There's a lot of crazy, stupid things someone will do when they're desperate. Kids will push each other around on the playground to win childish games. Students cheat on tests to bring their grades up so they don't have to be accountable to their parents. Lonely teachers start looking at their students for unethical companionship. Parents look at overdue bills and make very stupid decisions. Stupid decisions that end up hurting people just as desperate as themselves.
Imagine you're a kid. Just fourteen or fifteen. Something like that. Just at that age where you think you're starting to get the hang of the high school but that doesn't really matter because it's game night with your parents tonight! They're not your birth parents but they might as well be. But honestly, that part's not so important as the fact that you're in the middle of something with your uncle and he dies. There's armed men, a gun, a twitchy finger and a bullet involved.
You're left with bloody hands, tears, and a hole in your heart that your uncle's smile used to fill.
Except then you see the man who shot him. He's panicking, shaking and yelling in some sort of attempt to make sense of what he's done. He doesn't seem much like the consummate professional soldier that kicked in the door a few minutes ago.
That's when the rage hits you. You shake and your heart beats at four times its usual pace and sweat pours from your face. But most of all you feel hungry.
So you eat your fill.
And only two people leave from the Parker home when three came in.
It only goes downhill from there.
So much happens after that.
You're different after that day. And not just in the way that someone changes after someone close to them dies. But in the fact that you can lift cars over your head, put Olympic gymnasts to shame, and tend to eat people when things get inconvenient for you.
It's called Hydra.
What happened to you. Or maybe that's what you are now.
The voices in your head that belong to your meals call it a viral disease or a bioweapon gone wrong.
It's so much more than that but you don't know that yet.
You can change shape, grow bladed weapons and punch way above what should be your weight class. Oh, you can do this cool thing and break physics to fly as well. But it's not actually flying. It's more like falling horizontally.
But that's not important.
People are dying.
But that's not new, what matters is that you can do something about it.
With Great Power comes Great Responsibility. And a whole lotta Hunger.
So you save people. Mostly by killing the ones that are too far gone. You try to keep it just to the ones who don't have intact brains because you don't need any more voices in your head.
But then you kill your sort-of girlfriend's abusive father and that monster takes up residence in your head as a wordless roar of rage. And you take your first peek behind the curtain and find out how a normal human can be a monster.
You're betrayed. An ally consumes you. Or you consume him but he takes everything that matters. You take a trip through Oz and find the wizard. You pull back that curtain again and find out what makes a humanitarian scientist turn into an unfeeling monster that looks at hard numbers and decides that the State of New York is an acceptable loss to keep humanity alive.
It's far too late when you realize that he had been right.
But before that you ate. And ate and killed. You consumed and devoured.
Suddenly, it's over.
Except you've eaten far too much and you realize too far and too late that Hydra is more than just a bioweapon, more than a disease, more than you can comprehend even with your city sized hive mind.
You're too much now to be human. No, your purpose is more than that now. Your calling is to spread your song. To share what it is to be Chitauri.
Sto d'zan che'ir
You are Dorrek, Kl'rt, a God-King of this world that will be Eternal. Part of you and part of us.
Except... That's not you.
Peter Parker is a teenage kid from Queens who aces chemistry but sucks at memorizing history. He likes cold subs from the bodega down the street and walks home the long way from school to avoid bullies. He spends his time taking tasteful photos of cute girls from school and cobbling together nonsensical inventions from broken toasters and tv sets.
You might not be a hero. But you're definitely not a God.
So you make the best possible choice. It's not the easy choice.
If it wasn't worthwhile, it wouldn't be hard.
Turns out that there's one last loose end to take care of. One last chance for you, for Peter Parker to just be Peter Parker again.
But this is when things get impossibly worse.
It turns out that Peter Parker never had a chance at all. There's another one.
A Dorrek. A Veranke. A God-King that used to slumber but wakes with each moment that passes.
And there's no Peter Parker in his head to make the hard choices.
Stronger than tears.
So you fight. You pull out every trick in the book to stop this threat, you wipe his nest from the face of the earth. 200,000 tons of superheated biomass devour and scorch it from the dirt.
But it's not enough.
You lose. You lose a lot.
Aunt May. Gwen Stacy. MJ.
Your loss is incomparable
The Dorrek takes all of North America in months.
Your rage is immeasurable.
You find that when the gloves come off, when you realize that morality is a luxury for humans, you become so much more effective.
You take Europe and its neighbors.
This would be so much easier if you would just adapt, evolve even further to consume him. But that's a line you will not cross, you can't cross.
You fight to prevent m'asma. You fight to preserve humanity. You fight to. You fight. You.
You can't remember.
The enemy took so much ground in that first year but while he spread himself thin, you dug in deep and tapped into the planet itself. There is no exploitable weakness for what you are, what he is. So you become the meaning of overkill and the fire you give birth to is incomparable to anything but the sun.
Your children erase the Americas from existence.
The Dorrek is on the run, hiding itself within the icy pale of the far north to slumber once more. It wants no part in a fight with you anymore. There is no g'ewar in this war. There will be no m'asma. He still cannot comprehend why you won't join the song even when humanity is all but dead.
You refuse to deign him with an explanation before you set his atoms ablaze.
The Dorrek lost.
But the Dorrek won.
Humanity is dead.
And the Earth is dying.
The Chitauri programming calls for you to begin t'epart. To spread from planet to planet and become what you are meant to be. But something changed.
Something changed along the way, during your wrath and the death of your race. You find that the song is dead. You fight back the Hunger and realize that humanity is dead. Not just dead but their voices, the incessant voices that chanted and eroded at your will are gone.
Mountains crumble when you laugh and realize that world-consuming rage was the answer to your problems.
Sto d'zan che'ir
Humans are hypocritical, delusional and impractical creatures.
You might be Dorrek.
But you are also Peter Parker.
And Peter Parker is nothing else if not Human.
Synapses and nerves the size of cities pulse. You process the collective knowledge and experience of the entirety of humanity.
And that's when you do something truly desperate.
...SHIFT COMPLETE.
ORBIT ACHIEVED.
CALCULATING RE-ENTRY TRAJECTORY... CALCULATION COMPLETE.
BEGIN RE-ENTRY.
BIOMASS LEVELS AT 90%
BIOMASS LEVELS AT 75%
BIOMASS LEVELS AT CRITICAL LEVELS 30%
RE-ENTRY COMPLETE.
PLANTING BIO-NEST...
BIO-NEST PLANTED.
P'ACKRIFEL LAUNCHED.
STO D'ZAN CHE'IR
The itsy bitsy spider...
Natasha Romanov curses under her breath as she tears a dark-colored spider from her neck and crushes it into the dirt. She focuses back on her training exercise and disappears back into the thick foliage of the jungle.
She's not paying attention when the spider unravels into tendrils of flesh that decompose into the earth.
Crawled up the water spout...
Natasha Romanov is terrified beyond belief and inexplicably happy as she steals a kiss from James and presses his palm lightly against the swell between her hips. His crystal blue eyes are wide with shock and disbelief but she can read the crease in between his brows and finds that he's restraining a smile.
Down came the rain...
James is bleeding from several gunshot wounds in his torso when he presses a kiss to her forehead and tells her to run.
She doesn't see him again.
And washed the spider out...
Natasha is crying silently of despair and love as she brushes her lips against her baby's forehead.
"Mama loves you Pyotr... But you must be stronger than tears."
The newborn is silent, gazing back at her with heterochromatic eyes of velvet azure and emerald green as she is forced to let go of him.
Out came the sun...
"Doctor Volkov, you cannot be suggesting we use the last of the serum on that-that child!" A pale faced assistant argued vehemently.
Contrary to the anger and disrespect his subordinate showed, Volkov simply smiled and folded his hands together. "You must be thinking I am placing all of my eggs in one basket, no? We are still unsure if the subject will exhibit the prowess of his male or female precursors. So why should I risk wasting the last of the Parker serum that hasn't successfully passed even animal tests on a valuable human subject that could very well die and leave us with less than what we started?"
The assistant blinked at him and frowned in confusion. "Exactly, Doctor-"
"Come Stepan, have some faith. The serum has been successfully synthesized for some time now and Project Lado will soon be complete." Volkov raised an eyebrow at the other man. "What is the real problem Stepan?"
Stepan furrowed his brows. "Are we not giving him too much power Doctor? We still do not know why or how the Black Widow has gained her... abilities and put that together with the formidable-"
Volkov laughed. "Don't tell me you are afraid of losing control of that?" He pointed to a monitor. The screen depicted a four-year old staring transfixed at a projected video from the inside of a steel cage.
"Stepan, we have been perfecting our programming methods for nearly a century. And we will have all the time in the world to leash this child."
And dried up all the rain...
"Excellent work Pyotr. You are a step above the wastrels I usually have to work with. You shall have your first training exercise soon enough!" The older man admired the fine aim of his protege. The targets all pierced through the center by pointed blades.
Pyotr grinned.
And the itsy bitsy spider...
"What do you mean, you lost him?!" Volkov screeched at the officer.
The sweating soldier looked down. "I apologize Doctor, but h-he slipped away before we even noticed anything! He lead us into a firefight with the Bratva! By the time we finished, he had removed his tracking device!"
The doctor grit his teeth, a vein pulsing from his temple.
"Take all of the men you can find and do not come back until you have found him Kapitan... your head is forfeit until you bring him back." The doctor spat.
The officer saluted in a hurry and raced off.
Volkov glanced at the worried mien of Stepan. "We should have no cause to panic. He cannot have gotten far. He's only ten after all!"
Went up the spout again...
Pyotr felt the silence and unzipped the bag. He stepped out and silently closed it before walking away from the suitcase not even sparing a glace for the woman facing away from her luggage.
The drone of an airplane passing above him whipped up his hair as he looked up.
LaGuardia Airport
Pyotr smirked.
Pyotr followed the screams.
Not the terrified horrific screams that he was used to. They were excited and something like squeals of joy. It was somewhat unsettling.
Pyotr navigated the dark streets, following the sounds of revelry and the column of pedestrians.
What is there a fair in town or something? There's a lot of people heading this way.
Stark Expo
What the hell is a Stark?
Pyotr picked at the oversized clothing on his small frame. London hadn't been a fun pitstop. A stall caught his eye, pressed t-shirts and hats with strange logos and memorabilia. He grabbed both a cap and shirt as he paced by swiftly divesting himself of his previous attire and slipping on the cap over his red locks.
"Who the hell is this guy?" He wondered to himself as he picked at the armored man depicted on the shirt.
"Oh my God, there he is!"
Pyotr cringed at the high volume of the girl's screech before a drone filtered into his hearing. His eyes were drawn up and into the distance where a speeding something was flying through the air.
It was way too small to be a plane and at the thought of it being some kind of unmanned aircraft his thoughts turned to the enormous amount of people gathered. Who would launch some kind of weapon at a crowd this big?
His pupils shifted on impulse, zooming in on the craft. His brain stuttered.
There wasn't a lot that could surprise Pyotr. He may only be ten years old physically but he had seen a lot in his time as Peter Parker not to mention that his ten years in this life weren't exactly normal.
A flying suit of human sized and shaped armor was a new one.
He watched in surprise and some awe as the armored man maneuvered like a mad man above the crowd before slamming down on the stage.
"Okay, that's really cool."
Pyotr pushed his way towards the back of the crowd creating enough distance so he could see the stage. The man within the armor was some kind of celebrity and inventor from what he could see.
"I'm not saying, that the world's enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace because of me."
Pyotr raised an eyebrow as the man continued to monologue. Or maybe he was just an egotist.
Pyotr straightened imperceptibly as he caught a scent he'd never encountered in this life. The thick, cloying sweet carrion of Hydra reached him and he fervently clamped down on the scent.
"There's no way..." He murmured as he fought through the crowd, ignoring the yelps of indignation from the spectators as he pushed past them inelegantly. I'm in a completely different dimension... What are the odds of another strain of Hydra being present in this world and it already having infected someone?
There was something about the scent that bothered him though. It was familiar but muted as if it was contained.
Right... There!
Pyotr stopped as he found the source.
A gorgeous blonde woman with bright emerald eyes stood facing the spectacle with a hand near her ear and a roving gaze that spoke of vigilance.
Trained vigilance, he realized suddenly and disguised his movements as he folded in beside someone in the crowd.
His heart pounded as his mind raced.
Escaping the Red Room was about freedom. Coming to America was about finding his Mother.
He knew that she had wanted him. And loved him. He knew what she looked like and that she had defected to America.
He had thought to somehow gain access to a government database and look her up that way. She was talented, he knew that the United States were most likely making use of those talents.
But that was a long-term plan. He didn't expect to get an opportunity like that anytime soon.
And he certainly didn't expect to find her within a day upon reaching the US.
His head turned as her scent faded, seeing her walk away from the presentation with purpose in her strides.
Pyotr followed with wandering steps and a blank expression, staying a sizable distance from her.
Here's hoping she doesn't shoot him before he opens his mouth.
There were days when Natasha hated her inhuman abilities.
Sure, she could lift over ten times her body weight, run faster than most cars, jump higher than any human ever recorded, possessed a precise control over her bodily controls and heal faster than any normal human had a right to. But she also had massively enhanced senses.
Massively.
The kind that made her eyes lose focus for too long, abused her ears and left them ringing, forced her to taste the air that people breathed and overloaded her brain with everything around her that had a scent.
So she had migraines.
They were manageable, well she managed them when she needed to. But if there wasn't any kind of task she needed done, you bet your ass she would be down for a nap to soothe her overstimulated senses.
It was a mystery really.
Every armed force and paramilitary organization on the planet had been trying to recreate the effects of the super soldier serum since the end of World War 2.
And she got her powers from a spider.
A small, nearly unnoticeable spider from the middle of jungle on the island of Hainan that she almost forgot about were it not for a physician pointing it out to her.
She became an even more valuable asset for the Red Room after that day. So valuable that they let her break one of the first rules in the Black Widow Program.
They made her pay for it of course.
The Red Room might not always win but they certainly get even.
Natasha massaged her head as she walked. Why did she have to get so introspective during migraines? It made focusing so much harder than it needed to be.
Focus was important in every aspect of espionage.
Especially when you were being followed.
She had to admit that he was pretty good. A conventional spy might not even have noticed him. But she was the best for a reason.
He had been tailing her since her departure at the Stark Expo, her preamble to what promised to be a trying mission for her patience. Generally, when you followed someone you needed to maintain a certain distance, avoid reflections in urban areas, stay out of line of sight and never directly look at your target. But the most important aspect is purpose.
You're not a spy or a shadow following a politician during an illicit affair, you're a photographer looking for that perfect picture for your blog, you're a jogger out on your run, or even a junkie looking for their next fix.
Undesirables are often the easiest covers to hold because no one notices them. No one wants to notice them. The homeless. The beggars.
Little girls living on the streets.
He was good, kept to the shadows a little too much and was much too far to keep up with her if she decided to run but he was good at avoiding reflections and keeping out of sight.
But compared to her he was a child who didn't know what they were doing.
Natasha turned the corner down the alley that lead to the safe house.
If he stopped here, then that was fine. It wasn't her problem if a local found a SHIELD safe house whether they were just a detective with too much time on their hands or a homeland agent that was a bit too curious. Even if it was somehow a CIA agent, those kinds of things could be taken care of by a quick call to PR.
But if he decided to investigate further or tried to enter, well.. It was a good thing the safe house was soundproof. If he was innocent, then there were protocols she was obligated to follow but if he had other designs, she could get creative.
For the sake of her nap she hoped he was innocent.
Natasha kept focus on her peripheral vision as she typed in the code on the entrance keypad. Well, at least he was smart enough not to peek around the corner.
She filed inside after the door slid open and closed behind her. Natasha quickly hid the files on the table in a cupboard, the only incriminating information in the safe house. She really should have shredded those but she hadn't expected to be followed on such a low risk excursion. It was more to satisfy her curiosity than anything else.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door pinging as it announced a failed attempt on the keypad. She frowned as she unholstered her sidearm and took a peek at the display panel.
"What the hell?" She murmured.
Despite the invalid code notification being repeated the display held the same numbers she had used, just in a different order.
Natasha slammed on the open button and hauled in her stalker throwing him to the ground.
He was so small Natasha almost missed grabbing him.
"Try anything and you'll-..." Natasha trailed off as her eyes took in boy at her feet.
He was so young.
She didn't know kids that well but he had to be seven or eight at the most.
Her gaze was drawn to the Stark Expo hat that was knocked off when he fell. He must've just been some nosey kid that followed her from the event.
Crimson hair.
Her eyes narrowed as they drifted over his features, her mind blank.
Heterochromia. She didn't even know she had the gene to pass down.
Small but delicate features.
Her face. His expression.
"H-Hey-
Sarah if it's a girl.
And if it's a boy?
You can name him.
...I like Pyotr.
"Mom."
Pyotr didn't have a plan.
That was okay for the most part though.
He was used to split-second decisions and gliding along the momentum of high-paced situations.
Sneaking into the Red Room's laboratory databases. Escaping his first training exercise outside of the facility. Smuggling himself across the world. Finding his Mom.
Except, he couldn't screw up that last one. He could have afforded to fail at any of the earlier steps, but finding his Mom, reconnecting with her-he just couldn't fuck that up.
So he had to explain somehow without making it seem like he was crazy or some kind of indoctrinated spy used in a ploy for revenge by the Russians.
Okay, maybe that was crazy too.
Pyotr crept quietly towards the door, keeping his face away from the camera he spotted near the top of the building.
He examined the keypad, breathing softly. It was one thing to say that he left the Red Room for freedom.
It was another thing entirely that he came to America to find his mother.
In so many ways he was still the Peter Parker that lived and became the face of Hydra. He remembered conversations with his Uncle Ben and the love he held for his Aunt May.
But those emotions were, faded and muted in grayscale like an old tv show. He cherished them but they were so much less than the raw emotions and memories he held from this life. He was more Pyotr than he was Peter.
Peter's memories, his memories had been what had brought him to this point. His developed psyche was probably the only thing that guarded him from a mountain of trauma incurred from his upbringing in the Red Room.
Cruel lessons and heavy-handed punishments seemed somewhat less than, when he knew he was stronger than that.
Sto d'zan che'ir
Their attempts at indoctrination programming and mind control were more daunting but it wasn't long before Peter learned how to block that out as well.
Pyotr's nose twitched as the scent from the keypad reached him. Focus.
Point was, Peter Parker might want him to find his Aunt May or Uncle Ben but Pyotr only had a mind for soft kisses placed on his brow and green orbs glittering down at him.
Hopefully she still wanted him.
Pyotr hovered a hand over the numbers on the keypad. He could tell which numbers she and others had pressed to gain access but he couldn't tell what order they were supposed to be punched in.
His senses were sensitive enough to pick up the traces of biological matter but not to the point that he could determine how old the traces were.
Oh well, if she didn't know he was following her, she would now.
He jabbed in the numbers in a random order, not surprised by the buzz sounding in response to the invalid code.
Maybe he should knock.
Pyotr snickered at the thought. Room Service.
Pyotr's thoughts were cut off by the door sliding open quickly and an iron grip dragging him in by his collar and laying him out on the floor in the time it took him to blink.
He hit the floor with an forcefully exhaled breath and tumbled onto his back losing his cap.
"Try anything and you'll-" The authoritative voice cut off as Pyotr blinked up at her, breathless. He'd only been tossed to the ground but it felt as if he had been punched in the gut.
While his brain red-lined his mouth moved without his control.
"H-Hey Mom. Long time no see."
The woman's eyes narrowed at him and her sidearm stayed fixed to his position.
Pyotr smiled nervously and inched his hands slowly above his head. He was not about to test the reaction speed of a ten year-old against a seasoned assassin.
"Who are you?" Her steely tone evoked unpleasant memories and he almost responded in reflex to the order.
Though, that wasn't a bad idea.
His expression grew solemn and he spoke in Russian. "They called me subject 0 of the Spider Wolf Program, or boy." Pyotr's face softened and he looked in wonder at her. "But you named me Pyotr."
He could see that she was shaken, her gun drifting away from him and her eyes hungrily taking him in. "How can you prove that?" She strangled out. "They told me he died, that I'd never see him again. And I didn't. I helped SHIELD tear down the Red Room brick by brick and you-he wasn't anywhere!"
Pyotr swallowed at the vulnerability on her face. "This-This is the first I'm hearing of it. I don't know what SHIELD is or what the Red Room told you. All I know that my mother had green eyes and red hair. I know that she wanted me. I know that I was raised in the Red Room for as long as I can remember. I know that my mother was said to have defected to America. And I knew that I had to leave at the first opportunity available. So I did."
Her eyes were wide and expressive as she bit down on her lip. "And how would you have somehow 'escaped' from the Red Room? And somehow found me here? The only person who knows I'm here wouldn't have shared that."
Pyotr smiled shakily. "I started playing the obedient soldier before they even knew I could talk. All they've done my entire life is underestimate me. Escaping the Red Room was the easiest part about getting here. But finding you? I didn't even know where to start. It was pure luck that I saw you at the Stark Expo." He laughed sadly. "First place I go to in America and I find you staring out with the same green eyes I recognize from my dreams."
Natasha inched closer absently and Pyotr fought furiously against tears. His breath came short and his chest pounded unpleasantly. "Mama I came for you, nothing else."
The gun crumpled out of her hand, a petal falling from a flower. She followed, curled up one knee with one outstretched hand, the other grasping a teary-eyed face.
"Pyotr, is that y-you? My baby boy?"
He wasn't sure which of them moved after that. All he knew was that one second he was stretched out on the floor and the next he knew Pyotr was in her arms, with what felt like a hole in his heart.
Pyotr knew he was small for his age. It figured that he had the most doctored and enhanced genes on the planet and he still managed to be shorter than average. But somehow that never really clicked. He had a whole other life tucked inside his head, it was easy to forget about things like age and size and childhood.
For whatever reason that was, sobbing into his mother made him feel like the smallest thing in the world.
They ended up at the kitchen table at some point with him sitting nervously in the high seat. The Black Widow smiled warmly at him from across the table, her thin digits dancing on the counter lest they end up wrapped up around him once more.
"I want to know everything. Don't leave anything out."
Pyotr nodded. Despite it sounding like this was an interrogation, he could tell she was worried. About him. About his life up to this point. About the Red Room.
All of the above, most likely.
His mouth opened to answer and his stomach roared instead. Immediately his face burned and he closed his mouth with a snap.
His mom smirked under red-rimmed eyes. "Someone's hungry. Give me a minute, I'll see if we have anything other than MRE's here."
Pyotr played with his thumbs as he watched her move back and forth easily about the kitchen. This was new. All of it new. Having a mother, actually spending time with her. Here's hoping he doesn't mess it up.
"What's your name?" Pyotr asked.
His mom turned her head with a raised brow. "You really don't know my name?"
Pyotr shrugged. "I can remember back to when I was born so I know what you look like. The doctors spoke sparingly about you but I do remember them calling you a traitor, among other things. But as for your name, well, all I got was Black Widow and that's not exactly exclusive to you. They've basically washed you from any kind of records."
She removed the blonde wig from her head, discarding it onto the counter. Crimson hair just like his spilled out and he smiled.
"Natasha Romanov. But you can call me Mom."
Pyotr grinned. "I guess that makes me Pyotr Romanov then."
Natasha resumed rummaging through the cupboards eventually pulling out a few boxes of noodles. "Spaghetti sound good? I think that's all we have."
Pyotr nodded solemnly. "Mom, the first thing you have to know about me is that I will eat anything and I'm always hungry."
Little known downside of being stronger than normal is that feeding yourself becomes a job and a half.
"And what do you mean you can remember back to when you were born? You don't mean that literally?"
Author's Note
So I rewatched Iron Man 2 and wow i missed a lot when I first saw this movie. First of all, I don't see how Iron Man would have achieved 'world peace'. Even if this man was on standby in the middle east for months he wouldn't be able to stop every conflict or incident. An Iron Man suit doesn't help you prevent suicide bombers and fanatics. But whatever canon says he creates world peace I guess he creates world peace or forces some kind of armistice. My second point is that holy shit Ivan should've killed Tony Happy and Pepper. So he hits the front of Tony's race car causing it to flip over and the camera literally shows that cut off piece swing through where Tony should've been sitting. But whatever maybe that's just perspective. So Tony survives with minimal injuries pretty much unscathed and he's struggling to get out of the cockpit. The movie basically shows Ivan slicing down through the cockpit and Tony's suddenly gone as if Ivan wasn't able to see him get out, go around him and walk up to him to hit him over the head. Alright so maybe we say Ivan's basically blind and usually needs glasses like they show later in the movie. So he somehow misses that. Then Tony basically dances around while Ivan proves he has worse aim then a stormtrooper. Then he hits the car that's quite obviously leaking gasoline and gets hit by a speeding car he should've heard coming. Ivan survives getting hit by that car which is kind of crazy cause happy was putting the pedal to the metal and hit him straight in the back. But anyways here I'd think once Ivan wakes up he should've been able to get happy first swing and get the others after. But every time he swings he misses terribly. Maybe you'd think that he only wants to kill Tony but that's proven wrong several times over the course of the movie. But everybody lives because plot which is a good reason I just wish they didn't make it so unbelievable. Also I love how Ivan fucks with Hammer the entire movie like he can't speak English. Also there really should be a ridiculous civilian kill count for that movie. A bunch of military drones with Stark and Hammer tech vs a bunch of disorganized panicking civilians.
Also, imagine my surprise that the fics that have the cringe spider wolf/wolf spider title in them are actually canon for Marvel comics. It's literally a thing. The Wolf Spider Ops Program. Apparently there was just one dude in it. He's completely normal btw he's just good at killing things I guess. I don't know why he has a program dedicated to him or why he's the only male spy that Marvel's version of Russia has but whatever.
I also watched the Black Widow Movie again and I gotta say it doesn't get better after the first time. It's got great shots, the cinematography is easily the best part of it. You can probably already tell it's not my favorite movie. I'll start off by saying I liked the movie just about up to when they got to Melina's house. Everything after that is dogshit. The plot, the characters introduced, the dialogue. It's terrible. Dreykhov is easily the worst written Marvel villain, and I'll explain a bit. We'll start at the beginning. Dreykhov is apparently the head of the Red Room a previously Soviet now Russian espionage organization. He's ex military so that makes some sense even if he doesn't know a thing about managing a spy network yet. Blah blah, the North Institute mission happens so they can patent mind control and they steal that shit from Hydra. the mission succeeds and two things after this, one Hydra doesn't give a shit when their successful mind control methods are stolen apparently. Two, the Red Room makes mind control real and just uses it for spies and assassins instead of politicians and military leaders. But anyways, Budapest happens and apparently Dreykhov's daughter gets mutilated to all hell and almost dies but dreykhov is fine and they NEVER GIVE AN EXPLANATION AS TO WHY. After Budapest, Dreykhov is dead to the world and has to be so SHIELD doesn't try again. That said, how the hell would he build up the Red Room again? There's no mind control yet, so really everyone can abandon ship but apparently they all stay. The Red Room clearly isn't an official Russian organization after this point so he's independently just putting spies next to every president and prime minister in the world just to do nothing. Oh and he also apparently had his own Russian helicarrier before shield did. His whole character just doesn't make sense and I'm just not gonna talk ab him anymore because I'm sure none of you are reading this huge AN. I also question the intelligence of Russia's government because they let a super soldier rot in prison for 20 years.