"Count me in."
Natasha Romanoff, better known as Black Widow, tossed her signature red hair and stepped up beside Hill. Her tight agent suit perfectly highlighted the curves that could make men everywhere get a nosebleed, but right now, the only thing radiating from her captivating figure was cold, sharp killing intent.
Next, Sharon Carter—Cap's future ex-girlfriend... ahem, wait, they haven't gotten there yet—the blonde agent sweetheart also took a step forward.
"I'm volunteering."
Well, that rounds out S.H.I.E.L.D.'s "Three Golden Agents."
Alexander Pierce pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, doing his best to suppress the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
As a seasoned Hydra... ahem, as a seasoned S.H.I.E.L.D. high official, he was absolutely delighted.
What a sight.
Look at this trio:
Hill was ice-cold, like an unattainable snow lotus; Natasha was dangerously seductive, a perfect black rose with thorns; and then there was Sharon Carter, with her girl-next-door sweetness and grit.
This was the pinnacle of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operatives.
"Ladies," Pierce's actual plan was to use them as cannon fodder, but he knew how to talk the talk. "As S.H.I.E.L.D.'s three most beautiful operatives, your willingness to step up during this darkest hour and take on this almost-impossible mission is truly commendable."
"It's not just bravery, it's... well, a kind of necessary aesthetic."
Pierce, the old fox, had a knack for words. He complimented them while defining their role.
"For Earth, and for Director Fury, we have no choice," Hill replied coldly, completely immune to flattery.
The surrounding agents and Avengers nodded in admiration.
It was true: sending these three stunning women to steal from the devil's lair was a form of tragic romance.
"It's settled then."
Pierce gave the final order, his eyes behind the lenses glinting with calculation. "Female agents have a natural advantage. You are more flexible, better at camouflage, and it's easier for you to... disarm suspicion."
"Especially when dealing with an arrogant megalomaniac like Frieza. He might kill men without a second thought, but he might just afford a beautiful lady a tiny window of opportunity."
Pierce then turned to the two men sitting in the corner.
"Stark, Thor, any objections?"
Tony Stark, slumping in a chair and fiddling with a broken piece of armor, merely shrugged.
"No objections here. This kind of sneaky, messy business—excuse me, this kind of infiltration work—was never suited for a genius like me, who, while handsome, is simply too dazzling."
Tony gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Someone has to do it, right? As much as I'd want them in my suits, the noise would be too much."
Thor, who was currently without his hammer, stood with his arms crossed, watching the three women intently.
"In Asgard, we have the Valkyrior," Thor said in a low voice. "You remind me of them. Valiant, fearless, and beautiful. I salute your courage, ladies."
At this point, Captain America, Steve Rogers, couldn't hold back.
The old-school moral compass stood up, his face serious.
"This is too dangerous. I request to join the action. More people mean more strength."
However, his suggestion was ruthlessly shot down before it landed.
Natasha glanced at the Captain and shook her head with a sigh.
"Forget it, Cap. Your Stars and Stripes uniform is a beacon, and besides..."
Natasha gestured to his shield. "Your infiltration style is usually 'knock on the door, then tear the door down.' This kind of delicate work isn't for you."
Cap opened his mouth but finally sat down, defeated. Even a Super-Soldier couldn't handle being rejected by the beautiful spies.
"In that case, Hill, you're the team leader."
Pierce stood up, issuing the final instructions. "Operation starts tonight. Objective: Retrieve the Infinity Stones. Failure is not an option."
"Yes, sir!"
The three agents answered in unison, then turned and left, their fierce retreat leaving the men in the room in wistful silence.
Just then, an agent rushed in, whispering into Pierce's ear.
"Sir, King T'Chaka and Prince T'Challa of Wakanda have arrived. They're waiting in the reception room."
Pierce's eyebrow arched.
Had the invisible African nation of Vibranium-rich elites finally decided to get involved?
"Understood. I'll be right there."
Pierce straightened his suit, a cold, calculating smile on his face. It seemed the waters were getting murkier, but that was exactly what Hydra wanted.
Meanwhile, in Manhattan, Frieza Tower.
The luxurious penthouse lounge was pulsing with disco music.
Frieza was sitting elegantly on a genuine leather sofa, imported from Italy, swirling a glass of red wine, and watching the scene before him with appreciation.
In front of him, the once-unbeatable God of Mischief, Loki, was wearing those utterly humiliating white and purple tights, vigorously gyrating his hips.
"To the left! Stick your butt out more! Yes, just like that!"
Frieza was like a strict dance instructor, frequently offering guidance.
"Arms straight! Put some oomph into it! The essence of the Ginyu Force is that mix of looking completely ridiculous, but with a strangely confident attitude! Get it?"
Loki was dying inside, but he still forced a fawning smile onto his face.
"Yes, Master! How about this spin?"
Loki executed a flamboyant spin, combined with the Frieza Force uniform and that unique single-leg stance.
Even Frieza, the genuine Cosmic Emperor, had to give it his stamp of approval.
"Excellent, very excellent."
Frieza nodded in satisfaction, taking a sip of his wine. "It seems you have more talent for dancing than for godhood, Loki."
"This is the kind of leader material I need. Only this level of breathtaking execution can uphold the prestige of the Frieza Force."
Loki breathed a sigh of relief. He had passed the test. If he had to dance any longer, he felt his back would snap.
Just then, Frieza seemed to remember something.
"Oh, right, Loki."
Frieza set down his wine glass, his crimson eyes fixing on Loki with keen interest. "You mentioned something earlier... this 'Soul Contract.' What exactly is that?"
Loki's eyes immediately lit up. This was his area of expertise.
"Oh, Master, it's a magnificent thing."
Loki hurried over, explaining like a salesman. "It's an ancient Asgardian magical pact. Once signed, the recipient becomes completely obedient to the Master, down to the very soul."
"Completely obedient?" Frieza raised an eyebrow. "Including what degree?"
Loki gave a knowing, wicked grin—which looked rather funny on his bruised face.
"Any degree, my Master. Whether it's to die, or to do things that are a little more... intimate. As long as you command it, their bodies and souls will be compelled to obey."
Loki even lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Even those proud Valkyries, once they sign this, they'd happily wash your feet."
"Oh ho ho ho..."
Frieza let out his signature laugh, which echoed in the empty lounge, sounding utterly evil.
"Intriguing. What an interesting little trick."
Frieza stroked his chin, and a few images flashed through his mind: that smoking hot Black Widow, and perhaps the curvaceous Wanda...
Since these Earthlings were so rude and kept trying to pull stunts, why not give them some proper work to do?
Like, serving the Great Emperor tea and, well, keeping the bed warm?
After all, the Cosmic Emperor's harem couldn't be empty, could it? That would be embarrassing.
"This truly is a fine thing," Frieza said, giving Loki a rare look of appreciation. "When the time comes, I'll ask you for this contract."
"Always at your service, Master!" Loki bowed deeply.
"Alright, the entertainment for today is over."
Frieza stretched, standing up gracefully.
"This dilapidated tower is still under construction and full of dust. I'm tired of staying here."
"I'm going back to my newly purchased villa in Long Island for a rest."
Frieza adjusted his collar and waved his hand at Loki.
"Go on, get my Rolls-Royce Phantom ready. Make sure it's the extended version, and the velvet on the seats better be wiped down three times."
"At once, Master! I'll go now! I guarantee you'll feel like you're sitting on a cloud!"
Loki scampered off, relieved, moving with the speed of someone being chased by a dog.
Frieza smirked as he watched Loki leave.
However, he didn't notice it.
Under a vase in the corner of the lounge, a tiny black listening device, no bigger than a grain of rice, blinked a faint red light.
It faithfully recorded the entire conversation and transmitted it via an encrypted channel thousands of feet into the sky.
Miles above, a black Quinjet cut through the clouds.
Inside the cabin, Hill pressed her earpiece, her expression subtly changing as she listened to the relay. She then looked at Natasha and Sharon, who were organizing their gear.
"Target is moving."
Hill's voice was calm and professional. "According to the intel we just intercepted, Frieza is planning to leave the tower and head to a private luxury villa in Long Island to rest."
"A Long Island villa?" Natasha wiped down her stun baton, a sly smile on her face. "Looks like our Cosmic Emperor enjoys the good life here on Earth."
"It's the most luxurious, most expensive estate in all of New York, apparently owned by some oil tycoon previously," Hill added. "It's more isolated, and while the security system is advanced, it'll be much easier for us to handle than a direct confrontation inside that high-tech tower."
"This is our window."
Sharon Carter checked her magazine, looking up, her eyes resolute. "This is the chance God gave us."
"Change course."
Hill ordered, and the Quinjet arced in the sky, flying straight toward Long Island.