Assassins' League
Inside the reception room, Smith watched as Phil Coulson walked in. He understood immediately: he had been targeted by S.H.I.E.L.D.—or perhaps the "Hydra-infested" version of it. He just wasn't sure whether it was because of the battle at the High Table or the Dragon Ball incident. As for making a wish to Shenron out on the open sea, he was confident they hadn't detected that.
Coulson took a seat across from Smith and introduced himself:
"Mr. Smith Doyle, nice to meet you. I'm Agent Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
Hearing Coulson openly declare his affiliation, Smith smirked:
"I thought you were FBI?"
"Switched departments, huh?"
Coulson didn't seem bothered by the sarcasm. He smiled and explained:
"Our division isn't well-known to the public, so sometimes we have to borrow other agencies' covers."
Smith wasn't surprised. He leaned back and asked casually:
"So, Agent Coulson from... whatever Homeland something division, what brings you here today?"
Coulson patiently corrected him:
"It's the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
Smith quipped:
"Don't you think that name's way too long?"
Coulson chuckled and nodded:
"I agree. I'll suggest to the director that we shorten it."
"But before that, allow me to properly introduce our department."
"We operate under the World Security Council, specializing in dealing with unusual and extraordinary events."
Smith remained silent, signaling for him to continue.
Coulson smiled warmly:
"Based on our observations, Mr. Doyle, the power you possess has clearly exceeded human limits."
"Did the Assassins' League manage to create a super-soldier serum?"
Hearing the mention of the serum, Smith raised an eyebrow. He thought about it for a moment—his abilities were quite similar to an enhanced version of Captain America's. Still, he shook his head and replied regretfully:
"No, we haven't been working on any super-soldier serum."
Coulson studied his expression and sensed no deceit. He felt a pang of disappointment.
If the Assassins' League had really created a side-effect-free super serum, it would've been a monumental discovery for S.H.I.E.L.D.—whether through purchase, theft, or "strategic acquisition," it would have bolstered their forces tremendously. What a pity.
Coulson continued:
"If it's not a serum, then you must be a natural mutation. And that's where we come in."
Smith raised an eyebrow:
"Oh? Planning to slice me open and study me?"
Coulson laughed lightly:
"Mr. Doyle, you're mistaking us for some evil organization out of a movie."
"Our mission is to maintain world peace and handle supernatural incidents. After all, the majority of people out there are just ordinary folks, right?"
Hearing that, Smith nodded in agreement.
Coulson went on:
"My visit today serves two purposes: first, to befriend you."
"And second, to let you know—you're not the only one. There are plenty of people in the world with special abilities."
Smith was a little surprised. He had expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to come in with guns blazing. Was that really all?
"That's it?" he asked skeptically.
Coulson smiled again:
"Of course. But I would recommend not showing off your powers in front of the public. Best not to cause any panic."
"As for the Assassins' League's activities—technically illegal, but outside our jurisdiction."
"That said, if you ever encounter some real monsters... we might come asking for your help."
Seeing the sincerity in Coulson's tone, Smith felt no reason to lash out. He replied calmly:
"The Assassins' League has its own procedures for dealing with villains."
"And if you're facing something even your agency can't handle, I doubt I'll be much help either."
Smith had no intention of being a free errand boy for S.H.I.E.L.D., and neither did the Assassins' League.
Coulson wasn't offended by the refusal. He simply pulled out a card, placed it on the table, and said:
"This world is far more complicated than it seems. I have a feeling we'll meet again."
Leaving the card behind, Coulson took his leave.
Smith Doyle stared at the business card thoughtfully, pondering Coulson's true purpose.
As for Coulson's claim that he wasn't the only special individual, Smith knew that already. In fact, he probably understood the situation better than S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. Their own classified archives had a good number of enhanced individuals recorded. Coulson's attitude toward him reminded him of that "fire guy"—no, actually, Coulson was being much friendlier.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept the fire-wielder under surveillance, insisting he not use his abilities publicly.
Coulson's warning was much the same. They even seemed to hope they could "borrow" Smith's strength without paying a price.
As for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s deeper plans, Smith didn't bother overthinking it. His approach was simple: adapt as needed. Besides, with his current power, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't a threat to him. The only concerns were weapons powered by the Tesseract's lasers, or maybe... Ms. Marvel. He wasn't ready to face her yet. Everything else? Not a big deal.
Pocketing the business card, Smith made his way to Training Field No. 2. It was time to try something new—flight.
At this point in time, young Goku hadn't yet learned to fly either. The Flight Technique (Bukujutsu) was something he only mastered after defeating King Piccolo and training at Kami's Lookout. Plus, Smith didn't have the Flying Nimbus.
Still, he wasn't worried. His current combat strength far exceeded that of Videl, who learned to fly under Gohan's guidance. With his understanding of "ki," he figured it shouldn't be too difficult.
In Training Field No. 2, Smith focused on his ki, recalling the scenes from the anime where Gohan taught Videl how to fly. He gathered his energy outside his body, spreading it evenly across himself.
After a few initial failures, he finally lifted off the ground, hovering unsteadily. As he grew more comfortable controlling his ki, he soared higher and faster around the training field.
"Ha! As expected, with my talent, this came easy," Smith laughed, exhilarated.
There's hardly anyone who wouldn't dream of flying freely. But the training field was too cramped. He wanted to see how fast he could really go at full power—and the open sea seemed like the best place to try.
Without wasting time, Smith called for John Wick to pilot a yacht and take him somewhere out near international waters, far away from prying eyes.
—End of chapter—
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