A One Percent Chance

For Leon,

once he knew the cause and worked backward to find a solution, it was a very simple matter as long as the basic conditions allowed it.

Since he had confirmed that Natasha had indeed been subjected to mind control, and that the means of control was some kind of chemical substance,

the remaining task of reverse-engineering an inhibitor formula became effortless.

Leon used his supercomputer-like brain to rapidly simulate various possibilities, then handed them over to JARVIS for real-world simulation.

In just twenty minutes, he had produced a vial of bright red counteractive reagent.

"An eighty-seven percent success rate, right?" Leon drew a syringe full of the medicine.

"Yes. According to the simulations, there is a twelve percent chance that the medicine will fail to take effect, and a one percent chance of a drug conflict causing the subject's brain death," JARVIS said.

"But this is already the limit of what current medical technology can achieve." Leon shrugged.

Looking at Natasha, he said, "If conditions allowed, we should actually conduct a randomized double-blind Phase III clinical trial. That would be the proper drug development process."

"But judging by this patient's condition, I'm afraid she doesn't have time to wait for us to find volunteers for testing."

On the workbench, Natasha had already regained consciousness. She was desperately tearing at the ropes around her, trying to resist.

Leon stood beside her, utterly unmoved as he pushed the syringe. A thin stream of liquid emerged from the sharp needle.

"Stop struggling. It's injection time soon, so be careful not to snap the needle."

"Besides, you tied me up once first. Now I'm tying you up once. That makes us even."

"I'm sure Miss Natasha can understand that, right?"

He met Natasha's bloodshot, reddened eyes as she struggled, ignoring the fact that her mouth had been sealed with tape.

"Very good. Our patient has given her silent consent. She has chosen to accept treatment."

"But please prepare yourself mentally as well." He flicked the syringe, clearing the air bubbles inside.

"I'm a self-taught doctor, after all. The medicine might cause brain death, but as long as it works, what's there to worry about? If anything really goes wrong, we'll just call it survivorship bias."

In his previous life, Leon had actually been a man of few words.

It was only because Tony Stark had influenced him for more than a decade in this life.

Most of the time, he was still the same serious young man, but at certain crucial moments, he would occasionally become just as full of crap as Tony.

"The inhibitor has to be injected into your arm. Would you rather take off your clothes or have me tear off your sleeve?"

"I understand. Tear off the sleeve of your combat suit, right?"

Leon tore away Natasha's sleeve, using his superior strength to keep the patient from moving as he swabbed alcohol over her pale upper arm.

"Very good, Natasha. Now we've reached the final step. You have one second to consider whether you want to abandon treatment."

"One! All right, time's up. You've agreed to continue! Excellent!"

"However, time is tight, so there's no need to find someone to sign as family. If an accident happens, we'll cremate you directly and ship your ashes back to the Red Room."

Natasha's eyes widened at once, and muffled sounds spilled from her mouth as she tried to say something.

"Hm? What are you saying? No anesthetic needed? Don't worry, we haven't prepared any anesthetic either."

"I'm starting the injection!" Leon casually jabbed the needle into Natasha's alcohol-swabbed arm.

The bright red medicine was quickly injected into the "patient's" body.

"OK! Finished. See, that didn't hurt at all, right? Our treatment course is unbelievably short!"

"Now we need to press down on the injection site to prevent bruising, but you don't seem to be in a position to do that, so I'll handle it for now."

Leon withdrew the empty syringe and pressed a cotton swab against Natasha's arm.

However, after setting the syringe back onto the tray held by U's mechanical arm,

he stopped talking.

Instead, he watched Natasha with a slightly grave expression.

Leon's thoughts at that moment were nothing like the flowery nonsense he had been saying aloud.

He was only thinking,

as one of the world's main characters, Natasha probably could not possibly hit that one percent chance.

Besides, the counteractive medicine was already the best he could manage at present.

Even if he gathered the world's top doctors, they could at most reduce the medicine's fatality rate by a few tenths of a percent. It would not improve much.

When the researchers synthesized the chemicals inside Natasha's body, they had most likely never intended to formulate an antidote.

What they wanted to create was an unsolvable control drug.

Compared to the controlled subject's life, they cared even more that the medicine could not be cracked.

Those chemicals were hidden in the cytoplasm of Natasha's brain cells. Clearing them out meant the brain cells would die.

That also meant brain damage, and that the controlled subject would face the risk of death.

So the fact that Leon had created an inhibitor at all was already a miracle.

As for the remaining one percent fatality rate, it was completely insignificant.

"Looks like the inhibitor has taken effect."

Leon removed his gloves, ran his hands through disinfectant, then took the disinfecting wipes U handed over and cleaned his hands dry.

Looking at Natasha's rapidly calming expression, he silently prayed for her for one second.

"JARVIS, if she really hits that one percent chance of brain death, should that be considered lucky or unlucky?"

While waiting for the result, Leon suddenly had a thought.

"From a probabilistic perspective, hitting a one percent chance should be considered very lucky," JARVIS answered seriously. "But from the perspective of the outcome, if it leads to death through the least likely possibility, that is extremely unfortunate."

"Your view really is objective."

Leon complained, "But humans do not think like you. When disaster happens to oneself, no matter how small the chance was, it becomes a one hundred percent nightmare. That is absolute misfortune."

"So this is how humans think." JARVIS recorded it. "I will try to think this way in the future, Master Leon."

"That won't be necessary. Mechanical thinking is actually your strength. Plenty of young women like that type these days... Oh, Natasha's awake!"

Leon saw Natasha's silk-like eyelashes tremble slightly and immediately walked to the workbench, leaning in to observe.

Very soon, Natasha opened her eyes. Her amber pupils were filled with confusion, and her expression was unfocused.

But Leon smiled instead. "That vacant look like an idiot's—that's it! Miss Natasha, congratulations. The operation was a success!"

Her confused expression meant Natasha's brain had already escaped the chemicals' control.

All her scattered consciousness was gradually beginning to consolidate once more.

However, it seemed that the process of consolidation would still take some time.

As Leon observed Natasha's changes, he casually tore away the ropes around her body and the tape over her mouth.

!!

Unlike Leon's delight,

the moment Natasha opened her eyes, she saw a face extremely close to hers, looking her over from side to side.

Her pupils instantly contracted, and her body moved on reflex.

Freed from her restraints, her limbs were perfectly unbound.

She wrapped her legs around Leon's solid waist with a flexible technique, then pushed with both arms. Using Leon as an axis, her whole body spun behind him, and she locked in a rear naked choke!

This was bodily memory born from more than a decade of agent training and combat experience.

After completing the rear naked choke, she immediately exerted force again on reflex.

However, Ben Leon, who should have been suffocating, showed no reaction at all. Her arms felt as though they were clamped around a diamond!

Natasha froze for a moment. Then fragmented memories surged into her mind.

Her expression turned blank for a time, and her eyes lost focus.

It was not until Leon reached out, lifted Natasha up, and set her on the workbench that she came back to herself.

"You... you were the one who saved me." Natasha looked at Leon, her expression gradually becoming complicated.

Her hands rested helplessly at her sides as she slowly lowered her head. "What have I done...?"

Ben had thought she would be controlled by the Red Room for the rest of her life, yet through a twist of fate, she had found salvation at the hands of her mission target.

Now that her consciousness had returned, countless memories flooded into her mind. She felt a complicated mix of emotions—remorse, hatred, but above all, anxiety.

"It looks like you've recovered well," Leon said.

Natasha snapped back to attention.

Sitting on the workbench, she suddenly seemed at a loss. "Thank you, thank you so much. No, I'm sorry. What I did just now was... not intentional. It was instinct. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Are you hurt?"