"Dreykov's running. I'm intercepting him."
Smith launched himself down the corridor before Natasha could respond, his acceleration generating a powerful gust that sent debris tumbling in his wake. Natasha's red hair whipped around her face as she hefted Yelena onto her back and followed as quickly as her unenhanced physiology allowed.
By the ti Dreykov reached the evacuation elevator with his guard detail, Smith was already in pursuit. The general clutched his control tablet like a lifeline, his daughter's armored form moving silently beside him. They boarded the waiting jet on the launch platform, and Dreykov allowed himself a mont of relief.
The aircraft's engines spooled up with a turbine whine. Within seconds, they'd be airborne and clear of this disaster. The fortress could be replaced, as long as he retained the control network, he still commanded hundreds of Black Widows scattered across the globe. Given ti and resources, he could rebuild everything.
As the jet lifted off, Dreykov pressed his ring against the control tablet's biotric scanner. The interface activated, displaying his worldwide network of conditioned agents. His jaw clenched with bitter fury as he navigated to the base's system controls and activated the self-destruct sequence.
Sixty seconds. The countdown began.
"Damn Smith Doyle. Damn Natasha Romanoff." Dreykov's voice shook with rage. "You'll die with my base. You enhanced freaks should be locked in cages like Alexei, studied and contained forever!"
He'd invested decades of work, billions in resources, countless lives into building this aerial fortress. Now it would beco rubble because one abnormally powerful intruder had torn through his defenses like tissue paper.
Then a massive dent erupted in the jet's door, the clear impression of a fist, punched through reinforced aircraft aluminum from outside.
"SHOOT!" Dreykov scread. "KILL HIM!"
The door tore free entirely, ripped from its fra and hurled into the open air. Smith Doyle pulled himself into the aircraft as guards opened fire at point-blank range.
Bullets flattened against his body and clattered to the deck. His clothing, reinforced with technology beyond standard body armor, absorbed the impacts without visible damage. Thank God for bulletproof fabric; otherwise, this would be significantly more annoying.
Smith moved through the guards like a whirlwind. Bodies flew from the aircraft's open door, tumbling into open sky. The conditioned soldiers adjusted their orientation mid-fall, still firing at the jet with chanical determination even as they plumted toward earth thousands of feet below.
Smith's fist punched through the Taskmaster's armor plating, the impact calculated to render her unconscious without killing. He grabbed Dreykov with his free hand and launched back out of the aircraft, both prisoners secured.
Behind him, a ki blast reduced the jet to shrapnel. The explosion blood orange and red against the gray clouds.
Smith descended rapidly toward the Red Room's landing platform, where Natasha had just arrived with Yelena still unconscious on her back. Two bodies crashed onto the deck in front of her, Dreykov and the armored woman, landing hard enough to crack the tal surface.
The impact nearly knocked the control tablet from Dreykov's grip. He managed to clutch it tightly, palm pressing against the screen to hide its interface.
Smith touched down beside the group a mont later, landing with barely a sound despite his rapid descent.
Natasha stared at the armored figure, her tactical mind working through implications. "Who is she? Soone you thought worth bringing back?"
"Dreykov's daughter," Smith said flatly.
The words hit Natasha like a physical blow. She studied the woman's scarred face, visible through the damaged armor's faceplate. Not dead. Never dead. Surviving the explosion that had defined Natasha's guilt for eight years.
Her expression cycled through shock, confusion, and finally settling on sothing approaching despair. The building had collapsed. The bomb had detonated. She'd seen it with her own eyes, seen the structure co apart, known that Dreykov and his daughter had been inside.
But Dreykov had survived. His daughter had survived. And SHIELD, SHIELD had told her they were dead. Confird it. Built her entire redemption narrative around that confird kill.
Everything she'd done for SHIELD over the years, every mission, every sacrifice, every moral compromise, had been built on a foundation of lies.
Dreykov laughed, the sound carrying manic edges. "Haha! I heard you've been drowning in guilt over that bomb. Crying yourself to sleep, probably."
His grin widened with cruel satisfaction. "I should thank you, Natasha. You gave my greatest warrior. My daughter's conditioning, her capabilities, all refined through that trauma you caused."
The revelation solidified in Natasha's mind with crystalline clarity. The Red Room had lied to her. SHIELD had lied to her. Her entire adult life had been performance art, dancing between two organizations that had both manipulated her for their own purposes.
"What was my mother's na?" The question erged quiet but intense.
Dreykov paused, genuinely surprised. Then understanding dawned, Natasha wanted answers before he died. And he wanted to delay, wanted to give the self-destruct tir more seconds to tick down. Taking these enhanced freaks with him into oblivion would be satisfying consolation for his destroyed empire.
He pretended to think. "Um... there was a tree where we buried her. Pink flowers, very beautiful. And a tombstone with her na carved into it."
"What. Was. Her. Na."
Natasha's eyes reddened with emotion, grief, rage, frustration all mixing together.
"Kill him," she said quietly. "I don't need him, "
The Red Room exploded.
The detonation rippled through the facility in cascading waves. Sections of the aerial fortress ca apart, tal groaning and shrieking as structural supports failed. The landing platform bucked violently, fracture lines spreading across its surface.
Dreykov laughed again, this ti with genuine amusent. "I didn't expect you could fly, Mr. Doyle. I planned to blow you up with the base, but..." He shrugged philosophically. "Now I'll just be destroyed along with my life's work. Poetic, in a way."
His eyes tracked to the unconscious Yelena, then to Natasha. "Though I wonder, can you carry two people while flying? Or will you have to choose which one survives the fall?"
Smith appeared in front of Dreykov instantly, his hand blurring forward to snatch the control tablet. His other hand grabbed Dreykov's finger, the one wearing the biotric authentication ring, and twisted sharply.
Bone snapped. Dreykov's scream pierced even through the explosions.
"NO! How did you, how could you possibly know about, "
Smith pulled the ring free and pocketed both items. Then he grabbed Dreykov by the collar and hurled him bodily into the nearest explosion. "Go to hell with your Red Room. And when you get there, tell phisto that Smith Doyle says hello."
Dreykov's body vanished into the flas, his scream cutting off abruptly.
The platform beneath them began breaking apart completely. Smith moved to Natasha's side. "Ti to evacuate."
He grab Yelena into his left arm, while Taskmaster his right hand. And Natasha hang on his back, with all three secured, Smith launched skyward just as the platform disintegrated beneath them.
Behind them, the Red Room's aerial fortress tore itself apart. Explosions consud section after section, the massive structure collapsing inward as critical systems failed. Within seconds, nothing remained but burning debris tumbling toward earth.
User Comments
0 comments from readers