MARVEL: THOSE YEARS I WAS UNDERCOVER IN S.H.I.E.LD

"Hand over the communication equipment? Why?"

Although he knew that Selena was acting under the authority of Grimclaw, the newly appointed chief of the S.H.I.E.L.D. New York branch, the captain of the First Strike Team frowned and questioned, "We've never been required to surrender our phones during operations before!"

"This is a direct order from the commander. If you have any objections, you can take them up with him afterward—or report directly to Triskelion headquarters," Selena responded, her tone brooking no argument.

"But for now, Lake, collect all team members' phones and hand them over to me."

Hearing the undeniable authority in her voice, the team captain had no choice but to nod. "Alright, since it's the commander's order, we won't refuse."

"I'll gather the phones now."

With that, Lake turned away and moved toward the rest of the team.

However, while Selena's attention was elsewhere, he discreetly pulled out his phone and sent a message composed of scrambled characters before proceeding with the collection.

More than ten minutes later, in Grimclaw's office…

"Sir, per your orders, all communication devices from those involved in the operation have been confiscated."

Selena, holding a box filled with dozens of phones, smiled at Grimclaw. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"No, you can rest now," Grimclaw replied, gesturing for her to leave as he continued reviewing documents.

After Selena exited, Grimclaw got up, grabbed a pre-prepared data cable, and began connecting the confiscated phones to his system via a specialized interface.

Coming out of Eagle's Nest without advanced hacking skills? Unthinkable.

Although many of the phones were encrypted, it was child's play for Grimclaw to crack them.

Before long, valuable intel appeared on his computer screen.

Half an hour later, near Hell's Kitchen – at a Hand stronghold…

"Our orders for this operation are to coordinate with the Hand."

"Go!"

"Fire!"

Three heavily armed operatives from the S.H.I.E.L.D. branch's strike team swiftly dispersed, engaging the Hand's forces in a direct assault.

The night sky erupted into chaos as gunfire and explosions lit up the darkness.

"Damn! They were ready for us! Use grenades!" Lake shouted upon realizing the enemy's swift counterattack.

BOOM!

A grenade hurtled toward the Hand's factory, detonating with a deafening roar. Flames erupted, consuming the structure in a massive explosion.

On a nearby rooftop...

"You said the First Strike Team was made up of elites. So why the hell can't they even execute a proper ambush?"

Clint Barton, peering through a pair of binoculars, observed the chaos unfolding below. Gunfire blazed, accompanied by relentless explosions.

Turning his head, he addressed Natasha Romanoff.

"This is all part of Grimclaw's plan," Natasha said, watching the devastation unfold. Debris scattered through the air as walls crumbled. A smirk played on her lips.

"The orders he gave the strike team were simple—wipe out every last Hand stronghold, no matter what weapons or tactics it takes."

"No restrictions. No limits."

"Don't you think this is exactly the kind of spectacle Grimclaw wanted?"

The sky was painted in fire and smoke, the battlefield a roaring inferno of bullets and blood.

Natasha turned to Barton. "Just sit back and enjoy the show. It's not every day you see a war like this in New York."

Back on the battlefield...

"What the hell is Grimclaw playing at?"

Barton gritted his teeth as he watched the Hand's forces suffer massive casualties. But despite being overwhelmed, the Hand's soldiers fought back ferociously, unleashing a barrage of rockets at the S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team.

BOOM!

A massive explosion erupted, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The sheer force hurled several operatives backward, their bodies crashing onto the pavement.

"We're taking casualties!"

Seeing his comrades falling, Barton instinctively reached for his bow, locking onto a Hand soldier wielding a rocket launcher.

But before he could fire, a hand pressed down on his arm, stopping him.

"Our mission is to observe," Natasha said firmly.

The night wind tossed her long, crimson hair, but her expression was cold and unwavering.

"We're not here to intervene."

"You expect me to just stand by and watch them die?" Barton growled, his grip tightening on his bow. This didn't feel like a S.H.I.E.L.D. operation—it felt like they were throwing the strike team to the wolves.

"I don't know Grimclaw's exact play here, but he's no fool," Natasha said, her voice low.

Hearing the tension in Barton's voice, she hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"But regardless of what's happening down there, I trust him. What about you?"

"Of course, I trust him," Barton said without hesitation.

"The three of us have been through hell together. I know exactly what kind of man Grimclaw is."

"But—"

He gestured toward the raging battle below, wanting to argue further.

Natasha cut him off.

"If you trust him, then just watch."

"Our job tonight is to observe."

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable.

As for the second message Grimclaw had sent her—a directive from Eagle's Nest, relayed through Triskelion—she wasn't going to share that with Barton.

Because deep down, she knew—Clint Barton was just too damn righteous.

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