of the others.

They lowered their heads, remembering what had happened.

Their original assignment had been to oversee a satellite launch aboard the vessel.

Everything had been proceeding normally until a group of heavily armed pirates appeared, killed the few security personnel aboard, and took the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. team hostage.

The pirates’ demands had been simple enough.

Money.

They intended to use the ship and its passengers as bargaining chips, demanding a substantial ransom from S.H.I.E.L.D.

At first, everyone had assumed they were dealing with a fairly ordinary hostage situation.

Unfortunately, things had taken a decidedly different turn.

What should have been a routine pirate hijacking had gradually become something closer to a horror movie.

At some point, a ghost had begun wandering the ship.

An invisible presence that seemed capable of appearing anywhere.

They didn’t know what had happened outside the kitchen, but they remembered what had happened after the pirates locked them inside.

The lights had suddenly gone out.

Then, when they came back on, every pirate assigned to guard the prisoners was lying in a pool of blood.

Nobody had seen the attacker.

Nobody had witnessed the killings.

They had heard only a single voice.

Rough and distorted, speaking English with a peculiar accent.

"Don’t move. Unless you want to end up dead."

Sitwell had been the only one brave enough to respond.

Despite his fear, the senior agent had raised his voice and called out several times, attempting to establish contact with whoever had spoken.

There had been no answer.

Apparently, the mysterious attacker had already left.

If there was anything more terrifying than having a gun pointed at your head, it was knowing that an invisible blade could be waiting somewhere in the darkness, with no way of knowing when it might strike.

"I’m not saying we should sit here because we’re frightened."

Sitwell closed his eyes and addressed the others.

"An assassin is someone who calculates every possibility before making a move. Anyone capable of carrying out an operation like this is unlikely to leave something as important as our movements to chance."

He paused.

"The fact that nobody has been left here to guard us means they don’t consider us worth guarding. In other words, if we try anything, they probably believe they can stop us before we accomplish anything."

Sitwell opened his eyes.

The others looked thoroughly miserable.

He sighed, then continued in a somewhat gentler tone.

"Besides, we need to trust our organization. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t going to abandon us, and they certainly aren’t going to negotiate with these people. A rescue team should already be on its way. They might even be here."

He looked around the room.

"Remember, we’re hostages. If we start wandering around on our own, we’ll only make the rescue operation harder. We could create an opportunity for the enemy or even cause the entire operation to fail."

His expression hardened.

"And if that happens, our chances of getting out alive become considerably worse."

The others nodded.

The bald agent made a good point.

Perhaps staying put really was the smartest decision.

They should just wait for the rescue team.

BOOM!

The kitchen door exploded.

The prisoners’ ears rang as the blast filled the room. Their heads spun, and for several seconds, they could barely see.

Still, they understood what had happened.

The rescue team had arrived!

They struggled to open their eyes and looked toward the entrance.

But instead of armed rescuers rushing through the doorway, they saw several round objects rolling across the floor.

Then came a blinding flash.

And after that, nothing.

Ten flashbang grenades.

No matter where an enemy might have been hiding inside the kitchen, that many simultaneous detonations would leave them completely disoriented.

Once the grenades had gone off, Captain America led the assault.

He charged through the doorway with his shield raised, immediately followed by the other operatives.

Their assault rifles swept across the room, covering every corner and possible hiding place.

Nothing.

There didn’t appear to be any enemies.

Only after confirming that the room was secure did Steve slowly lower his shield.

He looked toward the hostages.

Every single one of them was sitting on the floor, apparently unharmed.

Their eyes were rolled back, and foam dribbled from their mouths.

They were all unconscious.

"Hahaha..."

Rumlow walked over and glanced down at Sitwell.

"Let’s hope they don’t file a complaint. Otherwise, I might not see my bonus at the end of the month."

"Wait."

Steve immediately stopped an operative who was approaching the prisoners.

"Don’t touch them yet. Count everyone first and verify their identities. Only then should you remove their restraints."

The operative immediately halted and followed his instructions.

Once the team had confirmed that everyone in the kitchen was indeed a hostage, they began carefully moving the unconscious personnel out of the room.

Steve watched for a moment.

Then his brow furrowed.

"Where’s Natasha?"

Rumlow shook his head.

"No idea. I haven’t seen her since the operation started."

Steve’s expression changed.

He immediately activated his communicator.

"Natasha? Natasha, respond!"

Several seconds passed.

Then a familiar, irritated voice finally came through.

"Busy."

Steve released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

At least Black Widow was all right.

Or so he thought.

In reality, Natasha was having a rather unusual encounter of her own.

Rescuing the hostages was Captain America’s assignment.

Natasha Romanoff, however, had received a separate mission directly from Nick Fury.

As S.H.I.E.L.D.’s premier intelligence operative, she had been tasked with copying all the information stored aboard the vessel.

After parachuting onto the ship, she’d slipped away from the main assault team and made her way toward the information center.

Unfortunately, someone was already waiting for her.

Someone she knew.

Someone she remembered particularly well.

"Long time no see, Natasha Romanoff."

The information center was dark.

A woman stood with her back to the entrance, facing one of the windows.

Her long blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail. She wore a tight-fitting purple combat suit, and her posture was unmistakable.

Natasha recognized her immediately.

"Umbrella Security Chief... Jill Valentine."

The woman turned out to be Sarah, who had simply changed her appearance and adopted a different identity for the occasion.

Ever since Natasha had begun distancing herself from her, the little succubus had been miserable.

She’d spent her days crying and drowning her sorrows in alcohol.

Evenson had tried explaining the situation and helping her understand, but Sarah’s imagination was considerably more active than his attempts at reassurance.

She kept finding new reasons to feel miserable.

And Evenson had a practical problem.

If Sarah continued drinking at that rate, she might eventually sell the house just to pay for more alcohol.

So he’d arranged this meeting.

A chance for Sarah and Black Widow to see each other again and, hopefully, resolve whatever misunderstanding had caused the little succubus so much distress.

"You’re still able to recognize me. I’m flattered."

Sarah slowly turned around.

Her eyes settled on Natasha, and her eyebrows drew together slightly.

Then she relaxed.

"Hmm... You’ve changed your look."

She examined Natasha for another moment.

"Not bad, actually. It suits you. I suppose I can get used to it."

Natasha remained wary.

Of all the people she’d encountered, this woman was the only one who had ever managed to get the better of her.

She wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

"Why are you here? Has Umbrella finally decided to make a move against S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Straight to business?"

Sarah looked mildly surprised.

Then she slowly ran her tongue across her lips.

"Why don’t we do what we did last time? Have another little dance together?"

Her smile widened.

"I haven’t forgotten how wonderful that was."

"Disgusting."

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"That experience did nothing but disgust me."

Sarah froze.

Her previously eager expression stiffened, and for a moment, she seemed unable to process the words.

"...Disgusting?"

She repeated the word awkwardly.

Then, in a noticeably strained voice, she asked:

"You... You don’t actually like women, do you?"

It was a strange question.

Natasha didn’t give it much thought.

"No. It’s just that I already have a girlfriend. She loves me, and I love her. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of getting your hands on me, you pervert."

"Oh."

Sarah visibly relaxed.

She quickly recovered her composure and slipped back into her usual playful manner.

"So you already have a girlfriend. What a shame."

She shrugged.

"According to my personal principles, that means I can’t make a move on you."

"Cough..."

Natasha suddenly coughed.

Sarah noticed immediately.

"You’re coughing?"

She looked at Natasha with a trace of concern.

"Are you sick? Being out in the ocean wind at this hour certainly isn’t pleasant."

For a brief moment, her voice carried an unmistakable note of nervousness.

While Sarah and Natasha were catching up inside the information center, and Captain America’s team was busy evacuating the hostages...

"Cough... Cough!"

The two operatives assigned to guard Noriko’s corpse suddenly began coughing violently.

Unlike the others, their coughing was so severe that it felt as though their lungs were about to tear themselves apart.

Then—

Resurrection.

Pfft!

Two kunai suddenly emerged from the men’s necks.

Neither had time to cry out.

They collapsed onto the deck, lifeless.

And behind them, the woman who had been lying dead only moments earlier slowly rose to her feet.

Ashina Noriko rolled her neck and took a deep breath.

The Dragon’s Heritage resurrection had worked.

It had actually worked.

She reached down, retrieved the gourd hanging from her waist, and raised it to her lips.

Then she took a long drink of the red healing liquid inside.

Her second life had begun.