Ava darted past a smoking crater in the mud. The wild green growth surrounding it was still on fire.
Breathe. Now. Natasha has to be here somewhere. Look again. You know what you have to do. You at least have to try—
She dug deeper into her own psyche, calming herself down. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, one gulp of air at a time, until she felt her way past the boundaries of her own mind. Ava could still feel Natasha Romanoff at the edges of her conscious thought; that was their bond. For the moment, Ava didn’t try to fight it. Instead, she pushed toward it, knowing that it was the fastest way to make certain Natasha was all right. What do you see, Ava Anatalya?
She glimpsed a scrap of blue sky—a canopy of green—and then a sleeve. The shooter’s sleeve. He was hidden in the trees. She caught a glimpse of the elongated barrel of a Dragunov sniper rifle. Russian ground forces loved a Dragunov; Natasha had already taught her that much. Make that two Dragunovs, she thought as she spotted a second barrel attached to another camo-sleeved arm. And another…
Snipers at two and four and eleven, wedged in the trees like monkeys. Moscow boys. I can practically see the Red Army stars from here. That hammer-and-sickle stamp, just like on Maks’s gear. They might as well be wearing THE RODINA name tags. She shivered, thinking of Recife. So, Veraport? Yuri Somodorov? Did the Red Room hire your guns for you?
Ava focused harder, trying to get a better look, but it wasn’t easy; Natasha seemed more occupied by reloading the magazine of her own high-powered rifle. Then she looked out into her surroundings, and Ava caught a glimpse of the burned-out crater she had just passed.
There. She’s right there. Now she could calculate Natasha’s hidden position. From here, I go three and eight—somewhere low—she’s looking up at the trees from the ground—
Ava restrapped her blades. They weren’t going to help her cross the clearing, and no point in lighting herself up as target practice for the Russians. She fixed her eyes on a low clump of what looked like fern fronds across the way. Hold on, Black. I’m coming. I’ve got your six, sestra.
“Go,” Alexei said in her ear. “Now—”
She took a breath and threw herself forward, charging across the clearing one more time.
RATATAT TAT—
The ground exploded behind her. Caught off guard, she screamed, exploding into a wreath of blue flame that shocked even herself, singeing the roots and trees surrounding her.
Get control—
Rolling forward, she dodged the next round, sprinting the rest of the way toward the cluster of ferns—and went flying into the air—
Der’mo—
A muddy hand had grabbed her combat-booted ankle as she ran past, tripping her up, sending her hurtling forward—
Then down into the mud.
Ava stumbled, rolling and sliding into what seemed like a small, dark cave. As she wiped mud from her face, she saw that she had landed inside a massive, rotting, and partly hollow teak trunk, wedged behind the ferns. Not her most ninja-worthy stealth moment. So much for coming to Black’s rescue.
Ava used her elbows to drag herself deeper into the hollow. Natasha, too, had pushed her way up to the far end of the enormous trunk, leaving as much room for Ava as she could.
“What are you, stupid?” Natasha sounded angry. Furious, actually. If she hadn’t been trying to keep her voice down, Ava knew she would be shouting. “You disobeyed a direct order.”
“But—I heard the attack—so I—I came to save you.” When Ava tried to whisper the words, she felt exactly how childish they sounded. She also found she could still taste the mud. Could you make a bigger fool out of yourself?
Ava’s hands began to shake, and she felt for a moment like she could vomit right there in the tree, which she imagined would be the worst possible thing a person—any person—could do in front of Natasha Romanoff, Avenger, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, hero of the people, woman of steel and stone. Not Ava Anatalya Orlova, clown of the people, lover of ghosts, orphan of S.H.I.E.L.D.—
Sometimes, to be honest, Ava found herself wishing that Ivan Somodorov had Entangled her brain with a more relatable or even less reliable counterpart—like Tony Stark, or Phil Coulson, or maybe a rock. Someone who had lost their nerve, told a stupid joke, or—yes—maybe tossed their lunch at an inopportune moment or two. Unlike the infamous Agent Romanoff, who had probably changed her own diapers from birth.
“Save me?” Natasha tried not to laugh as she reloaded her high-powered rifle. “That’s pretty funny. Unless you’re wearing an iron suit or swinging a god’s hammer—or maybe you’re big and green with a fist the size of a Prius—you’re not going to be saving me anytime soon, kid.”
“Don’t call me that.” Ava swallowed and forced herself to sound as normal as possible, aside from the whispering, as she inched her way down the length of the trunk, until she was within an arm’s reach of Natasha.
Mosquitoes buzzed greedily around her mouth, and she ducked to hide her face in the mud of the trunk’s narrow interior. Leave it to Natasha to find an even wetter, hotter place—in the wettest, hottest place on earth—
“I told you there would be mosquitoes,” Natasha said.
“And I’m getting sick of how often people try to kill you,” Ava snapped. She looked up to see Natasha slide the barrel of her sniper rifle through an empty knot in the trunk. As she did, she felt her cheek begin to sting beneath the flat black she’d caked on this morning.
“Ow—” Ava slapped herself on the face, crushing an insect the size of a peanut between her now-black fingers.
“Quiet,” Natasha hissed.
Great. Ava took a deep breath.
Natasha didn’t move her eyes from the sight on her rifle. “Sniper at two o’clock,” she murmured. Her whole body was rigid as she targeted the distant canopy overhead….
POP—
She paused to reload, sending the bullet casing flying past Ava’s face.
POP POP POP—
The Russian snipers answered back.
Ava felt herself flinching and ducking instinctively, though the bullets only bit at the ancient bark of the fossilized teak that protected them. She was beginning to panic. Be cool, she thought. You’ve got this. Pretend this is a drill. Pretend this isn’t real. Pretend you’re not here.
POP POP POP—said the Russian guns.
You’re not here and neither are those snipers…and those aren’t mosquitoes…and it isn’t a hundred degrees outside and a hundred and five in here…
Ava was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice Natasha had taken the next shot until another casing went flying.
“They’re in the trees, between us and the chopper. Three unfriendlies, maybe more,” Natasha said, keeping her voice down. She lowered her eye back down to the sight mounted on the barrel of her rifle. “Tangos in the trees. Sounds like a musical.”
“Four,” Ava said, under her breath. “I counted.”
Natasha looked up, startled, but Ava knew she didn’t have to explain. One basic fact about stepping on Natasha’s brain from time to time was that Ava knew Natasha felt it, too.
“Now what?” Ava asked quietly, trying not to sound anything even close to how panicked she felt.
“Now?” Natasha rolled onto her back, dropping the rifle. She sighed. “Time for a new plan.”
S.H.I.E.L.D. EYES ONLY
CLEARANCE LEVEL X
SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES & INDIVIDUALS (SCI) INVESTIGATION
AGENT IN COMMAND (AIC): PHILLIP COULSON
RE: AGENT NATASHA ROMANOFF A.K.A. BLACK WIDOW
A.K.A. NATASHA ROMANOVA
AAA HEARING TRANSCRIPT
CC: DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, SCI INQUIRY
COULSON: What about Ava? How was she doing, in all of this?
ROMANOFF: Better than expected, for a rookie.
COULSON: Better than you expected? You’d seen action together before.
ROMANOFF: Not like this. Only in Istanbul, and that was…Istanbul.
COULSON: Still. If Ava was in over her head, she would be the last to say it.
ROMANOFF: She was Russian. Taking a punch is in our DNA.
COULSON: But you two shared more than Russian DNA; did that help?
ROMANOFF: The Quantum link? There were some moments of connection.
COULSON: Some is a lot for a lone wolf like you, Romanoff.
ROMANOFF: I was handling it. Do we have to talk about this? Does this matter?
COULSON: This is an SCI investigation, Agent. It all matters. Especially if this is something we could be dealing with on a greater level in the future.
ROMANOFF: Ava Orlova is not the subject of this investigation, and neither is our QE link. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Phil.
COULSON: With a forest this big, there’s going to be a whole lot of barking.
ROMANOFF: That’s what Ava and I were always afraid of.
DEEP IN THE RAIN FORESTS OF
THE AMAZÔNIA LEGAL, BRAZIL
ONE HUNDRED KILOMETERS
SOUTHWEST OF MANAUS
“What we need is a distraction.” Natasha breathed the words as she yanked her drag bag up next to her so she could rummage inside. She pulled out a S.H.I.E.L.D. PropX charge—Stark patent pending—short for proprietary explosive charge, the house favorite for covert ops, who traveled light and fast, with no room for traditional gear. It was small and smooth as an egg, heavy in her hand. Tony had promised her it would pack enough punch to buy her some time in close combat, if she ever really needed it.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ava said quietly, raising an eyebrow.
“One of Tony’s little PropX bot poppers? Yeah, he really got on a patenting kick last year. This should do the trick.” Natasha handed it to Ava with whispered instructions. “Toss that sucker as far to your right as you can. Aim for that low ridge over there.”
Ava nodded and took the oval-shaped charge, which didn’t look much like anything more harmful than an avocado pit. She pocketed it carefully, sliding it into the front of her jacket. “I’ve never seen a popper up close.”
“No? Not in any of the Academy games? Not even a strat sim?” Natasha pulled out a second charge.
Ava shook her head. “I never really get to do any.” She didn’t elaborate.
Natasha shrugged, but it was all an act; she wasn’t surprised.
I know, because I’ve seen the reports. Every instructor you’ve had, from Coulson on down, has made a point of pulling you out of anything even close to a combat sim. They probably don’t even let you near a video game. They don’t want to mess with the PTSD girl, don’t want to screw with your already screwed-up head. I know, because I’m the one who gave them the order not to—
Natasha wondered if it had been the right choice. She hadn’t wanted to take any chances—she was having a hard enough time on her own, after losing her brother—but she never knew what was right when it came to the kid.
Look where it left her—out in the field never having pulled the pin on a basic charge—and with powers she can’t begin to understand. She’s dangerous, and not just to an unfriendly. A rookie like that, she’s her own easiest target—
It’s almost like she keeps her own face in her crosshairs—
Natasha tried not to think about how familiar it all sounded. How those same words had probably been used to describe the Black Widow, in her early years in the field. What did Yelena say, all those years ago? Your only true enemy is yourself?
Yeah, right. Not counting Yelena, of course.
Yelena had also been through the Red Room and become a Black Widow, for a time impersonating Natasha herself.
A true enemy, and my old frenemy—across a sea and a lifetime ago.
She glanced at Ava.
Then again, when did you ever listen to Yelena Belova? And why are you even thinking of her now, at a time like this?
“You know what?” Natasha said, putting the idea out of her mind. “On second thought, I don’t want you to blow your hand off. How about you just worry about getting to the chopper like you were supposed to? I can handle this.”
“But I can help you handle it,” Ava said stubbornly.
Natasha let out an exasperated sigh. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want you to?”
“What are you talking about?” Ava stared. “You knew what that heat signature meant, didn’t you? You wanted to draw the fire away from me. You purposely made yourself the target. You played dumb to get rid of me.” Her voice rose with anger as she spoke.
“So what if I did? You think you’re ready to take on the whole world with those funky blue lightsabers of yours?” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t the Academy, Ava. It’s the middle of the rain forest.”
“So? Why does that spook you so much?”
“So if something happens out here, we’re on our own. You know what that means? No Coulson hovering nearby to extract us. No high-security Triskelion to hide us. There’s no backup. Nothing.”
“Backup? How about, I am the backup?” Ava frowned.
“And how about if our friends are here, they’re here for a reason, which means that we’re getting close,” Natasha said.
Ava nodded. “Which is only more proof that Maks’s files were right. Veraport has to be Yuri Somodorov’s front for the Red Room. This has to all lead back to Ivan.”
“Maybe. But we can’t presume anything. Not yet.”
“All the more reason to bring some firepower to the fight,” Ava said.
“Even if they are Red Room, we don’t know how many friends these guys have in the neighborhood. Better not to draw attention before we have to. Right? Countersurveillance 101. Which I’m guessing you haven’t taken yet, either.”
“Hey, you invited me on this trip. You were the one suggesting S.H.I.E.L.D. homeschool.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Well, now I’m inviting you to go home.”
Ava looked at her.
Natasha hesitated. Finally, she nodded, pulling out her favorite Glock pistol. “Fine. You pop one, I’ll pop the other. And I’ll cover you.”
“And we both run for it,” Ava agreed. She looked out toward the edge of the clearing. “All right, then.”
Natasha reached out to grab the sleeve of Ava’s camo with her free hand. “I’ve got your six, kid,” she said. “I mean, you know that, right?” She sounded gruff as she said it. She couldn’t jam the feelings back down into any more words than that.
If something happened to you—happens to you—again—
If I lose Alexei and you—
Ava caught her eye for a second. “I know.” Then she took a deep breath—
Reached her head out of the hollow, a rabbit venturing up out of its hole—
Scanned the clearing—
And froze.
Ava’s expression changed, and she looked back at Natasha, wagging her head toward the open air beyond her. “Time to go.”
“You said that.” Natasha raised her Glock.
“Not us, them. Look.” Ava backed entirely out of the hollow, and Natasha stuck her own head out into the warm jungle air, raising her spotter.
Then she lowered it.
Natasha didn’t need the spotter to see the dark heads sliding into the fringe of palm along the facing ridge. The Russians were moving out.
“Maybe they think they’ve put us down already,” Natasha said slowly.
“Problem solved.” Ava grinned.
“No.” Natasha frowned. “New problem. They’ll want to confirm the kill. Find out who had eyes on them. I’d say we have three minutes.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Ava asked, impatient. “Let’s get out of here. Then we track them back to whatever hole it is they crawled out from.”
“Take off your jacket.” Natasha said suddenly. Hers was already halfway off.
“What?” Ava looked confused.
“Just do it.”
Ava wriggled out of her jacket, dropping it into the mud
next to her. Natasha tossed her own camo jacket into the hollow, then Ava’s.
“Wait—I forgot the PropX. It’s still in my pocket.”
“Leave it,” Natasha said. She pulled her Ka-Bar combat blade out of the sheath on her utility belt. The blade glinted as she turned it toward Ava. “Now give me your shoe.”
“My what?” Ava scowled, but she began to unlace one combat boot. “Why?”
“We’re supposed to be dead? Dead people usually bleed a little,” Natasha said, dragging her blade across her palm. As the red pooled in her hand, she reached down and grabbed Ava’s boot, rubbing her hand along the inside.
Branches began to crack and snap in the nearby jungle undergrowth. Ava looked up, startled. “You hear that? They’re cutting a path. Getting close.”
“We’ve got about thirty seconds by my count,” Natasha said as she measured what looked to be about ten paces from the tree trunk. “Plenty of time.”
“Super,” Ava said.
Natasha kicked up a clod of mud and knelt to bury the boot beneath it. Then she looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead, gesturing. “Don’t just stand there. Cut me down those bottom three branches. We need them to find our remains.”
“You mean my shoe?”
“Would you rather leave them your foot?”
Ava had her blades out almost before Natasha could finish the sentence. A pile of massive banana leaf fronds and dried husks and even a few bananas dropped atop the mud-buried boot. “Is that—?”
“Shh,” Natasha said, looking up.
They could hear voices now—calling to each other from their respective pathways through the tangle of jungle—
“Trista kilometrov—” Three hundred kilometers.
“Oni gde-to zdes’—” They’re here somewhere.
Russian voices. Rough-sounding. Tough guys.
Natasha sighed.
“Now would be a good time to start running,” she said, pulling out the remaining PropX charge from her vest. She held it up, pressing her fingers along the base until a tiny row of lights appeared, one after the next.
She looked back over her shoulder at Ava. “Weapons forward. And tuck in your elbows on the way out. You don’t want shrapnel in your arteries when this thing blows.”
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