Natasha and Parker both stopped, silently standing there as they eyed the Black man. Their gazes, no longer carrying the urgency from before, were instead filled with a chilling exploratory intent.
The Black man's complexion changed; he felt like an insect pinned down in a display frame.
But suddenly, Natasha spoke as if nothing was amiss, "You're right, this could very well be a trap. We need to be cautious. Parker, is there anything near the spaceship's hatch that could be used as a trap?"
"Unless they have someone lying in ambush there, I think perhaps the safety airlock could be a usable trap. Most space station airlocks can't be locked from inside but can be locked from the outside. If the behind-the-scenes manipulator lures us into a certain room and then locks us in from outside, it will be very difficult for us to escape."
Natasha glanced at the toolbox Parker never let out of his hand and asked, "So, are you confident you can unlock it from the inside?"
"No," Parker shook his head, "The airlocks near the entrance and exit of the spaceship are highly secure, intended to prevent invasions. Plus, the control system is very sensitive and can be operated purely through software. Once we're locked in and they set their sights on us, it's nearly impossible to react in time, and I can't dismantle the lock from the inside. I wanted to ask if you have any means of forcefully breaking through."
After some thought, Natasha said, "I've observed the material of the door. It's none of the alloys I'm familiar with. I've never seen it before, and not even the dissolving agents provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. might work on it."
"Then we really do need to be cautious," Parker said. "Let's just stay in the corridor and resolutely not enter any rooms. Even if we find Lehman, as long as we break the water tank from the outside, he probably won't die that quickly."
Natasha nodded, and the plan was decided with a good mood. The three of them began their journey, heading toward the vicinity of the hatch, which was quite a distance away.
They found three pedal cars, common in the space station, and started chatting as they hurried toward their destination. Along the way, Natasha looked at the Black scientist and said, "Don't take it the wrong way that I sound like an agent, but I still want to know... what exactly is your field of research?"
The Black scientist touched his nose and replied, "Physics."
"Which specific area?"
"Aerodynamics," the Black scientist answered again.
"Which university did you graduate from?"
"Hey, lady, don't you think you're asking a bit too much?" he expressed his distaste and said, "I'm not a criminal."
"Alright, forgive my professional instinct, and let's say it's because I'm pretty," Natasha smiled at him and continued the conversation, "My boss is also a Black man, and he's pretty old, like a stodgy little old man. Which community are you from?"
Natasha's typical agent-style questioning made it difficult for many people to respond. One minute it seemed like a casual chat with lively words and playful talk, and the next, she dropped a seemingly related but actually completely irrelevant personal privacy question—causing many to have a brain-freeze in this switch.
This Black scientist appeared to be untrained, and after a brief pause, he said, "From the Bronx..."
Before he could finish, Parker interjected, "That's not too far from where I live. I'm from the Queens District, the so-called lower-middle-class area..."
Natasha laughed and said, "You Americans are really interesting, not only classified as middle class but also divided into upper-middle, middle-middle, and lower-middle..."
Then they started to discuss the differences between America and the Soviet Union, leaving the Black scientist out of the conversation, which made him feel quite awkward, as though he had a pent-up breath that couldn't be released.
The trio took some time to get to the hatch area, which was the largest platform in the space station so far, divided into six sections, capable of accommodating over 2,000 small spacecraft simultaneously. Because of the station's conditions, large ships couldn't stop there, but they were planning to build a Star Port on the Moon.
There were many rooms to check, which could be bothersome. Parker tried his best to lead with his memory, while Natasha, on her way, continued to try to press the Black scientist for answers.
Even without considering Natasha's combat abilities, her level of agent skills was top-notch. She was a perfect hexagonal warrior, and if she wanted to, no one could escape the Black Widow's targeting.
This Black scientist was no professional either. It didn't take long before he was found out, visibly paling, with sweat dripping down.
Natasha and Parker quickly located the B section airlock's storeroom, but the corridor had at least a couple of dozen rooms. They needed to check each one, adhering to their plan of not rashly entering any of them.
The Black scientist's complexion was growing increasingly worse.
Suddenly, they heard a click from a room ahead. Natasha and Parker, without a second's thought, sprinted toward it. As they reached the door of the room, they heard a scream. Pushing open the door, they saw the massive glass water tank shattered on the ground, with Lehman lying amid the glass shards, his condition unknown.
Natasha, with Parker in tow, came to a sharp halt at the doorway. Parker hesitated and said, "He doesn't look dead. I think maybe we should still..."
Lehman indeed wasn't dead, and seeing people come in, he could even shout energetically, "Help, please save me! Aux, that madman!!! He kidnapped me and brought me here, please save me!!!"
It seemed that Parker simply couldn't stand idly by and let someone die; with a grit of his teeth and a stomp of his foot, he still rushed forward, and Natasha, after cursing him as a 'do-gooder,' followed suit. The two arrived beside Lehman.
Suddenly, the room began to gradually darken as the safety hatch started to descend, and it was coming down rapidly.
"No!" Parker bellowed.
But by the time the hatch had completely closed, the room fell silent except for Lehman's occasional cries of pain; no other sound was heard.
With a click, the flashlight shined on, illuminating Parker's face. Natasha shook her head and said, "This is too easy to fall for, not challenging at all."
The two laughed under the flashlight's beam. Parker shook his head and said, "They really should have thought this through. How could it be that as soon as I arrive at the space station, the first door I push open is filled with acquaintances?"
"It's hard to imagine you having such alertness, Mr. Parker," Natasha said sincerely. "Like I mentioned, the truth hides in the critical details."
"Now let's speculate about what exactly is going on here," Parker began.
"Shouldn't we save him first?" Natasha countered. "I thought you were that kind of do-gooder."
"I'm a good person, but not one to ignore right and wrong. Besides, our discussion about the truth wouldn't delay you from stitching him up, would it?"
"Precisely my intention." Natasha took out some emergency adhesive glue and suturing thread from a small kit on her belt, and then said, "You go ahead and share your thoughts first."
"These people—I'm referring to the group we encountered earlier—all happen to be acquaintances of mine, but I mostly met them in various ways only after getting on the space station." Parker explained.
"I remember there was a problem with the electrical circuit in Sophia's office, but coincidentally, no other electrician had time to fix it, so I went. Li happened to be there, so I got to know both of them. Due to certain reasons, we met a few more times and gradually became familiar."
"Among the space station staff, over 80% are research scientists, and these scientists just happen to be team leaders in their respective departments. Having good relationships with them is beneficial for the electrical department's work. The work on the space station is repetitive and boring, so having a few friends to socialize with can greatly alleviate stress, and that's how we became closer."
"Given this, do you suspect them simply because they were waiting for you in the same room the moment you boarded the space station?" Natasha asked, tilting her head. "Maybe they were close to each other and wanted to stay in the same room?"
"It didn't start from there," Parker said. "I know you won't understand a feeling, because you probably have never been bullied."
Natasha looked puzzled; she indeed lacked such experience. No matter in the Soviet Union or America, her appearance ensured she was the dazzling star in any group. Others trembled at the mention of the Black Widow's name—she was one who bullied others, not the other way around.
Parker, on the other hand, showed a nostalgic expression and said, "I wasn't outstanding in school, not that I am particularly excellent now, but I was even more mediocre back then, especially during junior high."
"When I first entered junior high, I met a good friend. His home was not far from mine, we met on the way to school..."
Natasha didn't understand why Parker suddenly brought up something seemingly unrelated, but her instincts told her that this might hold the key to the truth, so she didn't interrupt him and listened quietly instead.
"Because we were the same age, had similar hobbies, and lived close by, we quickly became close friends. Then one day, he introduced me to his friends... and that's where the fairy tale story took a sharp downturn."
"When I wasn't around, my good friend was the target of bullying by everyone, and with me there, I became the little wretch. He introduced me to them as a sacrifice."
"But their bullying wasn't the kind where they corner you and beat you up. Instead, they pretended to include you in their group; they pretended to be friends, but within this group, they established a very strict hierarchy. They were always the kings, and I was the pawn to be sacrificed, the ultimate foot soldier; they were the masters, and I was the slave."
"Their daily activity was to toy with me, make fun of me, mock and belittle me, but they took me everywhere with them, making me humiliate myself in various situations."
"There's an obvious advantage to this," Parker said, raising One Hand. "Since there's no physical bullying, teachers couldn't do much about them, and those who knew about my situation would say it was my own fault for sticking to them like glue."
"But in reality, they give you a feeling—dare to leave the group unilaterally, and the bullying won't just stay verbal. Following behind them might make you look less lonely and pitiful, just withstand some verbal mockery and jeering, nothing unbearable."
Natasha frowned deeply. Parker looked at her and said, "There's only one way to rid yourself of such status, which is to find another scapegoat. A bullying group only needs one object of ridicule; with someone else, you can then break free."
"With someone else present, you can become the Bully," Natasha remarked. "Your so-called good friend joined in, didn't he?"
"Of course, in fact, he was the most vicious one, because he had also been bullied and wanted to vent all his rage on me..."
"So what did you do eventually?"