Chapter 3845

The dance floor of upper society is always lively but not overly noisy. The well-dressed and noble-tempered men and women abide by the same set of rules: do not squeeze hard when the dance floor is crowded; and when the lively atmosphere stagnates somewhat due to the empty dance floor, they are very willing to offer themselves, becoming a spice in this fragrant hot red wine, showing their beauty with restraint and elegance.

But some people are naturally more eye-catching than others, such as Bruce Wei En. And if the person dancing with him in his arms now is Seeing Natasha Romanoff, the suspected former Soviet female spy exposed some time ago, and this female spy is a hundred times more beautiful than in the photos, it's like dropping a nuclear bomb in the ocean of human attention; no one can help but look sideways.

Seeing Natasha's red hair is like a dazzling flame, and when she spins, the residual traces of every movement are like spreading sparks, instantly igniting the entire dance floor. Before this, almost no one believed that a person could stand beside Bruce Wei En without being overshadowed, and Seeing Natasha, with her beauty as sharp as a knife, tore open the sky of Wei En's money and power.

The rhythm of the music gradually became soothing, which meant that the theme on the dance floor changed from dancing to socializing. Arkham Batman held Seeing Natasha, moved slowly to the edge of the dance floor, and said in her ear: "Just that song, at least 50 people were staring at you without blinking."

"How do you know they weren't staring at you?"

"Since I became President, those who covet my beauty have restrained themselves quite a bit, at least not daring to stare so long in the open. So they must be staring at you."

"Do you think there will be the mastermind's people among them?"

"Perhaps." Arkham Batman's voice became deeper, "I am sure some of them have ill intentions; they would be more willing to see you as the beginning of the decline of my government."

"Thanks to you, I'm afraid I can't be a spy in this universe anymore. But the position of 'President's lover' doesn't suit me that well either. You might not believe it, but I actually don't like obtaining intelligence through socializing at all."

"It doesn't matter, perhaps soon, they won't have time to worry about your identity. Alright, dear, I think you can go to the restroom to touch up your makeup."

The two left the dance floor. Seeing Natasha scanned everyone's faces in the banquet hall without a trace—there were too many people with ill intentions, so much so that it was impossible to judge which malice was the strongest. However, when she left Arkham Batman's arms, everyone's eyes were following her.

Seeing Natasha walked toward the nearest restroom. She walked deliberately slowly, just to give people a chance to follow. She saw several socialites dressed in luxury leaning toward her side, but the jewelry on their bodies indicated that they had encountered some economic crises, and the fawning meaning was too obvious—not the target person.

And some young girls. Of course, they looked much better: wearing custom-made dresses worth millions, the jewelry from head to toe could buy a building in Cat Getan, their expressions were arrogant, and there was undisguised disgust in their eyes. Clearly, at some point, they and their families had envisioned becoming the future First Lady.

Then there were men. Those covetous gazes couldn't shake Seeing Natasha, and some were pure appreciation. Seeing Natasha guessed that these people's orientation should be Bruce Wei En. There were also some with obvious vigilance, wishing they could write "Cold War victim" on their faces, as well as the curiosity of some younger children.

None of this information was of any use. Seeing Natasha pursed her lips, completely unlike other socialites who nodded and smiled at everyone. She just maintained a stern expression and walked all the way to the restroom.

She didn't stand in front of the vanity mirror to touch up her makeup immediately, but entered a stall in the restroom. But she just stood there, listening carefully to the movement outside the door. Good spy training allowed her to judge whether a person had been trained by the sound of footsteps.

Several girls walked over, discussing her affairs, their tone revealing undisguised disdain. They kept chattering, which interfered with Seeing Natasha's hearing. And when the girls left, she keenly realized that there was still someone in the restroom at this moment.

Because the other party didn't move, Seeing Natasha had no way to judge his body type, nor did she know if he had a weapon. Although she was sure that her surprise attack could knock down anyone in an instant, she also knew that she was here as bait today—missing today, the mastermind probably wouldn't appear again.

Seeing Natasha took a deep breath, pretended nothing had happened, and pressed the flush button. The moment she pushed the door and walked out, she only saw a cleaner organizing a toolbox.

The work clothes were washed white, there were traces of bleach on the fingertips, a tiny white mark left by foam on the side of the cheek, the body was thin and dry, the footsteps were floating—all of this was saying: he had no traces of training.

But Seeing Natasha also knew very well that due to the development of modern chemistry and medicine, the possibility of an untrained ordinary person knocking down a spy was not zero, just anesthetics, sedatives, or other drugs.

Seeing Natasha pretended to be completely unaware and stepped past the cleaner. Then, unsurprisingly, the other party took something out of the toolbox, and then covered her mouth and nose from behind.

Smelling the familiar scent, Seeing Natasha sighed in her heart. This dosage of anesthetic couldn't have any effect on her at all, and even for an ordinary person, it could only play a short-term dizzying role. It seems the other party hopes she can wake up as soon as possible after being drugged, and communicate with others with a clear mind—sure enough, it's a lunatic.

Seeing Natasha pretended to be unconscious and clearly felt herself being dragged. But the other party was very cunning, getting a cart for cleaners to put her in a box, and circling around the building several times, going up and down in the elevator, and finally stopping in a dimly lit room.

Seeing Natasha knew that she should be in a room on the top floor now. The other party clearly didn't think that she wouldn't be drugged, and that she could judge how many floors she had walked through the time the elevator rose. It seems that as Schiller said, the mastermind thinks she is just an ordinary spy, perhaps even the kind of vase who climbed up by beauty, and doesn't pay much attention to her, without such strong precautions.

Seeing Natasha felt that the other party should have spent most of her energy on guarding against Batman. After all, no matter how you think about it, the threat of a female spy couldn't be greater than Batman's.

As the box was opened, Seeing Natasha felt herself being tied to a chair, using ordinary handcuffs, the kind that could be completely broken free by the dislocation method. Of course, Seeing Natasha wouldn't use this method, because she could directly pull the handcuffs apart.

The lights in the room came on. Seeing Natasha knew it was time to open her eyes, and she was really too lazy to act anymore, so she didn't pretend to wake up from a coma, but opened her eyes directly.

Unfortunately, she couldn't see the mastermind directly. A black man stood in front of her, a bit surprised by the way she woke up.

"So you were already awake, Mrs. Romanoff." He said, "I'm sorry to invite you over in this way, ma'am, but we have some questions about the President we'd like to ask you."

Seeing Natasha didn't want to beat around the bush with him at all, she said: "I know you're not here for the President. Where is she?"

"What?"

"A woman with red hair." Seeing Natasha said, "Her appearance should be somewhat similar to mine, but she is further away from Batman than I am."

Seeing Natasha tried to use such words to stimulate the other party, but the black man remained unmoved. Seeing Natasha began to size up the surrounding environment: she was under a patio, and there must be someone upstairs. In order not to alert the enemy, she had to pretend to comply and began to beat around the bush with the black man.

After chatting for a while and failing to probe any useful information, Seeing Natasha simply broke free from the handcuffs, knocked down the black man with a jab, and smashed the chandelier with a Widow's Bite. The first floor fell into darkness, and Seeing Natasha turned and walked upstairs.

Her footsteps were very light, and she concentrated on listening to the movement upstairs. The moment one foot stepped onto the second floor, the lights on the second floor also suddenly went out.

The moment the sound of wind rose, Seeing Natasha stepped onto the second floor with a forward roll, dodged a punch from the other party, and then a sweep kick, which also failed to hit the other party.

The darkness amplified the senses. Seeing Natasha heard the sound of a firearm being loaded. With a muffled "bang," the bullet fired from the silenced pistol hit Seeing Natasha's calf, but the female spy didn't even pause, and kicked in the direction the bullet was fired from.

Finding that she had kicked something solid, Seeing Natasha didn't hesitate to elbow strike sideways, followed by a whip kick, which hit the other party's arm holding the gun. Sensing that the other party was a woman with a figure similar to hers, Seeing Natasha didn't dare to use the Widow's Bite rashly, fearing that an overdose of poison would kill the other party, so she could only kick the other party's abdomen again, kicking her to the ground.

After this kick, Seeing Natasha felt something was wrong—the other party's body fat percentage was a bit too low, and she tightened her abdominal muscles before being hit; this was a very obvious trace of training. Could that red-haired woman also be a spy?

Seeing Natasha pulled an assassination pistol from her calf, turned on the micro-flashlight on it, but illuminated a very strange face—a petite white woman, but she was neither red-haired, nor was her figure half similar to hers, and she looked very young, like a student at some police academy.

"Wonderful performance." A voice came from the first floor.

Seeing Natasha turned back and shone the flashlight over, but there was no shadow of the other party. She walked downstairs slowly, looking at the recorder that appeared on the empty ground. She knew she had been played.

The mastermind saw through her fishing plan and just found an unimportant intern to trade blows with her. But she didn't believe the other party would go through such a big detour just to play with her.

Sure enough, the next second, reporters broke in, and the flashlights were as bright as moonlight. The young woman she knocked down lay painfully on the ground, and soon someone recognized her—one of the President's security consultants, the young Tracy Tavol.

"She attacked me!" The other party shouted, "And Mark! She almost killed him! Because we discovered her trick of swapping the President's routine visit schedule, she destroyed the diplomatic relationship between the United States and the Amazon!"

Seeing Natasha lowered her eyes and thought: Very good, so this is where she was waiting for her. Want to see her and Wonder Woman kill each other?

"Cat Getan Daily, why did you do this? Mrs. Romanoff, are you a KGB spy?!"

"Cat Getan River Evening News, may I ask what your purpose is in approaching the President? How did you lure him? Can you answer our questions?"

"I am a reporter from the Daily Planet in Metropolis, do you admit to attacking the President's security personnel? Ma'am?"

Seeing Natasha had no time to listen to them. She remembered some abnormal psychology that Schiller had told her before, so she began to patrol the crowd with her eyes—until she saw a long red hair like fire.

"Stop! Don't run!!!"