This Widow Isn’t So Cold

Inside the battleship’s office.

Santana had no idea she had just skirted the edge of death. She merely looked at Kyle in the office chair with concern, waiting for his next order.

Kyle found it secretly amusing. The agents trained by the Soviet Red Room were indeed among the best in the world. From the Super Agent serum to the skills and qualities an agent should possess, they had it all.

Though Santana was only an agent trainee, there were few soldiers or officers in the entire U.S. military headquarters who could defeat her in a one-on-one fight.

And combat ability was only one aspect. Infiltrating and disguising herself as a timid, delicate American female military doctor was as easy to her as drinking water.

Unfortunately, she had run into him.

Kyle narrowed his eyes slightly. Santana’s infiltration and disguise could be called flawless, but before the Card Draw Ability, they meant nothing.

No matter how meticulously she planned or how convincing her performance was, the bright blue Super Agent Ability Card above the back of her head exposed everything.

The office remained silent for quite some time. After taking a few sips of warm water, Kyle beckoned to Santana, who was standing there awkwardly, and said with a slight frown, "My head is a little dizzy. Do you know how to massage the head and shoulders? Give me a quick rub."

"Ah." Santana hesitated briefly, then nodded eagerly. With small steps, she walked around the desk and moved behind Kyle’s chair.

She failed to notice the faint chill flashing through Kyle’s slightly opened blue eyes as she passed by the chair.

The best opportunity for an assassination had been deliberately created. From here on, Santana’s life or death rested entirely in her own hands.

Whether she might become a heroic figure in the future or not, as long as she showed even the slightest sign of launching an assassination or sneak attack, Kyle would kill her without hesitation.

That was Kyle’s bottom line. Anyone who became his enemy could only end up lying on the ground as a corpse.

"General, you can close your eyes a little. The massage will feel much more comfortable," Santana said softly, her small hands slowly reaching toward the back of Kyle’s head.

"Alright. Use a little strength," Kyle replied with a nod. As he closed his eyes, his mind tensed in focused alertness.

She carried no weapons, and her own muscular strength was not enough to snap his neck. Still, just in case, he had already put the Venom Suit on his body into a defensive combat-ready state.

Very quickly, Santana’s ten slender fingers landed on the back of Kyle’s head. She pressed lightly, kneading downward over his neck and shoulders, then back upward to his forehead.

Kyle, whose body had been slightly tense and stiff, immediately relaxed and let out a comfortable breath.

Why did this feel unexpectedly good?

It had to be said that Santana’s massage technique was skilled and practiced. It was probably one of the professional skills taught in agent training for disguise, combined with the girl’s slender yet strong fingers…

Wait, that didn’t seem to be the point!

Wasn’t she going to make a move? Kyle wondered, unable to understand.

At such a critical moment before the war, the Soviet Red Room had sent a Super Agent to infiltrate this place. If she was not here for him, then what was she here for?

Was he not the target? Or was the mission’s purpose not to assassinate him?

Thinking about it, that did make sense. The Soviet Union loved stirring up trouble, but it would not send an agent to assassinate a newly promoted major general who was an American Hero while the three nations were allied.

Amid Kyle’s doubts, Santana continued massaging and kneading for ten minutes before stopping. Breathing lightly, she shook out her sore fingers.

This man’s bones and muscles were even denser and tougher than she had imagined. Just as the mission briefing had said… Super Soldier ability.

Having made up her mind, Santana leaned close behind Kyle’s ear and asked in a soft, breathy voice, "General Kyle, how do you feel? Is your head still dizzy?"

Kyle tilted his head back slightly, still enjoying the massage with his eyes closed. "Much better."

"That is good. But a large-scale war is about to begin, so any symptoms should be properly examined in advance."

Santana paused, then offered her professional suggestion. "Just in case, General, it would be best to prick your finger and let me take a drop of blood back to the medical office for testing. It can determine your body’s current condition in detail."

"Oh, a blood test?" Kyle fully opened his eyes, revealing a subtle expression of realization.

So the agent’s mission was merely to obtain a little of his blood. With the Venom Suit, even if he suffered superficial injuries, he would not have left any blood behind on the previous battlefield.

A single drop of blood might not seem significant. But this was the Marvel world, after all, a world of advanced technology and biological sciences. Who knew what schemes those lunatic Soviet scientists might have in mind with his blood?

He did not want them to end up creating some kind of artificial human based on him.

Now that he knew her goal, Kyle no longer needed to keep acting along with her. His tone turned cold. "Was this your purpose?"

"What… purpose?" Santana, still standing behind the office chair, froze. Barely maintaining her composure, she said gently, "General Kyle, what are you talking about? This is only a simple… blood test."

Kyle delivered the words that shattered the last of her lucky hopes. "Are you still going to keep pretending? Soviet Red Room agent."

Before he had even finished speaking, Santana’s expression changed. Both hands abruptly slashed like blades toward the back of Kyle’s neck, intending to knock him out cleanly.

"I’ll play along with you." Kyle snorted coldly. His reaction was even faster. Raising both hands and reaching back, he caught the girl’s descending palms, one in each hand.

Santana tried with all her strength to pull her hands free, only to discover that Kyle’s grip was like steel clamps. She was restrained so tightly that she could not move even a finger.

Just as she was about to switch to a kick, crushing force surged through both her arms. Her entire body was lifted and flipped upward, spinning one hundred and eighty degrees over Kyle’s head before slamming brutally onto the hard wooden desk—

Crash!

The desk collapsed and split apart on both sides. Santana lay on the scattered wood chips and document papers, groaning in pain.

"Cough, cough."

Santana had only just coughed and struggled to get back up when, through her slightly terrified gaze, she saw the handsome young man toss his general’s coat aside, revealing the Venom Suit beneath—a fusion of coldness and slaughter.

"Good. Get up just like that! Let me see the strength of a Soviet Super Agent!"

Kyle looked at her coldly. His muscles bulged visibly beneath the black suit as if alive, while an almost tangible killing intent blanketed the entire office.

He flexed his fists, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he said coldly, "I hope you can help me warm up a little before the war begins."