I moved through the city as quickly as I could, calling Goliath on the way.
"Get me a plane out of here," I told him. "Back to Madripoor."
He didn't ask questions. Within the hour, he had arranged a private plane to China, where a helicopter would take me the rest of the way.
When I reached the airstrip, the cold night air bit at my nose. Every step across the tarmac sent a tremor through me, my breath fogging the air in pale clouds. I climbed into the plane and glanced back one last time. The city lights pierced through the darkness, beautiful and unyielding.
My instincts fought my logic. Run back now. Rip up the note. Stay with them both.
Am I really making the right choice?
The thought of my little girl made my lip quiver. I clenched my teeth, forcing the tears back.
"Ma'am, we need to take off now," the pilot said softly, as if he could see just how close I was to breaking.
This was the hardest thing I'd ever done, not surviving Hydra, not the torture, not escaping them, not clawing my way to power in Madripoor, nor the years of killing to stay there.
This was worse.
It felt as though I'd torn my heart from my chest and left it behind in this city. Every day without it would be a new form of torture.
But the world is cruel. I learned that long ago.
My only solace was knowing she was safe, with Bucky. Maybe, from Madripoor, I could watch over them.
I took a deep breath, letting the sting of the cold air settle in my lungs. Then I boarded. The door closed with a metallic clink, the engines roared, and the city fell away beneath us. Soon, there was nothing but the shifting shades of black and grey in the clouds.
I tried to sleep, not because I needed it, but because it was easier than sitting alone with my thoughts for the next several hours.
The nightmares came anyway.
I was back on a mission with Bucky. They weren't common, but when they happened, there was a strange comfort in it, knowing I wasn't the only one trapped in that hell. That comfort always shattered when we returned, and he was wiped.
The mission itself wasn't extraordinary. A politician Hydra wanted in power had enemies, a handful of reporters and stubborn political opponents. We were there to "clear the path."
Bucky dealt with the voting parties who couldn't be bought. I handled the reporters.
One was a young woman named Claire. Early twenties. I waited in her apartment for her to get home from work. She didn't notice me in the shadows. I let her get into the shower, listened to the water run, then stepped in. A quick blow sent her head crashing through the marble sink.
It had to look like an accident, 'she slipped and fell.' I stayed until she bled out, perhaps an odd comfort for her, not dying alone, but I just needed to confirm her death.
The next were a husband and wife. Richard and Amara Armond. He had the information, but we knew he'd tell her. They had a beautiful home, and she was about five months pregnant.
That night, I turned on the stove just enough to fill the house with gas. I wedged nails in the doorframes so they couldn't open the doors. When the air was heavy with gas, I tossed a match down the chimney.
The house went up instantly. I stayed long enough to hear them scream, to watch the neighbors gather, to hear the sirens come too late, exactly as planned.
At some point, that became routine. That was the sickness of it.
I woke calm despite reliving it all. Numbness. Another reminder I'd made the right choice, Mira should never see this as normal.
By the time the wheels touched down, I had no more time for reflection. I needed to reach the helipad.
When I landed in Madripoor, Goliath and several others were waiting. They welcomed me with smiles, perhaps knowing I was here to set things back in order.
As we walked through the mansion, I caught flashes of memory, Mira running through the halls, her laughter echoing. The rooms had been restored to how they were before, or close enough. Décor didn't matter now, I only cared about making it a home for her.
Without thinking, I drifted to the garden. Goliath stayed silent, waving the others away. Inside, the plants were young, freshly replanted.
"We had to start over," he said. "They'll grow soon."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gravestone, ringed by baby rose bushes.
SIERRA.
The only thing carved in, her name, the only one we knew.
I rested my hand on the cold stone. This made her loss too real.
"Did you know we were together?" Goliath murmured.
"No."
"She never knew her last name. No birthday. But it didn't matter to us." He said in a solemn tone.
I stayed quiet letting him share what he needed. He didn't share things like this with anyone else, and the least I could do was let him speak.
When the silence finally set, I asked "Did you find the guy?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"We figured we should do to him what he did her. So we stripped him for parts."
"Organ theft huh? Seems like a bit of a quick death considering his crimes." I replied
He chuckled, "No, far from it. We did a little more than him."
I turned to see him smiling a dark expression, I peaked an eyebrow in question.
"Human skin Isn't really something people buy to often, but it's still a part worth selling. One you can harvest, and the patient will still be alive and conscious for."
I nodded, a nice touch.
Sierra would have hated it though; she never adapted to the blood shed here. She was truly meant to be a white picket fence woman, with little screaming kids around, somewhere out in the countryside away from it all. Where the air was clean, and there was not a sound aside from the chirping of birds and the gentle breeze.
When the silence had run its course, we moved on to the main hall. My remaining loyalists were gathered there, eyes on a wall of screens. They displayed names, faces, and data on everyone refusing to fall back in line.
"We're taking everything back," I said, letting the shadows return and my heart turn to stone. I was ready to once again swim in the red sea I had made.