I am Maria Hill.
Former Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.., and former Tactical Coordinator for the Avengers.
Currently, I am the secretary-general to Emma Frost Frost, the lord of Frost City.
When Stark Industries ' termination notice and Thor from another universe appeared before me at the same time, I initially thought it was some kind of cruel joke.
But when Stark showed me my "future"—a video of Nick Fury watching me die without reacting—...
I know Nick best. He's cold and suspicious, but he's definitely not the kind of person who would sacrifice the greater good for petty romances.
But the man in the video felt completely unfamiliar to me.
My death was as insignificant to him as a promise from a Struth.
I considered confronting him directly, but ultimately gave up.
In that moment, I realized for the first time that I didn't know Nick Fury at all.
Betrayal should be commonplace for secret agents, but this time, it took me a long time to recover.
So I followed Thor here.
Frost City.
I've been working here for over two months now.
Everything in this city is madly overturning my understanding.
Cyberpunk coexists with prehistoric dinosaurs, and you can see all sorts of hero and villain variants on the streets.
The most outrageous thing is that Steve Rogers is actually Hydra Captain here who keeps saying " Hail Hydra " and is now the head of the patrol team.
I saw him get very close to the Red Skull's daughter, a woman named Cynthia Schmidt.
Red Skull's daughter wasn't a skeleton at all; instead, she had a remarkably beautiful face.
I tried to understand all of this logically, but I quickly gave up.
Here, logic is the most useless thing.
My new boss, Emma Frost Frost, is a complete workaholic.
The task list she threw at me was so long it could stretch from Asgard to the ground.
City management, departmental mediation, resource allocation... my sleep time has been forcibly compressed from five hours to three.
What troubles me most is that the residents of Frost City are "warlike" to the core.
I never imagined that being an office secretary and coordinating work with the heads of various departments would require me to first use my fists to calm them down.
Fortunately, most of the troublemakers were just ordinary people, not even enough to warm me up.
But those guys in red bodysuits who call themselves " Deadpool " are especially annoying.
They seem to enjoy giving me more work.
I still can't understand why these people, who love fighting so much, don't go to the ring to earn money.
That's the place that's tailor-made for them.
Meanwhile, those truly powerful beings— Magneto, Chibi Hulk, Female Thor —are well-behaved and never cause trouble.
Later, when I overheard Emma Frost and Betsy talking, I realized that it wasn't that they didn't want to, but that they didn't dare.
The Thor who brought me here is more powerful than I ever imagined.
Opening cosmic portals at will, resurrecting the Deadman, reversing time... these are just a small part of Thor's many abilities, according to them.
I was initially skeptical, until that day when Abomination suddenly went mad in the city and Magneto, who rushed over, disintegrated it directly from the atomic level into elementary particles right in front of me.
It was at that moment that I truly realized that even a powerful figure like Magneto was merely Thor's subordinate, so what Emma Frost and the others said was probably all true.
But that's none of my business.
I just need to do my job well and get my salary.
"Beep beep beep!"
The digital clock ticked to 3:00. I turned off the terminal, rubbed my throbbing temples, and dragged my tired body out of the office.
The city was still brightly lit, and the clamor of noise came through the alloy glass, sounding somewhat unreal.
I walked toward the familiar hot dog stand on the street corner. The owner was a middle-aged man wearing a red and blue tight-fitting shirt. He had become overweight, and his mask was only pulled up to his nose, revealing a stubble-covered chin.
The sign that read " Peter's Hot Dog, Number One in the Universe!" flashed under the neon lights.
"Good evening, Hill! How's your day?" He greeted me warmly when he saw me, but his hands didn't stop working.
"Everything as usual," I replied casually.
He seemed quite used to my coldness, and continued, "To be honest, I really miss my universe. It's a pity it was destroyed by the Time Variance Authority. You in my universe weren't talkative either; I didn't expect you to be the same."
I didn't reply, I just watched quietly as he placed the sausages on the grill and listened to his rambling.
"... That chibi Hulk showed up again today, and I paid him an extra forty-five Frost. What a good kid... Oh, by the way, did you hear? Juggernaut got punched and sent flying in the ring yesterday. Apparently, he flew out of the atmosphere and they still haven't found him..."
As he gossiped, he skillfully flipped the sausages, the grease dripping onto the grill and sizzling.
Suddenly, he changed the subject and asked me without warning, "Have you thought about what you're going to do in the future?"
I was taken aback; this question came so suddenly, I had never thought of it before.
At S.H.I.E.L.D.., my future was to assist Fury in maintaining world peace, but now...
I shook my head, giving the safest and most honest answer, "Strive to become better."
Peter stopped moving.
He stared blankly at me, the tongs still hanging in mid-air, oblivious to the smell of the hot dogs starting to burn on the grill.
After a long while, he suddenly came to his senses, frantically salvaging the hot dog that was almost charred, then looked at me with a complicated expression and said, "Once... someone asked me this question too, and your answer is exactly what I answered."
" Hill," he said, putting the slightly burnt hot dog in a bun, squeezing on some sauce, and handing it to me, "I don't know why you're here, or how you became Secretary General. But as someone... someone who's been there, I can give you a little piece of advice."
He paused, then said, word by word, "Do what you want, that's all."
I took the warm hot dog, and my fingertips could feel the crispness of the bread edges from being overcooked.
I nodded, said nothing, and turned to leave.
Behind him, he could be heard warmly greeting the next customer.
Yes, Frost City only recruits "refugees" like him and me, people abandoned by their original world.
Everyone's situation is actually quite similar.
Back in my small apartment, the room wasn't big, but it was clean enough.
Just as I was about to take my first bite of the hot dog, the communicator on my wrist suddenly vibrated.
It was a message from Emma Frost, as brief as ever, with a commanding tone.
Tomorrow is a day off, and we'll go back to work as usual the day after tomorrow.
I looked at the message, then at the hot dog in my hand, and for a moment I was at a loss.
One day off...
So what should I do?