"Tony, what are you doing?"
Yinsen stared at Tony's blueprint. It looked nothing like a missile. He glanced at Tony, busy with tiny parts, hoping for an explanation.
"This'll get us out of this hellhole."
To the man who'd saved him, Tony couldn't be snarky. He layered the pages: a humanoid robot took shape. Yinsen's breath quickened; in boundless darkness, Hope finally glimmered. He studied the plans, then Tony, and chose this uncertain path.
"Excuse me, which way to the Ten Rings?"
'Minato Namikaze' smiled amiably at a dozen bruised, groaning bandits. Not long into the desert she'd met these would-be robbers. In a blink, predators became prey.
"I… I speak a little English. We don't know any Ten Rings."
Just as Namikaze Minato was growing impatient and about to send these vicious men to meet their maker with a Kunai, one of them stammered a sentence in broken English.
"All right! You're useless now."
Having failed to extract the information he wanted, Namikaze Minato showed no anger; he swiftly opened throats for the dozen-odd men, one after another. Blossoms of blood burst across the desert, the crimson quickly soaked up by the sand.
"First time killing… doesn't feel like a big deal."
Wearing Namikaze Minato's warm-guy shell, Artoria spoke words that chilled the heart. Worse, her tone and expression were perfectly flat, as if the act carried no psychological weight at all.
"Let's find that unlucky brother of mine, and while we're at it, exterminate some pests."
Flicking the Kunai that had just slit more than a dozen tracheas, Artoria tossed the blood-stained blade aside. She had barely taken two steps when fingernail-sized iridescent crystals popped out of the corpses. She paused, walked back, and tried picking one up. The instant her skin touched the crystal, it slowly sank into her palm. She felt nothing unusual—only bewildered. What was going on?
"Hope the main body gets the data."
The primary mission wasn't finished, so the clone decided to stay in Shadow Clone form. Gathering the remaining crystals in her palm produced the same result. Clone-Artoria could do no more; odd as these things seemed, completing her assigned task mattered more.
"Miss Natasha, don't you think you're standing a little too close? We're hardly that familiar."
The real Artoria eyed Black Widow Natasha, who was practically glued to her. They'd only met five days ago, yet Natasha popped up everywhere—meals, restrooms. Once, when Artoria found the stall paperless and was about to summon a Saturday drone, a hand suddenly reached under the partition offering tissues. Mortified, Artoria had to croak out a thank-you.
"Not at all! I felt an instant kinship with you, Artoria. I like you so much—Hope my enthusiasm doesn't scare you off."
Natasha showed no annoyance, playing the warm-hearted big sister. Artoria ground her teeth in frustration but could say nothing.
"Woman, you're over the line. Stalker is bad enough, but klepto-fetishist? That I can't stomach."
The fiercest reaction to Natasha's shamelessness came not from Artoria or the amused Hope, but from Maya, who had been eyeing Natasha with suspicion. Furious, she spat out a very special adjective.
Hearing such explosive words, Artoria looked to Natasha, waiting for an explanation—curious how she'd respond.
"Miss Maya, you can eat whatever you like, but you can't say whatever you like."
Artoria studied Natasha's face for ages and saw not a flicker. Calmly, Natasha fired that retort back at Maya.
"Shameless woman."