A small fighter jet stood there.
Chen Mo followed Natasha with a box of documents in his arms, his eyes lighting up.
"Having a plane is great."
Natasha did not even turn around.
"You already said that."
"I can say it again."
"Save your strength. We might have to run in a minute."
"That 'in a minute' of yours sounds really ominous."
Chen Mo hugged the box a little tighter.
"Let me make this clear first. If I drop this box I'm holding, that counts as a major loss to United States political civilization."
"Then hold it steady."
"I think you could share the load."
"I'm holding a gun."
"You just said you weren't holding a gun."
"Now I am."
Chen Mo glanced at her empty hands.
Then he glanced at all those places on her body that looked completely incapable of concealing a gun but could definitely hold nine lethal weapons.
"All right, then."
There were no alarms in the hangar.
No red lights flashing wildly, either.
That left Chen Mo a little disappointed.
He had already braced himself to be surrounded by a crowd of agents, with Black Widow firing away as she said, "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Instead, nothing happened.
There was only a small fighter jet parked quietly there.
So quietly that it seemed someone had arranged everything beforehand.
Chen Mo thought for a moment.
"Just how long have you been preparing for this?"
Natasha opened the hatch.
"Not long."
"Is an agent's 'not long' very different from an ordinary person's?"
"Probably."
"When you people say 'not long,' it could mean three days, three months, three years, or since I was born."
"I was busy when you were born."
"What?"
For once, Chen Mo had run into a remark he had no comeback for.
He could not