S.H.I.E.L.D.
Field Office, Private Office.
Nick Fury drummed one hand against his desk, the dull thuds echoing through the room as his single eye remained fixed on the monitor in front of him.
The footage of Calvin’s assessment was playing on a loop.
“Looks like your potential is even greater than I expected.” A rare hint of satisfaction tugged at the corner of Fury’s mouth.
“But if you’re going to become part of that initiative, there are still a few necessary tests you’ll have to pass.” Knock, knock, knock.
A knock sounded from outside the office.
“Come in.” Fury looked away from the screen, and his expression immediately returned to its usual severity.
Phil Coulson stepped through the door.
“Director, Calvin’s information has been entered into the system, but he’s already asking for an assignment.” Coulson looked faintly exhausted just saying it.
“Apparently, he really needs the money.” He genuinely could not understand how anyone could enjoy working this much.
According to the reports, Calvin had not taken a single day off in months, yet somehow he was still energetic, enthusiastic, and practically begging for more work.
Meanwhile, Coulson had gone a month without a proper break and was already starting to feel it.
The most infuriating part was that despite Calvin’s ridiculous workload, the man still had a full head of thick hair.
Coulson, on the other hand, seemed to be losing more of his by the day.
Life really was unfair.
Fury nodded.
“He does need money.
Talented people are allowed a few eccentricities.
Frankly, S.H.I.E.L.D.
could use more agents with that kind of motivation.” According to the financial records S.H.I.E.L.D.
had been monitoring, most of Calvin’s money went toward purchasing various metals.
Aside from that, he spent a surprising amount collecting furniture.
Fury did not understand either hobby, but he had long ago learned not to question every strange habit his agents developed.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
already employed someone who was hopelessly obsessed with collecting electrical adapters, after all.
He opened a drawer, removed a file, and handed it to Coulson.
“Give this to Calvin.
I’ve already arranged a partner for the assignment, so you can finally get some rest.” Coulson accepted the file and visibly relaxed.
He had assumed he would be the one assigned to Calvin.
Field experience was the best teacher, and newly recruited Level One agents were normally paired with a more senior operative.
The veteran could teach them the practical side of fieldwork while S.H.I.E.L.D.
continued evaluating them under real operational conditions.
Calvin had not come through any official training program.
His combat ability was obviously far beyond the norm, but his loyalty, psychological stability, personality, and judgment still required continued observation.
Since Coulson had been the first S.H.I.E.L.D.
agent to make contact with him, he had naturally assumed the responsibility would fall to him.
He had already resigned himself to it.
This arrangement was much better.
Between constantly dealing with the CIA, the military, and every other agency that wanted to stick its hands into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s business, while also investigating abnormal incidents on the side, Coulson was beginning to accept that he was no longer as young as he used to be.
…
When Coulson returned to the training facility, he spotted Calvin and Barton chatting animatedly from across the room.
Sitwell stood awkwardly off to the side, looking like an unwanted third wheel.
Calvin, meanwhile, was having a fantastic time.
The system notifications had barely stopped since he started talking to Barton.
[Clint Barton (Hawkeye) Favorability +5.] [Favorability +5.] [Favorability +10.] [Current Favorability: 60.] All Calvin had done was exchange a few thoughts about shooting, yet Barton’s favorability had shot upward at an absurd rate.
‘Is this just how male bonding works?’ Or had Calvin accidentally stumbled straight onto one of Barton’s favorite subjects?
Either way, sixty favorability was already quite high.
Calvin had spent enough time observing the system to develop a rough understanding of how its favorability mechanic worked.
Sixty appeared to be the first major threshold.
Once someone reached that point, they genuinely trusted him and could reasonably be considered a good friend.
Beyond sixty, however, increasing favorability became much slower.
This was reality, after all, not a dating sim where you could spam gifts until the affection meter maxed out and unlocked some special CG scene.
Past a certain point, relationships needed something more substantial to deepen.
By Calvin’s estimate, sixty meant good friends.
Around eighty meant the relationship had progressed into close-friend or brother territory.
That was roughly where he and Matt were.
Calvin never treated Matt like some fragile blind guy, and Matt actually seemed to appreciate it.
He complained every time Calvin showed up uninvited, yet somehow always opened the door suspiciously fast.
As for ninety and one hundred…
Calvin had no idea.
Despite months of grinding favorability with everyone he could, he had yet to get a single person above ninety.
Once someone reached eighty, earning even one additional point became painfully difficult.
The system had mentioned that a special function would unlock at ninety, though.
‘Don’t tell me there really is a special CG.’ Barton, meanwhile, had finally learned firsthand what it felt like to meet someone blessed with absurd natural talent.
After talking with Calvin for a while, he realized just how simple—and nearly impossible to imitate—Calvin’s shooting technique truly was.
There was no special breathing method, no elaborate stance, and no carefully drilled sequence of movements.
Calvin simply aimed by instinct and fired.
That was it.
His superhuman strength also meant recoil barely affected him.
Every weapon seemed to become an extension of his body the moment he picked it up, allowing him to put rounds exactly where he wanted them.
He had even demonstrated an absurd bit of gun-fu earlier by making a bullet curve in flight.
Barton himself was undoubtedly gifted, but his current skill had still required years upon years of relentless training.
Seeing someone reach this level almost entirely through raw talent was enough to make him feel the next generation was already catching up.
Still, Barton did not seem bitter about it.
If S.H.I.E.L.D.
had a rookie like Calvin ready to step up, maybe there really would come a day when Barton could retire without worrying about leaving a hole behind.
Calvin, naturally, had no idea what was going through his head.
Even if he did, his response would have been simple: ‘Sorry, Clint.
Cheats just aren’t fair.’ “We should compare notes at the range sometime,” Barton said, wearing the strangely warm expression of someone who had just discovered a promising successor.
“And if you ever have questions, feel free to come to me.” Calvin smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
“Absolutely.” There was no way he was passing up an opportunity to keep raising Barton’s favorability.
Who wouldn’t want to see what happened when that mysterious special function finally unlocked?
“Sorry to interrupt.” Coulson approached with his usual mild smile.
“We’ve already found an assignment suitable for Agent Calvin.” Calvin’s face immediately brightened.
This was exactly what he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D.
for—high-quality missions.
He could not care less if everyone thought of him as an overworked pack mule.
As long as the missions kept coming, they could call him whatever they wanted.
Being weak simply made him feel unsafe.
Calvin had no intention of betting his life on a fifty-fifty chance of surviving Thanos’s Snap, nor was he willing to assume the Avengers would always be there to save him if something went wrong.
Depending on heroes was a gamble.
Depending on himself was much safer.
The only strength he could truly count on was his own.
Calvin accepted the file from Coulson and flipped it open.
His eyes immediately lit up.
It was an infiltration mission.
According to reliable S.H.I.E.L.D.
intelligence, one of the criminal organizations operating in Hell’s Kitchen had been kidnapping people for human experimentation.
Calvin’s objective was to infiltrate their facility and recover biological samples from one of the abnormal test subjects.
Better yet, he already knew the gang involved.
[Nick Fury has issued you a mission.] [Mission: Anomalous Test Subject] [Objective: Recover biological tissue from the anomalous test subject held by the Japanese criminal organization.] [Rewards: 5,000 EXP, Random Items ×3.] Calvin sucked in a sharp breath.
This was easily the most lucrative mission he had seen since awakening the system.
Five thousand EXP.
One assignment alone was worth one or two full weeks of grinding ordinary daily missions.
And three random items at once?
He had never seen anything like it.
‘So this is what faction missions and side-story content are like?’ If he had known the rewards were this absurd from the beginning, why the hell had he wasted months grinding small-time jobs?
Calvin stared at the mission details until his eyes actually started watering.
From happiness, obviously.
The assignment suited him perfectly in another way as well.
Almost every criminal organization in New York had some kind of financial connection to Wilson Fisk, which meant Calvin could complete the mission while also collecting a little repayment for his recently demolished house.
More importantly, something about the mission itself made his blood start pumping.
A strange excitement seemed to stir somewhere deep inside him, as though some dormant instinct was finally waking up.
There was only one problem.
Calvin looked at the section listing his assigned partner.
His expression slowly became strange.
‘Why the hell is this person my mission partner?’