In the haze of alcohol-induced hallucinations, Soren walked step by step towards the other person, took their hand, and buried himself in that broad and solid chest, leaning on the love he imagined he had, and complained about why the other person hadn't waited for him.
In the hallucination, Clark simply held him, patting his back continuously and affectionately running his fingers through his hair, whispering, "You're drunk, go to sleep."
Soren tugged at Clark's collar, shaking his head stubbornly and insisting, "I'm not drunk, who says I'm drunk? I'm not drunk at all—"
With his eyes closed, he wore a contented and serene smile, finding a comfortable position in that wide embrace, and sighed softly, "I love you so much, Clark."
Clark tensed for a moment, then relaxed his body, just continuing to stroke Soren's hair and softly said, "Go to sleep, Soren. I'll stay with you."
Soren obediently nodded and soon fell deeply asleep in his embrace.
…
That night, Soren couldn't remember how much he had drunk, only that the next morning, he woke up with a splitting headache and nearly missed the breakfast service time at the communal dining hall.
Not just him, but the other three members of the Crab Shell team also appeared disheveled and hungover, with messy hair and pale, puffy faces, like three living zombies.
When they boarded the aircraft, they exchanged glances, unable to utter a single sarcastic remark to each other.
Soren decisively donned his tactical mask and goggles, essential for field operations, disguising himself as if he were the heir to the Black Manta, completely hiding his haggard appearance.
Their mission this time was not particularly difficult; they were simply going to Albania to verify the authenticity of some information about Hydra's whereabouts.
There were rumors that Hydra's symbol had been spotted there, and the team leader suspected that Hydra might be active in Central Europe recently.
Given Hydra's unpredictable movements and their tendency to spread misleading information to the ruling military, the base found it difficult to determine the veracity of the information directly.
They could only send them to the local area for on-site investigation.
Albania, in Vlorë.
This port city faces Italy across the sea but is far less prosperous and affluent.
Once a Soviet naval base, the streets outside the city center are lined with clusters of houses, with the low-rise buildings' outer walls weathered and yellowed from the passage of time.
In the morning market, the streets were bustling with people, lined with various stalls selling handmade crafts and everyday goods.
A crowd was gathered in front of a Gypsy stall, loudly arguing about something.
A fat man with a beard angrily threw a crystal bracelet at a Gypsy woman, shouting, "It's your fault that my two daughters are suffering from nervous weakness and having to perform exorcisms at home! You're a fraud, a crazy woman, a heretic! You can't continue scamming people here; there has to be a resolution today!"
A tall, bearded Gypsy man stood in front of the woman, countering with an accent, "Hey, calm down. Aren't you just unhappy with the price and trying to return the goods? Fine, you can return the crystal bracelet, but we can only offer you a standard price…"
The fat man was adamant and began shouting even louder, vowing to cause trouble until he got what he wanted, which only attracted more onlookers to the commotion.
Behind the Gypsy couple's caravan, two young men dressed in traditional Albanian white shirts and black vests were quietly observing the crowd.
Peter, feeling uncomfortable with the tight vest, tugged at it and asked Soren, "Do you notice anything unusual?"
"Yes."
Soren nodded solemnly.
Peter immediately perked up, "Is Hydra really in the area?"
"No, there's an argument happening up ahead," Soren said, peering over the rear of the caravan with intense focus on the commotion. "It looks like they're about to get physical—oh no, they've knocked over the Gypsies' crystal ball!"
Peter: ?
The physics enthusiast was confused. "You don't actually believe the Gypsies' crystal ball has any real magic, do you? I think it's just, well, some kind of hypnotic trick they use…"
Soren disagreed, "Don't underestimate the power of the mystical side—"
"You're right."
A little girl's voice interrupted their conversation.
Both men turned around immediately, warily looking at the girl behind them—they hadn't even noticed her arrival, which was unusual.
The girl wore a pink Gypsy-style dress, with black hair and brown skin, but her eyes were an unusually light golden color.
She gazed at them with a calm, natural expression, as if she were simply observing two ordinary tourists.
Peter, now tense, kept his fingers poised in his palm, ready to activate his web-shooters at any moment.
She smiled at them, then pointed at Peter and said, "I think you're right. Often, our 'magic' is just a form of subconscious hypnotic influence."
Peter stood up, somewhat awkwardly saying, "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to disparage your culture—"
The girl smiled but remained silent.
Her gaze swept over them slowly before she suddenly turned and darted into the crowd with the agility of a deer vanishing into the forest.
Soren and Peter exchanged a glance, both feeling something was off about the girl.
However, when they looked back into the crowd, she was nowhere to be seen, only tall locals moving about, their bodies packed closely together like clusters of mushrooms sprouting after rain.
Soren's eyes suddenly narrowed.
The scene from moments ago replayed in his mind like a slideshow, freezing on the image of the fat man and the Gypsy woman extending their wrists.
During their confrontation, there had been a moment where they almost clashed physically, and in the place where the Gypsy woman's sleeve had slightly lifted, Soren saw two curved, raised lines on her wrist—Hydra's emblem!
Those people were clearly Hydra operatives meeting up.
"Follow me!"
Soren spun around abruptly, running towards the stall in front of the caravan, while his fingers pressed the Bluetooth communicator in his ear: "Target spotted, target spotted, F42 prepare to assist!"