Before he could even curse, his body lost balance from the momentum, and he performed a perfect "faceplant," slamming hard into the ground.
To make matters worse, his face landed squarely on a "fresh deposit" left behind by a dog that had just passed by.
An indescribable odor instantly filled his nostrils.
Agent "Ghost" was KIA on the spot.
As for Cloud, he had merely glanced at the shoelaces in a shoe store window as he passed.
He'd used the barest trace of Orochi Power—just enough to make those two inanimate shoelaces "come alive" and "embrace each other in friendship."
Second "Unlucky Soul"
Agent B, codename "Cat's Eye," was HYDRA's sharpshooter, responsible for surveillance from an elevated flanking position with binoculars.
He was lying prone on a rooftop, tracking Cloud through a high-powered scope with deadly focus.
Suddenly, he felt something flash across his viewfinder.
Before he could react, a flock of white, seemingly harmless plaza pigeons swooped past his face in a flurry.
One particularly plump pigeon, apparently tired from flying, was looking for a place to rest.
It landed, with perfect precision, right on Agent B's scope.
Then it cocked its head, peering curiously with its beady black eyes at the large eye staring back at it from behind the glass.
Man and pigeon locked gazes for half a second.
Then the pigeon, apparently mistaking that dark pupil for something shiny and edible, pecked down without hesitation!
"AAAH—MY EYE!"
A scream echoed across the rooftop.
Agent "Cat's Eye" rolled across the ground, clutching his now-bleeding eye socket.
As for Cloud, he had merely passed through the plaza earlier and sent a simple mental command to the pigeons eating breadcrumbs: "There's a shiny little disc on top of that building. Looks tasty. Go check it out."
Third "Unlucky Soul"
Agent C, codename "Roadblock," was responsible for interception and containment at a forward intersection. He was a muscular giant standing two meters tall and weighing over three hundred pounds.
Disguised as an ordinary sanitation worker, he was preparing to stage an "accidental" traffic incident when Cloud and Natasha passed by.
Just then, a street-cleaning water truck beside him suddenly "malfunctioned."
Its massive hose whipped around like a crazed python, and a high-pressure water jet—as precisely guided as a missile—blasted directly into Roadblock!
WHOOOOSH—!
The unfortunate Agent C didn't even have time to react before the torrent, powerful enough to sweep away a bull, sent him straight into a nearby storm drain.
Glub glub glub...
All that remained were the desperate sounds of bubbles rising.
As for Cloud, he had merely felt a bit warm passing that intersection and sent a thought to the water truck using Orochi Power: "Cool me down a little."
...
Thus, a meticulously planned top-level surveillance operation came to an utterly comedic and absurd end through a series of "coincidental accidents."
And Natasha, one of the parties involved, remained completely oblivious throughout.
She only thought today's date had gone unusually smoothly.
No thugs came to cause trouble.
No sudden robberies or shootouts.
Even the traffic seemed controlled by an invisible hand—green lights all the way, completely unobstructed.
She looked at the man beside her—the one who, having won at the claw machine, was holding up an ugly-cute Pikachu plushie like a child, showing it off to her.
She looked at that relaxed, brilliant smile on his face—so different from his usual demeanor.
Natasha felt her heart beating faster and faster.
She suddenly had an impulse.
An impulse to make time stop forever in this moment.
"Cloud." She called his name softly.
"Hmm?" Cloud turned.
In that moment, Natasha rose on her tiptoes and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Soft and warm.
"...Thank you."
Face flushed, she whispered.
"Thank you for giving me such an ordinary day."
Cloud looked at the stunning agent before him—the one who had, for the first time, voluntarily "paid her due." He looked into those emerald eyes, now sparkling with emotion, and smiled.
"You're welcome."
He reached out, pulling her into his embrace, and whispered in her ear—words only they could hear:
"After all..."
"You are my personal lifestyle assistant."
...
Tony Stark had been irritable lately.
As a firm, thorough, atheistic believer in science, his worldview was being ground into the dirt by Cloud.
Conjuring hamburgers from thin air? That violates conservation of mass-energy!
Making water freeze in midair? That's a direct challenge to gravity!
Blowing people onto lampposts with a breath? That's slapping aerodynamics and fluid dynamics right in the face!
He'd had JARVIS build hundreds of data models, trying to explain Cloud's various "miracles" using quantum mechanics, string theory, multiverse theory—every scientific concept he could think of.
After seventy-two hours of computation, JARVIS gave him a conclusion that nearly made him smash his computer on the spot:
[Sir, based on current data model analysis, there is a 99.99% probability that Mr. Cloud's behaviors fall outside the realm of science.]
For Tony Stark—genius inventor, billionaire, playboy—this was absolutely unacceptable!
He had to! Figure out! What the hell was going on!
And so, on the evening Cloud returned to Stark Tower after his "ordinary" date with Natasha, Tony blocked his path.
"Cloud!" Tony's eyes blazed with the near-fanatical curiosity of a scientist. "We need to talk!"
"Talk about what? About your tin can getting a new paint job?" Cloud was thoroughly annoyed.
"No! About science!" Tony's expression was deadly serious. "Those tricks of yours—what's the principle behind them? What's the energy source? Dark matter? Some kind of unknown cosmic radiation?"
"Your physical composition is abnormal too! I need a blood sample for genetic sequencing!"
...
Get 20+ chapters ahead on - P.a.t.r.e.o.n "RoseWhisky"