{Chapter: 275 Maria Hill}
William strolled leisurely through the wide corridors of the airborne aircraft carrier, his hands tucked behind his back. He couldn't help but admire the engineering marvel around him. The Helicarrier, an airborne fortress created by S.H.I.E.L.D., was an extraordinary feat of human ingenuity. Not only could it fly, but it could also cloak itself completely from sight, hiding in plain sight above the clouds. It was, without a doubt, a technological masterpiece.
As he turned a corner, a cold and precise voice broke through the quiet hum of machinery.
"Are you feeling alright?" the voice asked.
William glanced toward the source and grinned when he saw her. Standing a few paces away was a tall, striking woman with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes. Her expression was colder than the air outside the aircraft—like someone who had just been informed she was owed three million dollars and had no hope of getting it back.
William smirked in his usual devil-may-care manner. "Why, hello there, Chief Hill."
Maria Hill, a Level 9 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and the commanding officer of the Helicarrier, was as imposing as she was beautiful. Born and raised in Chicago, her life had been shaped by tragedy. On the very day she was born, a brutal winter storm had struck the city, plunging temperatures below minus 44 degrees Celsius. Her mother had died of exposure shortly after giving birth in a freezing hospital, and her father, broken by grief, never forgave her for surviving. That icy upbringing had etched itself into her character—stern, unyielding, and cold as steel.
'Such women,' William thought to himself, 'Usually, cold and strong beauties are very efficient in doing things. Maria Hill is such a beautiful woman.'
Hill narrowed her eyes slightly. William's smirk clearly irritated her. "Everyone on this aircraft is focused and working. And yet, you seem to be the only one wandering around looking like you're on vacation."
William put on a mock-hurt expression. "Ma'am, believe me, I want to contribute. But everyone's so eager, rushing to complete every task. I'm left with nothing to do. I'm heartbroken that I haven't had the chance to prove my worth."
Hill raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That's just an excuse. If you truly wanted to be useful, you'd be more proactive than the rest."
William tilted his head slightly, eyeing her with curiosity. Is she picking a fight? he thought. She had that particular look in her eyes—stern, calculating, the kind of gaze that dared him to challenge her authority. To William, that only made her more attractive.
"You've got quite the attitude," Hill said, catching his gaze. "Is that how you look at your superior officer? What's your name?"
He gave a mischievous smile. "Tom, ma'am."
"Tom, huh? Alright then. Since you're doing so well, how about two thousand push-ups—right here, right now. Remember: sweat more during peace, bleed less during war."
William looked genuinely touched, clutching his chest in mock emotion. "Commander, I… I didn't expect you to care so much. You're the first person to worry about my physical health. No one's ever shown this kind of concern for me. Not since I was a kid."
Hill blinked. That was not the reaction she had expected.
Before she could say anything, William lunged forward and gave her an exaggerated hug. "Commander Hill…" he whispered dramatically, tears streaming from his eyes—though in truth, the tears were fabricated using his water-manipulating abilities. William cry on command? Not likely.
Hill froze in place, her body stiff as a board. After a moment, she shoved him back with a disgusted glare. "Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry, truly sorry, Commander," William said quickly, wiping away his conjured tears with a sleeve. "It's just… I never knew my parents. I grew up on the streets, raised by the code of survival. No one's ever looked out for me before. I got a little… emotional."
What an absurdly low threshold for being touched, Hill thought, though something in his voice resonated. While he was clearly exaggerating, she sensed a thread of truth in his words. Growing up as an unwanted child herself, she understood more than she liked to admit.
She studied him for a few moments before speaking, her voice slightly softer. "Is that so?"
William didn't answer. He simply lowered himself to the floor, preparing to begin his push-ups.
But Hill raised a hand. "No need for theatrics. Get up. I have something more useful for you to do. Come with me to the command room."
William raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised. Then, with a grin, he stood and followed her without complaint.
"Command room? That kind of high-end place isn't meant for someone like me," William muttered, feigning terror as he paused in the hallway.
Hill didn't even look back. "Come if I tell you to."
She walked ahead with her usual commanding stride, not bothering to check if he followed. William trailed a few steps behind, his gaze inevitably drawn to her figure. The snug uniform clung to her form, highlighting every curve, every deliberate sway of her hips.
Her long legs moved with smooth, confident grace, each step a display of poise and power wrapped in tight fabric. A smirk played at his lips—wicked thoughts stirring as he watched her, silently admiring the dangerous allure behind that controlled stride.
Hill didn't miss a beat. "Where are your eyes looking?"
William straightened up immediately, wiping away the grin and putting on an earnest face. "Sorry, Ma'am. You have such an amazing figure, I couldn't help but take a few extra glances."
Hill didn't even turn around. Her tone remained cold and composed. "Watch yourself. Control those eyes."
"Yes, Ma'am." He gave a mock salute behind her back.
They entered the command room a few moments later. The space was filled with glowing panels, flashing lights, and agents moving quickly between terminals. The room buzzed with a sense of urgency and importance. William's eyes scanned the faces inside—Natasha Romanoff now in her tight leather, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, and at the center of it all, Director Nick Fury himself. All of them stood around a central display, deep in discussion.
William kept his expression neutral, Except for Fury, the others were all old acquaintances—but none of them knew who he really was.
Hill walked over to one of the consoles and gestured toward the screens. "Can you understand what's being shown here?"
William shrugged modestly. "I understand a little bit, Ma'am."
"Would you be interested in working in this room?"
William blinked, pretending to be surprised. "Work here? I wouldn't want to disappoint you. I'm not sure I'm qualified enough."
"I'm not asking for your doubts. Just answer me—yes or no."
William stood straight and shouted, "Yes, Ma'am!"
His voice rang through the command room. Heads turned. Steve gave him a brief glance, Banner raised a brow, and Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly. Fury looked up from his display with a curious look.
"Hill, what are you doing with this one?" Fury asked, clearly skeptical.
"Mobilizing hidden potential," she answered flatly, her poker face unshaken.
Fury considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Carry on."
As the attention shifted back to work, Natasha approached William, stepping close enough that her sharp eyes could examine him carefully. "Agent, have we met before?"
William kept his face serious, but inside he was howling with laughter. 'Of course we've met. I spanked your pretty soft ass till it turned red. But that's not something I can say here.'
"Ma'am, I've seen you around, but I doubt you've ever noticed someone like me."
Natasha studied his eyes. Something about them stirred a faint memory. "Really? Strange. I feel like I've seen those eyes somewhere before."
"It would be an honor if you had." He smiled politely.
Before the conversation could go any deeper, Hill interjected. "Agent Romanoff, don't you have something to work on?"
"Right," Natasha replied, offering William one last curious glance before walking off to a nearby console. She pulled up a database and began entering a few quick commands. "Soldier, your name?"
"Tom."
Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Within moments, a profile popped up on the screen—full government records, training background, family history, clean track record. Everything seemed to check out.
Natasha frowned. "Must've been my imagination."
Hill stood beside William again, arms crossed. "Understanding something mentally isn't enough. You need to show it through your actions. Can you do that?"
"I won't let you down, Ma'am," William said, now wearing a face of utter sincerity.
"Good. Then go observe. Watch how the staff work. Learn something—if you can."
William nodded and moved to one of the other computers. A staff technician was entering a complex sequence of commands, tracing encrypted signals and managing surveillance feeds. William stood silently for a few minutes, absorbing everything with a calm focus. To him, it was child's play—he could replicate the task after a single glance.
Ten minutes passed.
Hill turned toward him. "How much have you picked up?"
William answered confidently, "Ma'am, I've learned everything I need."
Hill gave him a long, piercing look. "If I find out you're lying, you'll be dismissed from this aircraft carrier on the spot."
"I understand. I won't let you down."
"Show me, then. Sit down and operate the system."
William sat at the terminal, cracked his fingers, and began typing rapidly. His hands danced across the keys like a pianist in full command of the melody. The display responded immediately, screens shifting and updating as he navigated the system.
Ten seconds later, he looked up. "Ma'am, I've located the target."
The command room fell quiet for a brief moment, eyes turning toward the terminal.
Hill raised one brow, just slightly. For the first time, there was a flicker of intrigue in her expression.
*****
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