The cold wind whipped across Natasha's face as she was dragged toward the helicopter, her mind racing to figure out what had gone wrong. This was supposed to be a Red Room operation, or at least that's what all the signs had pointed to. But the sleek, modern helicopter and the precision of the operatives didn't fit the profile. Something else was at play here, and she needed to understand it before they were all lost.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as she felt the grip of one of the operatives tighten on her arm, shoving her roughly toward the helicopter. She stumbled but kept her balance, her sharp eyes scanning the scene for any weaknesses, any opportunities to escape. Stark and Snake Eyes had already been loaded onto the chopper, both still unconscious. The operatives worked efficiently, moving as if they had rehearsed this operation a hundred times.
Natasha's instincts screamed that something was off. The Red Room had always operated with secrecy and subtlety. Their strength was in the shadows, manipulating events behind the scenes. But this—this was a public spectacle, an organized and aggressive strike right in the open. And now they were flying her and her teammates to an unknown destination, without even attempting to hide their intentions. It didn't add up.
As she was shoved into the helicopter, Natasha's mind raced through the possibilities. If this wasn't a Red Room operation, who could be behind it? Hydra? No, this felt different. More focused, more calculated. Whoever was behind this wasn't just after Stark's technology or a hit on Natasha and Snake Eyes. There was something bigger at play, something she couldn't yet see.
She was pushed into the seat beside Snake Eyes, his unconscious form strapped securely in place. His face remained expressionless beneath his mask, but his breathing was steady. Natasha allowed herself a brief moment of relief—at least he was still alive. Stark, meanwhile, was slumped across from them, his Iron Man suit offline and powerless against their captors. For now, they were vulnerable, but Natasha knew better than to assume that weakness would last long.
The helicopter's engine roared to life, the blades slicing through the air as they lifted off. Natasha felt a pit form in her stomach as they ascended, leaving the dense forest below. She was still working on the lockpick she had hidden in her jacket, her hands moving subtly so the operatives wouldn't notice. She couldn't afford to wait any longer—whatever was coming, she needed to be ready.
The lead operative, the one who had spoken to her earlier, sat at the front of the helicopter, his eyes scanning a tablet in his hands. Natasha's instincts told her he was more than just a soldier—he had the bearing of someone in command, someone who knew exactly what he was doing. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, taking in every detail, every movement.
"Romanoff," the operative said suddenly, his voice calm but with an underlying threat. "You're wondering why we haven't killed you yet. I can see it in your eyes."
Natasha said nothing, her expression cold and unreadable. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing her thoughts, though he wasn't wrong. She was wondering why they hadn't killed them—especially Snake Eyes. If the Red Room had truly wanted to eliminate her, this would have been the perfect opportunity. But here they were, alive and being transported to some unknown destination.
The operative turned his gaze toward her, locking eyes with Natasha. "We need you alive—for now. You and your friends are part of something much bigger than your simple vendetta with the Red Room."
Natasha's mind churned. His words only deepened the mystery. "Who are you working for?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.
The operative's eyes narrowed slightly, as if amused by the question. "You'll find out soon enough."
Before Natasha could press further, the helicopter's radio crackled to life, and the pilot spoke up. "Approaching the destination. ETA five minutes."
Natasha glanced out the window, and her breath caught in her throat. Below them, nestled in the middle of a mountainous region, was a facility unlike anything she had ever seen. It was massive, stretching across the landscape like a fortress, with high walls, watchtowers, and a complex array of structures that looked both modern and military. This wasn't just a base—this was a command center for something much larger.
Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities. The architecture wasn't Red Room, and it didn't fit Hydra's usual style either. This was something new, something more advanced. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into the hands of an enemy far more powerful than they had anticipated.
The helicopter descended rapidly, and as they neared the ground, Natasha's eyes locked onto one particular figure standing at the edge of the landing pad—a tall man dressed in a sleek black suit, his face obscured by sunglasses despite the fading light. He stood with the confidence of someone in control, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the helicopter to land.
As soon as the skids touched down, the door slid open, and Natasha was roughly pulled out of her seat by the operatives. Snake Eyes and Stark were similarly removed, though Stark's Iron Man suit remained unpowered. Natasha had hoped that Tony might have woken up by now, but it seemed the EMP had done more damage to his suit's systems than she had anticipated.
The tall man approached them, his movements calm and deliberate. As he came closer, Natasha could see his face more clearly. He was older, perhaps in his late forties, with sharp features and a cold expression that sent a chill down her spine. This man was no ordinary soldier—he was the one pulling the strings.
"Welcome," the man said, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "Natasha Romanoff. Tony Stark. And, of course, the silent warrior known as Snake Eyes. I must say, it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in person."
Natasha's jaw clenched as she met his gaze. "Who are you?" she demanded.
The man's lips curled into a faint smile. "I go by many names. But for now, you can call me Overseer."
Natasha's blood ran cold at the name. Overseer. It was a title she hadn't heard in years, not since her days in the Red Room. The Overseers had been the highest-ranking officials, the ones who orchestrated every move, every manipulation, from behind the scenes. They had been the architects of her nightmares, the ones who had trained and broken her.
But this man—he was different. He wasn't from the Red Room. He was something else entirely, yet he had adopted their methods. The implications were terrifying.
"You're not Red Room," Natasha said, her voice filled with certainty. "What do you want with us?"
The Overseer tilted his head slightly, his smile never faltering. "You're right. I'm not part of the Red Room, not anymore. But their methods, their tools—they are useful. You see, the Red Room was only ever a piece of a much larger puzzle. And you, Romanoff, are the key to finishing that puzzle."
Natasha's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. "And what exactly am I the key to?"
The Overseer stepped closer, his cold eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence. "The future, Miss Romanoff. A future where the world's greatest weapons aren't just machines or technology—but people. You and your friends are going to help me bring that future to life."
Before Natasha could respond, the Overseer nodded to the operatives behind her, and suddenly she felt a sharp prick in her neck. Pain exploded through her body, and her vision began to blur. She struggled to stay on her feet, but the drug was too strong. The last thing she saw before darkness overtook her was Snake Eyes, still unconscious on the ground beside her.
Then, everything went black.