Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 53- The End of a Past
AN: Beta'd by Kaladin
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With a radiant moon guiding their path, Harry and Natasha flew over the luminescent city of Budapest seated on his Nimbus.
In his short eleven years of life, Harry had undoubtedly experienced a wide range of unforgettable moments; some good, some bad, and some so shocking in their impact that they left his heart scrambling to make sense of his emotions.
This was clearly one of them.
He could see the world beneath him, running away in streams of multicolored light, the echoes of that graceful Christmas song still ringing in his ears. He could feel his partner—sitting just behind him, face pressed up into his neck to avoid the cold—her warm gloved hands crossed over his chest, clutching onto him with a vice-like grip. He could feel the chilling winter winds, biting into his unprotected face as if the stings of a thousand ants, but failing to penetrate his magical robes completely…
It almost reminded him of the Gulag mission; free-falling towards the earth, witnessing the astonishing beauty of his planet…And yet, the difference couldn't have been more blatant.
Because unlike then, he was no longer alone in this mysterious world. He had a family, waiting for his safe return. He had a school that freely provided him with a source of knowledge and power. He had two girl-friends that he'd successfully seduced, and quite a few more that he would like to seduce. He had friends that showed their use every now and then, along with housemates and teammates that valued his numerous skills.
But even more importantly—at this moment, at least—he was on a mission with someone worthy of his trust, someone willing to place her life on the line just so he could complete his quest.
There was a strange gulf in his heart amidst the thrilling mixture of emotions, a part of him that knew he may possibly never experience such novelty again; to explore the beauty of the world from hundreds of feet above the ground, on a mission that would pose a sufficient challenge, with an incredibly competent—and strikingly beautiful—teammate at his side.
'Perhaps I should join S.H.I.E.L.D on a more regular basis someday…'
But for now, it only made more sense to treasure it while it lasted.
So as they tore through the dark skies in pursuit of their quarry, his wand hovering over his palm to point at the right path—held in place with Wandless magic—he did the very best to enjoy himself without the obtrusion of Gamer's Mind.
Sadly, it didn't last long, being forced to lower his broom closer to the ground-level, drastically slowing their pace as the Four-point spell guided them towards the package of Red Dust.
The spell was one of the few he'd learnt specially in preparation for this mission. It didn't give him any sense of distance however, which meant he was forced to keep an eye out for any unusual activity manually.
"H-how sure are you that no one can see us from below!?" Natasha stuttered over the howling winds, her fingers uncurling ever so slightly against his chest as they left the freezing heights of the Hungarian skies.
While December's chill was still in the air, she was no longer in any risk of hypothermia, wrapped up as she was in a set of transfigured woolen clothes.
His thoughts turned to his newly acquired Invisibility Cloak, a puzzling work of mystery and secrets. While it did its intended job admirably—rendering them completely invisible to any watchful eye—it failed to provide any warmth or comfort underneath its silken shade, leaving them to the mercy of a blistering cold night, especially whilst they'd been so high up in the air. Of course, his magnificent robe and natural resistances made sure the cold was nothing more than an irritant for him, but the fact that it didn't follow even the basic principles of physics was…interesting.
For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been an incredibly thin wall of liquified smoke that stayed unnaturally still in front of the raging wind stream, while leaving them practically naked against the world. There were times on their ride that Harry almost forgot its presence covering them.
'Definitely worth some further research…'
Partially turning to Natasha, he answered her question, "I'm almost entirely certain. The most anyone should be able to see is a floating piece of wood, or perhaps a flash of your dangling legs."
He didn't quite know the more nuanced functions of the Cloak. Did it provide them complete invisibility, or did it only hide the parts which were thoroughly covered? Just to be safe, he was exercising his wandless magic to keep the Cloak wrapped around them completely, creating a small personal bubble. But would people from below see their legs if an unfortunate slip of control left them partially open?
"If you're willing to confirm it, I can drop you down from here." He offered Natasha honestly. "You may observe our condition from the free-fall. I'll catch you before you become a red blotch on the ground, of course." He had complete confidence in his Broom-riding skills.
"... No thanks. I'll just take your word for it."
Harry grunted, accelerating his Nimbus. "I can hear an acute lack of faith in your voice, Romanoff. I'll have you know that I'm the best Seeker in Hogwarts bar none."
The city of Budapest was even more beautiful from down below, as they zoomed past straight through the middle of it. The tall and graceful buildings looked like medieval towers, but he truly felt his breath taken away when a castle every bit as magical as Hogwarts greeted his eyes, glowing under a golden radiance like the palace of gods, its dome towering high in the sky.
He almost gave into the urge to slow down and properly appreciate such beauty, but the failure of his quest kept his will firm and he let his broom drag them away.
"Really? I wouldn't have guessed." He felt Natasha shrug, snuggling deeper into his back. "Besides, I'm just too comfortable to move right now."
Being used as a shield against the cold wasn't the proudest moment for Harry, but he tolerated it in return of feeling her spectacular pair of breasts pressing into his back.
"This feels so strange." Natasha murmured, almost sleepily. "After everything I've done in my life, touring the beauty of Budapest on a broom of all things, while seated behind a mini-Merlin, wasn't something I thought was written for my future."
Harry frowned. "I don't know about your future, but I am not a mini-Merlin. I'm Harry Potter, the Harry Potter. And one day I shall surpass Merlin entirely."
"Aww, did I strike a nerve?" Natasha chuckled, sending pleasant vibrations down his spine. "How exactly do you plan to surpass a folklore legend, anyway?"
He didn't dignify such ridiculousness with an answer.
Her fingers started tickling his chin.
Harry bit her.
"Hey!"
They flew over a bridge every bit as graceful in its beauty as the castle-like-building they'd just left behind, its supporting chains glowing like silver fireflies in the night. The reflection from the bright lamp posts—placed uniformly along the bridge—made the water below appear almost like molten gold.
"This is a beautiful city." He couldn't help but voice.
A welcome change after the chaos of New York.
"The Szechenyi Chain Bridge." Natasha nodded into his shoulder, gesturing at the bridge now behind them. "Or just the Chain Bridge. Didn't think I would be seeing this again without the Hungarian government at my throat."
"What about the building back there?"
"That golden enormity? The Hungarian Parliament building."
Harry saved the names in his mind.
Budapest was a big place, almost as big as New York. News of the destruction they'd left behind hadn't reached this part of the city yet; there were people still milling about at midnight, clicking photos of themselves with absurd poses. For the first time in his life, Harry understood the urge; to save a memory of yourself enjoying a unique experience that you may never experience again.
Once they completed the quest, he promised to come back here with Natasha and capture some memories of his own.
Irritatingly, she didn't seem to share his solemnity.
"Why on earth is this so comfortable anyway?" She wiggled behind him. "This shouldn't be possible. I'm sitting on a rod of polished wood!"
"Cushioning charms." Harry snorted, racing past the river stream. "Told you it'll be fine. Now hold me tighter and shut up."
She tightened her grip over his chest.
His wand soon guided them towards the direction of a local airport, narrowing his search area by a large margin and making his job infinitely easier. The Winter Soldier and his Metallic companion were too noticeable to blend in. As long as they could catch them in the city, there was a large chance he would finish his quest before the next day starts.
And this time, there would be no mistakes. He'd allowed himself to play with his prey for too long; this time, the Soldier wouldn't know what killed him.
"Harry," Natasha's fingers tightened over his shoulder. "A walk from here would be nice, don't you think?"
Hidden under the shadow of the Invisibility Cloak, he drove his broom straight into the Airport building with a well-executed dive, sliding past the people lingering around perfectly.
None noticed.
"...Or do this. This works too, yes."
The Budapest Ferihegy Airport was one of the bigger ones he'd visited, and even at the midnight hours, there was a healthy crowd waiting for them inside. He hadn't quite considered what flying between droves of unsuspecting people would look like, but he was pleasantly surprised to note it didn't feel as thronged as he'd been imagining. The ceiling was stretched high over their heads, leaving ample space for his Nimbus to glide through smoothly.
If anything, it felt amusing to watch humans simply milling about their business like sleep-deprived zombies. He absently wondered what their goals in life would be like, each with their own mundane experience among the living, ignorant of the twisted worlds hidden just beneath their noses.
"God, this is weird." Natasha summed up her own feelings. "Makes me wonder if there are wizards who regularly fly over unaware people's heads every Thursday and Saturday." She shivered against him. "I don't like this. I really don't like this. Someone could watch me shower and I wouldn't know."
Harry raised his brows. "Now there's an idea."
"Oh shut it, you."
Harry rolled his eyes, tugging the Broom up. "Relax, Widow. Invisibility Cloaks must be rare. This was given to me by my father, who is the Head of England's magical police. There is a spell almost every wizard can use, but it requires unparalleled mastery to achieve complete Invisibility through it. The most most can achieve is a weak camouflage."
He kept them high up at the Airport's ceiling to avoid ramming into support pillars. Unintended collateral damages could possibly be the worst thing to happen right now, giving away their position in the silliest way possible.
"That-" Natasha paused, before sagging against him. "Actually gives me some relief. Thanks."
He patted her hand.
The Holly Wand soon guided them towards one of the private hangars and his superhuman eyesight scanned every figure from above, searching for any hint of walking metal.
It didn't take him long to realize his target wasn't a stationary human being, but a moving object that his wand tracked with pinpoint accuracy.
It was a small plane.
Specifically, a heavy jet in the midst of take-off.
Natasha cursed, looking over his shoulder.
It would seem, even with all their haste, they were a bit too late.
Or well, they would've been had Harry's flying skill hadn't crossed 50 recently.
"Please don't tell me—"
Harry swerved his Nimbus and with a burst of speed, tore after the plane in a quick chase.
"Oh, great, we're about to die." Natasha's words barely reached his ears amidst the harsh winds whizzing past them, her hands tightened around him almost painfully—a normal human would've probably strained their ribs by now. "What exactly do you intend to do here!? Blast its engine into pieces!?"
The jet was quickly gaining speed with every second as it ran down the runway, crossing the hundred miles mark in a handful of seconds.
"Stop whining." With a great whoop of a chuckle, Harry pushed the Nimbus to its absolute limit, pouring every bit of his will and intent behind it.
Had they been a second or two too late, they would've missed their chance.
As it was, Harry managed to barely but surely catch their flight right before it could take-off, landing straight on top of its roof—silent under the invisible shield of his awesome magical Cloak.
Before the wind pressure alone could blow them away like leafs in a whirlwind, Harry cast a quick wandless shield; its specialty in physical resistance coincidentally worked perfectly for them.
"What now?" Natasha asked, already palming her gun and aiming down the plane.
A quick session of brainstorming for ideas later, he willed his magical Trunk from the inventory while pointing his wand at the surface of the airplane, "Epoximise."
A small spherical part of the airplane's roof turned adhesive, and he used all his strength to stick the suitcase firmly to the surface.
A couple of light tugs to ensure the stability later, he clicked the trunk open and waved her in. "Get in."
"Really?" Natasha gave him a doubtful look.
Harry hurried her with a frown. "Get in before they realize the weight difference of the plane."
"Fine." With a sigh, she started climbing down the stairs.
Harry followed after her, shutting the hatch behind him as the aircraft flew into the unknown.
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"Can you teleport us inside the plane?" Natasha asked the moment his Trunk shut close behind them, extinguishing the presence of sound and light both.
After a long ride through the skies and the whistling wind as a constant companion, the silence inside the Trunk was almost jarring.
With his wand extended, Harry whispered "Lumos", killing the darkness as soon as it had come.
Frowning, he continued to climb down. "This is a magically extended space. There is no telling what will happen if I tore a hole through it."
He could've tried to Apparate whilst outside, but a misplaced Apparition now would leave them falling straight to the ground from thousands of feet in the air. And that was assuming they didn't splinch themselves in half.
"So…?" Natasha raised a brow.
"So we're stuck here until the plane stops moving." Harry confirmed.
She sighed, following him down the stairs. "We're probably heading back to New York. Or worse, Russia."
"That's great. Russia's great. Never been to Russia before."
Down the short staircase, Harry willed the door to open in his bedroom before twisting the knob.
Following just behind him, Natasha sighed again. "Well, let's hope your suitcase doesn't fall off at some random place in Asia. At least we have somewhere to stay in—Holy Crap."
A smirk curved up on his face. He had a somewhat similar reaction when he'd first laid eyes upon the massive room.
Holding the door open, he waved her in. "Welcome, Ms. Romanoff, to my humble abode."
She stepped in cautiously, wide eyes processing every bit of the sight presented to her.
'Humble' wasn't a word he would use to describe his Trunk-bedroom. With over 500 Sq. feet of space, the room was bigger than some of the houses he'd seen in his lifetime, every bit of it graceful and perfect.
A golden doormat greeted them welcome the moment they stepped inside, with the floor tiled in sparkling crystalline ice. He suspected it was only transfigured to appear like ice, but one can never know with magic involved.
The walls were colored light gray and seemed to twinkle with a magical luminescence of their own. He'd chosen the color and design by his own preference, the room being capable of changing them at a flex of his will. The original theme of Red and Gold had looked a bit too strange for his tastes. While he had no problem with said colors—his battle robe was proof enough—they just weren't meant to be on walls.
A large king-sized bed—charmed to be as comfortable as humanly possible—sat fixed up in front of them, taking a modest portion of the room. Natasha quickly removed her woolen robe, shoes, and gloves—magical charms carrying them to a rack at the side automatically—and threw herself over the bed, sighing with great satisfaction.
"Feels like I'm lying on a bouquet of clouds." She muttered, closing her eyes.
"I know." Harry's lips tugged up as he let his robe return to the inventory, equipping his old clothes again.
The room—like all the others—was lightly lit by two lamps burning with a white flame, acting almost like a bulb. There was a tall closet at the side as well, a full-length mirror fixed on its door.
"Well," Natasha sat up, her striking red hair having come undone. "I take back everything I said and thought. This is much better than what I was imagining. We should take the chance to properly rest up before the mission."
Then hesitating slightly, she continued, "This will sound a little silly, but I just have to ask…you don't have a shower hidden around here somewhere, do you?"
Harry's smile stretched into a Cheshire grin.
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Their trip to the unknown—whilst stuck to a hostile aircraft—wasn't completely uneventful, as he'd been imagining.
A great thing about his magical trunk was its ability to access other rooms without having to re-enter. There appeared a second door on an adjacent wall, when one waved their arms three times in front of it, seemingly at random—and willing the specific room to appear—thus letting them freely use any of the seven rooms available to them.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't any true advantage. But right now, it made Harry believe he was actually living inside a multi-roomed house, instead of a single room that could magically change into its 7 forms, according to his will.
And Natasha made sure to make full use of the unique ability.
"You know, in this entire day, I don't think I've seen you use the washroom even once." She announced, exiting the said room to come pick up her transfigured toothbrush and towel.
"I don't need to." Harry answered absently.
For the seventh time in less than an hour, he cast the Tempus spell and observed the effect with a curious frown.
Time was behaving erratically. He knew about the difference between time zones, but the fact that it even affected his spell was…interesting.
Natasha spoke again, amusement bleeding in her voice. "Aww, is the mighty 'I'm-Better-Than-Merlin' Harry Potter embarrassed to use the washroom in front of his female friend?"
"Natasha." Harry rolled his eyes, letting the spell dissipate as he finally focused on her. "I haven't used a toilet since I was four. I don't need it, because my body doesn't produce waste anymore. I don't need to piss or shit. In fact, I don't even need to eat or sleep, nor brush my teeth or take a bath—'cause my body doesn't produce sweat either and is naturally odorless."
Slowly, all the amusement melted out of her face. "That sounds…interesting." She tilted her head. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not just a super soldier or a wizard, Natasha, I'm…"
What exactly was a Gamer?
"—Different." He finished.
She nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to understand that."
Harry cast tempus again, observing the time slowly speeding up. "We aren't going back to America, by the way. Time would've rewound instead."
Natasha shook her head, her unfocused eyes glancing at the floating numbers, understanding flashing a second later. "In that case, our odds of getting stranded in Russia have just gone up considerably."
Harry nodded, letting the spell dissipate. "Do you think Barton and Belova have reached the base yet?"
"Not for another few hours at least. We might reach Russia before then." Yawning, she gave her body a full stretch, inviting his eyes to their generous curve. "I think I'll take that shower now."
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With the Tempus spell still showing no signs of stabilizing, Harry decided to spend the rest of their trip worshiping his stomach.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a Dining room in his Trunk-house. Fortunately, he could simply make one.
The spare room previously occupied by the Widows was now completely empty, him having dumped all the captured prisoners with Barton and Belova to be shipped back to the base. He did remember to tie and stun them again, just in case. Couldn't take a risk in the presence of someone as mentally challenged as Yelena Belova.
With an empty room to work with, Harry transfigured himself a long Dining table, along with two fancy cushioned chairs on either side. After a moment of hesitation, he extinguished the lamps lighting the room and replaced them with candles.
He'd never really understood the allure behind Candlelight Dinners, and now seemed as good a time to experiment as any.
There was also a window in the room—the only one in his entire Trunk-house—capable of changing its scenery according to his preference.
After a light brainstorming, Harry decided upon a full-moon night, enjoying the way the white globe peeked at him from over an artificial sky that certainly looked real.
Done with designing his Dining room, he next visited the only place he'd hadn't seen since Lily's tour: The food room. Or as he liked to think of it: The Hall of Food.
The Hall of Food wasn't just filled with some frozen canned items or pre-prepared lunch boxes one needed to warm before eating, but with an actual assortment of dishes preserved with magic. Three long rows of stone tables stretched across the room, all equipped with dozens of porcelain plates containing steaming-hot cooked meals that he could simply pluck out and begin eating.
According to Lily, their only caveat was that once a dish was picked up from the stone table, the preservation charms would stop working until the plate was returned.
Harry had no problems with that.
There were also shelves with fresh vegetables and fruits at the very back. So if he wished to get in touch with his cooking again, he could very well use the equipment in the Supplies Room—ranging from everything between knives and spoons to Grills and Toasters—to cook himself a fairly decent meal.
Still, now wasn't the time for that.
Passing by most of the fancy dishes, he picked up two plates of Pad thai and made his way back to the newly dubbed Dining room, arranging them on the table, along with all the necessary accessories.
The only piece of the puzzle missing now was his beautiful red-haired companion, who was still blissfully lost in the shower.
Or so he'd thought, until he stepped back into the Bedroom, only to find the Widow standing in front of the full-length mirror.
Harry came to a complete halt, his eyes drinking in her appearance. Her hair were still dripping, and she was wearing a bathrobe that clung to her wet body perfectly. Her breasts were so perfectly shaped that he instantly re-evaluated his list of the best breasts on the planet. As much as he liked big boobs, he now realized he must also consider their shape to cast his final judgment upon their beauty.
Natasha's tits were the shape of large pears, or two perfectly formed teardrops.
"Like something you see?" She glanced at him in the mirror chidingly.
Harry nodded with complete sincerity. "You have a beautiful body."
His eyes trailed at her behind, enjoying the way her bathrobe curved outwards as if encountering a smooth hill.
Natasha sighed, shaking her head. "Harry, you don't just stare at someone like that. It's rude."
Frowning, he met her eyes, reluctantly letting go of the delicious view. "Well, you shouldn't have presented me with such a sight so blatantly then."
"Would you stare at your mother if you found her naked?"
Harry didn't have to think much. "Of course."
Natasha paused, one hand coming up to massage her forehead, before simply giving a shrug. "Well then…anything you like in particular?"
She gave a little twirl.
"Your breasts are especially magnificent."
She sighed again, facing the mirror once more. "Your body doesn't have a single bone capable of feeling shame or embarrassment, does it?"
"I would like your permission to play with them tonight."
"Aaand you've proved me right."
"Was that a yes?"
She rolled her eyes. "Let's focus on our mission first, shall we?"
Harry blinked. "You'll let me squeeze them afterwards?"
That sounded reasonable.
"No, you horny kid." She threw a pillow at him. "Now get out and let me dress."
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Eventually, he was able to drag her to the Dining room he'd so carefully arranged. She humored him by wearing a beautiful black dress that bared an ample amount of cleavage for his viewing pleasure.
So there they were, having a nice candlelight dinner on a plane, thousands of feet above the ground, inside a magical trunk.
Nothing strange about it.
Their topic of conversation, however, was certainly strange. Or well, Harry imagined it would be strange to mundane people, he himself felt right at home as Natasha described her early days of running around as a Black Widow assassin, and eventually—after some light prodding—even coughed up her legendary Budapest mission.
It wasn't as exciting as he'd been imagining. The idea of hiding inside the ceiling of a subway station certainly sounded a touch more alluring than what they were currently doing, but it wasn't the type of 'Them vs The World' situation that his mind had first conjured.
Though—with some help from his Sagely wisdom—he was able to understand why she would find it so distressing to recall. The fact that she had to sacrifice a child as collateral damage to complete her mission seemed to have left her with emotional trauma. Harry himself had taken such actions before, but he'd always been forced to shut off his emotions against them—which he barely found to be a challenge with the help of Gamer's Mind—and eventually, he'd learned to adapt, growing desensitized to the immorality of the world.
Still, he could understand and sympathize with someone who struggled with it.
That didn't mean he grew any better in the arts of comforting.
After a moment of internal struggle, he found himself patting her hand. "If it's any comfort to you, I've done things just as bad, if not worse, than that."
Natasha chuckled heavily, wiping her eyes. "That is…not a comfort to me, no. Is there a mission you actually enjoyed?"
"For Hydra?" Harry frowned, thinking. "None that I look upon fondly. Well, there was one I did find quite exciting at first, but it quickly went sideways."
"Tell me?"
"There was a case I was forced to study," Harry recalled, enjoying his meal slowly "about a girl who was raped and dumped on train tracks. I remember her name still; Cassandra Knight. The report said a group of boys supposedly 'ran a train on her', leaving her badly injured and barely breathing. I was given the mission to search for the boys and eliminate them one by one. It was the first mission I felt peaceful about…that lasted until I was ordered to kill the girl. And after months of studying her life and history, it proved a smudge too…difficult, shall I say? I obliged of course, eventually. Found her admitted inside a local hospital and smothered her to death. But there was nothing enjoyable about it. I learned never to form bonds with my targets again."
The heaviness that had been hanging over Natasha drained away completely, leaving only a grim visage. "If that's the mission you remember more fondly than others, then yes, I can believe you've done worse things than me."
Harry pondered on the thought for a second, before considering it a job well done.
He checked the Tempus again, nodding as the time finally became normal. "We're in Russia. Come on, let's give our enemies a proper welcome."
"In mid-flight?" She asked, eyebrows raised.
"I have an idea."
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With Harry and Natasha clinging onto its back, the heavy Jet finally laid its wheels upon the Russian soil. Or well, Russian snow in this case—stretching to every part of Siberia's landmass. The Jet continued its way onwards for another half a minute, before finally coming to a halt in a small roofless hangar, a squad of Hydra Soldiers greeting them welcome.
The first thing that captured their attention was the massive structure looming atop a hill that curved upwards from their position, its darkened silhouette falling upon them under the first light of dawn.
"Castle of Thorns." Natasha whispered to him. "We've only ever heard rumors about it from the captured Hydra prisoners."
Their attention quickly shifted below them as the jet doors opened up.
After more than three hours of flight time, Harry and Natasha finally received sight of their target. A small suitcase, 1x1 feet in dimensions, clutched under the arm of the metallic humanoid, with a limping Winter Soldier by its side. Harry could see they'd done their best to patch up his metallic arm, but it was still clinging to his body with a thread of muscle and wires.
Winter himself didn't show any signs of discomfort, stoically proceeding to march alongside his ally. For a second, Harry debated simply summoning the suitcase to him, shooting a quick Avada Kedavra on Winter and vanishing away in space. But the ring of notification alerted him to a new quest, forcing him to stay his hand.
Quest [Cutting the roots] in Progress!
Destroy the Hydra Base ( )
Eliminate Alexander Pierce ( )
Save the Winter Soldier ( )
Grunting, he dismissed the message. Why must the system be so hellbent on refusing him the revenge he'd sought after for so long? Harry couldn't rightly guess. He just knew he wouldn't be following the System's command this one time.
They stayed unmoving upon the jet's surface until the last of the soldiers moved out, before finally relaxing.
"Did you enjoy that?" Natasha asked, elbowing him lightly.
Their bodies were tightly packed inside his magical Robe, both lying stomach-down upon the cold metallic surface of the Jet side by side. His Battle robe was made to automatically adjust to the size of its wearer, which was the only reason Romanoff was able to enjoy its protection beside him.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Not as much as I would've liked to. Now if we were naked and wrapped in a towel together, inside a hot tub of bubbling water, I would've enjoyed your company infinitely more. With a wind blower stretching my skin to unpleasant proportions? Not so much."
Natasha shook her head, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "If we survive, I'll be sure to invite you to a private jacuzzi. Now come on, our target is moving."
With steps softer than shadows, they both leapt from the plane's wing and landed on the snow like a pair of elves—following after their target—the Invisibility Cloak still covering them.
"Careful." Natasha whispered, nodding pointedly. "There are Widows here."
A group of 9 female warriors, dressed in snow white garbs made to blend in with nature, surrounded a figure in black coat. The Hydra soldiers treated them with caution, even though they outnumbered them at least 4 to 1. The alliance in place seemed tenser than Harry had imagined, both groups eyeing each other with barely concealed suspicion.
Two men—looking to be the leaders of their respective groups—met in the middle, their respective group of soldiers at their back.
Natasha cursed in Russian. Harry decided he quite liked it.
"That's Dreykov. The bastard really survived..." She gritted her teeth, a flash of anger hidden within her eyes. "After everything we did... What a waste."
Now having heard the story, Harry could understand the bitterness behind her words. He still had questions left to ask, but none were appropriate in the middle of a mission.
They followed the group of soldiers and Widows from a safe distance. Though the distance considered to be 'safe' was redefined when you have something as ground-breaking as the Invisibility Cloak.
Which meant they were left crouching close enough to the two that eavesdropping upon them was easier than cutting melted butter with a hot knife.
"I take it you're satisfied with our deal, then?" The second man asked, shaking Dreykov's hand.
"We wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
Beside him, Natasha began cursing again. "That's Alexander Pierce. Out of everyone to be in Hydra...this is bigger than I thought."
Alexander Pierce. Harry remembered the name. It was the same bastard who had wanted to interrogate Harry upon his arrival at S.H.I.E.L.D.
Natasha glanced at him. "We may need to retreat. Getting this information back to the Director now takes precedence over the mission."
Harry shook his head. "We've already gone outside the mission parameters. I doubt we have any rescue coming. My Apparition is our best bet. Might as well secure the package before we leave."
"Actually, we do have rescue coming." She held up her S.H.I.E.L.D mobile with a smirk. "Shield always knows their agent's location."
Harry frowned. "...Then why not just call Steve and relay the info?"
"Too risky. Our calls are encrypted but Pierce is a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. While I'm certain Steve won't betray our location to anyone, I don't exactly know how much access Pierce has over our equipment. I'd rather not risk it."
Ahead of them, the two leaders exchanged another package. "Six syringes, as promised. It's a shame we failed your other request," Dreykov shrugged. "But that's life."
"Well said," Pierce smiled thinly in return. "That is, I believe, indeed life. Full of unexpected challenges."
Harry could feel the thinly veiled hostility between them as they shook hands again, before separating with a last nod—each choosing a different path as they arrived at a fork.
Harry and Natasha shared a glance. They both knew what to do.
"Ready for another round?"
Natasha took a deep breath, nodding. "I'll take Dreykov. Just hoping not to get ambushed this time."
For a moment, Harry hesitated, feeling strangely vulnerable. "Would you...like to take my Cloak?"
She must've seen through his cover, for a small smirk broke out on her lips. "No, thanks. Though it was sweet of you to offer."
Harry shook his head. "Contact me if you're in trouble. Or just lonely. I'll pop out to provide some support."
Harry took a quick stock of himself, almost missing Natasha's movements before she closed the distance in a tight hug.
"Don't die."
Harry nodded, letting go of his sudden tenseness to return the hug. "You too."
---------------------------------
He watched her disappear into the bushes, almost becoming one with the snow. Most people would struggle to see her, and it was only through his superhuman eyesight that he was able to locate her.
Yet for some reason, a tiny sting of worry kept biting at his heels.
Harry shook his head. He must be getting complacent if he was worrying more about the Black Widow than his own mission. Just because he was stronger now did not mean he was invincible. Bullets would still tear through his skull just like any human.
It wouldn't do to grow arrogant.
Taking one last deep breath—feeling the Siberian cold as a small snowflake came to sit atop his nose—he activated the Gamer's Mind, removing all distractions.
Harry began his mission.
With the Invisibility Cloak hiding him under its magical shadow, he made his way straight for Pierce's company with little effort at subtlety. His footsteps were naturally quiet, and he was light enough to not leave out too noticeable a print in the snow before he finally stepped upon the tiled road leading to the castle.
Hydra soldiers were gathered left and right around the main road, sketching a quick salute to Pierce before resuming their duties.
"Freak." One of the guards muttered.
It took a moment for Harry to realize his cover wasn't blown. The insult was aimed at a departing Widow, and he reluctantly stopped contemplating a quick murder.
The guard's face was still duly noted. His survival chances this day had dropped dramatically.
Harry made sure to stay a dozen paces behind the Hydra leader at all times, their path eventually leading them to the small bridge that covered the gap between them and the foot of the massive castle doors. A frozen moat surrounded the bridge from both sides, the ice appearing thin and fragile.
Following Pierce like his own shadow, Harry advanced towards the Castle of Thorns.
The Castle of Thorne didn't actually have any thorns, as far as Harry could see. Nor was it a Castle, as far as Harry could see. It did have massive towers like Hogwarts, but resembled the Budapest parliament building more than a castle.
Unlike the Parliament building however, it wasn't beautiful. It was shabby, decrepit, made of grey stones and looked like an abandoned manor. Harry decided it most likely matched its inhabitants.
He entered the Castle with Pierce's entourage.
And the door slammed shut behind him.
---------------------------------
The mission was a go.
Heart smoldering with a cold vengeance, Natasha slowly sneaked her way to Dreykov, following upon the path trailing down through the snow-clad grounds of Hydra base.
She'd been told he was alive of course, had known she would have to come to grips with reality sooner or later, but seeing him walking around like nothing was wrong felt as a true punch to the gut.
The decision she'd made so long ago, choosing to sacrifice the life of a child to finally eliminate her former master, was rendered meaningless. Just like that.
'Fate is a cruel bitch.'
And now she'd sent another child away on a mission that would be nigh impossible even for her.
Though if she was being honest, it did make a twisted kind of sense. She, the former Red Room Assassin, going after its leader, while Harry, the former Hydra agent, going after what she suspected was its leader.
It seemed like the universe itself had given them an unavoidable command: wrap up your past.
Natasha took a deep breath, eyes fixed on Dreykov.
Freedom. The only thing she'd ever longed for. Freedom from her past, from the life she'd buried years ago, naively believing it would never come back to haunt her.
Well, it was now here.
The moment she'd been told that Dreykov was alive, she knew the matter was fixed, the past was coming to meet the present once more.
'I won't make a mistake this time.' She promised.
This time, she would finish what she'd started.
General Dreykov would die today.
She could only hope that Harry survived. While it had been a true wonder, watching him fight and toss around the Winter Soldier and his metallic companion, she still couldn't help but realize how maddeningly young the boy was to die. The risk was always present in their line of business of course, but fate truly was unkind to write such a harsh future in the boy's life. Especially after everything he'd already done.
Shaking the distractions off of her mind, Natasha made her way down the snowy path, crouched and hidden from sight. It seemed to spiral halfway through, as if they were climbing down from a mountain.
What she finally saw at the bottom, however, was worse than a mountain could hope to be, blowing her mind away.
'Son of a gun...'
An airship, larger than an entire aircraft carrier, stayed parked at the feet of a frozen creek. The sight was so shocking in its enormity that she almost missed the piles of dead bodies littering down what now seemed like a dried, empty lake.
Tens of thousands of bodies—some fresh, some rotten—covered the surface of the lake, thrown away haphazardly
Only her years of experience allowed her to maintain her calm as she gazed upon a scene straight out of a horror story.
On further notice, she realized the bodies were deformed or missing limbs, with signs of severe acid burns and alien appendages protruding out of their body parts.
'The Great Wasteland.' She thought faintly. The place where Hydra dumped their failed human experiments.
S.H.I.E.L.D had long theorized it existed, but she'd never imagined encountering it here.
The entire dried lake was consumed by the bodies, forming piles of limbs and crushed heads, and standing proudly over them was the Red Room airship, as grand as it was sinister.
'Harry could've been one of them.' The sheer thought burned blistering hot rage within her chest.
She vowed to see Hydra burn alongside their allies.
Uncaring of the littering bodies, Dreykov and his Widows made their way straight to the ship, following down a bleak path through the dead. Unfortunately, that path was closed to her. The security was simply too tight for Natasha to sneak alongside her target. She would have to find her way through the bodies.
Natasha wasn't weak of stomach, but the thought still left her queasy.
'That cloak would've come in handy right now.'
The sun was just climbing its way up the sky right now, casting a beautiful glare over the dead grounds. Even in its horrifying contrast, she couldn't help but feel Harry would've found the sunrise beautiful.
God, she was going to miss being on a mission with him. She wouldn't admit it to a soul, but riding on the broom with him, even with that teeth-clattering chill, was perhaps her fondest memory to date. The candlelight dinner inside the trunk simply added to the mystical strangeness of the situation.
The memory helped push away the gloominess clinging to her mind.
With a deep breath—which she regretted the next instance as the stench of rotting flesh and acid filled her lungs—Natasha refocused her mind and made her way to the pile of bodies.
'Time to get to work.'
---------------------------------
In most of the missions Harry had undertaken for Hydra—which were a lot—Infiltration usually played a large part in its completion. It was safe to say he was intimately familiar with the process of crafting near-perfect disguises or sneaking his way past a dozen armed personnels in hopes of assassinating the high-ranking target.
Never before would Harry have imagined simply waltzing into an enemy base with impunity, no hints of fear or caution in his heart, with his gun trained on the target at all times.
'Magic is overpowered.' Harry concluded.
He didn't know exactly how high Alexander Pierce ranked in the Hydra totem poll, but the sheer fact that he had a measure of authority over S.H.I.E.L.D meant he could command his previous Handlers like his personal slaves.
And Harry could end his life with a pull of a trigger. The blow to Hydra would most likely be devastating.
He abstained.
Under the influence of Gamer's Mind, his thirst for vengeance was stifled lower than his greed for power, so he let the Hydra leader guide him deeper inside their lair, all the while sharpening his dagger to lodge it deep within the heart of his former slavers, when the time was right.
The Castle of Thorns may have looked like an abandoned haunted mansion from outside, but there thrived a most boring type of life inside it. The life of scientists.
Having been under his own share of experimentations, he knew there was nothing duller in this world than a laboratory.
The only fun experiments were those he unleashed upon his girl-friends.
As he followed Alexander Pierce and his entourage of bodyguards deeper in the castle, he passed no less than 7 labs left open—screams and pleas for mercy or freedom prominent in at least half of them.
Harry lingered a second or two, wondering if the System would give him some sort of rescue mission, but came up empty handed.
He moved on.
As he followed Pierce deeper into the Castle, he made sure to memorize the path where he'd come from, noting any unique landmarks in his mind. If there came a time where he needed to escape the Castle without blasting a hole through its walls, he didn't want to scramble around like a confused soul in this fairly massive maze of antiquity.
The Castle itself couldn't hold his attention for more than a few seconds. The only thing of note were the soldiers, all dressed in their typical winter uniforms, standing guard over every doorway and every hallway, silent and alert.
Though interestingly, even the more perceptive ones didn't feel his hostile presence slipping past them.
Harry followed Pierce past a set of massive oak doors, keeping an absent eye on the package of Red Dust. He still carried it with him, giving Harry no chance at stealing.
They soon entered an enormous domed chamber, dimly lit and smelling of current.
There was an iron gate in the middle, leading to another, smaller room. Two Hydra guards saluted crisply as Pierce glided past, followed closely by Harry.
What greeted his eyes was...victory.
-----------------------------
"Get me a status report on the escaped targets." Dreykov's voice droned from below. "And find me the bastard who stole my Widows."
The squad of five Black Widows stamped their feet in salute and made a synchronized U-turn.
"Taskmaster, stay."
Hidden in the rafters of the massive aircraft, Natasha Romanoff stared down at the scene with dead eyes, the feeling of rot still squirming upon her skin. Out of the five, she was more than familiar with three, having trained one, and trained alongside the other two.
None of it mattered anymore. They would die all the same should they stand against her.
Her only mission was the Red Dust package...and Dreykov.
The massive metallic humanoid loomed over the man like an adult before a child, yet no one would mistake who carried the true authority between them. Natasha was slightly surprised to note the cracked bracers the humanoid sported, along with numerous dents and breaks upon her once-pristine Armor.
'Most likely the result of Harry's merciless beatings.'
"Romanoff and Belova, they're still alive?"
The being called Taskmaster tilted its head for a brief moment, before bringing a single finger up and nodding silently.
"So one's dead then? Which one? Romanoff?"
Taskmaster nodded.
"Good." Dreykov grunted. "As brilliant as she was, we can't afford to let such a threat exist." He started walking down the hallway then, and Natasha did her best to crawl along silently, keeping pace with the duo. "Your chip was destroyed in the fight with the wizard, I couldn't catch the ending clearly. Is the boy still alive?"
Taskmaster nodded.
The man let out a heavy breath. "Goddamn it. Something like him could be a boon to our organization. I can see why Pierce is so obsessed with him. Still, it wouldn't be sporting to steal an ally's morsel out of his mouth. We'll let them deal with the monster a little while longer. For you, I have a different task."
He handed her the package delicately. "Place the Red Dust in the vaults, then join me in my office." He whirled around, walking away with purpose, before coming to a sudden halt after only a couple of steps, a smirk stretching on his cretinous face as he glanced back. "Drop the Armor, but keep your face covered. There's something special I'd ordered just for you on your bed. Wear it. I think it's finally time I make you mine completely. Think of it as your coming-of-age gift...daughter."
Natasha closed her eyes, fists clenched as his steps died down. 'No. Not yet.'
But he will die. He will die a dog's death. Soon.
Only once the Taskmaster began moving did the final words truly hit her. '...Daughter?'
She felt her heart stop then. Dreykov had no children except Antonia. The same Antonia who'd haunted her dreams for so, so long. The same Antonia who'd become the reason behind her oath to protect Harry—someone she'd taken as her second-chance the moment she first laid eyes upon him.
The same Antonia she'd sacrificed to complete her mission.
'It isn't her.' She tried to convince herself. 'It's just a sick man's perversion showing through.'
Yet, the thought wouldn't leave her mind alone. 'But what if?'
And as the Taskmaster's slow steps started dying down the hallway, she couldn't help but notice how lost and dejected the armored figure looked...
Natasha made up her mind. She must unveil the face behind that metallic mask. Even at the risk of her own life.
'God, Harry's going to kill me for this.'
---------------------------------
Pain was an old friend, agony a passing companion. Anger he'd brushed against more than once, but confusion…confusion was a stranger he'd never met.
Until today.
'Who was he?'
Never before had the Winter Soldier ever felt so…confused.
His life was a focused path of orders and directives. He did as he was bid, followed orders to the letter, and never allowed a stray thought to infect his mind. Sometimes, he would feel pangs of strange emotions, alien memories he had no recollection of experiencing, faces and laughter that would leave him troubled…but they were quickly eliminated before he could grow unstable.
For the first time in his two months of consciousness, Winter Soldier allowed himself to deviate from the fixed path. He allowed himself to think.
To remember.
The boy he'd fought earlier, the boy who knew him and seemed to expect the same from him in return…
The boy who'd once haunted his mind with the sheer wrongness of his actions.
'How do I know him?'
He clutched his head, pain spiking through his skull, memories buried deep within his psyche resurfacing. A pair of hands tried to force his arms to a chair, but he pushed them off with no difficulty.
His ears absently picked up the arrival of a new set of steps. The gait was one he was distinctly familiar with, for it had been the one to greet him upon his first awakening into consciousness.
"He's unstable, sir." He recognized his handler's voices. "Erratic, and badly injured. His arm is causing some problems as well. We've patched it up as well as we could, but it will require further attention."
"That is fine." The newcomer spoke with authority over his handler, as was just. Winter Soldier knew him to be Superior over all. "I won't keep him for long."
The Superior came to stand in front of him, but Winter Soldier found himself unable to focus on his presence, his mind still scrambling for answers, memories once-forgotten slowly coming to the fore.
"Mission report." The command came.
A part of his brain recognized the order, but a larger part was still trying to decipher a new, alien memory.
He remembered a night, dark and sullen. He remembered a neighborhood, so strangely mundane. And he remembered his target, a skeletally thin boy. Small and weak—just like another boy he seemed to remember—the scar on his face, so big and striking, and his eyes, so wide and green and…innocent.
"Mission report, now." The command carried an edge this time, and the Soldier found himself speaking.
"I-I knew him." He muttered uncertainly, resisting another attempt to be pushed down. "The boy..."
"I think we might have to wipe him, sir." His handler said, snapping his fingers. "Agent, ready the chair. You two, help me prep him."
Four new hands joined the other two in pushing him down, but the memories were a hurricane of chaos now, dominating his mind entirely.
"I knew the boy." He found himself whispering. A heavy grunt of pain escaped from his left, and the Soldier realized he'd just punched his handler in the chest. At that moment, he found it difficult to care. "He said I would. I...how do I know him?"
"I'm so sorry for his lack of control, sir." His handler gasped out, consternation filling his voice as much as pain. "We'll get him fixed right up."
"No," The Superior snapped, stepping forward. "I want to hear this."
All the hands left him alone a hesitant second later, leaving the Soldier to rewrap his fingers around his scalp, the pain igniting ever further.
"Why can't I remember more?" He asked, frustration leaking in his voice. "What did I do? How do I know him!?"
"What did he look like?" The Superior asked, and the Soldier calmed down slightly, focusing on the question.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and remembered the night. "Dark-haired, green-eyed. He had a small scar on his forehead...I remember it being much bigger...the scar. I remember a shorter boy, a large lightning bolt on his forehead, ugly red. Now it's just…pale silver, and almost invisible. How do I remember this?"
"What did the boy do?" The Superior asked, seemingly unheeding and uncaring of the rest. "Where is he now?"
"He...he defeated me." He answered slowly, and it seemed to elicit gasps from everyone gathered. "He wanted to kill me."
"He did this to you?" The Superior asked, his voice losing its cool for the first time. "Alone?"
The Soldier nodded, clutching his head. "He was angry...so angry. At me. What did I do? Why can't I remember?"
"How did he defeat you?" The Superior pressed.
But the Soldier was no longer capable of understanding, his mind set on a most vexing conundrum. "Why was he angry at me? What did I do?"
The memories finally answered.
"Focus!" The Superior backhanded him, but it hurt as much as a mosquito's sting. "Now, Soldier. How did the boy defeat you?"
But the Soldier wasn't in the mood for focusing, too lost in the memories. "I remember that night…why was I sent there? Did I save him from them? Did I bring him here?"
"Useless." The Superior sighed, disgusted. "Prep him. We're going back to New York."
"But…the wizards never resupplied with their potions, sir."
"Don't put this on us! We were informed only now."
"Enough! Wipe him and reprogram him. I want him ready for tomorrow. I want him ready now."
"Yes, Sir."
And as the hands renewed their attempts to push him down, the Soldier ceased his struggles, surrendering to the oddly familiar treatment.
But the memories never stopped their assault.