Black Widow: Forever Red Page 10

  “How long until they get here?” asked Ava quietly.

  “According to my talkative friend, not long at all.”

  “Okay. Can someone finally explain what’s going on around here? What does this Ivan person want with Ava? And what kind of cop are you, exactly?”

  “Excuse me?” Natasha stared.

  “In fact, how do we even know you’re not working with them?”

  “As what?” Natasha asked. “One of Ivan’s hired guns?” For the first time today, she found herself laughing.

  She felt sorry for the boy, more than he knew, but there was no turning back now. Natasha had tried to keep him out of it, and look where that had gotten them. She had two charges now, instead of one—and Ivan had three targets.

  I’m going to have to improvise. I hate improvising.

  “It’s not funny.” Alex seemed exasperated. “Seriously. There are bad cops. How do we know you’re not working with the people who were trying to kill us five minutes ago.”

  Natasha laughed again.

  “She’s not,” Ava said wearily.

  “How do you know? She was definitely following me earlier. I know she was.” He looked from Ava to Natasha. “What if she’s lying?”

  “Oh, she’s always lying,” Ava said. “Just not about this.”

  Natasha had stopped laughing. Now she contemplated decking the kid, he was so irritating. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was shooting back at them. Which wouldn’t exactly make me mercenary of the month, would it?” She reloaded one of her weapons as she spoke. “We need to get out of here, so the rest of your questions will have to wait. Hilarious though they may be.”

  She raised her wrist to her mouth and spoke into the tiny microphone woven into the black cuff beneath her sleeve. “Romanoff is standing by. I have the asses—I mean assets—ready for extract. Over.”

  Her wrist crackled back at her.

  “Reading you five by five. Roger that, Agent.” Coulson sounded relieved, even over the comm. “Extract on the way. Out.”

  “Why does that voice sound so familiar? Or am I just imagining it?” Ava looked panicked. “Do I know him?”

  Natasha shrugged. “Everyone else seems to.”

  “Who was that?” Alex asked.

  “Coulson,” Natasha said, knowing full well that the name would mean nothing to either of them. “He’ll want to debrief you.” Alex looked at her blankly. “I mean, he’ll probably have a few questions for you.” Either way, she thought, I’m not leaving you around to answer anyone else’s.

  “What’s happening in five? What did he mean?” Ava frowned.

  Natasha waved her off, ignoring the question. The more she thought about it, though, the more she had a few of her own.

  “Where did you learn how to jump off bridges like that?”

  “I didn’t learn. I just knew,” Ava said, annoyed. “Where did you learn to shoot people like that?”

  “School, obviously,” Natasha said tonelessly. “Top of my class.”

  “Of course you were. Valedictorian of the shoot-’em-up.” Ava sat herself down on the rocks, looking like she wanted the conversation to be over. She lay back.

  Natasha shrugged. “That, and combined arms. Tactical. Close-quarters combat. Naval aviation. Navigation. Military engineering. Artillery—”

  “We got it,” Alex said, cutting her off. “You’re amazing.”

  “After years of training. But somehow Ava expects me to believe she became an Olympic-level bridge-vaulting gymnast when I wasn’t looking?”

  “When were you ever looking?” Ava didn’t bother to sit up.

  Natasha eyed the girl, still. Something wasn’t adding up.

  A flip kick into a front flip with a full three sixty rotation? Nobody on the planet ‘just knows’ how to do that.

  She shook her head. Ava had executed a move that was textbook Red Room, and Natasha didn’t like it.

  Not at all.

  Alex looked up from brushing powdery concrete dust off his limbs. “You can probably put those away now,” he said, pointing to Natasha. “Unless you’re going to, you know, shoot us.”

  Natasha hadn’t realized she was still holding a weapon in each hand. She shoved one weapon into her waistband and slid the other down her back.

  Careless. Ivan’s getting to you. Even now, after all this time.

  Don’t give him that.

  “What’s with the inquisition, anyway?” Ava said, looking up at the sky. “I thought we were getting out of here.” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temple with one hand. “I hope we are. My head is starting to pound.”

  Natasha bristled. “It’s not an inquisition.”

  “Then what is it? A pop quiz?” Alex frowned.

  “I’m not a teacher, and I’m not a babysitter. If you want to take on Ivan Somodorov alone, go ahead. Don’t act like this is a favor to me. I owed you the warning, and that’s all.”

  “Agreed,” Ava said, her eyes still closed. Now she had one hand on each temple. “Don’t worry, you’re not doing anyone any favors, and you’re probably the world’s worst babysitter. But hey, I do appreciate the warning.”

  Natasha moved toward her and held out her hand. “Get up.”

  Ava opened one eye.

  “You’re a sitting target.” Natasha sighed. “You can’t stay here. Not unless you were hoping to meet the rest of Ivan’s goon squad for—”

  Ava grabbed Natasha’s hand and pulled herself up—or tried to. As soon as she was halfway standing, she doubled over on the rocks, moaning.

  Something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?” Alex looked worried.

  Ava tried to stand up again but found that she couldn’t. “I’m dizzy. I think…I’m going to throw up.”

  “Please don’t,” Natasha said, annoyed.

  Ava stumbled up the bank, slamming the heel of her hand against her own forehead. “My brain is melting.”

  “I know,” Alex said, pointing to his own. “My ears are still ringing from the gunshots. It’s probably from that.”

  “Not melting—brain freeze.” Ava managed to force the words out as she lurched forward. “Major brain freeze.”

  She stumbled into Natasha, knocking her off-kilter wig from her head. It tumbled loose, dropping into the craggy rocks at her feet—

  —and Natasha Romanoff’s infamous curls of red hair tumbled free.

  Ava froze.

  Natasha just stood there. She knew exactly what had happened.

  Red hair.

  Cap off.

  Glasses shattered.

  Digital mask down.

  Der’mo—

  In head-to-toe black, with her leather jacket and her triple firepower—her trademark red-gold hair blazing down to her shoulders—there was only one operative in the world who looked like that.

  And that one operative hadn’t exactly managed to keep a low profile.

  Not since the Avengers Initiative.

  Natasha Romanoff might have still considered herself a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—but she wasn’t just any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

  In fact, the Black Widow was hardly unknown to anyone who had ever idolized Tony Stark or Captain America or a certain physicist with rage issues—not to mention an Asgardian king in the making. Last year, she had turned down more Hollywood premiers than Tony Stark. (Which wasn’t hard, since he never turns down any.) Valentino had offered to dress her for the Met Gala. (No grazie.) She’d found her face on the cover of Time magazine’s 100 Women Who Rule issue. (Only a hundred?) She’d even been asked around for bowling at the White House.

  In her own way—whether or not she wanted it—Natasha Romanoff was a celebrity now. That had been the price of taking up the sacred responsibility of protecting the entire planet from dangers that no one else would or could. The cameras and the headlines and the coverage. There was nobody who wouldn’t recognize the Black Widow now, no matter how much harder that made it for her to do her job.

  “It’s you.”


  Sure enough, Alex was staring at her as if he was seeing a ghost or a movie star or even the ghost of a movie star. He couldn’t seem to believe what he was seeing. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t look away, and he couldn’t move.

  “You’re y-you,” he stammered.

  “She is,” Ava said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “So this—this is all real.” Alex seemed to need to say it aloud.

  “Afraid so.” Natasha said.

  “Those were real Russian mercenaries shooting at us.” He was still staring.

  “Bingo,” Natasha said.

  “And Ava’s in real trouble. Because you’re—you’re the Black Widow.”

  Natasha sighed. She always hated this moment, no matter how inevitable it was—the revelation of her true identity. She had learned as a child to keep her secrets close; the less anyone knew about her, the safer she would be. Besides, being any of her covers was usually much less painful (and far less dangerous) than being Natasha Romanoff.

  But blowing her disguise was infinitely worse now that the Avengers had become household names. Since then, everything had changed—from the way people spoke to her to the way they looked at her and most of all, to the things they expected from her.

  Which was the way the boy was looking at her now.

  “Alex. It’s okay.” Ava’s face was even paler now, almost gray.

  “Did you know your—she—was—her?” Alex was trying to make words come out, but he was still pretty incoherent.

  Ava was swaying to stay on her feet as she looked at Natasha wearily. “Yes. You’ll get used to it.”

  “They all do.” Natasha shrugged. She glanced up at the sky. Coulson. Where are you? She looked at Ava more closely. The girl’s knees were starting to buckle. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Ava said, stumbling again. “Dizzy.”

  Natasha caught her by the hand—

  —and Ava’s legs gave out.

  As she fell to her knees, her body began to convulse. She looked for a moment as if she had been struck by lightning.

  “Ava?” Alex moved to her side.

  Natasha grabbed Ava. The kid’s eyes were closed now. “Her pulse is going crazy,” Natasha said. “Help me get her down.”

  They lowered her all the way to the ground.

  Ava lay motionless, curled on her side, as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating, or all the energy in her body had simply left her.

  “Ava?” Alex kept one arm around her. “She’s out cold. We need to get her to a hospital.”

  Natasha stood back up. “Not much longer now.” She looked down the river, to where a shadow moved across the water. “Thirty seconds.”

  Alex held Ava’s head cradled in his arm. “Wake up, Ava, wake up. Come on.”

  Natasha scanned the sky.

  Come on, Coulson. What’s taking you so long?

  As if to answer, at long last, with a great roar filling the air, a mighty S.H.I.E.L.D. ship dropped into the water behind them—and Natasha Romanoff exhaled for the first time all day.

  S.H.I.E.L.D. EYES ONLY

  CLEARANCE LEVEL X

  LINE-OF-DUTY DEATH [LODD] INVESTIGATION

  REF: S.H.I.E.L.D. CASE 121A415

  AGENT IN COMMAND [AIC]: PHILLIP COULSON

  RE: AGENT NATASHA ROMANOFF A.K.A. BLACK WIDOW, A.K.A. NATASHA ROMANOVA

  TRANSCRIPT: DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, LODD INQUIRY HEARINGS

  Incident: Odessa 2005 B2

  Note in file: P_Coulson Personal – text logs

  ROMANOFF: Looking for off-mission air support, Coulson. Possible extract, around 1300 hours, Philadelphia metro area. You in?

  COULSON: Agent Romanoff, are you saying you need a favor?

  ROMANOFF: I’m saying I’m looking for off-mission air support.

  COULSON: I’ve been told I’m highly supportive.

  ROMANOFF: It’s a yes or no question.

  COULSON: I read it in my horoscope once.

  ROMANOFF: We’re a go on my signal. Activating field tracker now. Don’t call me I’ll call you.

  COULSON: That was also in my horoscope.

  ROMANOFF:…

  COULSON: Ready in 5. Consider this my rsvp.

  <>

  ON S.H.I.E.L.D. TRANSPORT PLANE

  SOMEWHERE OVER

  THE EASTERN SEABOARD

  It had taken Alex only minutes to hoist Ava up, sling her over his shoulder, and carry her from the riverbank to the plane, but he had been so worried about her—and about dropping her—that it had felt more like hours.

  When Ava awoke to find herself somewhere over Pennsylvania—securely belted into a jump seat on the plane’s transport deck, with Romanoff on one side and Alex on the other—she took it better than Alex expected.

  Better than I would have.

  Waking up on some kind of S.H.I.E.L.D. military aircraft?

  She had looked panicked for a moment but rolled with it as soon as she realized they were in the air. It meant Ava had already been through a lot, Alex figured, as he watched her from the next seat. He was barely able to process the events he had just fallen into.

  If she expects things like this to happen to her.

  To get shot at by Russian mercenaries or carried away on a military plane.

  Why would she, though?

  And what does it have to do with Natasha Romanoff?

  He stole a glance at the infamous operative. She was deep in conversation with the other agent guy.

  Natasha Romanoff. The Natasha Romanoff.

  People called her the Black Widow. She knew Iron Man. She knew everyone, every hero he’d ever had.

  Black freaking Widow. Alex wondered if anyone had ever called her that to her face. What do you call someone like that? Natasha? Ms. Widow? Agent Romanoff?

  He tried to process this new reality he’d stumbled into, but there was no point. Alex couldn’t figure Ava—or anything else—out.

  He knew Ava was holding back, or just holding out on him. There was more to her story. That much he could tell by the way she resisted both friendly smiles and enemy gunfire. The way she took on the whole world as if she expected to do nothing less, and to do it alone.

  He knew the feeling, and he was intrigued that she felt it too.

  Alex wanted to be her ally, if he could.

  Maybe more than that. If she’d let me.

  She made him want to try.

  Alex looked back to Ava, in the seat next to him. He felt better now that she was conscious again, though her face was still the wrong color, and her breathing was uneven. The plane pitched and rolled as it climbed above the cloud bank to a higher altitude, which probably wasn’t helping.

  Alex tightened the buckle that held him to his own seat.

  “She should keep drinking that water.” The agent strapped in across from them spoke up.

  Ava looked irritated but took an obedient sip from the water bottle.

  Alex couldn’t remember the guy’s name, only that he was the reason Ava was now awake. It hadn’t taken much more than a whiff of some nasty-smelling capsule the agent had broken open beneath her nose until she’d come coughing right back into consciousness.

  Alex had been grateful for that, but the way the S.H.I.E.L.D. guy (Kelson, or maybe Cullen?) stared at all three of them now, you would have thought they were about to jump out of the plane.

  “She could be hurt. We need to get her to a doctor,” Alex said. He touched her icy fingers. “People don’t just pass out for no reason. And she’s freezing.” He frowned. “Is that shock? I thought cold hands meant shock.” He let his fingers linger on hers. He didn’t care if she noticed.

  If he was honest with himself, maybe he even hoped she did.

  “She’ll be fine,” Romanoff answered. “As long as we take care of Somodorov.” She looked at the other agent. “Otherwise, she’ll be dead.”

  “Hello? She’s sitting right here,” Ava said. She screwed the cap back on the bottle. “Maybe you should t
ry asking her what she wants to do?”

  Romanoff ignored her. “We need a coordinated response. Ivan brought the threat to American soil. The chatter is building. We can’t stand by and watch while he shoots up whole cities. He’s escalating.”

  “She’s right.” Ava held the water bottle against her head. “And I hate to break it to you, but if Ivan’s back from the dead, he didn’t manage that on his own. Where’s he been all this time? Who’s bankrolling him? Where’s his base of operations?”

  “Bankrolling? Did you just say bankrolling? Who talks like that?” Alex poked Ava in the side. She swatted his hand away, but he kept his eyes on her.

  Romanoff looked at the other agent. “It’s your call, Coulson. So make it.”

  Coulson. That’s his name.

  Agent Coulson shook his head. “It’s not my call, actually. I’m your handler, Romanoff. I promised backup, maybe an extraction. Not a mission—and certainly not a war on an army of Russian mercenaries. My hands are tied.”

  “What are you talking about? No war on armies of mercenaries? That’s practically our bread and butter, Coulson.”

  “Not this time.”

  “So you’re saying if they don’t make a trading card for it, you’re not interested? You only do the splashy stuff now? Aliens and Nazi throwbacks and bio-engineered super soldiers?” Romanoff snorted.

  Alex looked at Agent Coulson with new interest. “Really? Aliens? Like, alien aliens? Or like, the guy with the big guns?”

  “Big guns are two words that apply to most of the people I know,” Coulson said. “And their planes. Sometimes even their flying cars.”

  “I was talking about the buff dude, you know, with the hammer.”

  “Why is he here, again?” Coulson looked back at Romanoff.

  “Come on, Phil.” She sounded annoyed. “Your hands are tied? So untie them. You were there that night in Odessa. If Somodorov is alive, he’s coming straight for Ava, to finish what he started.”

  Ava acted like she hadn’t even heard the comment—but Alex knew otherwise, because her icy hand was suddenly clenching his.

  So what did happen that night—and who is this Ivan guy really?

  And why is everyone so afraid of him?

  But Alex knew there was no point in asking. He wasn’t certain what exactly S.H.I.E.L.D. did—aside from being some kind of shady intelligence agency—but whoever they were, they didn’t seem much more forthcoming with information than the CIA, from what he could tell.