As Hive examined The Monolith, Coulson looked at Mike with helplessness written all over his face. Though he could not speak, his eyes conveyed exactly what he was thinking.
Why did you come while Yo-Yo did not? Wouldn't a speedster be more useful against Hive?
That was roughly what he meant. It was a question from the depths of Coulson's soul.
But Mike's white eyes stared back at Coulson from his dark face with innocent, possibly feigned confusion.
She couldn't get out of bed. It's not like I used that much force. That's racial talent combined with exceptional gifts—how is that my fault?
That was Mike's answer, conveyed through his eyes. It made Coulson roll his eyes without question. He had no interest in his subordinate's private affairs, but from now on, he absolutely had to establish a new rule: even after combat missions were over, field agents were forbidden from sleeping together for several hours.
Having no combat strength at a critical moment was a complete disaster.
Forget that. You knew it was Hive, so why were you still letting your imagination run wild? You even shouted before firing? What if you leaked intelligence?
Coulson shot him another look, full of bitterness and helplessness. The team atmosphere was certainly warm, but its members constantly caused all kinds of problems. They were not professional at all.
Hive's Psionic Power was far weaker than that of specialists like Professor X or the White Queen, and could be countered with simple methods anyone could learn. But one careless moment was enough to fall victim to it.
And now, with Mike's intrusion, Hive had clearly noticed the three Monoliths. If those things fell into his hands, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Especially the third Monolith with the ring markings. No one yet knew