Unfortunately, that shot also meant Natasha could kiss her bikini days goodbye.
But just because she got lucky didn't mean everyone in the house would.
The nuclear engineer, who had been resting right across from her, took the bullet square to the head—dead before he even knew it.
"Damn it!" Natasha cursed, clutching her bleeding side with one hand while dragging the engineer's body with the other, retreating into a corner of the room.
A quick pulse check confirmed what her eyes already knew: he was gone, beyond saving. Cold sweat streamed down her forehead.
"How the hell did the enemy find us this fast? Was it a tracker? Or did they spot the markers I left?"
Natasha never claimed to be the strongest agent, but when it came to vanishing—covering her trail—few in the world could match her. She had cleaned up after herself flawlessly on the way here.
Even the best search team in the world shouldn't have been able to track her this quickly.
So, unless there had been a tracker—or her markers had been compromised—there was no other explanation.
But she had already checked, thoroughly. Neither she nor the engineer carried any devices. Even her S.H.I.E.L.D. locator and satellite phone had been discarded or shut down during the escape, just to avoid giving off signals that could be used against her.
So it wasn't a tracker.
Which left only one possibility: her markers had been discovered.
Her face darkened.
Because that didn't just mean the markers had been found. It meant whoever was chasing her understood S.H.I.E.L.D.'s exclusive codes. Which meant there was a mole inside S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.
Clink—clatter!
But she had no time to dwell on traitors. A round object flew in through the window and landed not far from her feet.
Suka blyat—grenade!
Her eyes widened. Without hesitation, she kicked the engineer's body straight onto the grenade, then dove headlong for the door, ignoring the burning pain at her waist.
BOOM!
The explosion tore the engineer's body into bloody pieces, splattering the room. But thanks to his last "contribution," Natasha survived the blast—though the shockwave blasted her clear into the hallway.
"Cough, cough… This mission's even tougher than Budapest…"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Before she could catch her breath, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black combat boot step into view.
Natasha didn't even look up. She drew her pistol and fired several rounds straight at the figure.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Instead of flesh, her bullets rang against metal.
Her eyes narrowed. The man had deflected all three of her precision shots—using only a single silver cybernetic arm.
And he was fast. In less than two seconds, he had closed the ten-meter gap, whipping a vicious kick toward her head.
The rush of displaced air alone told Natasha: if that kick connected, she was dead.
She didn't dodge. She didn't block. Instead, she raised her gun and emptied her magazine point-blank at the Winter Soldier's face.
The best defense was always a good offense.
As expected, every bullet was caught on that metal arm.
But the kick stopped short, giving Natasha a split second to counterattack.
Like a venomous snake, she vaulted up his body, locking his arms with her legs while pulling a razor-sharp garrote wire around his neck.
If she could cinch it tight, even Mike Tyson would lose his head.
But the Winter Soldier reacted instantly. He snapped his head back, slamming her into the hallway wall. Pain shot through her, loosening her grip just long enough for him to wrench his arm free, block the wire, and grab a fistful of her hair. With brutal force, he flung her aside.
Cyborg!
Natasha landed in a backward roll, teeth gritted. The difference in strength was overwhelming—just one exchange made it clear.
And knowing her opponent was enhanced, she didn't waste another second. She spun and dove through the nearest room window, hurling herself outside.
Fight a cyborg? Hell no.
She was a peak human, not Steve Rogers.
When it's time to run—you run.
To her credit, Natasha truly lived up to "peak human." A regular agent would've been crippled—if not dead—after a bullet to the gut and surviving an explosion. Yet she was still fighting back, still jumping out of windows.
But the Winter Soldier was faster.
Before she'd made it far, a grenade whistled through the air and detonated beside her, blasting her off her feet once again.
BOOM!
"God… that's the second time today I've been blown up…"
This one was bad. The impact rattled her insides, left her sprawled on the ground, unable to stand.
As the screams of frightened townsfolk echoed around her, Natasha looked up to see the black reaper himself advancing, step by step.
Is this it for me?
Damn it… I still have so much left undone. I haven't even found my sister yet…
Her eyes burned with unwillingness as she tried to push herself up.
But the Winter Soldier's gaze was icy and unfeeling. He swapped out the empty grenade shell for a fresh one, leveled the launcher at her prone body, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Whoosh!
BOOM!
Direct hit.
That should've been the end.
Natasha, dead? Of course not.
Don't worry, kids—Captain America's here!
As the smoke cleared, the gruesome image of Natasha blown apart never came. Instead, a tall figure stood before the Winter Soldier, a star-spangled shield of red, silver, and blue gleaming on his arm.
A flicker of confusion crossed the Soldier's eyes. He couldn't understand how this man had blocked the blast of a grenade with just a shield.
It wasn't scientific.
But biofields never were. Not only had Steve absorbed the entire explosion, but even Natasha behind him was completely unharmed.
The Winter Soldier might have been puzzled, but his hands didn't slow. Since grenades didn't work, he raised his gun and opened fire.
Steve lifted the shield in a show of defense, but in truth, it was the biofield absorbing every bullet.
He turned his head toward Natasha and flashed a wide grin.
"I'm not late, am I, 'little spider'~?"
Natasha didn't answer right away. She just stared, wide-eyed, at the flattened bullets dropping from Steve's body.
Wait a second—seriously?
It made sense if bullets hitting the Vibranium shield got squashed flat.
But why were the ones hitting his legs also turning into pancakes?!