Chapter 151 Digging a Trap

Outside New York, at the former site of the Karl family estate, in the second-floor conference hall.

"Welcome, Head of the Family!"

Seeing the brilliant portal suddenly manifest within the room, two well-trained young maidservants stepped forward swiftly. Their faces radiated respect and joy as they bowed and stood on either side of the gateway to welcome him, awaiting further instructions.

As if hearing the commotion, a bald black man who had been waiting on the conference sofa for a long time stood up. His left eye was covered by a black eyepatch, and the gaze from his only remaining right eye swept over with a sharp edge.

"Go and get that bottle of red wine Howard stored here."

Emerging from the portal, Kyle dismissed the maids. Lifting his gaze to meet his familiar old friend, a rare, warm, and sunny smile broke across his handsome face. "Fury, it's been a few months."

"Indeed." Fury shook his head with a sigh, dropping the stern expression he typically wore as director. He offered a similarly bitter smile. "And all thanks to you. Being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is no easy task—it's bitter, exhausting, and troublesome."

With that, Fury walked up to Kyle, placed both hands on his shoulders, and said with sorrow and frustration, "Kyle, Howard already told me on the phone about your physical condition. I'm sorry. You have all the resources I have, and you even have resources I don't. Now, you're the one who handed me the position of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, and I honestly don't know how I can possibly help you."

"Don't blame yourself. Let alone you, no one on the entire planet can help me," Kyle shrugged and said, "Only I can save myself."

"Are you leaving soon?" Fury asked, his naturally dark complexion growing even gloomier.

Kyle did not hide it from him, answering directly, "Including today, there are three days left. On the night of the third day, I will try using certain methods to leave Earth."

"Three days, is that so..." Fury seemed preoccupied and did not continue.

"Let's drop this topic. I brought someone with me." Kyle stepped aside with a gesture. Behind him, Natasha with her alluring red hair stepped out from the still-swirling, spark-ringed portal, leaving damp footprints on the floor.

"I know. Natasha Romanoff, elite operative of the Soviet Red Room."

Wearing a smile he believed to be friendly, Fury walked toward Natasha, extended a hand in greeting, and said, "The last time I saw you was during World War II, on a battleship. You were severely injured by Kyle, and the arrangements to treat and place you in the interrogation room were all handled by my men."

"My name is Natasha Karl now," Natasha retorted ungratefully, casting a cold glance at Fury.

She was not particularly fond of Fury. Who brings up someone else's dark past the very first time they meet?

"You two should get acquainted. From now on within S.H.I.E.L.D., you'll be partners bound together."

At Kyle's words, Natasha nodded in reluctant compliance. Fury, looking quite pleased, said with satisfaction, "Splendid. Having a super-agent I can fully trust and rely on for mutual support will make handling affairs within S.H.I.E.L.D. much more reassuring."

Once the three of them were comfortably seated on the conference sofa, the maidservants presented the red wine, filled their respective glasses, and withdrew.

Kyle gracefully raised his goblet, swirling the mellow red vintage within, and asked, "What is it? Have you not been feeling at ease as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. during this time?"

Fury did not answer immediately. He took a sullen sip of the red wine and said solemnly, "Kyle, you were right. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not that simple. While our stated purpose and core mission is to eradicate and uproot the Hydra organization, many of the managers and personnel within were elites pulled from various American government and military agencies. The relationships among these departments have been extremely intricate ever since their inception."

"You suspect there are Hydra spies inside?" Kyle asked calmly.

"It's not a suspicion; it's a certainty. And I've recently discovered one—my newly appointed secretary, the staff member I interact with the most every day."

At this, Fury sighed in vexation and apologized to Kyle, "It was my carelessness. Despite having dealt with Hydra so many times, I still underestimated their ability to infiltrate and subvert."

Kyle was not surprised by this. In the original history, S.H.I.E.L.D. was practically half a den of thieves for Hydra anyway; the current situation was already considered quite mild.

He pondered for a moment and asked, "Have you eliminated that spy yet?"

"Not yet. After seeing you, I want to use that little mouse to flush out more dormant operatives," Fury said coldly, his single eye sharp and majestic like an eagle's, already bearing the budding aura of a future S.H.I.E.L.D. director.

"Doesn't that make things simple?" Kyle chuckled instead, turning it over in his mind. "When you go back, carelessly leak to that little mouse the information that my body is suffering from severe radiation sickness, causing organ failure, and that I'm living in seclusion at this estate for recovery. Also mention that in two days, I will be moving away from here to live on an undisclosed island."

"You want to lure them here?" Fury caught on to Kyle's intention instantly.

Kyle nodded and said, "Hydra is an organization where if you cut off one head, another grows in its place. On the eve of my departure from Earth, if they dare to come, not a single one of them will be leaving."

Natasha raised a hand and chimed in, "This trap... wouldn't it be a bit too obvious? The people from Hydra shouldn't be foolish enough to fall for it."

"Whether they come or not doesn't matter; it's merely an attempt." Kyle crossed his legs, leaning back comfortably against the sofa, his bright blue eyes flashing with astute and wise brilliance. "Besides, half of the information Fury will leak to them is true. Backed by semi-true, crucial intelligence, plus the alluring prospect of assassinating me—the very symbol of peace—I believe some fools will still deliver themselves to our doorstep."

"Not just remnants of the Hydra organization. They might even persuade other factions to come along and give me a grand surprise." The corners of Kyle's mouth turned upward. Setting a trap with himself as bait actually filled him with a faint sense of anticipation.

He truly looked forward to more enemies arriving, offering their lives as a farewell gift.

Natasha nodded in deep agreement. "Indeed. If they knew your health was failing, even with only a tenth of the credibility, the Red Room would definitely send quite a few operatives to try their luck."

"Not just the Soviet Red Room, but Nazi remnants, Japanese samurai, and ninjas... Speaking of which, your hatred value in their hearts has broken through the upper limit." Fury let out a dry chuckle.

"On the eve of my departure, they are welcome to gather here at the estate," Kyle said lightly, practically wishing he could send them invitations directly.

Anyone who is unconvinced? Don't hold it in! Let's not drag the grievances of this era into the future—let's resolve them all thoroughly and directly right now!

"Oh, right, there's one more matter. I'm not sure if I should tell you."

Fury wore a hesitant expression. Under Kyle's inquiring gaze, he wavered and said, "Peggy Carter, do you remember her?"

Carter?

The name seemed to awaken memories deep within Kyle.

Of course he hadn't forgotten. The very first rare green card of his life's turning point had been drawn from her.

She was a comrade-in-arms, an old friend, and Steve's entrusted one.