Marvel's Agent Belova

[1988, Russia, Moscow]

In a snow filled blizzard, a boy sat on the floor all alone. The rags and patches on his clothing proved ineffective against the cold.

Who was the boy? Why was he alone?

The boy's name is Jame Harper. Well, now it's Nikolai Belova and he just came back from talking with god. He stole an unfortunate kid's body in a horrible incident which killed the child. With the power of god, the child's body was healed and enhanced. Not super fast, strong enhanced but appearance wise. There is no such thing as ugly MC around here.

A car engine roars to life as it approaches the unconscious boy. The man driving saw the kid and hopped off.

His eyes were filled with confusion as he picked up the kid.

"What in mother Russia?" He said in Russian.

He put the unconscious MC into the truck and they sped off.

...

[2002, USA, New York City, Manhattan Island, Clinton District]

I hate my job.

I grip my fist and a pinpoint needle springs up from my ring and goes back inside.

"You didn't call me here for a promotion did you?" I say to a man in a pitch black business suit.

He smiles. I emulate.

I scan the room. Looking for any dangers.

I do this discretely, like I was taught.

"No, no. You already got a promotion two weeks ago." He says seriously. "I don't want people to know I have favorites."

I laugh. He laughs.

"So I'm one of you favorites?" I smile proudly.

Like this is a big accomplishment for me. Like I value his opinions.

He smiles to that.

I step closer. He is within an arms length.

"I've been here so many times." I say as he raises his eyebrow. "But you've never told me what that is."

I point to a wall with a simple medallion hanging on it.

He turns around and looks at where I'm pointing.

"With all those awards you've gotten in your career, you only framed this one." I explain my interest.

I grab my ring and turn it.

His arms aren't exposed. The only skin that I can see is his neck. With the ring turned like this, it's easier to kill him without making any noise.

He sighs as if reminiscing about something.

This is a perfect opportunity.

I reach my arm around his neck and press hard. I hear a click noise and I let go.

He turns around and holds his neck in pain. His eyes looking at me confused.

I watch his eyes as tears started forming. It took three seconds for him to lose conscience. I grab his body and gently put it down.

That takes six seconds. I arrange his body to make it seem like he had an attack.

I clear my throat.

"Help! Help! He - Something happened to Mr. Phil!" I shout.

I fling the door open.

"Some call 911!" I shout.

The first to respond is a security guard that was one hall away. His face turns white as he looks at the body on the floor.

" I - I don't know what happened. He called me in and we started talking." I mimic signs of a person going through shock.

I clutch my heart and support my self by hanging on a wall. I breath deeply.

Thirty seconds pass as I am trying to explain what happened. More people are here and someone had their phone out.

"He fell down and I caught him." I tell the security officer. "Is he okay?"

The security guard looks straight into my eyes as if trying to tell if I was lying.

After a couple seconds he looks away. It seems like he couldn't tell if I was lying or not. I was trained by the best. Of course a cop couldn't tell if I was lying or not.

In less than five minutes an army of paramedics storm the building and do their things.

Policemen came and encouraged people to take a day off.

A policeman approached me and asked me a couple questions. But just like usual, she couldn't tell if I was lying.

And just like that, I got away with killing a fortune 500 CEO.

A man.

A husband.

A father.

He didn't even get to say goodbye to his family.

...

Liam Phil. The man who revolutionized aircrafts around America. The owner of the biggest airplane manufacturing company in the entire world.

But more importantly, the biggest competitor of the KGB's airplane manufacturing company.

Sadly for him, I work for the KGB.

I walk past the flashing lights and the people.

Past the loud engine of the approaching police car.

I walk like a person traumatized from the incident. One who saw a person die front of them.

Mr. Phil was a good boss. I've only been there for two months but his work ethics and leadership skills were superb. Too good.

I walk past the main building and into the parking lot.

I get out my car keys and press a button. The car sounds and I walk towards it.

I open the door and sit down.

I breath in and hold it as I look at the time.

[2:34:21]

Heart attack. That's what the autopsy will say. He died from natural causes. That's what the drug does. That's my specialty. I kill without making it look like an assassination. There is no way to trace the killing back to me.

[2:35:22]

I let go of the breath.

I start the car and pull out of the parking lot.