Marvel Hunter - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Family Reunion

The helicopter touched down in a field of tall, frozen grass, the rotors flattening the vegetation in concentric circles.

Outside Saint Petersburg, the world felt forgotten. It was a landscape of birch trees and gray sky, silent except for the grunting of pigs.

Melina Vostokoff’s farm was not a fortress. It was a hideout disguised as mediocrity. A wooden dacha, a barn, and a muddy pen filled with swine.

Veer killed the engine. The silence rushed back in, heavy and oppressive.

In the back, Widows sat motionless, staring at nothing. Taskmaster sat among them, her head bowed.

“She is here,” Alexei said, looking out the window. He smoothed his beard, a nervous gesture that looked out of place on the massive man. “Melina. The Iron Maiden. She… she likes her pigs.”

“Let’s go,” Natasha said, sliding the door open.

They walked towards the house. Veer carried Yelena, who was light as a feather but dead weight in her catatonic state. Natasha guided the others.

The front door opened before they reached the porch.

A woman stood there. She had dark hair tied back in a practical bun, and she wore a heavy wool sweater. Her face was handsome, intelligent, and marked by a deep, weary sadness.

She held a sniper rifle, but it was pointed at the ground.

“Alexei,” Melina said. Her voice was calm, resigned. “You got fat.”

“And you got old!” Alexei boomed, spreading his arms as if expecting a hug. “But still beautiful! Like a fine vodka!”

Melina didn’t smile. Her gaze shifted to Natasha.

The air between them crackled. It wasn’t hatred. It was the complex, suffocating tension of a mother who had sent her child to slaughter, and the child who had returned with the knife.

“Natalia,” Melina whispered.

“Melina,” Natasha replied. Her voice was ice.

“I didn’t think you would come back,” Melina said, stepping aside to let them in. “Not after Budapest.”

“I didn’t come for tea,” Natasha said, brushing past her. “I came for the antidote.”

The interior of the dacha was warm, filled with the smell of woodsmoke and stew. But beneath the domestic veneer, it was a laboratory.

Veer laid Yelena on the velvet sofa in the living room. He arranged the other Widows on chairs. They looked like guests at a macabre tea party, staring blankly at the walls.

Melina walked into the room. She looked at the girls. She looked at the scars on Antonia’s face.

“You brought the whole class,” Melina noted dryly.

“They’re dying, Melina,” Natasha said, standing over her sister. “The command was sent. They’re shutting down. I think you can wake them up.”

Melina walked over to a bookshelf. She pulled a false volume, revealing a keypad. A section of the wall slid open, revealing a sterile, gleaming lab filled with vials and centrifuges.

“I can,” Melina admitted. She walked into the lab, her fingers trailing over a rack of red vials. “I refined the chemical. I mapped the cognitive pathways. I built the cage.”

“And the key?” Veer asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Melina picked up a vial of red dust.

“This is it. A synthetic gas. It acts as a counter-agent. It severs the external neural link and restores synaptic autonomy. It wakes them up.”

She turned to Natasha. Her eyes were wet.

“I never wanted this for you, Natasha. In Ohio… we were a family. It was real. For me, it was real.”

“Don’t,” Natasha warned, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Don’t talk about Ohio. You let them take us. You packed our bags. You watched them put us in the trucks.”

“I had no choice!” Melina snapped, the scientist cracking to reveal the prisoner beneath. “Dreykov… the Red Room… you think I am free? I live on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere! I work for him because the alternative is a bullet!”

“There is always a choice,” Natasha said. “I chose to leave.”

“And look where it got you,” Melina pointed at the silent Widows. “Back here. In the mud.”

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Alexei cleared his throat.

“This is… heavy,” he muttered. “I will go change. I cannot save the world in prison pajamas.”

He lumbered off towards the bedroom.

Veer watched Melina. He can feel guilt from her aura. She wasn’t evil. She was just weak. A genius who had surrendered her morality for survival.

“Give her the vials,” Veer said.

Melina hesitated, then handed a metal case to Natasha.

“Be careful,” Melina warned. “The waking up… it is violent. The brain realizes it has been violated. The trauma hits all at once.”

Natasha took the case. She didn’t say thank you.

Five minutes later, Alexei returned.

Veer had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

The Red Guardian suit was… tight.

It was the original suit from the 80s. Alexei had not been the same size since the 80s. The fabric strained across his gut, the seams groaning in protest. The silver star on his chest was stretched into an oval.

“Still fits!” Alexei declared, sucking in his stomach and striking a pose. “Like a glove!”

Melina looked at him. A small, genuine smile touched her lips.

“You look like a stuffed sausage, Alexei,” she said softly.

“A powerful sausage!” Alexei corrected. He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come, my love. Let us watch our girls return to us.”

They stood there, the failed father and the complicit mother, leaning on each other. It was grotesque, and yet, oddly touching.

Natasha ignored them. She knelt in front of Yelena.

“Okay,” Natasha whispered. “Time to wake up, little sister.”

She broke the seal on a vial. A hiss of pressurized gas escaped.

She held it under Yelena’s nose.

The Red Dust swirled, entering Yelena’s nostrils.

For five seconds, nothing happened.

Then, Yelena gasped.

It was a ragged, desperate sound, like a drowning victim breaking the surface. Her eyes flew open. The pupils dilated, then contracted rapidly.

The blankness vanished. It was replaced by confusion. Then recognition. Then horror.

“Nat?” Yelena croaked.

“I’m here,” Natasha said, tears spilling over. “I’m here.”

Yelena looked around. She saw the room. She saw the Widows. She saw Alexei in his ridiculous suit.

And then, she looked back at Natasha.

The joy Natasha expected didn’t come.

Instead, Yelena’s face twisted into a snarl of pure, unadulterated hatred.

“You left me,” Yelena hissed.

Before Natasha could react, Yelena moved.

WHAM.

Yelena headbutted Natasha. It was a brutal, bone-on-bone impact. Natasha reeled back, blood spurting from her nose.

“Yelena!” Natasha shouted, holding her hands up.

“You left me there!” Yelena screamed.

She launched herself off the sofa. She tackled Natasha, driving her into the coffee table. The wood splintered.

They rolled across the floor, a blur of white tactical suits and blonde and red hair.

“Whoa!” Alexei cheered. “Look at that takedown! That is my girl!”

“Who do you think will win, Alexei!” Melina asked.

“I think Yelena will win. She fighting like a wild cat.” Alexei answered.

Veer is also enjoying. After all, seeing girls fight is one of the rare moments for a men’s dream.

It wasn’t a sparring match. It was a brawl.

Yelena fought with a frantic, feral intensity. She threw punches, elbows, knees. She wasn’t trying to score points; she was trying to hurt. She was trying to purge years of abandonment and torture through violence.

Natasha fought defensively. She blocked, parried, and absorbed the blows.

“I dream of you being dead!” Yelena yelled, landing a solid right hook to Natasha’s jaw. “I thought you got out! I waited! Every day, I waited for you to come back for me!”

“I couldn’t!” Natasha grunted, sweeping Yelena’s leg.

Yelena hit the floor but kipped up instantly. She grabbed a ceramic vase and smashed it over Natasha’s shoulder.

“You lived your life happily!” Yelena spat. “And I was… I was cutting people’s throats in Morocco like a puppet!”

She spin-kicked Natasha into the bookshelf. Books rained down on them.

“I’m sorry!” Natasha screamed back, finally fighting back. She caught Yelena’s fist and twisted it. “I was not strong to save you!”

“You coward bitch!” Yelena roared, breaking the hold and driving her knee into Natasha’s stomach.

They crashed into the kitchen area. Pots and pans clattered to the floor.

It was a masterclass in violence. They were evenly matched. Same training. Same instincts. Same stubbornness.

Yelena grabbed a kitchen towel, twisted it, and tried to strangle Natasha. Natasha grabbed a frying pan and slammed it into Yelena’s thigh.

Veer watched, and enjoy.

“Their technique is flawless,” Veer thought. “Even when emotional, they default to lethal efficiency. But Yelena is faster. Natasha is stronger.”

Around the room, the other Widows were waking up. Natasha had cracked enough vials to fill the room with a low concentration of the gas before the fight started.

They were gasping, crying, hugging each other. They huddled in the corners, watching the two alpha predators tear the kitchen apart.

Finally, they exhausted themselves.

Natasha and Yelena stood in the middle of the ruined living room, heaving for breath. Both were bleeding. Both had black eyes forming.

Yelena grabbed a decorative plate. She raised it to smash it over Natasha’s head.

Natasha didn’t block. She just stood there, arms at her sides, looking at her sister.

“Do it,” Natasha whispered. “If it helps.”

Yelena’s hand trembled. She looked at Natasha’s bruised face. She looked at the blood on her own knuckles.

She let out a scream of frustration and hurled the plate at the wall.

SMASH.

Yelena collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“You never came back,” she wept, curling into a ball. “You never came back.”

Natasha dropped to her knees. She crawled over to her sister and pulled her into a hug.

Yelena struggled for a second, then went limp, burying her face in Natasha’s shoulder.

“I’m here now,” Natasha cried, rocking her. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving you again.”

It was a mess. It was ugly, violent, and loud. But it was real.

Alexei wiped a tear from his eye. “Beautiful,” he sniffled. “Like a Russian tragedy. But with more kung fu.”

Melina looked at them, her expression softening. She walked over and placed a hand on Alexei’s arm.

“They are tough,” Melina said. “Like us.”

Veer watched the reunion. He felt a strange pang in his chest. He didn’t have a family in this world. Although this was a complicated family… but still a family.

This chaotic, violent love? He didn’t have that.

He looked away, turning his gaze to the corner of the room.

To the one person who hadn’t moved.

Antonia Dreykov. Taskmaster.

She sat in a chair near the window. The gas had filled the room, curing the other Widows. But Antonia hadn’t gasped. She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t reacted to the fight.

She just sat there, staring blankly.

Veer frowned.

Why is she was not cured.

“The chip,” Veer realized.

He had forgotten. In the movie, Taskmaster wasn’t controlled by the gas. She had a subdural implant. A computer in her brain that overrode her motor functions.

“Natasha!” Veer shouted.

But it was too late.

Antonia’s hand had been resting on the windowsill. Underneath her palm, concealed by her glove, a tiny red light was blinking on a transmitter.

She had signaled.

Outside, the wind changed. The sound of rustling leaves was replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thrum of rotors.

Not one helicopter. Many.

“Incoming!” Veer yelled.

He grabbed a heavy oak table and flipped it on its side, and used ‘Shu’ to make it strong, creating a barricade just as the windows exploded.

CRASH.

Stun grenades rolled into the room.

BANG. FLASH.

White light blinded them. A high-pitched whine disoriented the senses.

“Down!” Natasha screamed, shoving Yelena behind the sofa.

Alexei roared, grabbing his shield and covering Melina.

Veer didn’t flinch, while his body covered with ‘Ken’, which is his highest defence right now.

He looked out the shattered window.

Three heavy transport VTOLs were hovering over the farm. Ropes dropped. Soldiers in heavy black armor were repelling down.

As expected, Red Room still have lots of Widows.

“We’re surrounded,” Veer announced calmly.

Taskmaster stood up.

She didn’t attack Veer. She didn’t attack Natasha. She walked to the center of the room, amidst the chaos and the smoke.

She looked at Veer.

“Surrender,” she said. Her voice was synthesized, robotic.

Soldiers poured into the house, weapons raised. Laser sights painted everyone’s chests.

Veer looked at the soldiers. There were maybe thirty of them.

He could kill them.

He calculated the odds.

Ren: Level 3. Time to clear room: 4 seconds. Time to clear VTOLs: 20 seconds.

He clenched his fist. Aura flared around his hand.

“No,” Natasha said.

Veer paused. “No? They’re going to take us.”

“That’s the point,” Natasha whispered. “We still don’t know where the Red Room is. Melina doesn’t know—she’s flown there blindfolded every time. Dreykov hides in Red Room. And I plan to free every single Widow.”

She looked at Taskmaster.

“If they capture us, they takes us to the Red Room.”

Veer understood. It was a Trojan Horse maneuver. Get captured. Get taken to the fortress. Destroy it from the inside.

“It’s risky,” Veer warned. “If they separate us… I can’t protect you…”

“Don’t worry, I am not that weak,” Natasha said.

Veer looked at the soldiers. He looked at the laser dot on his chest.

He sighed. Aura faded.

He raised his hands.

“Fine,” Veer said loudly. “You got me. Don’t shoot the suit, it’s Armani.”

Alexei looked confused. “We surrender? But I am Red Guardian! I do not surrender!”

“Dad, go die yourself,” Yelena hissed, yanking him down. “Don’t drag us to death.”

Taskmaster walked up to Veer. She pulled a pair of heavy magnetic cuffs from her belt.

She locked them onto Veer’s wrists.

Veer smiled at her.

“You have no idea what you just caught, sweetheart,” Veer whispered.

Taskmaster didn’t respond. She pistol-whipped him.

Veer let his head snap back. He feigned unconsciousness, slumping to the floor.

“Load them up,” a commander shouted. “Target secured. We are returning to base.”

The soldiers dragged them out into the cold. They were loaded onto the transports.

As the VTOL lifted off, leaving the pig farm behind, Veer lay on the floor of the cargo bay, his eyes closed.

He felt the vibration of the engines. He felt the altitude increasing.

They were going up. High.

“Red Room,” Veer thought. “Here we come.”

Veer grinned in the dark.