Nolan relied on his keen senses to verify Natasha's truthfulness.
His enhanced perception went beyond simple lie detection. Primarch genetics granted capabilities that made polygraphs look primitive by comparison. He could hear individual heartbeats from across a room, detect minute changes in breathing patterns, smell the chemical composition of sweat that changed with emotional states.
He listened now with absolute focus, cataloging every biological response.
Natasha's heartbeat rhythm remained steady. No acceleration that would indicate stress from deception. No irregular patterns suggesting conscious control to mask lying. Just the calm, even pulse of someone speaking truth.
Her breathing intervals were equally unremarkable. No shallow gasps. No held breath. No hyperventilation. Just regular respiration that matched her words without conflict.
It was finally confirmed that Natasha was not lying, at least not about her core motivations.
There was no physiological problem with her presentation. Everything aligned. Body and speech in harmony.
Although this consistency was just a piece of cake for a senior spy agent to fake...
Natasha had been trained by the Red Room, an organization that specialized in creating perfect liars. She could probably control her heartbeat consciously if necessary, regulate breathing through concentration, suppress stress responses through discipline.
But Nolan thought for a moment and decided to trust her for the time being.
Not blind trust. Conditional trust. Trust with verification built in. But trust nonetheless, because his instincts suggested her conversion was genuine even if his tactical training screamed caution.
Soon after, the sound of footsteps approached from the distance.
Heavy, measured steps that identified the walker before visual confirmation. David's ceramite boots on ferrocrete, a rhythm Nolan had heard thousands of times.
David shook his metal head and arrived in front of the two people.
The ancient Man of Iron's expression was neutral, optical sensors taking in the scene, analyzing the situation, waiting for instructions.
And under Nolan's silent gaze, indicating permission through eye contact alone, Natasha began her formal defection.
With a smile on her face that mixed relief and determination, she started handing over her letter of nomination to David.
The intelligence dump was comprehensive, detailed, damaging. Everything she knew about S.H.I.E.L.D. operations laid bare without reservation. Years of accumulated knowledge weaponized against her former employers.
Including S.H.I.E.L.D. base locations throughout the Americas and around the world. Coordinates. Security protocols. Staffing levels. Weaknesses in perimeter defenses.
A list of some senior agents with their real names, covers, specialties, and psychological profiles. The kind of information that let you predict behavior, exploit vulnerabilities, turn assets.
Important information such as potential deep-cover spies that even Fury might not know about, sleeper agents activated only for specific contingencies.
For example, she described the S.H.I.E.L.D. operations headquarters called "The Hub."
The facility was designed to summarize intelligence flowing in from global sources and formulate combat strategies based on comprehensive analysis.
The command center then issued combat orders to field teams, coordinating operations across continents. It was the brain of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s military capacity.
If there was ever a war with S.H.I.E.L.D., something that seemed increasingly likely given current trajectories...
This would be the first place that needed to be destroyed. Cut off the head and the body flailed uselessly.
But Nolan was more interested in two other facilities Natasha described.
The secret bases called "Slingshot" and "Fridge."
The names were innocuous, deliberately bland to avoid attention. But their functions were extraordinary.
Among them, the "Slingshot" base was responsible for disposing of special dangerous items that could not be destroyed by ordinary methods.
Objects too powerful or too unstable to simply blow up or melt down. Things that required permanent removal from Earth's biosphere.
A destruction facility that loaded these items into rockets and launched them toward the sun, using stellar furnace to achieve what human technology couldn't.
The "Refrigerator" base served a different purpose.
It was used by S.H.I.E.L.D. to store many large and dangerous items that couldn't be loaded into rockets due to size constraints.
As well as dangerous items that were less immediately threatening and might have research or tactical value worth preserving.
In other words, S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed many alien technologies of unknown origin or mysterious provenance.
Salvaged spacecraft components. Recovered Asgardian artifacts. Kree weapons. Chitauri tech. Decades of accumulated xenos material that the organization had been hoarding without understanding.
Some of them might have destructive capabilities that endangered the entire world if misused or if they activated spontaneously.
The strategic implications were staggering. S.H.I.E.L.D. was sitting on an arsenal they barely comprehended.
Nolan's mind worked through tactical scenarios as Natasha spoke.
If he wanted to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. through direct military action, the campaign would need to be swift and brutal.
Fight quickly. Behead all the high-level commanders simultaneously before they could scatter or activate contingencies. Seize critical facilities in coordinated strikes. Deny them time to respond or destroy valuable assets.
However, with Natasha's surrender and integration into his organization...
Nolan vaguely conceived the idea of occupying the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. infrastructure rather than destroying it.
The organization was corrupted by Hydra infiltration, yes. Led by a paranoid spymaster with questionable judgment, certainly. But the basic framework was useful.
Rather than allowing it to be completely infiltrated by Hydra or simply destroyed in conflict...
It would be better to seize control and make it truly shine for the future of humanity under proper leadership.
Nolan did not choose to put Natasha through a brainwashing program despite his earlier threat.
First, the current brainwashing devices available were too dangerous for practical use.
The technology was crude, experimental, prone to catastrophic failure. Success rates were unacceptably low. The equipment would probably kill or permanently damage her before achieving useful results.
And Raditus and the other researchers couldn't find time to study the problem thoroughly, being consumed with higher-priority projects.
Second, Nolan had always believed that trust and respect were key to combat effectiveness.
Brainwashed soldiers were useful for certain tasks, but they lacked initiative, couldn't adapt to unexpected situations, required constant supervision. True loyalty born of genuine conviction produced better results.
Since Natasha had expressed goodwill first, offering defection without coercion...
Then he would reciprocate with conditional trust.
However, in order to maintain appropriate caution...
Nolan ordered Raditus to temporarily create a remote-controlled explosive bracelet with an Antarctic vibranium shell.
The device was elegant in its simplicity. Antarctic vibranium casing made it essentially indestructible, impossible to remove without specialized tools. The explosive charge inside was small but sufficient, positioned to sever the arm and cause fatal blood loss.
He directed Natasha to wear it on her arm, the bracelet locking with finality.
The detonation authority was given to David, whose reaction time and judgment Nolan trusted absolutely.
It was also convenient for monitoring Natasha's every move through integrated tracking systems.
Later, after the explosive insurance was secured, Nolan solemnly welcomed Natasha to join his team.
The ceremony was brief but genuine. A handshake. Words of acceptance. Acknowledgment that she was now under his command and protection.
With a relaxed smile on her face, tension bleeding away now that commitment was formalized, Natasha began telling Nolan about part of her life history.
Things she'd never shared with S.H.I.E.L.D. Details too personal or too damning. The truth beneath the legend.
Among the revelations was detailed information about the spy organization that had trained her to be a killing machine: the Red Room.
The name was innocuous. The reality was horrific.
And she explained the true origin of her codename "Black Widow," something most people misunderstood.
In fact, "Black Widow" was not Natasha's personal designation alone, not a name she'd earned through individual achievement.
That title actually meant that the Red Room only produced one female super agent per year who earned the designation.
The selection process was brutally simple.
And according to Natasha's description, delivered in flat tones that suggested trauma carefully compartmentalized...
The specific screening method was to throw a group of underage girls who had completed all preliminary training into the Siberian wilderness.
Children. Teenagers at most. All of them trained killers, yes, but still fundamentally children thrown into frozen hell.
They entered into a life-or-death battle royale in conditions that would kill normal adults within hours.
The last remaining survivor became that year's "Black Widow."
One girl from dozens. Sometimes hundreds. All the others dead in the snow, killed by cold or hunger or each other.
And this seemed to have become a lingering nightmare for Natasha, something that haunted her despite years of psychological conditioning.
She paused after describing the selection, eyes distant, seeing snow and blood and faces of girls she'd killed to survive.
Then she refocused and continued with tactical information.
"There are about ten 'Black Widows' currently active in the Red Room, deployed all over the world."
Her voice steadied, trauma pushed aside for professional assessment.
"They are not inferior to me in terms of combat ability or espionage capability. Some are probably better in specific specialties."
Honest evaluation without false modesty. These were peers, equals, possibly superiors.
"And the girls in the Red Room who have not completed their final training are also precious human resources worth acquiring."
Hundreds of partially-trained operatives who could be rescued and retrained.
"From my professional perspective, whether our organization is focused on counter-espionage or collecting important intelligence, we need a qualified team of agents to handle these operations."
Natasha's tone became almost professorial, explaining obvious tactical necessities.
"Although Mister David is highly professional, many organizations have made the choice to never let intelligence flow into networks. Important material is kept on paper exclusively, in physical archives."
She smiled apologetically at David standing beside her.
"Sorry, David, this observation is not directed at you personally. Your capabilities are extraordinary. But even the best signals intelligence can't access paper files in locked safes."
Then she turned her eyes to focus on Nolan directly.
She stared at him and asked with careful deliberation:
"So, leader, or Lord Primarch if you prefer that form of address... what do you think?"
The question was simple but loaded with implications. Was he willing to commit resources to acquiring these assets? Did he trust her enough to lead such an operation?
Nolan, who had been listening with narrowed eyes, raised his eyebrows slightly.
He said calmly, decision already made:
"I think the Stormtroopers team should also participate in some outdoor activities beyond training exercises."
The elite soldiers needed real combat experience, not just simulations.
"I will give you authorization to conduct a raid on the Red Room and capture other 'Black Widows' alive."
Capture, not kill. These women were victims as much as perpetrators, children turned into weapons through trauma.
"David will be responsible for coordinating everything for you, providing intelligence support and extraction if things go wrong."
The ancient Man of Iron nodded, already processing logistics.
Nolan's voice took on a harder edge, delivering the warning that needed to be explicit.
"Natasha, I'm going to say this clearly now. This is your only chance to prove your loyalty to this organization."
One opportunity. No second chances if she betrayed them.
"Don't let me down. Do you understand?"
The threat was implicit but obvious. Failure meant death.
Hearing Nolan's indifferent words, delivered with absolute conviction...
Natasha's expression completely shifted from relaxed to solemn.
She took a deep breath, understanding the weight of what she was being trusted with. Then she nodded heavily to Nolan and said with fierce intensity:
"Don't worry, Primarch. I will not betray your team even if only for the sake of the sisters still trapped in the Red House!"
Her loyalty might be conditional, but the conditions aligned perfectly with his objectives.
Three days later, Natasha had basically mastered the driving skills of the Thunderhawk transport aircraft.
The learning curve had been steep, but she'd attacked it with professional dedication. Doom had helped, explaining systems through combination of technical knowledge and witchcraft-enhanced instruction. Jessica had provided moral support through shared suffering in training.
Now Natasha could pilot the Thunderhawk competently if not expertly, handle basic flight operations, navigate using Imperial systems, operate weapons if necessary.
She began working with David to map out the route for the mission and develop strategies needed for the operation.
The planning was meticulous. Approach vectors. Insertion points. Extraction contingencies. Rules of engagement. Every variable examined, every risk assessed.
The Stormtroopers wearing their necrodermis auxiliary power armor assembled on the landing platform.
Craig "Gum," Horn "Osprey," Gao Qi "Executioner," Big Bane "Beer," Little Bane "Bucket." Five elite soldiers in living metal armor that made them nearly unstoppable.
They led a team of Scyllax Guardian who would provide support for the assault.
Everyone was checking bolt guns and chainswords, running final diagnostics, making ready to board the Thunderhawk transport plane at any time to carry out the raid mission.
Of course, Nolan did not choose to join Natasha's operation personally.
His presence would have guaranteed success but defeated the purpose. This was not only a test for Natasha to prove her loyalty through action...
It was also a test for the Stormtroopers to demonstrate their capabilities without Primarch supervision.
They had weapons and equipment far beyond the current technological level available to their opposition.
Coupled with combat capabilities honed through months of brutal training under Nolan's direct instruction...
It should be as easy as using a butcher knife to kill chickens when dealing with a group of spy agents.
The Red Room operatives were dangerous, yes. Highly trained, certainly. But they were still baseline humans with conventional weapons.
However, Nolan also secretly issued an order to Gao Qi and the other Stormtroopers before departure.
He'd pulled the Executioner aside, delivered instructions that would not appear in any official briefing.
If Natasha showed any abnormality during the mission, any behavior suggesting betrayal...
Or if she led everyone into a dangerous trap or ambush situation...
Then he authorized the Stormtroopers to use all means necessary to end the threat.
Terminate her life immediately. Kill the enemy who'd infiltrated their ranks. No hesitation. No mercy.
Gao Qi had nodded understanding, face expressionless behind his helmet.
Not long after final preparations were complete, Natasha appeared.
She was wearing black tactical leather armor again, the outfit she'd arrived in, now cleaned and repaired. Practical. Flexible. Allowing full range of motion.
She came to the landing platform with a serious expression, game face on, every trace of casualness suppressed.
Natasha nodded to Nolan once, brief acknowledgment. Then she immediately led the Stormtroopers team onto the Thunderhawk transport plane with confident strides.
The soldiers followed, boots clanging on the boarding ramp, weapons mag-locked to armor, everyone settling into crash harnesses.
After the Thunderhawk transport plane's engine began roaring, building to takeoff thrust...
The massive aircraft slowly lifted off from the platform. Anti-gravity systems engaged. Thrusters vectored. The Thunderhawk rose into Antarctic sky on pillars of fire.
Nolan stood watching with his arms crossed over his chest.
He observed until the aircraft became a dot on the horizon, disappearing toward its distant target. Then he turned around and returned to his private quarters.
The mission was out of his hands now. Success or failure would depend on Natasha's loyalty and the Stormtroopers' capabilities.
Nolan sat cross-legged on the metal bed and began adjusting his breathing rhythm and mental state.
Meditation came easily after months of practice. His enhanced physiology settling into calm, thoughts clearing, distractions fading.
He planned to take this opportunity to conduct the next simulation while waiting for mission results.
"I wonder if there will be any unknown changes in the first simulation after the system update?"
The Golden Throne interface had replaced the old simulation system. Would the experience be different? The rewards altered? The risks changed?
"Or will it remain essentially unchanged despite new presentation?"
No way to know without trying.
Nolan, who was meditating silently, opened the parchment page of the simulator without hesitation.
The interface materialized in his perception, ancient pages covered in High Gothic script. The Golden Throne page glowed with invitation.
After he casually pressed the simulation option with mental command...
Nolan seemed to hear a crisp and pleasant sound of coins turning in his ears!
The Throne Coin he'd earned was being consumed, spent to purchase entry into another life in the Warhammer universe.
Reality began to fade as the simulation took hold...