In the entire room, only the sound of Fujitora steadily and intently slurping his noodles remained.
That aroma, that sound, formed a kind of primal and pure temptation.
Happy Hogan felt his Adam's apple bob uncontrollably.
He swallowed hard, and his stomach let out a soft "growl."
He clearly wasn't hungry.
But now, he felt like he could eat a cow.
Orihime Inoue was even less able to resist this temptation.
She watched Fujitora longingly, bite after bite, his puffed-out cheeks looking as if he were performing some sacred ritual.
She finally couldn't hold back anymore, slid off her chair, trotted over to Fujitora, tilted her little face up, and asked in a near-coquettish tone:
"Um—Uncle Fujitora, these noodles—look so delicious. C-can I have a bowl to taste?"
Happy Hogan's cheek twitched.
"Lady! We are currently being interrogated! Although the atmosphere is a bit strange, could you at least have some awareness of being a hostage!"
However, before he could even complain, his own stomach growled even louder.
Happy's face flushed red, and he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
He immediately added, trying to salvage some dignity: "Ahem, um, I'll have a bowl too! After all, we shouldn't waste S.H.I.E.L.D.'s kind hospitality, right?"
Fujitora set down the empty bowl in his hand; not even a drop of soup remained.
He picked up a second bowl, his movements still unhurried.
"Help yourself," he said calmly, as if he were hosting guests in his own home.
"There's plenty more on the table."
As soon as he finished speaking, Orihime Inoue let out a cheer, hopping back to the table like a Happy little rabbit, and carefully picked up a bowl of Udon noodles.
"Let's eat!"
She put her hands together, said it reverently, and then, mimicking Fujitora, held the bowl and began to slurp small mouthfuls.
Soon, her beautiful orange eyes narrowed into Happy crescents.
Happy Hogan hesitated for 0.5 seconds, but ultimately lost to his appetite.
He walked up, picked up a bowl of noodles, sat back in the corner, and started slurping along.
And so, in the deepest interrogation room of S.H.I.E.L.D., a scene appeared that could be called a spectacle in the history of espionage—
A cold metal round table was being used as a dining table.
Two "anomalous individuals" of unknown origin and one "hostage" from Stark Industries were enjoying a hearty late-night snack of Udon noodles as if no one else were around.
The sound of slurping noodles, one after another, formed the only background music in the room.
Nick Fury sat expressionless, his one eye reflecting the absurd scene of this gluttonous feast before him.
Coulson stood behind him, struggling to maintain his professional demeanor as an elite Agent, but the slight twitching of his mouth betrayed his inner turmoil.
He felt like he wasn't witnessing a meeting concerning World security, but rather recording a food show called "A Taste of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Mmm... so delicious!" Orihime Inoue finished the last drop of soup, patted her little tummy in satisfaction, her face glowing with happiness.
She turned her head, looked at the statue-like Fury and Coulson, and blinked her innocent, large eyes.
"Mr. Fury, Mr. Coulson, aren't you eating?"
The girl held up her empty bowl and asked in a sincere tone that suggested, "How could you not taste something this delicious?"
"It's super—delicious! Eating it makes you feel better!"
Nick Fury's one eye locked gazes with the girl's clear, pure eyes, which held not a trace of impurity.
After a long while, the muscles on his face, which was always covered in clouds, seemed to twitch.
He shook his head, his voice sounding a bit dry.
"We... are not hungry."
Coulson also smiled and shook his head, expressing his thanks.
He felt that if he were to sit down and eat a bowl of noodles right now, the worldview he had built over his twenty-year career might collapse on the spot.
This scene was too bizarre.
And too... harmonious.
It was as if they weren't opposing factions testing each other, but just a group of strangers sharing a table at a late-night diner.
The room was filled with a warm atmosphere mixed with the scent of bonito broth and happiness.
The sound of slurping noodles finally ceased.
Eight large bowls were wiped clean, with every last drop of soup consumed with reverence by Orihime Inoue and Happy Hogan, and then neatly stacked on the food cart.
Happy leaned back in his chair, feeling as though he had just experienced a bizarre dream.
He touched his still-warm stomach, then looked at the orange-haired girl beside him, who was full, satisfied, and practically bubbling with happiness.
He felt like this World was too crazy.
Orihime Inoue let out a small burp, her cheeks flushed like ripe apples.
She looked at Fury, then at Coulson, and very earnestly delivered her post-meal review.
"Mr. Fury, your S.H.I.E.L.D. chef's cooking skills are truly amazing!"
"This bowl of Udon noodles reminds me of the owner of the Udon shop on the shopping street back home; his noodles were just as warm."
Just as this bizarre yet harmonious atmosphere began to spread through the room, a harsh, electronic ringtone that felt completely out of place suddenly echoed throughout the room.
—Ring-ring-ring! The rock intro of AC/DC!
It was Happy's phone.
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on Happy.
Happy jumped, and hurriedly scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket.
The name flashing on the screen made his head spin instantly.
[Tony Stark]
It's over.
The boss is coming for him.
Happy looked at Nick Fury with a plea for help, his eyes seemingly saying: "What do I do? What do I say if I answer? Should I say I'm eating a late-night snack at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters?"
Fury's one eye just looked at him calmly, without any indication.
The meaning was: "Your boss, you handle him yourself."
Happy took a deep breath and, resigned to his fate, swiped to answer the call.
Before he could even speak, Tony Stark's voice came from the other end of the line like a machine gun.
"Happy! Are you still alive? Jarvis said your vitals dropped to the near-death line at one point! How many pieces were you blown into? Tell me, so I can prepare the right size bag to collect your remains!"
Tony's voice was loud, clearly audible in the quiet interrogation room through the receiver.
Orihime Inoue blinked curiously and asked in a low voice: "Mr. Happy, what does 'collect remains' mean? Does it mean helping to clean up the house?"
Happy's face instantly turned the color of liver.
"Boss! I'm fine! I'm still alive, living just fine!" he almost shouted.
"Oh?" Tony on the other end seemed somewhat surprised.
"Living just fine? The news doesn't say that. With that explosion, I thought Michael Bay was filming a new movie in Los Angeles again. Are you sure all your parts are still there?"
"I'm sure! I'm doing great! I'm even more energetic than before the fight!"
At this point, Happy's tone had gained a bit of confidence he hadn't even noticed.
He glanced at Orihime Inoue beside him and the tall blind man resting with his eyes closed, his voice involuntarily lowering, carrying a trace of lingering fear and deep gratitude.
"Boss, someone saved me. If not for them, you might really be considering what color bag to use right now."
There was silence on the other end of the line for two seconds.
"Saved you?" Tony's tone became serious.
"The gravity field in the news that suppressed the explosion, and the one that turned all the glass into a ball and threw it into the river... did they do that?"
Clearly, Tony Stark had not only watched the news but had also utilized his own intelligence network.
"Yes, boss."
"And you, Jarvis said your internal organs were ruptured, seven ribs were broken, and your lungs were punctured, yet you recovered as good as new within minutes?"
Tony's voice was filled with scientist-like fanaticism and curiosity.
"Is it that orange-haired girl? Some kind of biological force field? Or nano-robot repair technology? No, that energy fluctuation doesn't conform to known laws of physics at all—"
"Boss!" Happy had to interrupt his boss's academic exploration. "In any case, they are my saviors, two—very good people."
"Of course! Anyone who can snatch my people from the hands of God must be a good person!" Tony's voice held a matter-of-fact arrogance.
"I must thank them properly, in person! The Stark way!"
"Tell them, the head chef of one of my Michelin three-star restaurants can cook for them for a lifetime, or I can give them a brand-new Porsche sports car—no, two! Plus a seaside Villa in Malibu!"
"Where are they now? Give me the address, I'll head over immediately! No, you bring them over, bring them to my tower, and in my way, give them the highest honors to welcome my future friends!"
Cold sweat seeped from Happy's forehead.
Bring them over?
He snuck a glance at the rock-steady Nick Fury.
From S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret Base, take two "highest-level threat" anomalous individuals to Tony Stark's tower?
Is this something a bodyguard like him can decide?
Happy covered the microphone and silently mouthed to Fury: "Tony... he wants to see them."