"She's waking up."
Payton's neck was killing her. Actually, everything was killing her. Her body ached everywhere and she could feel the bruises that were scattered around her torso. At first she couldn't remember why she felt this way, wearily wondering if she had pushed herself too hard in training the previous day. She wasn't confused for long however, getting shocked back into the present when she attempted to lift her arms to rub the sleep from her eyes and found that she couldn't move. Payton's eyes snapped open to see her wrists were restrained to the armrests of a cushioned seat. She couldn't see her feet from her current position, but a quick test revealed that her ankles were tied down as well. Adrenaline began pumping through her as she fought against the restraints, flailing wildly in the seat she'd been placed in. Laughter rose around her, mocking in its tone as those around her watched her struggle.
"Those cuffs were specifically made to restrain super humans. I'm afraid you are stuck with us, child."
The voice that spoke was Russian, just like the man she had seen the previous night (was it still the previous night? How long was she asleep?), but different. It clearly wasn't the same man. The one who spoke to Taskmaster had been loud, his voice projected as if every word was the most important thing in the room. This man spoke quietly, his voice more raspy, as if the word had been roughened before being spoken.
Slowly, a part of her afraid of what monster she might see, Payton lifted her head. Whoever had spoken was sitting across from her, but was blocked by her own hair which had fallen like a curtain in front of her face. She attempted to shake it away, but before she could, a calloused hand, wrinkled with age, reached through the hair and framed her jaw. The feeling of a man's hand on her jaw had Payton trying to force down panic, unwanted memories bubbling to the surface, even as a second hand brushed the curtain of hair away from her face, allowing her to see her captor.
The man was old, his face as weathered and rough as his hands were. His eyes were framed with thick glasses that made them appear larger than natural. The most surprising thing was just how normal he looked. He didn't look like a monster, he wasn't deformed or changed in any way to show just how evil he was. That was for the movies. No, this man wouldn't have looked out of place working in some office.
What gave him away were his eyes. The predatory look in them as they appraised her broke her will and made the panic she'd been fighting erupt. Payton's heart began to pound and her chest felt like it was constricting. She tried to force her head back and out of the man's grip, but was stopped by the headrest of what she now realized was a luxury airplane seat. Her panic rose higher and higher and higher until her vision was tunneled and the world was nothing but white noise. She couldn't breath as the dark eyes and grey hair across from her morphed into bleach blond hair and blue eyes. Payton tried harder and harder, flailing in her seat as she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs but she couldn't she couldn't she couldn't . She hadn't had a panic attack like this in nearly a year! She was supposed to have been getting better! But now she felt like she was ten again, hiding in her closet feeling like the world was collapsing around her.
A sharp pain and resounding smack brought her back to the here and now as her captor backhanded her across her face, the ring on one of his fingers cutting into her cheek, leaving a small trickle of blood behind. His grip on her jaw prevented her head from moving with the blow. Her chest still heaved as she tried to breathe properly, and tears streamed from her eyes, but she was no longer seeing him , and her eyes once again focused onto the cruel face of the Russian, which was curled in disgust.
"All that strength, all that power, wasted on such weakness ."
Payton couldn't tell if he was talking to himself or her. The man released her jaw as he sat back in his own chain, wiping the small drops of blood that stuck to his ring off on the leather.
"Are you truly the same girl who evaded Taskmaster and defeated two of my men? Or was that just a fluke?"
Payton didn't respond. She figured any answer she might give would be unsatisfactory. Plus she felt like her throat was sealed shut. The man scoffed.
"I would have thought a girl who has faced such hardship during her life would be tougher than this. Everyone who ever loved you has died, and you can't even bring yourself to fight for yourself. Did your Aunt and Uncle die for nothing?" He mocked, and for the first time since waking up, Payton felt an emotion different than fear.
"You don't know anything about me!" She spat, trying to sound tougher than she felt.
He laughed at her. "I know everything about you! I know that you dread half your classes because Eugene Thompson torments you, calls you ' Penis Parker '. I know that his words sent you to the restroom that day three weeks ago in Oscorp, cutting deep enough that you wanted to hide your tears." He leaned in closer, getting into her face. "I know what happened that long weekend in 2011."
Payton's face paled even further. She felt faint."
"What was his name? Steven Wescott? You called him 'Skip' didn't you? He lived on your floor, going to college and working part time as a babysitter. Your babysitter…"
"Stop." She pleaded, eyes wide as the memories she did not think about fought to escape the vault she locked them in.
"Your Aunt and Uncle worked that weekend. They asked him to watch you, take care of you. But he did more than that." The look on the Russian's face was pure malice. He was enjoying the torment he was forcing on her.
"Stop! Please!"
"You weren't strong enough to stop him then, and he took what he wanted from you, your body, your innocence, left you broken and weak. I will break you too, but from the rubble I will form something stronger, something truly unbreakable. The perfect assassin, my perfect Widow." He said the words like a prayer, as if destroying her and turning her into something else was his life's purpose. "There is no one left to mourn you, no one left to hold you back from what you will become."
Footsteps padded across the floor of the plane, and from behind the man, a woman appeared. She wore a thin suit of black armor, a red hourglass buckled a utility belt to her waist. The uniform and symbol of the Black Widow. She'd always thought it was just the moniker of the SHIELD agent turned Avenger, but no. It was so much worse. Payton recognized the woman as she approached, carrying a small case. She was the nurse who triggered her spider-sense, the one who watched over May. The one who killed May. Her face was emotionless as she approached, looking at Payton as if a young girl tied to a chair was a normal sight. Maybe it was for her.
"The subjugation is ready, General." The woman spoke, holding the case out for the man to take.
The 'General' took it, place the container on a nearby tray before unclasping its seals. Inside was a single syringe, protected by a thick foam padding. The liquid contained within was clear, though Payton's eyes could make out small specks of color, like red glitter floating in substance. Her spider-sense vibrated at the sight. It didn't scream danger, but it gave her a sense of unease which only increased as the General picked the syringe out of its resting place.
"This is the start of your new life, Payton. Your new purpose." He leaned forwards, one hand grabbing her head again to hold it still (she hadn't even realized she was trying to get away from it), while the other jabbed the needle into her neck and pushed the plunger in.
Cold fluid entered her neck and sent chills down her spine as it began to adapt to the warmer environment of her body. Payton flinched, anticipating pain, drowsiness, or really anything. But nothing happened. She didn't fade away into nothingness, or get shunted to the back of her mind as some other entity gained control. She just sat there, feeling blood weeping out of the hole made by the needle. She looked between the Widow and General in confusion, even as her racing heart began to finally slow down, and her fear subsided. There wasn't anything to fear here.
The General smiled at her, patting her cheek softly before standing from his chair. "Wait there, young Widow. We will be home soon."
And so she waited. It was what she was supposed to do, what she wanted to do. She sat in the chair and waited, even when a soldier in that same grey and black armor that she recognized from the attack that led her here released her bindings, she waited. Her wrists were red and chaffed, sore from her previous struggle. Her ankles were probably not any better, but she didn't care. Worrying about such minor injuries was for the weak. The General didn't want her to be weak, he said as much.
An hour passed before someone approached her, holding a new syringe. "Give me your arm." They ordered.
Payton gave them her arm, not reacting when the needle pierced her bicep. They left without saying another word. After a few more minutes, Payton grew tired, and the world drifted away as she fell asleep.
…
…
…
Blinding lights met her eyes when she opened them, causing her to blink until her eyes could adjust to the change in light. She was no longer on the plane. Instead she was in some sort of medical facility, laying on a table hooked up to a variety of machines as a faceless person in medical attire and a mask took samples of her blood. The dull ache in her neck from the last time she was conscious had turned into sharp, lasting pain. She could feel the stitches holding an incision closed just at the base of her skull.
"Welcome back, Widow." The General's voice greeted her.
Turning her head, Payton looked to see the man sitting down in a nearby chair, watching the proceedings.
"Are the procedures complete?" He asked.
"Yes, General. All tissue and blood samples were collected, and the implant was successful." The doctor attending to her replied dutifully.
"Good. Send the samples on the next shipment of supplies to Melina. I want her to see if she can recreate Oscorp's work. Unhook the girl and leave us."
Payton was promptly freed from the variety of sensors and monitors she was attached to, and the doctor left the room, pushing a cart that was stacked tall with different trays of vials.
"Stand up. Let me get a look at you." The General demanded.
Despite the sluggishness of a body that was still fighting off whatever drug had knocked her out, Payton slipped off the medical table and stood still. At some point she'd been changed into a simple hospital gown, but that didn't matter. She stood still as the General walked a circle around her, like a shark, her mind idly thought. A reflective glass on the wall, like a one-way window, revealed that her hair, that once went down to the middle of her back, had been cut down to a little under shoulder-length. The ends made to just barely passed the middle of her neck now.
"Good. You've taken to the subjugation well, and the surgery was a success. You truly belong to me now." He praised, one hand drifting up to the nape of her neck, the touch sending shards of pain through the still-healing incision. "The implant is a beautiful piece of technology." He continued, lifting a tablet from the nearby table. "It tracks your location, so that we will never lose you. But its true purpose is to work in unison with the subjugation. The chemical ensures your loyalty, ensures that you know where you belong. But the implant controls your body. Allow me to demonstrate."
From her peripheral vision Payton saw the General press something on the screen, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. It wasn't like the panic attacks her old self had. Those she merely felt like she couldn't breathe, even as she hyperventilated. No, this was worse. Her lungs simply ceased their function, stopping dead in her chest. The General left her like that, her chest aching, desperate for oxygen as it tried to bring air in through lungs that no longer moved. Pressure built behind her eyes as the world around her dimmed, fatigue and weakness washed over her and she began to sway and sway until suddenly her lungs opened up.
Payton collapsed to the ground, falling onto all fours as her body's natural instincts took over, sucking in breath after breath. One hand subconsciously drifted to the incision on her neck, brushing over the stitches as she thought about how that one object could force her body to kill itself.
"Now you understand, child. Should you ever be taken from us, should you ever be lost, I will not let anyone have you. You will die first."
She nodded her head "I understand, General.".
He smiled. "Good. Now stand and get dressed. You are already behind where you should be at your age, you have plenty of lessons to catch up on."
She stood, walking over to the table that held a pile of clothes on it. Looking over the bundle, she realized it was the same uniform she saw on the Widow in the plane, the same similar style worn by one of Earth's heroes. Her fingers worked quickly to untie the laces that held the gown on. Uncaring that the General was watching, Payton shrugged out of the gown and picked up the armor of a Black Widow, and began to dress.
Once she was done, the General beckoned her to follow him. They left the medical chamber and walked through curving hallways, not a single window revealed the outside world as they went. After a trip up an elevator, they passed by a group of six Widows who were being escorted somewhere else in the facility. None of them turned to look at her, and she didn't bother to look at them either, keeping her focus on the General who had ordered her to go with him. Soon enough they arrived outside of a door. There were no signs to indicate the purpose of the room beyond, but it was not her place to question the General.
"You are special, Payton. With your abilities, I did not think it would be useful to have you train alongside the others. No. The spider that bit you was a years-long investment, and I must make that same investment in you…"
The door slid open, and in the room beyond stood a familiar sight. Standing in the middle of a room with walls and floor covered in a red mat was Taskmaster. His helmet was still on, as it always was, and his hands were clasped behind his back.
"…As such, I have paid the Taskmaster to continue his employment under me. He will be your instructor. He will break down the weakness of your past and forge you into a true Widow, and the best assassin the world will have ever seen. HYDRA had their Winter Soldier… I will have you."
She stepped past the General and into the room, but before he left, he placed his hands onto her shoulders and leaned in, whispering into her ear "Welcome home."
April 29th, 2016
6 Months Later
Helsinki, Finland
"Today marks the end of the first week of negotiations into the so-called 'Sokovia Accords', the international legislation designed to dictate when and where enhanced individuals can act on their own volition. The Accords had been originally drafted during the summer and fall of last year as a response to the tragedy that befell the nation of Sokovia during the Avenger's battle against the rogue program Ultron. Following the October Bombings in New York City and public opinion rising back to post Battle of New York levels, the decision had been made to redraft sections of the Accords that had been deemed too restrictive. Supporters of the decision pointed to the dozens of extra lives that would have been lost had the Avengers not been able to respond as quickly as they had--"
"This is stupid!"
Natasha's eyes were torn from the news feed at the whining coming from her left.
"What? Don't look at me like that! It is! It's stupid!" Her sister continued to complain, all while picking at thread that was coming loose from her vest.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a swig from the beer that sat on the table. "She's the only lead we have, Yelena. We don't really have a choice."
Her sister groaned, throwing her head back as she continued to pout. "I know that, but this is either a trap orrr she is not going to show up. Widows weren't taught to trust each other, and that doesn't change for those who get out."
"We trust each other." Nat pointed out, knowing that it wasn't exactly the same, but she didn't have much else to say.
"Yeah but we're sisters ."
"Fair." She conceded with a shrug and smile. "But that still doesn't change the fact that we have to take the chance."
Yelena deigned not to respond, instead grumbling some more to herself as she nursed her own drink, leaving the two of them in silence. The news had switched to playing footage from the United Nations session that was currently taking place in New York. From angle she could see Tony and Steve in their own seats, taking their roles as team leaders seriously as they acted as the team's representatives on the international stage. The audio wasn't nearly as interesting though, as they were just listening to the Austrian Ambassador droning on about some random clause or something.
"Eyes up you two, we've got company." Clint informed, speaking up for the first time in the last few hours.
While she and Yelena were inside a bar, waiting for their contact to hopefully show up, Clint perched himself on the roof of a building across the plaza, once again proving his alias of Hawkeye as he observed the area from afar.
"Enforcers? Or our contact?" She asked, sitting up from her relaxed slouch.
"Definitely a Widow, and she doesn't have any friends with her, so I'd assume the latter, but-"
"Be careful? Yeah, I know."
Beside her, Yelena checked her watch. "Only fifteen minutes late."
"Actually she's been here for twenty. Just took me a little bit to make her. Thought she was a window shopper at first, but after the second lap… Clearly a security sweep. She's just as paranoid as you two are."
Natasha huffed at Clint's remark. "I don't blame her. Drekyov is always keeping an eye out for the defectors. This meeting probably seemed as much of a trap to her as it did to us."
"Then why show up?" Clint asked.
"Because she is just as desperate as we are. Natasha was the only defector Dreykov couldn't chase, and that's because she was lucky enough to have SHIELD, and then the Avengers. The rest of us don't have those connections. The Red Room always tracks us down eventually." Her sister mumbled the answer, her face showing that her thoughts were in the past, back when they first reunited, and had to contend with a team of Widows who'd been sent to neutralize her for her betrayal.
Yelena had told her, and the rest of the Avengers, all about the chemical subjugation the new generations of Widows faced, and how only five girls in the past decade escaped because of it. All five of them, including Yelena, had been freed by the same Widow from Melina's generation. A woman who Yelena had fatally wounded moments before being freed herself. Three of the escaped girls had already been killed before they could find them. The other one they hadn't been able to find whatsoever, but the assumption was that the Red Room had gotten to her as well, just as they nearly did with Yelena.
That just left those of the older generations. Her sister had been able to say that Natasha's generation of Widows was the last to have any defectors without help from the outside (it also had the largest number of defectors thanks to her efforts), and that the actual number of those who were left were relatively unknown. Which made the months of effort in trying to track one down finally worth it when one of her sources managed to get word to her that there was a woman who was likely once a Black Widow looking through the black markets in search of heavy-duty chemistry equipment. After some difficulty, they had managed to get in contact with her and arrange a meet, which led them to where they are now, sitting in a Finnish bar, waiting for their contact to finish their own security sweep of the area.
A few more minutes pass before Clint calls again, informing them that the Widow was making a b-line for the bar. Moments after that, the door swings open and a woman walks through. For the average person, she would've seemed perfectly normal, but Natasha saw the signs, the small, almost imperceptible habits that every Widow shared when it came to a new area. Her and Yelena had been the exact same less than an hour ago when they'd arrived.
The woman's brown eyes scanned over the room until they landed on her and her sister and widened ever so slightly, the only sign of the shock the woman was probably feeling at the time. Her and Yelena weren't the only ones fearing a trap today it seemed. Their contact strolled through the bar, ignoring the crowd until she reached their table, tucked away in a shady corner, and sat down across from them.
"When I heard the Avengers wanted to meet me, I didn't believe it at first." The Widow commented, her arms crossed.
Now that she was closer, Natasha found herself recognizing her. She was only a year or two older than Natasha herself, and had been in one of her classes. She couldn't remember the other woman's name though.
"Hard to believe anything after growing up like we did." She replied kindly. "I'm Natasha, this is Yelena. It's nice to meet you, again, that is."
Her old 'classmate' gave a small smile in return. "Emily. I guess I should thank you. If you hadn't turned against Dreykov, I never would've gotten out myself. If only all the others were as lucky."
She couldn't help but flinch. Her failure to truly destroy the Red Room those years ago still rankled her. "I'd thought for so long that they were gone… I never expected to hear otherwise." She admitted.
"When did you find out?"
"Six months ago. Yelena here sent a postcard shortly after she got out that put my team on the trail of a girl being hunted by them."
Emily's eyebrows rose as she seemed to put the pieces together. "Six months? Were the October Bombings…"
"Them? Yeah. Dreykov hired a mercenary known as Taskmaster to abduct a young girl from the city, and long story short, he used the bombs to serve as a distraction for the city's vigilantes and the Avengers while they made their move."
"We've been on their trail ever since. Or looking for their trail I guess." Yelena piped in.
Emily leaned back, looking between her and Yelena. "And how did your hunt lead you to me?"
"You've been looking into lab equipment on the market, one of my sources said you reminded him of me, which was a bit of a tip off." She answered, not failing to notice the way Emily's eyes widened again.
"Yeah. It's also interesting that a suspected Widow is looking into specialized lab equipment barely a few months after another free Widow was killed for creating a cure to the subjugation." Yelena pointed out.
Emily sighed, seemingly in resignation, before answering. "I was contacted a week or two after the bombings. They'd claimed to be a turncoat from the Red Room who was working to dismantle the organization from the inside. I didn't believe it at first, thought it was a trick to get me to reveal my location. But they didn't give up, they sent me insider information, warned me when the Room was getting close to finding me. After a few months, I chose to trust them, and they told me about the chemical subjugation, and the cure that'd been made for it."
"How do you know they weren't giving them your location to earn your trust?" Yelena asked skeptically.
"I don't know for sure, honestly. But why tell me about the cure? Why tell me how to make it if they were just going to get me killed anyway?"
The points the other Widow gave were valid, despite the suspicious circumstances of their contact.
"I doubt that whoever your contact is is another Widow, with the subjugation there is no way one of them could turn." Natasha noted, receiving an agreeing nod in return from Emily.
"That's what I've been thinking. From what I've gathered, they were likely involved with the creation of the subjugation in the first place, and are jumping ship now because they know the Avengers are officially involved. I don't really care who they are at this point. Only what they can give me."
A group of people walked by their table, pausing the conversation for a moment as the crowd mingled too close for comfort, but once they were gone, Yelena piped up with another question.
"Were they helping out the previous Widow who made a cure?"
Emily shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't even know I had a predecessor until you two told me. From what my contact told me, they came up with the cure on their own, but can't distribute it. They gave me the formula and the list of needed equipment. Everything else was up to me."
"Where did you get the money for all of it?" Natasha wondered aloud, not suspiciously, but curious.
"I have some secrets I want to keep. I'm sure you can understand that." Emily replied, eyes narrowed.
It was a fair enough point that Natasha chose to back away from the question, and punched her sister in the leg to get her to shut up when Yelena attempted to push the subject. They couldn't afford to alienate Emily, not when the woman had both the cure, and a potential inside source to the Red Room itself. Around them, the bar began to grow far more crowded, which actually helped put them at ease. The larger the crowd the louder the room, which would mean it was far more difficult for prying ears to listen to their conversation, though they made sure to keep their voices down to be on the safe side.
Over the next hour Emily gave them the rundown on the steps she'd taken thus far, and what she still had left to do. It turned out that despite her initial distrust when they reached out, their fellow Widow was glad to have help. All three of them knew that the next natural step once the cure was complete was to test it, which meant baiting the Red Room into sending another team of Widows to kill them. It was a risky play, but one that would work far better with the four people they had available than it would have if Emily had been forced to do it on her own.
Emily had refused to get them in contact with her source, saying that she would talk with them and see if they were willing to work with more than just her, but for now, they had to wait. The cure had to be made first, and they would have to plan the trap, wait for the assassins to show up, free them (hopefully), and then work from there. If the cure worked, Natasha knew that Doctor Cho would be able to replicate it and make it in bulk faster than they could. A secondary goal was to hopefully get information about Payton's condition from the Widows they freed. An enhanced girl like Payton was an asset Natasha just knew that Dreykov wouldn't throw away. It was likely the girl was in specialized training to avoid the normal procedure of a trainee being killed for excessive failure. But she feared just how much the girl had gone through so far. Very few girls were inducted into the Red Room at Payton's age, as it gave less time before they were supposed to be graduated to be trained.
At the end of their meeting, Emily gave them her contact information, and then went her separate way, leaving Yelena and her behind. Overall, she felt as though The meeting went far better than both her and her sister had expected, something she knew she would tease Yelena over in short order. Turns out her plan wasn't 'stupid' and hadn't been a trap.
After paying their tab, Natasha led Yelena back out of the bar and towards their meeting point with Clint. They had a long report to send back to the team, and a plan to make for the next step in their hunt. But for the first time in six months, things were starting to look up.
Tony ignored the stares as he walked through the lobby. People tended to stop and stare when he was in the area, but even he had to admit it was a weird feeling for people to stare at him in his own building. Granted, he wasn't usually seen in the public lobby, where more than just employees tended to reside. Tour groups, family members visiting employees, interviewees, and more all came through the public entrance, and none of them had grown used to his presence the way the employees (especially those on the lab floors) had. Regardless, he ignored them as he always does while in public, instead choosing to focus on the person walking with him, whose cane tapped lightly against the smooth floor as they walked towards the doors.
"Thank you for your help Mister Murdock. Pepper tells me that a lot of the legal department are fans of yours, they must be squealing over the chance to work with you." He thanked, turning fully towards the blind lawyer, who was smiling kindly back.
"It was my pleasure Doctor Stark. While international law isn't my normal field I feel it is my duty to step outside my usual comfort zone on this. The enhanced are humans too, and the original Accords were a gross violation of their rights." Matthew Murdock replied.
Tony nodded in agreement. "When I first heard about the Accords I thought we would have to sign to get any change. Turns out it's nice to be proven wrong sometimes. Who knew?"
Matt chuckled, shaking his head as they neared the doors. "Yes, well, there is still plenty of work to be done. I'll be there for the next meeting, as agreed."
"You sure you don't want a ride? I can get a driver to bring you back to the Kitchen easy as that." Tony snapped his fingers to emphasize his point.
"That won't be necessary, I'll be fine making my own way back." Matt shook his head, denying his offer again.
"Alright, that's your choice. Stay safe out there." Tony conceded, shaking Murdock's hand before the man walked out the sliding doors and back into the sun.
Watching the man leave for a moment, Tony then turned around and walked back towards the hallway that would lead to the Avenger's private elevator, one that would carry him to his next destination. Once the doors to the lift opened he stepped inside and pressed the button on the interface that would bring him up to floor 96, the private gym for the Avengers. Before the doors could slide shut, a shout cried out to him.
"Hold the door Tony!"
Sticking a hand into the door before it could finish closing, Tony watched as Sam rushed up to the elevator, sliding into the space before the doors could start closing again.
"Thanks. Almost missed it." His fellow Avenger said gratefully.
"I wasn't expecting you back so soon. Weren't you planning on being out all day?"
"Yeah, but the guys got called into work. Forced us to call the day early."
"So everyone but the bird had to take flight?" It was definitely not one of his better jokes, but he'd been in legal meetings all day. Sue him.
"Har har." Sam huffed, giving him an exasperated look.
The rest of the elevator ride was completed with comfortable silence, and once the elevator reached the 94th floor Tony was alone again, Sam having reached the floor with his personal apartment. Two floors later and Tony was on the level with the gym, the door sliding open once more as he stepped out into the small vestibule that held the doors to the locker rooms as well as a set of double doors that led to the gym itself.
Tony took a second to straighten his suit jacket, as well as prepare himself before he entered the room for the tough update he would have to give to the woman within. Sighing, he stalked towards the doors, which slid open ahead of him. The gym itself took up the entire floor, as well as what would have been the 97th floor. The renovations to make the room happened as soon as the Avengers moved in full time to the Tower and the gym was designed to be useful to a team of people with powers or advanced tech.
Right now however, a small section of it was converted into a physical therapy area that was currently occupied by three individuals. Two of them he was expecting; a nurse from Helen's team who specialized in physical therapy, and May Parker. Standing with them, assisting where he could, was Steve Rogers who, upon noticing his arrival, waved, drawing the other two's attention towards him as well.
"Ah! Doctor Stark, we are just about finished with today's session." The nurse told him, turning her attention back towards her patient, who was walking far more steadily than the last time he had seen her a few weeks previously. Though she still needed the handrails to keep herself upright, the result of a months-long coma, a gunshot that nicked her spine, and poison.
"Tony." Steve greeted.
"Cap." He returned, moving to stand next to his fellow Avenger.
"How'd the meeting go?"
"It was a legal meeting so boring, lots of jargon, the catering was good. I'd know, I picked it out." He rattled off, shooting a grin Steve's way, causing the other man to huff in amusement.
"What'd they think about the new draft?"
"Still work to be done. Ross keeps trying to slip in more of his agenda alongside actual changes. Stubborn bastard that he is. Matthew Murdock was at this one, offered his help."
Steve looked over at him, eyebrows raised in question. "The defense lawyer?"
"Who defended the Punisher? Yeah. Turns out the guy is willing to step outside his wheelhouse a bit if it means protecting the rights of enhanced people."
"Sounds like a good man."
Tony hummed his agreement with Steve's assessment, watching as the nurse wrapped up with May Parker, who had lowered herself back into her wheelchair. The woman was clearly exhausted from the effort she put in today if the expression on her face was any indication. He could also tell the exhaustion was more than just physical, as her face seemed to be perpetually creased with worry and stress. Who could blame her though? Her niece who she raised has been missing for months now, without so much as a word. Hopefully that will change after today. Natasha's report from the previous day was an actual lead. One better than anything they'd had in half a year now. It'd been difficult, telling her every time she asked that there were no updates, and they were still looking.
Steve ended up staying behind, both to help the nurse put the P.T equipment away, and to go through his third workout of the day. Tony waited patiently for May to be ready, and then walked with her as she rolled herself out of the gym and towards the elevators. He walked alongside her awkwardly for a moment before the stilted quiet became too much for him.
"Therapy going well?"
May looked towards him with a kind but tired smile. "The therapist says so, and walking is getting easier. But it's hard. I have so little energy now that the sessions wipe me out for the rest of the day."
"Well, as you said. It's getting easier. Soon enough you will be back to normal."
Tony didn't realize how else his words could be taken until he saw May flinch; a struck expression crossing her face. "Things won't really be 'normal' again." The woman replied quietly, a far off look in her eyes.
"Sorry, that was a poor choice of words." He apologized.
"It's fine. I know what you meant." May replied after a beat of silence. "I'm guessing you have an update?"
He nodded slowly, thinking again of the best way to word it. "Yeah. Nat sent a report yesterday that she has a lead. Nothing specifically on Payton, but it's a solid lead. The best we've had so far. They're hashing out a plan to act on it and we should hear more within the next few days."
"Do you think she'll be okay?"
Out of the possible follow up questions he had anticipated… that was not one of them. He also didn't know how to answer it. None of them had really gone into full detail about what the Red Room actually was with Missus Parker. She had the basics, mainly regarding what they turned their victims into, but Nat had argued against giving her the specifics, saying it'd be needlessly harmful for May to have to think about the torture her niece was probably going through. Knowing how the Red Room treated the girls within it was painful enough for him, and he'd been exposed to such things far longer than May has been. Knowing that his daughter was such a girl was rough, but he refused to show it. He had no right to when he never truly knew the girl, had never been there for her at any point in her life. May had been, and so he'd do what was necessary to prevent May from feeling such pain.
The doors slid open to one of the private executive floors of the building, one that contained a smaller cafeteria. It'd become a habit for the two of them to get lunch after one of her therapy sessions, before Happy drove her home. Occasionally Pepper would join them as well if she wasn't too busy; his girlfriend having become fast friends with May.
Realizing that May was still waiting on an answer, he realized that all he could be was honest, if not completely transparent. "I don't know." He admitted. "You said it yourself. Things will never go back to what you remember as normal, and that includes Payton. Had this never happened, things still wouldn't be normal."
She seemed to appreciate the candor, and even gave a small laugh at his final words. "Yeah. She was bedridden for nearly a week and then completely hides the fact that she gained powers!" She sighed. "I like to think that she would've told Ben and I at some point, maybe after she came to terms with it herself. But she never had that chance. She may never have the chance again." May choked out, working herself up.
Tony placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically, a pang stabbing in his chest as the thought of never getting to truly meet his daughter surfaced to the forefront of his mind. "We'll get her back. We've taken down worse things than the Red Room and those bastards know it. It's why they are hiding. The second we find them they know their goose is cooked."
While they spoke the two of them got their lunch from the food court and found a table in a secluded corner, Tony pulling a chair to the side so May could just wheel right up to the table itself.
"But what if it's too late? What if they decide to kill her rather than give you the chance to save her?"
He tried to hide the flinch, he really did. Those same fears had been crawling through his head for months, itching for attention that he refused to grant them. But hearing the same concerns from May was enough to let the fear surface, just for a second. It was why he avoided talking about Payton with her. He knew from the look on her face that she saw the fear too, and her face morphed from sorrow into sympathy as if he was the one who needed reassurance.
"You don't have to hide the fact that you are worried about her." May told him bluntly. "She's your daughter, that gives you the right to care."
Scoffing, Tony shook his head. "I was never there. How can I have the right to act like I have been, like my thoughts on the matter mean anything close to yours? Yeah I'm worried about her, but I don't really know her like you do. You raised her, I'm just the DNA donor."
"That might be true if you knew about her and still chose to not be involved. But you didn't. From what I've been told, by you I might add, that that Stane guy hid her from you. You shouldn't beat yourself up about not being there for someone you didn't know existed. If you had known, and still chose to not be involved with her life, then it would be a different story."
"I don't even know if I would've wanted her back then." He admitted, staring into his coffee. It was a cold truth that was always resting in the back of his mind. Even without Obadiah preventing him from figuring out that he'd knocked someone up, back then he hadn't been exactly stable. If he'd learned he had a kid it would've been far more likely that he just wrote a check and never thought about them again.
"We'll never know if you would have been a part of her life back then, but what matters is that you want to now . Get her back and you'll have all the time in the world to get to know her." She started laughing, something obviously having popped into her mind. "Payton's going to go catatonic when she finds out you're her father. She already can't stop freaking out about whatever is going on with Iron Man and the Avengers. The brain meltdown she'll have…"
Tony couldn't help but chuckle as well. "You've mentioned she's a big fan before, though we never really went too far into it."
"Because you've been avoiding talking about her?" May asked, the question clearly rhetorical.
"Because I've been avoiding talking about her." He agreed.
"That's what I thought. Anyway, like most kids, the advent of the 'Iron Man' was the coolest thing in the world. A real superhero flying around and defeating the bad guys, and doing it all with technology he created. For a self-proclaimed nerd like her, everything you did was just another thing to obsess over for a week or more. Her room back home is ninety percent Avengers merchandise, and even most of that is specifically Iron Man."
Nothing could have stopped the smug smile that appeared on Tony's face. He always liked to boast to the others whenever they encountered or heard about an Iron Man superfan. "Besides, rightfully, being a fan of the best Avenger, what is she like?" While the mood was still lighter than it had been a few minutes previously, the ending of his question was serious. The only things he knew about his daughter were what they got from her records, none of which really told him about her as a person.
"She's… kind. Even towards people who aren't to her. I can count on one hand the people that she hates." Something dark crossed over May's face, and Tony didn't want to pursue that. Something told him it would ruin the mood. "She'll go out of her way to help people, even for those at school who tease her. Payton doesn't really have a mean bone in her body. To a fault sometimes. She's also funny, god is she funny. She got that from her Uncle I think. Her and Ben would always go on these long tangents of quips and jokes that I could barely ever keep up with, but it would always end up with the two of them in stitches on the floor." May was smiling and laughing, but there was pain in her eyes, the memories now bittersweet.
"She sounds like a good kid." There wasn't much else he could say.
"The best."
Their conversation slowed to a halt, and the two of them finished lunch quietly, May seemed to be lost in her memories now, and Tony didn't want to drag her out of them until she was ready. He did send a quiet message to Happy, telling his head of security, and close friend, that lunch was almost over, and to prepare the car. The man had stepped into the role of chauffeur for Parker far easier than he had expected. Perhaps knowing what the woman was going through, and the fact that she was the legal guardian to Tony's kid had been enough to break down his normally gruff demeanor.
Five minutes later and they were in the parking garage, Happy helping May get into the car while Tony waited. Before his friend could close the door, May held out a hand and turned to look towards him.
"Thank you for the talk, Tony. It was nice being able to talk about her. I'll see you next week… and tell Pepper she better join us for lunch next time!"
Tony laughed. "I'll do my best to convince her, but you know her. Such a busybody."
The car door closed, and after a few words with Happy, Tony turned back towards the elevator, listening as the car drove away. Hopefully they'd have more news for her in a week's time.
LEFT
DUCK
BACK UP
RIGHT
RIGHT
Sweat dripped down her face as Payton dodged and retreated from Taskmaster's blows. She threw back her own attacks when the opportunity arose, but for the most part she was on the defense, as she was supposed to be. Her mentor/instructor wanted her to learn to anticipate attacks in a fight, not just listen to her spider-sense. Of course, the sixth sense she had for danger was incredibly useful, but over the past half a year they'd more than proven that it wasn't foolproof, so she had to think ahead. Which was difficult to do against the man with a perfect memory and the ability to mimic anything.
CENTER
A quick jab from her teacher was flying straight for her face. It was such an easy block that she quickly stepped to the side to avoid the sweep that he had intended to knock her off her feet. With his fist caught in her hand, and the man slightly unbalanced from missing his kick, Payton quickly spun, using her enhanced strength to overcome the size difference between the two of them and throw him over her shoulder and onto the mat where he landed on his back with a solid smack.
She knew that wouldn't be enough to win the fight, and was already moving as Taskmaster spun himself out of her grasp (she could have stuck to his hand, but his momentum would've had her on the ground too, which wasn't worth it) and launched himself into a fancy spin, pushing off the ground with his hands and letting his legs spin around. She was too close to back off far enough, and instead bent her legs and leaned back letting his armored boots swing by just inches from her face. Once the danger was past, Payton allowed herself to continue falling backwards, placing her own hands onto the mat and pushing herself into a back-flip towards the other side of the ring, making some distance between her and Taskmaster.
Despite her enhanced physiology, her breath was coming in ragged gasps, the exertion she's been putting into training today catching up to her. Six months ago she hadn't been able to make it through a single match against the mercenary, so at least there has been progress. On the other hand… Taskmaster didn't look anywhere near tired yet, the man already stalking back towards her fists up and ready to continue. His stance was familiar though, and she knew what was coming before he started swinging.
She swung to the left as he jabbed with his right fist, before ducking under the follow-up with his left. She quickly hopped backwards to avoid the knee that shot towards her stomach, following that with a quick dodge to the right as his left elbow swung for her jaw. His moves were the same as the last bout, and so she preemptively took another step right, expecting him to extend his left arm again to try and hit her like he did last time. The spider-sense warning came too late, her mind so focused on what she expected that she missed as his right fist jabbed straight into her face.
Stars swam in front of her vision as she stumbled backwards, another warning from her spider-sense went ignored due to her daze, and Taskmaster's leg swept her feet out from under her. The feeling of falling shocked her back into awareness, and Payton's hands shot forwards trying to find something to hold onto to prevent herself from falling. They found Taskmaster's breastplate, her fingertips sticking to the smooth blue metal. She knew that if she just hung backwards from him she would be basically begging to get hit again, so instead she pulled , using her strength to drag Taskmaster down with her.
As her back hit the mat, forcing air from her lungs, Payton curled in on herself, bringing her legs up so that as Taskmaster started to fall on top of her, he was stopped by her feet digging into his core. The man grunted at the impact, but she didn't give him time to react, releasing her fingers from his chest and then shoving with as much force as she could with her feet, launching the man into the air.
Payton quickly made sure to follow him, pushing herself off the ground with her arms much like she did early, flipping into the air, but using her momentum to move up, rather than backwards this time. She planted her feet onto the ceiling, the soles of her boots thin enough to allow her to stick. Trying to keep her momentum, Payton reached out again as the Taskmaster reached the apex of his ascent in hopes to keep him suspended in the air. Unfortunately, it seemed her instructor had caught onto her scheme as he instead rotated his body midair to avoid her attempted grapple, and reached out with his own hand, grabbing onto her wrist with enough force she knew she wouldn't be able to get out in time.
Taskmaster's weight, along with his grip on her arm, would be enough to dislocate her shoulder if she didn't respond, and so she did the only thing she could think of. She let her feet unstick from the ceiling and fell, working to rotate in the air in hopes of still being in an advantageous position. It was not to be unfortunately, as her opponent's experience won out and she found herself planted on her back once more, Taskmaster's armored knee digging into her sternum and one hand wrapped around her throat while the other was poised to punch her in the face.
Eyes wide, Payton tapped twice on the mat, signalling her surrender. Immediately, the weight left her as the hand that once was around her throat was now held open, waiting for her to accept the help. Doing so, Payton was lifted back to her feet, and found herself looking up into the glowing orange eyes of Taskmaster's helmet. Disappointment burned within her, as for a moment, she had allowed herself to think that she might actually win that fight.
"You did well, but you keep falling into patterns. You should have changed how you reacted when I returned to that attack sequence." He told her, stomping away towards the wall of the room that had a water station.
Of course, the man wasn't going to drink anything; six months and she had yet to see him without his helmet, but he was going to pour her a cup. It was why the training sessions with him were the best parts of her days. He wasn't nearly as cruel as the Madames were, or the Enforcers who stalked the halls. He viewed her as a job, not a possession, and his professionalism (or maybe it was his ego) wouldn't allow him to do anything but the best possible job. It was a nice reprieve. She knew her place was here with the Red Room, it was her duty as a Black Widow, and that everything she dealt with was to make her tougher… better. That didn't stop her from appreciating the breaks from it though.
Taking the water that was offered, she took a drink before turning to him. "You always say to not fall into patterns, but you used that same sequence of attacks twice. How else was I supposed to respond?"
Taskmaster huffed under his helmet, crossing his arms. " I can use patterns to teach you not to. You're a smart kid. You know that I memorize fighting styles. The second you started doing the same moves again, I knew exactly how to counter you, and I did so. Albeit, you responded excellently with that final maneuver. That's the type of shit you should be doing more of. You've got powers unlike anything anyone has ever seen, use them to your advantage. Six months of training and that is the first time you've used your ability to stick to anything to your advantage. For anyone else, a fight in this room is a flat affair, there is only the floor. You can turn any fight on its head by using the walls and ceiling just as easily as the ground."
What he said made sense. Ever since that spider bite almost seven months ago she'd never really been disoriented by gravity. She remembered the stretch of time where she stayed with the Punisher, and oftentimes ended up pacing on the ceiling without even realizing. If she took advantage of that more…
"Five minute break, and then we go again. I've got you for another two hours and we are going to make the most of it." Her instructor told her, before stalking out of the room.
Those five minutes were enough for her heart rate to return to (mostly) normal, and her breathing to even out, but they still felt too short as Taskmaster returned and motioned for her to get back on the mat. The next two hours had them going through multiple sparring matches, Payton trying her best to take into account the advice he had given her. It was the piece she felt she had been missing the past few months, embarrassingly enough. Taskmaster could copy any moves she made, but that was as far as his powers really went. He wasn't superhuman, only peak human. And she could take advantage of that.
His experience meant he knew how to respond to her applications of strength, and even counter her force against her, but he couldn't keep up with her mobility nearly as effectively. As such, she practically bounced around the room as she fought him in each match, leaping from floor to ceiling to wall, and any number of things she could reach, only diving in to go for quick strikes before rushing out of reach again. Ultimately, he was still the better fighter, and she often fell back into patterns accidentally, which led to every match ending with a Taskmaster victory. But the bouts lasted longer during this last stretch of training, and she could actually hear the man's heart rate increase, proving that she was actually providing somewhat of a challenge now.
The final match ended once again with her on the ground, this time her face pressed into the cushioned floor and an arm twisted painfully behind her back before she surrendered with her free hand. She allowed herself a moment to recuperate on the floor, breathing in the smell of sweat that coated the ground before pushing herself back up onto her knees.
Applause.
Payton's head snapped over to the door which had just opened, revealing General Dreykov. The sight of the man forced Payton into action, standing up quickly so as to not irritate the General with any perceived disrespect. He seemed pleased by her effort, as he approached and placed his hands on either side of her head, his fingers squeezing possessively as he looked into her eyes.
"Well done. Your skills are advancing every day." He complimented, placing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her and turning towards Taskmaster. "You continue to prove you are worth every dollar."
She wasn't required to respond, and so she remained silent, allowing Taskmaster to carry the conversation instead.
"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, General?" The mercenary asked, his voice betraying no emotion.
Dreykov smiled, it was a cruel thing, but she wasn't supposed to care, and so she didn't.
"I have a mission for the two of you."
Now that was a surprise. She hadn't expected to leave the Red Room for at least a year or two, but it seemed that her training had been going along faster than she thought. From Taskmaster's reaction, which was strong enough that she could see it in his body language alone, she could tell he agreed.
"Extra missions cost more." Taskmaster replied instead of asking further questions.
Dreykov waived it off. "Of course, and you will be paid accordingly."
Satisfied, Taskmaster's stance eased. "What's the job?"
"Walk with me. Both of you."
Payton followed silently, the three of them leaving the room and being joined by two Enforcers. The General had two of his soldiers with him at all times, but usually he left them by the doors though. As they walked, the General began to speak again.
"I am sending the two of you to collect a weapon. One I have had my people searching for for some time now." The General's gravely voice informed. "Recently we have found where its old owners have hidden it. The mission should not be difficult, and it can be used to determine the progression of Payton's training."
"Who were the previous owners?"
Dreykov grinned. "HYDRA. They lost the weapon when they collapsed alongside SHIELD. It took some time to locate it in the mess of files that Natalia left behind, but now that we have, it is time to put it to use in… better hands."
If Taskmaster was perturbed by the previous owners or not, Payton couldn't tell. Some part of her, buried deep deep down, shivered, but the rest of her ignored it. Whatever part of her that was, it was weak, and she was not supposed to be weak.
"You will leave in three days, to give time for the Madames to finish up with their current lessons with Payton. You will both have disguises provided, as much as I know you like your armor, this mission will require more subtlety."
"Works for me. So long as you're paying, you're the boss."
"Excellent. I will make sure you are provided with more specific details before you leave. For now, it is time for Payton here to go to her next lessons."
Dreykov's hand landed on the small of her back as he began to direct her down a different hallway at the intersection than the one Taskmaster moved down. From what she knew of the Red Room's layout; the mercenary's room was down that way, but she had never been down there. Widows were only allowed in certain areas and even then never without an escort of some kind. Only the Madames were trusted enough to go through the halls on their own.
Besides Dreykov's hand, she could feel the eyes of one of the Enforcers on her, and they had been the whole time. From the few interactions she's had with the other Widows, all of them knew of at least one Enforcer who tended to stare. Payton just hadn't been in the situation where the Enforcer acted on anything yet, the same couldn't be said for most of the others.
She chose to ignore the feeling, instead wondering about what the weapon she would be sent to retrieve was, as well as nursing the feeling of excitement that came with the knowledge that she would be going outside again. She hadn't seen the sky in six months, and it would be nice to be above ground again.
In the end though, all she could do was wait for the time to come.