Here's what you need to know:
Ten months ago the King of Latveria was deposed by some sort of rogue militant group. Details are scarce, but in the ensuing civil war the members of the king's inner circle - the ones who survived - were driven out of the country. They've since infiltrated regional crime syndicates, running weapons, smuggling, human trafficking, all the greatest hits. Intel suggests they're pooling funds for another bite at the revolutionaries. But whatever tin pot dictator is presiding over Latveria, they can wait. 48 hours ago Rudolfo and Zorba Fortunov, heirs to the throne, arranged a meeting with Vasily Karpov II, ex-KGB, recently-outed HYDRA, and high ranking member of the Red Room. Up until now Karpov was the only member of the Room left unaccounted for. That's where I come in.
|Black Widow: Code Red|
It was pouring rain in the Romanian forest where the Fortunov Brothers currently made their home. A trio of figures in grey raincoats, one clearly trying to look dignified standing in the heavy garment, waited outside of a wide, low tent. Before long the lights of a truck pierced the gates of the camp. From the back stepped a broad man with a slightly graying mustache. He wore no uniform but carried himself with an air of military dignity. One of the figures at the tent removed his hood - this was Rudolfo, the younger brother - and walked to where the man stood.
"Pleasure to meet you, General Karpov," the prince bowed lightly.
"Please, I am General no more," Karpov's much more fluent Russian floated up. "HYDRA offers a more... satisfying sum than Moscow these days."
"And what sum will satisfy you to help us reclaim our rightful place on the throne?"
"Cutting right to business then eh? Let us remove ourselves from this weather."
The two moved into the tent, unaware - naturally - that they were being watched.
In the north guard tower, standing over the unconscious form of a watchman, grumbled Natasha Romanov. Her suit glistened in the floodlight next to her, her red hair clung across her face in straight strands. She could be colder, but she certainly couldn't be more soaked. It was worth it though. Tonight was a long time coming.
She finished assembling her gun - a long-distance air rifle loaded with a neurotoxic sedative - and took aim at the man in the east tower. He went down in a heap, clean and quiet. The guardsman in the west tower quickly followed suit. The south tower was too far, but she could manage inside the perimeter now.
Natasha rappelled down the darkened guard tower. She needed to get on the roof of the main tent. Kicking off the side, she landed with a splash on the roof of the closest building. It was going to be hard maintaining her footing in this weather, but going in through the front would be a death sentence.
There still were plenty of men patrolling the compound, but Natasha was pleased to know it was a smaller outfit. This was just a forward camp where the princes lived. The more involved criminal enterprises happened elsewhere on the border.
At length she crossed the slick roofs to the main tent. She drew her knife - Vibranium, a gift from the captain of the guard in Wakanda - and waited for an opportunity.
Before either of the two guards standing before the table could react, a woman in black dropped from a previously-absent hole in the ceiling, launching a pair of projectiles that quickly incapacitated each.
"Evening boys," she said casually as she stepped over one of the unmoving guards.
"Chernaya vdova…" Karpov breathed.
"The Black Widow?" Rudolfo raised an eyebrow. "The Americans' runaway superhero?"
Karpov shook his head. "She's no hero. She's a trained killer, put in a costume to sell toys to children."
"Oh be nice. I was on balloons and birthday cards too. And a few questionable Halloween costumes. But let's cut to the chase, gentlemen," Natasha drew her pistols. "All I want is my good friend Vasily, here. You let us walk away and no one else needs to get hurt."
Zorba sniffed. "Unfortunately we are in the middle of a business transaction with your 'good friend,' so he will remain with us."
The elder Fortunov looked to his brother, then with a nod they both pushed over the table. Natasha was unphased by the sudden act and opened fire, but she failed to notice the gas lantern on the table. The lamp shattered as it hit the dirt floor, blinding all parties for a moment.
The younger prince took off running, likely to alert the whole compound of the intruder. By the tilt in his gait Natasha guessed that she had grazed his shoulder. Zorba snapped the leg from his chair and held it like a sword.
"I will take care of this wench myself! This will be only a moment General… Karpov?"
He turned around, but his guest was nowhere to be found. The plastic partition separating the meeting room from the rest of the tent was fluttering from recent movement. No sooner had he turned around than she was on him.
The Black Widow sent a flurry of kicks his way, but the heir to the throne of Latveria was no layabout. He had been trained for one on one duels. Zorba deftly back stepped out of the way of her boot and swung the chair leg. Natasha braced with her arm but it caught the stinger on her wrist, busting open the housing.
"Oh, you shouldn't have done that," she looked at him gravely.
"I can do whatever I please. Why not?"
"Because now this will hurt even more."
With a swift motion she closed the distance between herself and the prince and forced the exposed contacts of the stinger into Zorba's right eye. Current arced violently across his face and he fell backwards clutching a smoldering wound.
The Black Widow removed her damaged tool and fled the room deeper into the tent. Karpov couldn't have gotten far. She passed rows of lockers and the occasional water cooler, plus several bulletin boards of maps full of pins and manically-marked surveillance photos. She shouldn't have let the Fortunov Brothers get the jump on her like that. But they had home field advantage. It was always going to be hard to maintain the element of surprise.
At last she came into a large office. The desks were outfitted with dated monitors hooked up to considerably less-dated computer towers. And in the center, looking for an exit of any kind, was Vasily Karpov. Unfortunately, he noticed a flash of motion reflected in one of the screens and wheeled around. This was not going to plan, she thought.
Karpov drew a sidearm and fired. Natasha ducked behind the table and threw a stun mine behind her. It landed beside the former general, but not close enough to snare him.
"Ah, sloppy work, vdova. You lot were always faulty. I wasted years overseeing a unit of females when I could have been doing real work for the Soviet Union!"
"Still on that are we?" Natasha slowly worked her way along the edge of the table. "Your program proposal was redundant, and more costly to the Kremlin than exploiting orphaned girls. The audits were pretty clear on that. Still, I can understand why you'd be bitter. Especially after what happened with your son. Maybe if Yeltsin had ordered 'Wolf Spiders' instead of Winter Soldiers, little junior would still be alive."
"Do not talk about my son that way!" Karpov shouted, momentarily letting his gun waver in his hand. That was all she needed. Launching over the table, she fired a round from her pistol into the old man's hand. He dropped the gun with a scream and blood poured from his hand. It all happened in a few seconds. Much better, Nat.
"We'd better move quickly, I disabled the guard towers but the Latverians will figure out where we are before too long."
"You bitch!" the general spat.
"Name calling, really Vasily?" Natasha shook her head as she gagged him and zip-tied his hands. "And after all those years of sticks and stones, too."
Karpov was the overseer of her "graduating class" in the Red Room. As one of the top students Natasha had bet him on more than a few occasions. She suffered no shortage of torment at his hands. They all did.
The gunshots had attracted Rudolfo and a retinue of gunmen. Natasha attached the old man to a zipline and stowed him in the rafters of the tent. She crouched in the darkness, waiting for them to finish searching the room. She gathered from the soldiers' talk that Zorba wasn't taking his loss very well. While she hid she pondered how she was going to move the heavier man over the fence. She supposed that under would probably be better. Fortunately she thought to keep a laser bore on her - a favorite of Fury's among SHIELD's many gadgets. The rain would help conceal the noise they'd make on their way out.
Before the sun had risen she had extracted Karpov and made her way back to the temporary shelter she set up in the hills above the camp. She fixed the HYDRA operative with a more high-tech set of restraints.
"You should be honored. These locks are only designed to open for the biometrics of twelve people, and five of them are dead. A little bit of that famed Western Technology you trained us all to sabotage."
He grunted as she hiked him to his feet. "And instead the West has sabotaged you. A once proud weapon of Russia reduced to a costumed celebrity."
She smirked. "Well, I'm sure you know, but they aren't exactly too fond of me back home either."
They were steadily climbing, the Black Widow helping her former superior along in his shackles.
"Yes, I heard all about your betrayal in Germany. How easily your loyalties can shift. And how easily they can replace you."
"Eh, I think we both know there's nobody quite like me."
The old man could only laugh at that. "Is that what you think, vdova?"
They had come to the river that cut through the highlands. Natasha frowned. What could that mean? She decided it was best not to let him play mind games in the last leg of the journey.
"There's one more feature I particularly enjoy about your cuffs," she said tightening the restraints on his mouth and legs. She gave him a sharp kick and sent him plummeting into the cold rapids.
"They float!"
She headed back down the hill to her camp. The cuffs had a note instructing whoever found him to call Interpol. Whoever turned him in would receive a sizeable contribution to their hometown from the Stark Global Trust. Tony didn't actually know he was making such a contribution yet, but Natasha figured he'd understand.
She flicked out the antenna on her satellite communicator. Natasha had been in the field for nearly six days, and was curious to see if anything interesting had happened while she was incommunicado. She got her wish when she discovered a number of recent messages from Sam Wilson. The Falcon was elsewhere in Eastern Europe running missions with Bucky.
Concerned about the number of missed calls, Natasha dialed Sam right away. He picked up as soon as she finished dialing.
"Natasha, where have you been?"
"Romania, on the Karpov op. I just wrapped up."
"Okay, good. Stay put, we'll pick you up. You need to get to Munich ASAP. Banner's been compromised."