Disclaimer in chapter 1
Special thanks to Guest, JWolf28, sailorraven34, marvelsquint, and alwaysvesi for your reviews and thanks to all that followed/favorited.
I took some tiny ideas from one of the Black Widow comic runs from the early 2000's so those are not entirely mine.
Enjoy!
Hydra hung up the phone and grinned maliciously. She motioned for two of her men to open the door to Fury's office. It slid open, hissing as the airtight seal was broken. Waking inside, the heels of her boots clicked against the hard floor. She glanced contemptuously at the three men inside, slumped and unconscious. To her surprise, a dog barked at her. It's leash was tied to the leg of Fury's bolted down desk, the dog whined and growled, trying to free itself to no avail.
"Cute." She deadpanned. Her eyes found Clint, who had fallen from his chair in front of the director, "Bring this one along." She pointed at Clint, "I want him to watch." The two men hauled him up, hooking their arms around his waist and dragging him out of the office.
"What about these two, Madame?" Asked a third man.
She waved them off and began to exit, "Leave them. By the time they wake it'll all be over." She paid no attention to the dog as he barked louder at them, watching as they left the office with his owners best companion.
Natasha climbed the eighteen flights of stairs at an unrelenting pace. Her muscles quaked and burned with exertion but her mind focused on one thing: find Hydra. Natasha mentally cursed herself, having been foolish enough to think that Hydra wouldn't target Clint so soon. Even more than that, she'd completely let Botha pass right under her nose. She truly was losing her edge; these were mistakes people made, but Natasha was never just a person, she was the Black Widow.
Natasha darted through a door to the floor that housed research and technology. At a glance, one would think it foolish of SHIELD to have an entire floor dedicated to...nothing. The space was barren and even free of any furniture. Not so much as a stool resided in that place.
Or so it appeared.
Years of experience had taught Natasha that SHIELD never did anything without a purpose. There was no elevator entrance and since no one ever took the stairs, few people knew about it. She walked the length of one of the walls, quietly counting her foot steps before she halted in front of a seemingly random spot. Turning on her heel, Natasha placed her palm flat against the wall. A moment later, a thin ray of red light scanned over her hand. She mentally praised the back up generators that powered these functions.
A low rumble emanated from the wall before it parted and slid open, revealing, in bright white light, the Black Widow suit. SHIELD always kept the suits of its retired or deceased assets on this secret floor. Whether the suits were keepsakes or evidence of an operative's alliance with the organization, Natasha didn't know and didn't want to know.
Quickly, she discarded her clothing, pulling the black suit over her skin and allowing for a small moment to readjust to its feel. The tough fabric melded over her form as if she'd only been gone for a day or two. Hesitating, she slipped the familiar dark belt around her waist, allowing the two halves to buckle together and form the familiar red hourglass on the belly of the black widow.
Newly empowered, Natasha steeled her gaze and resumed sprinting up the stairwell, never faltering in step until she cautiously turned the handle on the door leading to Fury's floor.
Everything was pitch black, except for that cyclical blinking red light that flashed in alarm on the ceiling. Natasha walked along the walls, hiding in the darkest corners until she found what she was looking for.
Emerging, the large lounge area was decorated with sleek silver furniture. Natasha's eyes darted towards the familiar silhouette of the snake she'd been hunting. The figure stood in front of the large tinted windows stretching across the wall, allowing for the full moonlight to pour into the lounge. It's brightness so eerily contrasted the pitch dark blackness it was almost blinding. Natasha caught the glint of a smirk on Hydra's face when the red light flickered, "About time." Said the venomous woman.
"Where are they?" Natasha demanded in a strong voice.
Hydra's smile widened before she gestured for her men to come out of the shadows. Three of her agents emerged, hauling a semi-conscious figure along with them. It wasn't until Natasha caught sight of the sandy blond color of his hair in the moonlight that she realized it was Clint. His head was hung and his hands were tied securely behind his back. The men forced him to kneel and stood oppressively on either side of him. As far as Natasha could tell, he was unhurt aside from a small bruise on his cheek. Clint looked around, still groggy, until his eyes met Hydra.
His first instinct was to lunge at the woman, but the two men by his side caught him and slammed him back down onto his knees, punching him in the gut to settle him down. Another pulled out a hand gun and aimed it as his head. Coughing, Clint looked to his right and saw Natasha's crimson red hair, squinting in disbelief at seeing her in that familiar black suit, "Let him go, Hydra." Natasha demanded.
"Where's the fun in that?" Quipped Hydra, "This is the most fun I've had in awhile. All this being the leader of global terrorist organization has me so bored."
"So, what, you break into SHIELD for the fun of it? Come on, Hydra, that can't be all you're after." In the years she'd been acquainted with Hydra, Natasha had never known the woman to ever do something without an ulterior motive.
"What more could a gal ask for? Here I am, my men storming the castle below, destroying and raiding the labs, and then here you are, a worthy adversary for the killing." Hydra's voice seethed with a type of venomous and dark pleasure at the thought of her plans that made Natasha's stomach clench in disgust. She cast a casual glance at the archer kneeled beside her, "And what a pair indeed," Natasha steeled her gaze, "Botha certainly didn't leave anything out when he sent me the recordings." She sauntered over to Clint and ran her index finger up his neck and chin, forcing him to look into her twisted eyes, "I think I'll take him as a trophy when I'm done here." She squared herself and returned her attention to the red head before her, "Who'd've thought that the infamous Black Widow would garner a lover, much less, be capable of such human weakness." The last words were bitter and almost disappointed as she spoke them.
"There are some things even you can't take away, Hydra," Natasha surprised herself with the firmness of her answer. Long ago, she'd thought all warm human emotions had been beaten out of her, replaced by the cold hard blows of reality and death; but she was older now, unafraid to admit her humanity and accept it as a part of herself—not a sign of weakness.
Hydra's devious chuckle rang in the empty space of the lounge before it suddenly stopped. In the faint flicker of red light, Natasha could see that her previous wickedness was now replaced with the utmost seriousness and deepness of thought that vanished just as quickly as Natasha spotted it, almost as if it were never there to begin with, "You're right," She uttered, startling Natasha before her calmness resumed its previous sinister demeanor, "But have you forgotten what happens when you play with a fire that burns as strongly as love?" She questioned in a taunting voice.
"You get burned," Natasha thought, remembering all too well how she learned both the literal and metaphorical aspect of that simple truth.
Natasha clenched her fists and glared at Hydra murderously as the viper looked over Clint pensively, "He's certainly a fighter, this one." She chuckled, "Loyal to the bone and stubborn as a mule. Remind you of anyone, Natalia?" Hydra placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head in question, "Poor Anya looked up to you, worshiped you, and what did she get in return?" Natasha fought to control the seething anger boiling with in herself, "Multiple stab wounds and broken heart. The least you could've done was give her a quick death." Natasha was done holding back. In a flash of black and red, she ran at Hydra, throwing punch after punch and kick after kick, "She was what, eleven, twelve? Have you no mercy Romanova, you monster?" Challenged Hydra as she caught Natasha's fist and gave it a painful twist before kicking the agent in the gut and sending her sprawling across the room.
Taking a shaky breath, Natasha stood, "You're the monster, Hydra. You just had to test out that mind control serum on the younger girls, didn't you?" Squaring her shoulders, Natasha attacked Hydra once more. She landed a kick and tried to gather leverage to take her down when her body just suddenly refused to act. Her movements became slower and her hits became weaker, barely making a dent. Natasha growled in frustration and aimed a punch at Hydra's side before the woman deflected it and belted Natasha across the face. Blood trickled from a small cut in her lip. Natasha steadied herself on her the balls of her feet and prepared to launch at Hydra when the woman roundhouse kicked her across the head.
Natasha's head pounded at the force of the blow, her vision filling with stars and fog, "Finding it difficult to focus, Natasha?" Taunted Hydra, "I can answer that question." She said before she landed a sharp kick to the agent's abdomen, grinning at the sound of her breathless gasps, "You're wondering why your body is fighting you, yes? Why it refuses to react the way you want it to, to hit, like you want it to." She circled Natasha like a hungry predator. The young woman's hand lashed out and gripped Hydra's ankle in defiance. Hydra smirked before bringing up her other foot and slammed it down into Natasha's wrist. The sharp crack of her bones elected a muffled grunt of pain from her as she released Hydra's ankle, "See, you knew that was coming, but your hand wouldn't pull away." Hydra roughly hauled her up and forcefully slammed her on one of the tables in the lounge, tightly gripping one of Natasha's arms, threatening to dislocate the joint, "The compound Drakov used on you had a unique chemical in it," she hissed into Natasha's ear from behind, "One that I made. At the scent of me, it begins reacting, sending signals to the brain that render you incapable of harming me." Natasha's voice failed her as she tried to form an angry response; her lips were frozen in place. Unsheathing one of Natasha's own knives from her suit, Hydra tightly fisted Natasha's hair into her hand before bringing her up and smashing the agent's head into the corner of the table, releasing her and watching as she crumbled to the ground.
Blood seeped into Natasha's vision from a deep cut above her temple. Squinting, she caught sight of Hydra sauntering over to where her men held Clint. They hauled him up by the crook of his elbows, pulling painfully on his shoulder sockets. Hydra stole one last glance at Natasha, grinning venomously and twirling the red head's own knife in her hand. Dread poured into the pit of Natasha's stomach as she realized what was about to happen. She caught Clint's eyes, noting the fearless glint in them. He looked at her, reassuring her that he'd be alright. Natasha doubted that as she watched Hydra lick the tip of the blade before plunging the knife deeply into Clint's abdomen. He cringed and let out a painful grunt as it was yanked from his wound, "Oops, it slipped." Hydra said as a dark grin tugged at her lips.
Natasha's eyes widened slightly, catching sight of Clint's pained expression before one of the men jabbed his bleeding wound, knocking the air out of his lungs. He hung his head, trying to hide his pain from Natasha's view. His abdomen hurt like a bitch and he could feel his stomach lurch in pain. His wrists were tightly bound while a gun was trained on his head. He had to be patient, wait for the right moment to strike or he could make things go from bad to worse, 'But seriously, how could this get worse?' He thought. Clin realized he thought too soon when he lifted his head to glance at Natasha. Her shoulders were squared and her hair hung around her face like a bloody veil; through the red flicker of light, her could see it clung to her slightly perspire forehead. She was breathing fast, the kind of fast that he recognized when she was mentally trying to bring herself to do something rash, and in his words, stupid. Just as he predicted, she clenched her jaw, let out a strong breath, and in a rapid movement, struck herself with the palm of her hand with such force that her head was thrown back. She staggered momentarily, revealing a bloody and surely broken nose. Hydra was clearly taken back by this as she made no effort to hide her surprise from her face.
"Did you know," she began, sloppily wiping off some blood that had trailed ot her lips, "that it only takes seven pounds of force to break a human nose?" Natasha's lips curled into a proud smirk, "WIth a well aimed blow, of course." Without another word, she pulled a knife from her belt and flung it at the man holding the gun to Clint's head. The knife buried itself in the man's heart with such force, he was knocked back. Clint didn't hesitate to begin fighting the remaining two men, although his wound did make things a little harder. One of the men lands a kick followed by a punch that knocked Clint to the ground. He's about to land another kick when stealthy hands wrap around his head and snap his neck in one fluid movement before another knife takes down the last guard. Clint's huffing in pain and exertion on the ground, his wrists still tightly and awkwardly bound behind him.
Natasha is quickly by his side, cutting away at the binds. She cringes at the sound of his coughing, noting how he tried, and failed, to hide the blood slithering up his throat. Tiny specks of red peppered his lips as he tried to lick away any evidence of the extent of his injury, "I'm fine, Nat." He breathed.
"No, you're not." She countered, quickly putting pressure on his wound.
"She's right," Hydra offered. In the chaos of trying to get to Clint, Natasha had lost track of the snake. Hydra was standing in front of the large window panes holding what looked to like phone, "There was poison at the tip of the knife," Hydra pulled out a small glass vial from a pocket on her black belt. Holding it up, the moonlight shining through it revealed its green tint, "Only this can save him. But I'm going to need you to re-enter into that contract you had with Drakov before you killed him. I'm in need of your services, Natalia."
Clint looked up at Natasha. His heart clenched in fear at the sight of the contemplating look in her eyes, "Nat," he urged, trying to snap her out of what he could only assume was a very dangerous train of thought, "Nat, don't do this." That seemed to catch her attention because her eyes snapped back into reality and looked at his, "Please—" He breathed, unable to finish his plea as another cough racked his bloody frame.
That's all it took. He could see the resignation in her eyes and damned himself for having coughed when he did. He'd only confirmed her early affirmation that he was not, in fact, okay. She reached for his buckle and pulled loose a small circular device before pressing the red button at it's center. The device immediately lit up red in alert. It was a device SHIELD had commissioned to Stark Industries to keep it's operatives safe. It alerted any nearby medical personnel to the danger. Blood caught in his throat as he tried to speak again, tried to get her to rethink her decision, as she gently propped him up against the wall and stood up.
Her eyes cast an apologetic look at him. 'No,' he thought. Not apologetic. Not quite. There was something else there. It wasn't an apology for leaving him again; it was the type of apologetic look she used to give him when she was about to do something she wasn't sure would work. 'She's gonna gamble,' he thought grimly.
Natasha reached up to wipe away blood that had trickled to her mouth before she slowly mouthed, "I love you," to Clint. His heart shattered as he watched her turn her back to him and walk towards Hydra. The muffled chopping sound of rapid blades filled the space as a helicopter hovered beside the large window panes on the outside. Natasha's stride was strong and brisk as she approached Hydra.
The two women met face to face and stared each other down. Natasha was significantly shorter than Hydra but the villain knew better than to underestimate her opponent. Hydra pulled a gun from her thigh holster and held it up, briefly showing it to Nasha before she shot the glass. It fell to the ground like sharp glistening rain. The sound of the chopper's blades grew louder as the cold night air flooded the open space. Hydra then held up the vial of green liquid and was about to toss it in Clint's direction when Natasha's hand darted forward and tightly grabbed Hydra's wrist in a vice grip. Prying the vial from her cold fingers, Natasha let it fall on the ground before crushing it with the sole of her boots, grounding it into the floor for good measure.
"That's a trick I won't fall twice for." Natasha said as she took a few steps back.
Hydra grinned, "That's quite a gamble, Romanov."
"You forget that I know you, Ophelia." Natasha licked her red lips, "You'd rather me give him a poison and watch me witness my mistake than have me mindlessly chained to your side."
"You caught me," She said, looking past Natasha as the archer still leaning against the wall, "But it seems you're too late."
The fact It was Natasha's turn to smirk as a moment passed before rushed footsteps carrying medics arrived and quickly tended to Clint, "No, Hydra, for once I'm right on time." Natasha said before she ran at her and both women fell out of the safety of the building foundation and into the cold night air.
They tumbled into the open helicopter compartment together when Natasha lost her grip on Hydra and rolled off the other edge of the chopper. Her hand barely managed to clasp around the one of the landing rails as the helicopter teetered at the sudden weight on its side. Natasha willed herself to not look down. Heights were never her strong suit and much like one can't help but watch the scariest part of a horror movie, Natasha stole a glance below at the busy streets of central DC. In the bright moonlight, the shadows drew a deep and infinitely black shade over the city, further enunciating the red and yellow lights of the cars it over looked. She could see the chaos erupting below her: the flashes of guns being discharged in succession could be see from her position. Hydra's men were fighting toe to toe with SHIELD agents and gathering local authorities. From what she could tell, things weren't looking so well for the agents. Natasha immediately shut out those thoughts from her mind; they weren't going to help her out of her current situation.
It also didn't help that, as she turned her attention back to the railing, she caught sight of the Triskelion in her peripheries and was instantly reminded that she was handing roughly fifty-two stories above the earths surface.
'Shit.'
Natasha was torn from her thoughts when a hand reached down and gripped her cat suit by the back of the collar and yanked her back into the compartment. Upon landing in the helicopter with a dull thud, Natasha was immediately belted across the face with a closed fist, "You're not getting away that easy, Romanov." Hissed Hydra. All traces of cool and controlled composure were slowly slipping from the villains grasp and were now being replaced with deeply rooted vehemence towards the Russian assassin in front of her. It was one thing for Natasha to not fall for her tricks, it was another to ruin her gracefully planned exit strategy.
Natasha wasted no time in reacting before she brought up her legs and kicked Hydra away with one good shove to the chest. Natasha used the momentum to roll onto her feet. They glared each other down before attacking. Natasha tackled Hydra into the opposite wall with all of her might and punched the wicked woman for good measure. The helicopter teetered momentarily as the pilot tried to move away from the Triskelion. Hydra took hold of Natasha's broken wrist with a vice grip and kneed the agent in her already sore abdomen. Natasha doubled over and caught Hydra's knee as it was about to hit her face. With all her might, Natasha landed a swift uppercut to Hydra's jaw that caused it to snap shut with the force of the blow. She staggered and fell to the compartment floor in a disoriented heap. The red-headed agent wasted no time in straddling Hydra and gripping the woman's throat in her hands.
The ache from her broken wrist insisted on making itself known but Natasha paid no attention to it. She focused all of her energy on strangling the menace before her. Hydra's hands clawed at Natasha's in an attempt to get free. She hissed and croaked as she tried to get oxygen to her lungs. Natasha barred her teeth like an angry beast about to kill whatever foolish creature had mistakenly named itself an enemy. Rage built up in Natasha: rage and anger at what this woman had done, robbed natasha of her human mortality and extended her time in hell on earth, anger at what this woman had done, the pain she'd caused, the damage she'd done to Clint and everything in the last five years, but above all else, Natasha was outraged by what this woman represented—all of her own flaws in their purest form.
Natasha had to be honest with herself. She was a living vessel for a suppressed and repressed form of evil and monstrosity that had been present in her since she could remember. Her maleficent tendencies had been fostered and nourished and grown into the depraved young woman SHIELD had found so many years ago. She herself, at one point, had been as negligent of human life and as inductive of human suffering as Hydra was in this very moment.
Which was why Natasha couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from Hydra's struggling from, gasping for breath and squirming to get free. In some strange and far off cosmic scale of morality, Hydra's assassination was the ultimate penance. And there was no way in hell Natasha was going to let Hydra escape in one piece.
In the midst of her inner monologue, Natasha had failed to take note of Hydra's seemingly random clawing at the compartment floor. Reaching her thigh holster, Hydra's trembling hand undid the small latch and released the firearm. She held it up and fired at Natasha. The shot rang out next to her ear and she bit back a yelp as the bang caused her right ear to ring endlessly. Startled by the loud bang, Natasha loosened her grip on Hydra's throat. This gave her a chance to buck the agent off of her and catch her breath. Natasha grit her teeth and moved to immediately wrestle the revolver from Hydra's grip.
She managed to catch Hydra in an arm-bar lock, but not before the gun fired again and landed a hit on her. Ignoring the agony, Natasha pulled back on Hydra's arm, careful to keep the gun's tip away from her. Another ounce of pressure and Hydra yelled out as her finger curled reflexively around the trigger and fired a shot into the cockpit of the helicopter. The bullet ricocheted in comets of red sparks before embedding itself in the pilot's head.
If there was a record for the world's most unintentional shot, Hydra owned it. Finally releasing the revolver, the helicopter quickly dropped altitude and teetered to one side, allowing Natasha to properly roll over Hydra and strike her with the butt of the gun. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha could see the helicopter drifting dangerously close to an adjacent building. Fear and indecision clouded her features before turning back to a dazed Hydra.
Steeling her features, Natasha aimed the gun at Hydra's head and pulled the trigger.
*Click*
'Shit.'
"Only five rounds in a revolver, Natalia." Said Hydra, blood glistening off her atrocious grin. She was sprawled out under Natasha, hands palm up by her head in an almost surrendering posture.
Gripping the gun tighter, Natasha struck Hydra again before unsheathing two of her throwing knives and stabbing them through Hydra's hands, pinning her to the compartment floor. She howled in pain, eyes wide in unexpected surprise. Her eyes darted to Natasha's; it was her turn to smirk, "Knives don't run out of bullets." She uttered into the villain's ear before quickly getting up and running out of the compartment, leaving behind an impaled Hydra, just as the helicopter blades crashed into the side of a building only moments later.
Natasha felt the heat wave of the explosion propel her faster towards the building she was aiming for. She landed hard on her feet, her knees buckling under the force, and she rolled across the gravel covered roof. Her back collided with the side of the roof access structure with a loud thud that knocked the air out of her.
Groaning, Natasha managed to get to her knees. She winced in pain and brought a hand up to her throbbing abdomen. It came away sticky with deep crimson liquid from where Hydra's bullet had hit her, 'Another scar to add to the collection,' she thought bitterly. Natasha tried to get up, but her knees felt weak and she landed hard on them as they gave out beneath her. She groaned and doubled over herself, arm tightly clutching her bleeding midsection. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, she realized, as she suddenly became aware of every ache and pulse emanating from her battered body. Her breathing became shaky and strained. Natasha let herself fall back on her heels and sit against the wall, rolling her head until she felt the cool concrete surface against her cheek.
Natasha let out a dry and empty chuckle. She laughed at the irony of it all, "Of course everything goes to shit when I try to do something good." She said aloud. She could've been selfish, stopped hunting for Hydra, kept Clint safe, but she chose to press forward, refusing to appease any form of Hydra's tyranny.
Natasha could feel the tickle of blood creeping up her throat but forced herself to swallow it down. She gazed thoughtfully at the distant red and orange glow of the helicopter crash that was Hydra's demise.
'Maybe this is how it's meant to end,' she thought to herself, 'An eye for an eye, a life for a life, or in this case, two evils for the price of one.' Her eyes began to droop, 'We're not all that different, I was just learned to suppress the monster.' Her fingertips felt cold, 'As long as Clint is safe,' she hoped, 'this is fine.'
Of all the people who had ever crossed her path, Clint was the only one she was successful in protecting. His wound was deep, but the medics arrived on time. He'd be safe. He deserved to be safe.
The same couldn't be said for her, as she sat against the wall adjacent to the roof access door, bleeding out. Natasha's tired mind finally succumbed and allowed her eyes to begin to droop shut. Her breathing slowed and became shallow, she could feel herself growing limp. Her eyes peered open for only a second when she heard the roof access door swing open. Men flooded out into the night air; black figures holding guns and wearing round rimmed reflective goggles filled Natasha's blurring vision. Their faces were obscured by black face masks. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe, here to save her or to finish her.
She registered the feel of cool leather gloves pressed against her jugular and caught a glimpse of one of a man glancing at another before he turned his attention back to her. He pulled the fabric covering the bottom half of his face down and spoke words Natasha didn't have the focus to understand.
The last thing she registered before her eyes shut close was the familiar scent of cologned shampoo under the smell of sawdust and gunpowder.
Who could that be? What will become of Natasha? Is Hydra really dead? Where's Clint? What's happening?
Review and find out!