"You saved me?" Tim voiced the only possibility he had thought of.
"Ah... yes, we saved you." Natasha nodded after a pause, and Tim narrowed his eyes.
"From whose hands?"
"From... Hydra... uh... the Federation... um... the KGB? Yes... the KGB! You were about to be kidnapped by that Russian!" Natasha said, nodding vigorously.
"Where is he now?"
"He ran off."
"Didn't you chase him?"
"Well, we thought your safety was more important." Natasha said, "You are an important person that Nick asked us to keep a close eye on; nothing is more important than your safety, that's it."
Natasha left quickly. Actually, Tim hadn't been hurt, just needed to metabolize the anesthetic inside him. After lying in bed for a while, he felt much better, at least his head was no longer spinning, and his limbs no longer numb.
So, taking advantage of the nurse's inattention, he got out of bed and began to wander around the ward. Tim turned his head and saw the medical chart placed at the head of his bed.
In most hospitals in the world, the basic information of the patient, such as name, time of admission, and symptoms, would be written at the patient's bedside. Generally, this is handwritten and not in the sloppy doctor's handwriting, but as clearly as possible.
Tim only glanced casually at first, but upon seeing that line of writing, he became a bit uneasy.
What the hell is this? Is this even English?!
The handwriting on the medical chart at his bedside couldn't be said to be non-Latin script. There was a bit of cursive and a few extra loops, slightly sloppy... Bullshit! Isn't this Russian?!
Tim grabbed the medical chart, looked at it closely, and found that what was written on it was actually English, English in Russian cursive handwriting.
He suddenly had a bad feeling, but he consoled himself that this might be Natasha's doing. This Soviet agent had been here for so many years and hadn't changed her handwriting. How unprofessional!
"What are you doing?!" A rough voice rang out at the door.
Tim turned his head with a puzzled face because he didn't understand what the other person was saying.
The other person seemed to be speaking English, but maybe not. English people could understand it, but weren't familiar with it; Germans were familiar but couldn't understand it. Tim, fluent in both English and German, could neither understand nor was he familiar with it.
A head nurse in a nurse's uniform with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo rushed in, snatched the medical chart from Tim's hand, and refiled it, scolding him, "Don't touch things randomly! This isn't your school infirmary. Keep this up, and I'll have you thrown out!"
"Stop!" Tim interrupted the head nurse and then asked her, "Are you German?"
"Yes, what about it?" the head nurse answered assertively.
"But S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't..."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is an international organization." The head nurse said, "It deals with supernatural affairs all over the world. What's so strange about having Germans?"
Tim couldn't argue with that. He had been able to look up online that S.H.I.E.L.D. indeed reports directly to the United Nations Security Council and although its headquarters is in America, and it receives the most funding from there, the organization actually draws support from various sources. So having a German head nurse wasn't that odd after all.
Tim convinced himself... for only a few minutes. He told the head nurse he wanted to go outside for some fresh air, and then he discovered that, besides Russian accents, there were German accents all over the medical department.
What, I, an old American, have become an outsider?
Tim was a bit baffled. Aren't there hospitals in countries other than Russia and Germany? Do they have to hire doctors and nurses from just these two countries?
His question didn't last long, but the method of resolving it wasn't by answering the question—it was by presenting an even greater one.
He hadn't wandered outside for long when Natasha sent someone to take him to the S.H.I.E.L.D. building, saying Nick wanted to see him.
Tim swore that not once during the journey had he heard a word of English being spoken. The language used by these agents for communication was not English with a foreign accent, but outright foreign languages—part of it was German, part was Russian, some was Russian with a German accent, and some was German with a Russian accent.
This left Tim's head buzzing.
He couldn't help asking Natasha, "Did Little Mustache conquer the world in your universe? Have they reached America now?"
"No, history here has been the same as yours except for the dissolution of the Soviet Union." Natasha shook her head and seemed puzzled why he would ask such a question.
"Then why is the official language of S.H.I.E.L.D. German?!"
"It's not German, there's also Russian being spoken, isn't there?"
"Isn't Russian even more outrageous?!!" Tim roared, "I thought when I woke up, I had arrived in Moscow!!!!"
"You're practically illiterate. Germany has never reached Moscow, you wouldn't hear so much German there!"
"Is that the point??!!"
Natasha waved her hands as if impatiently, "Language is just a tool for communication; what difference does it make which one it is? As long as you understand, right? People just like to learn Russian and German, what can you do about it?"
Tim nearly choked on her words.
They soon arrived at Nick's office. Nick seemed to be organizing his collection of eyepatches. Upon seeing Tim, he stood up to shake hands with him.
"I've heard much about you, Mr. Drake. How have you been lately?"
"Not so good." Tim grimaced and said, "The chaos of your universe is maddening, I don't know what is normal anymore."
"You'll get used to it." Nick said.
Tim was choked up again. He thought, you, as the boss of this supernatural organization in this world, shouldn't you explain things to me? What do you mean 'you'll get used to it'? Is this something one can get used to?
"I actually came here mainly to ask you for a favor," Nick put down what he was holding and interlaced his fingers on the table, "I know you followed Shiller to Los Angeles, and I hope you can get something for me."
Tim heard the implication and sat down opposite him, asking, "What is it?"
"You promise me first, then I'll tell you."
"I don't understand, with all these agents you have, why come to me?"
"I have a lot of agents?"
"Of course, aren't those people out there... Don't tell me they're actually not your agents."
"They are, but do you know what month it is now?"
"Uh, it's almost November, what about it?"
"Yes, it's almost November, which means the end of the year is coming."
"...So?"
"The agents have to write year-end reports."
"If you need someone, just let them skip the reports."
"But their reports aren't written for me."
"Huh???"
Tim then translated the series of German and Russian he had just heard in his head, realizing that the group of agents gathered together were indeed discussing year-end reports.
One of them said, "Remember that case in Tennessee? It was Vincent from your team who blew up the base, right? Can I write it that way, or should I pin it on The Ten Commandments?"
"Don't write about Vincent, he was transferred back to headquarters. He's now my boss. If you said he was still in Tennessee two months ago, it would give us away. I think you can write Anjiele, who's under Gana's command. He recently switched sides to Moscow..."
"What about you? Didn't you go with him?"
"I was originally going back to Moscow, and my brother back to Berlin. My brother's boss hasn't paid him in three months. It's possible that we'll meet in Moscow this year..."
"This year has been too tough. Our boss had me 'killed' over 60 times, only to pay me half of what I got last year. By the way, did you hear about the recruitment in China? They offer high salaries!"
"Cut it out. We're all Caucasians. Whether it's back to Berlin, Moscow, Los Angeles, or Washington, it's the same, but over there, it's Asians. You'd be exposed the moment you went..."
The amount of information in this conversation almost fried Tim's CPU.
"Tim... Tim?! TIMOTHY!!"
Tim suddenly woke up and asked somewhat confusedly, "What's up?"
Nick gestured and said, "This is the most I can give you, don't complain that it's too little. Times have been hard lately, and I've sent the extra hands back to Berlin. I'm doing this only because you are a relative's kid..."
Tim didn't pay attention to the gesture he made. He just asked again, "I can work for you, but you have to tell me what's going on."
"What do you mean 'what's going on'?"
"This damn cosmos, this damn Earth, and these damn organizations, what the hell are they all about!!!" Tim shouted in exasperation.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and all three people in the office turned their heads simultaneously. Nick said, "Come in!"
A tall man holding a folder walked in.
Tim stood up abruptly.
It was the agent who had kidnapped him!!!
The man also seemed surprised to see Tim, but his gaze moved past Tim and landed on Nick. Advancing a few steps with the folder, he smiled awkwardly and said.
"Boss, this is this year's year-end report. I thought I should still write one for you, considering the year-end bonus."
Nick took it and glanced at it, "I knew hiring you was the right decision, your professionalism is admirable. But you didn't come just to tell me this, did you?"
"Yes, I just wanted to come and apologize. Moscow has assigned me another job; I've got to set off for Europe in February..."
Before Nick could respond, Tim asked first, "Moscow? How come I've never heard that S.H.I.E.L.D. has a headquarters in Moscow?"
The man paused, then said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have a headquarters in Moscow, there's only the Russian National Security Bureau there."
Tim was taken aback, and they stared at each other for a few dozen seconds.
"So you're a Russian spy???"
"That sounds too harsh," the man said.
Just when Tim thought the man was about to defend himself, the man continued on his own, "First and foremost, I'm a spy placed inside S.H.I.E.L.D. by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, then I'm a Hydra spy recruited by the Federal Bureau of Investigation; next, I'm a spy sent by Moscow to infiltrate Hydra's ranks, and soon, I'll be a spy sent by Moscow to Hydra, sent by Hydra to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, dispatched by the Federal Bureau of Investigation to S.H.I.E.L.D., and then by S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned to Hydra headquarters."
Tim's CPU burned out again.
"So you're a... er, five-way, quintuple agent?!"
"That's not how you count it," the man said, dismissing with a wave of his hand, "Have you played the matching game? Being undercover in Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. is the same, so they cancel each other out. Getting orders from the KGB to go undercover in S.H.I.E.L.D. and staying at the KGB is no different, so they too cancel each other out. The only ones that count are the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Hydra, so I'm really just a double agent."
Tim's head began to smoke.
The man gave him a look as if to say how dumb can you be, then seemed impatient to continue the discussion and said, "Boss, Moscow is sending me back as a mole in Hydra. Do you think I should report it to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and get the same assignment? That way, I could earn another salary."
"That's fine, but don't forget to 'pay taxes'."
"Don't worry. I'd need to ask the folks in the IT department for a little help with my identity..."
"Sure thing, a 20% undercover tax, 5% fee for identity alteration. Times are tough for everyone, so I won't charge more than that."