Natasha Romanoff had just finished loading her sniper rifle magazines and packing them neatly into a gym backpack when the signal light on the satellite phone resting on her pillow began to blink. Brushing her red hair behind her ear, she picked up the call. A bland, electronically synthesized voice came through the line. Agent Romanoff immediately stopped what she was doing and retrieved a small notebook from the pocket of her jeans. She silently cross-referenced the code given by the synthetic voice with the numerical sequences she had memorized, performing a mental calculation.
It was a highly complex cipher system—only intelligence personnel trained in this zodiac-cycle-based encoding formula could validate their identities this way. While it was a relatively low-level security protocol, it was sufficient for off-roster operatives. Higher-ranking officers within Eternal City's intelligence agency had to pass online verification processes involving voiceprint, iris scan, fingerprint, genetic code, and even psychic resonance. But for agents like her, the computation of hundreds of dynamically changing digits was enough.
Once she confirmed that the call originated from Eternal City's intelligence department, she returned the passcode. A moment later, she received her briefing: Steve Rogers and Pietro Maximoff would arrive at the mission site in three hours. Wanda Maximoff would follow six hours later aboard a Quinjet en route to Romania. Eternal City's armed forces would not be involved in this operation. Beyond providing a safe house, no further support would be offered. The briefing included Pietro's restaurant reservations and Steve's travel logs. Wanda's participation caught her off guard—she was aware of the longstanding tension between the Maximoff siblings. Their apparent reconciliation, however, was a welcome surprise. As a member of the Avengers family, she naturally supported it.
Still, she suspected Wanda might have been entrusted with a mission—one directly assigned by Solomon.
But that wasn't her concern right now. Romanoff ended the call and walked to the window, carefully parting the cheap motel curtain to observe her surveillance target. It was a rental flat, located at a transportation hub but with suspiciously low rent, and surrounded by few tall buildings. Her position, a decaying motel 600 meters away, was ideal for surveillance and sniping. The motel was on the verge of bankruptcy, making it easy for her to slip in under a false identity and rent a room specifically for this purpose.
Based on the target's routine, three hours would be more than enough for her to eliminate him and return to the mission rendezvous point. No one in the Avengers would be able to trace her actions prior to the operation. An assassination from this distance was impossible to react to—even for a superhuman. She had full confidence in the mission.
"I'm initiating the operation," Solomon said to the tiny black kitten.
Normally, Solomon wouldn't personally get involved in schemes like this, but Wakanda was Eternal City's most significant ally. It was deeply intertwined with Eternal City's industry and tech R\&D. Though Wakanda's technological advancements were built on vibranium, their value to Eternal City remained immense. That's why, uncharacteristically, Solomon chose to personally oversee this delicate operation rather than assign the task to Stephanie.
Natasha Romanoff locked the target in her crosshairs and took a deep breath.
The Winter Soldier, wearing a brown jacket and baseball cap, kept his head low as he moved cautiously through the corridor, sticking close to cover. Whenever he had to cross an open stairwell landing, he quickened his pace slightly to avoid exposing himself to any possible sniper line of sight. Before moving in, he had mentally rehearsed all possible scenarios. His prior reconnaissance missions and returns to the safehouse had gone smoothly. But this time, he couldn't follow the planned route—his path to the stairwell was blocked by a clumsily scrawled vanity cabinet being unloaded by a young couple and some movers.
As he tried to go around the furniture, he realized the stairs were also cluttered with boxes.
From her scope, Romanoff watched the target briefly come into view, then vanish again.
She had observed the couple and movers an hour ago. Her binoculars confirmed they were ordinary civilians who had moved in six months prior with no suspicious behavior. Still, any seasoned operative would become alert at a disruption like this, and the Winter Soldier was no exception. She watched him through her scope as he took cover behind the corner of the stairwell and a pile of boxes. Romanoff slowly adjusted her aim, estimating his height and centering the crosshairs on the wooden cabinet concealing him.
The Winter Soldier gripped his pistol tightly. A mover, passing by with another dresser, maneuvered it down the cluttered stairs. Nothing happened. The young couple even flashed him an apologetic smile. Thirty seconds later, they had descended the stairs. Only then did the Winter Soldier glance toward the vanity cabinet. He noticed a crudely scrawled message on it—at first, he thought it was a sentimental note from the husband to his wife, but something felt off.
Why hadn't they moved this one piece of furniture?
Adrenaline surged through his system. Instinct took over as he dived forward, rolling down the stairs.
An explosion engulfed the stairwell. Thick black smoke and a powerful shockwave ripped through the apartment building. The blast disoriented the Winter Soldier, red and blue spots dancing in his vision, the smoke choking his lungs. Before he could recover, the couple and movers—now armed—emerged from the dresser and charged after him. He fired twice to force them back, then sprinted up the stairs, using the smoke and flames for cover. The assassins, disguised as civilians, pursued him relentlessly.
As bullets whizzed past, he returned fire while pushing toward his planned extraction point through the thick smoke.
Suddenly, a nearby apartment door burst open. Two assassins, equipped with knives and pistols and clad in tactical vests, lunged at him from the side. He raised his metal arm to deflect both the blade and bullets, then grabbed one by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The scuffle drew the attention of the three disguised assassins behind him, who now donned gas masks and joined the fight.
They had no idea someone else was intercepting their target—they weren't part of this mysterious third party.
But it didn't matter anymore. Their top priority now was to capture the Winter Soldier.
"F\*uck!" Romanoff cursed under her breath, using her scope to search for the mission target, now obscured by smoke. He hadn't gone down, and the upper floors were too filled with smoke for a clean shot. She hadn't expected someone else to find the target first, let alone beat her to setting up a trap. She now suspected the landlord had been replaced, and the young couple were assassins in disguise.
Just then, she heard a muffled shot nearby—most likely a suppressed sniper round. Moments later, one of the fake movers collapsed after emerging from the smoke. Romanoff quickly looked outside and saw a curtain being pulled back at a nearby window. She instantly redirected her rifle and fired at that window. Just as she squeezed the trigger, she instinctively rolled sideways—a bullet slammed into the wall where her head had just been. Chunks of plaster burst outward, covering her leather jacket in white dust.
She rolled again, repositioning to avoid further incoming fire.
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