The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

Looking at that beautiful face, several Hydra executives present fell silent again.

"This is the surveillance footage we found in the departure airport passage."

The glasses lenses on the man's face reflected blue light: "Leviathan's signature female agent, I believe no further introduction is needed. The appearance of the Black Widow is by no means a coincidence, we must have leaked the news at some point... .”

"Awesome, we leaked the news, again."

The person who spoke this time was the old man Pierce. He looked around the field and began to ask and answer questions in a performative manner: "But there is a question, who is responsible for the intelligence cover of this operation? Let me think about it... ....Oh! Remember, it seems to be you, right? My dear Mr. Brest?"

The irony is obvious.

The man who was still talking just now opened his mouth, but after all, he didn't finish the sentence. He took a deep breath and leaned his back on the chair: "You don't need to stress this. I will investigate it internally first."

Clap!

At this moment, an unusual sound came from the bottom of his screen. There was no other person speaking in the conference room, so everyone heard it. The man frowned and pulled out a pistol.

"Brest, what's going on?"

"We have a guest, I'll disconnect first."

In response to Gideon's question, Brest just replied with a hasty farewell, and the screen immediately went dark. A line of red fonts appeared on the electronic screen, which was a warning of signal loss. He obviously didn't even have time to take the correct disconnection steps. Several people in the conference room looked at each other and closed their mouths for a while.

Someone was invaded by force.

Everyone is not stupid.

The failure of the operation and the accidents of the members were so closely connected that one had to suspect Peggy Carter. This is not the first time that Hydra has suffered defeat at the hands of the opponent. Whenever there is a flaw in the operation, her people will follow the clues and break in with long guns and short cannons to eliminate or capture all the enemy agents they can find. This is why so many assassination teams were arranged to frantically eliminate those with knowledge in the later stages of this operation.

Anyway, most of them are not our own, so it doesn’t matter if they die.

That being said, in fact, the unlucky Brest is the most exposed, and he is considered a character who is pushed out by everyone to take the blame. Profit always comes with risk, and like the disastrous Baron Otto Wilmitz, HYDRA has no shortage of red-eyed gamblers.

However, Brest lost even more miserably...

The price may very well be lives.

After passing the blame, seeing members of the organization being attacked with their own eyes, several Hydra executives present could not help but feel a little frightened. One of them was secretly glad that he had not taken on this part of the job in the first place.

"Let's do this for today, everyone, take care."

The white-haired Gideon Malik unilaterally announced the end of the meeting. Now that all members have no intention of continuing the meeting, the top priority is to clean up the mess quickly. The operation failed completely, and everyone retreated to their nests to lick their wounds. If Carter, the old woman, caught her at this time, no one would jump out to help.

This is Hydra.

Looking at the dimmed electronic screen in front of him, Gideon Malik let out a long sigh. He held the wine glass with one hand, and the mellow aroma slowly flowed down his throat, finally alleviating his bad mood. I hoped that this action would be an opportunity for cooperation, allowing members of the organization to put aside concerns about interests and take a few steps closer to working together.

As a result, when things went wrong, everyone fell into a vicious cycle of blaming, shirk and sarcasm as usual.

In the final analysis, it is because no one can convince these old ghosts.

If an organization wants to take off, unity and collaboration are indispensable. Even if this cannot be achieved, at least there must be someone who can steer the direction and suppress discordant voices in the organization. Nowadays, Hydra's secular tendency is becoming more and more obvious, and internal friction has seriously hindered its overall development. The unclear life and death of Mrs. Viper is a case in point.

With that series of biochemical weapons, she was once ranked among the top three of Hydra's top brass. But when this woman's fate was over, her former companions couldn't wait to divide the inheritance. No one will sympathize or offer help. Everyone was like extremely hungry jackals, waving their fangs and claws until every piece of flesh was torn clean.

Human nature is like this, which has to be said to be a kind of tragedy.

Only God can save.

Thinking of this, Gideon turned his head and looked at the old oil painting on the wall, which showed a strange humanoid creature: the whole face was covered with tentacles. He raised his arms on the altar and enjoyed the crowd. Kneel down and worship.

"Hydra needs to unify..."

A murmur echoed in the dark study room.

----------

It's the third day back in London, and it's been raining all day.

In this island country dominated by a temperate maritime climate, rain and fog are the most common weather. Often within 24 hours, they will appear alternately several times. Therefore, people living in the central and southern regions of England never forget to carry an umbrella when going out.

"You guys are really..."

"No."

"There really isn't that..."

"No."

"Look up to the stars!"

"Really do not have!"

Seeing that Watson was still asking questions seriously, Mrs. Carter denied it three times in a row, but she couldn't help but laugh. The pretty face in front of her had a very serious expression, but Paige caught the smile in the other person's eyes and quickly understood that he was deliberately making her happy. Seeing that his goal was achieved, Watson also leaned back in his chair and concentrated on dealing with the sea bass on the plate.

"To be honest, fish head pie is completely the wrong impression the outside world has of Britain."

Putting the fork back on the table, Peggy tried to correct Watson's common sense: "Although the most common things we eat are barbecue, pies and desserts, no one is stupid enough to stuff a few fish into it. In the past, maybe Yes, but it certainly doesn’t exist now.”

Watson's mouth was full of fish and he could only make a vague response.

The two chopsticks rotated between the fingers, holding the crystal clear fish meat, dipping it in the sticky sauce, then inserting it into the red and tender lips, and then slowly pulling it out from the closed lip gap. The delicate and graceful jaw swayed back and forth with the chewing movements, and the light purple eyes were captivating, and they even raised their eyes from time to time.

The old lady couldn't help but think of an Eastern idiom: beautiful and delicious. Its original meaning is to describe the beauty of a woman or the scenery, which can make people temporarily forget their hunger. But now that Watson's face is in front of me, it feels very suitable no matter how I think about it.

Watching Watson eat is a joy.

"Do you still want to eat? Do you want the kitchen to bake another one?"

Hearing the old lady ask this question, Watson suddenly felt like he was being talked about. But he didn't say anything and shook his head to show that he didn't need it. When many people get older, they will have some kind of caring impulse towards their descendants. This is one reason why many elderly people particularly like children. On the other hand, they also want to feel what they once had, such as hope, passion and vitality.

But this kind of mentality is difficult to analyze clearly. Perhaps you can only experience it personally when you live to be 70 or 80 years old.

In fact, Watson's mind had already gone back to two days ago.

When I woke up from the bathtub, the water was already cold. In a daze, he stretched his palm towards the tile on the right. This was a completely subconscious action. Before his brain could fully recover from his drowsiness, Watson climbed up the smooth tile wall.

There is nothing abnormal about the five fingers, but they will produce some kind of strange suction. No matter what object is touched, it can be firmly stuck to the fingertips. At that time, Watson climbed out of the cold bathtub and wanted to enjoy a hot bath with the shower head. Then he found that the bottle of shower gel was stuck to his hand and could not be removed.

It took almost an hour.

After tearing three towels, Watson finally managed to suppress this physical reaction. Spider-Woman's iconic climbing ability has been perfectly absorbed. Compared with the black light virus's original "brick-flying" wall-breaking method, the sticky-touch movement is not only nearly silent and traceless, but also allows Watson to easily move anywhere. Stand firmly on an angled wall. From now on, even if there are no hanging points on the ceiling, he can attach it.

In addition, the tentacles have also changed.

They are evolving another special form, which is as thin and tough as spider silk, and can be shot out or retracted very quickly. And this is just to meet the needs of hanging the body, Watson can control the tentacles to change forms at any time, such as injecting infectious agents or digestive juices into the prey.

However, the current situation forced him to consider taking the opportunity to rest at Carter Manor for two days so that he could regain control of his body. Moreover, Mrs. Carter lost her old comrade at a young age, and now she is in a very bad mood. It is when she needs comfort that she might as well stay with her for a while longer.

"I'm full, what are we going to do later?"

Picking up a tissue to wipe his mouth, Watson returned his attention to the other person.

"How about just chatting? I guess activities like playing chess and watching movies are not interesting to you." It was raining outside, and at my age it was really not suitable to go out to get wet. Seeing Watson's hands holding tissues, Mrs. Carter suddenly remembered something: "By the way, I remember you can play the guitar, right?"

"Correct."

Watson blinked: "So, you don't want to say that there happens to be a guitar in the house?"

"It can have it." The old lady smiled, with a rather willful expression.

......

after an hour.

The weather outside the court remained unchanged.

The sound of the piano flows quietly under the embellishment of raindrops.

The wall lamp shines warm yellow light on the eaves of the wall, illuminating the guitar in Watson's arms. At this time, the repertoire had reached "Moon River". A shadow was cast down the side of his face, and his eyes were half-squinted, as if he had begun to fall asleep. His left hand gently stroked the fingerboard, and the pressure of each press was controlled just right.

Watson could feel control returning.

To be honest, he didn't expect that playing guitar would yield such rewards. Playing a musical instrument requires very strict coordination of nerve coordination, brain concentration and body movement skills, but precisely because of this, the body that was originally a little unruly gradually stabilized. After playing a few tunes, Watson regained that feeling of comfort and ease.

The more involved you are in it, the more obvious it becomes.

Of course, if you wield two axes and rush into the crowd to kill, the effect may be better. Just in case it gets too good and the whole person is immersed in the desire to kill, I don't know when I wake up again.

"Can you show me your hands?"

A slow strumming ended the performance, and Peggy, who was sitting opposite, smiled and started to applaud. Watson stretched out his hand, and his palm was touched by several wrinkled fingers. He could also feel the unconscious trembling of his hands that belonged to the elderly. Looking at the face in front of him again, perhaps because he has completely relaxed, the wrinkles caused by the smile are a bit dazzling.

She was really starting to age.

"If the war hadn't broken out decades ago, you could have become a performer..." Mrs. Carter carefully stroked Watson's slender fingers: "These hands are suitable for plucking the strings, not Pull the trigger.”

"You should really take a chance and hear me play the electric guitar. It would make you think I'm a rock star."

Watson nodded solemnly: "Now the performer wants a star-gazing party, can he have one?"

Peggy couldn't help but laugh again. She grabbed Watson's pretty face and reached out to rub his hair. Seeing that the guitar on his lap was about to fall to the ground, Watson was so anxious that he screamed repeatedly, but the old lady smiled more and more happily, obviously she didn't care about this anymore.