Warning: Gory and disturbing scenes ahead. I tried my best to keep it a bit down.
----
The holographic world map hovered in the air above the phone. Red markers blinked on the map, indicating the known locations of the Red Room's bases. There were two main bases, three dummy sites, and six sub-bases. A sprawling network, deeply entrenched in secrecy.
Natasha crossed her arms, staring at the display. "The two main bases," she said, reaching out to highlight the critical locations. "This one here, deep in Siberia... that's where they train the new Widows. The second, in the Ural Mountains, is for the important officials. That's where they pull the strings."
Tony leaned back against the couch, nodding. "And the others?"
"The sub-bases are for supply chains, intelligence, and operations. The dummy sites? Distractions. If you hit one of those, the real base vanishes before you can even blink."
Tony smirked. "Classic shell game. Smart. But not smart enough."
Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You keep talking like you already have a plan."
Tony picked up his beer and took a sip before placing the bottle back down. "That's because I do."
She narrowed her eyes. "There's no way you're taking them all down in twenty-four hours. Even if you cut off their supply lines, they'll just scatter and regroup like they always do."
Tony leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his smirk never fading. "That's the thing, Nat. I want them to scatter. I want them to run because they're all going to end up in one place." He tapped his fingers against the map, right over the Ural Mountains. "The second main base. Their last stronghold."
Natasha stared at him. "You're forcing them to retreat to one location."
"Exactly," Tony said, his eyes gleaming. "Cut off their sub-bases. Eliminate their hideouts. Kill their information network and field spies. Make them desperate. Make them think they have only one safe place left."
Her mind worked fast, analyzing his strategy. "Even if you pull that off, which is a big if, you'd still have hundreds of highly trained assassins, scientists, and operatives all in one place."
Tony's smirk deepened. "Good. That's exactly what I want."
Natasha inhaled sharply. "You're planning something big."
"You have no idea."
She studied him for a moment, searching his face. Tony wasn't reckless but arrogant, sure, but never reckless. If he was this confident, then he knew something she didn't.
She leaned forward. "How?"
'Sorry, Nat. I can't trust you yet,' Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a secret. All you need to do is sit back and enjoy the show."
Natasha scowled. "Tony..."
He held up a hand. "Nope. No spoilers. Just trust me."
Her jaw clenched. "You're asking me to trust you with everything... my past, my future, my life, but you won't even tell me what you're planning?"
Tony's expression softened slightly. He reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Nat," he said, voice low, "I need you to trust me on this. Because if I tell you, you'll want to get involved. And I can't have you in the middle of it."
Natasha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "Why not?"
"Because I need you to be safe."
Her breath hitched. No one had ever said that to her before. No one had ever thought about keeping her out of danger—she was always the one sent into danger.
She shook her head. "That's not how this works, Stark."
"It is now."
Natasha exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. "So what? You want me to just sit here while you wipe out the entire Red Room in one night?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Tony said, standing up and stretching. "You can make popcorn if you want."
She glared at him. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
Tony turned to leave, but Natasha grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. "What if you fail?" she asked, voice tight.
His eyes met hers, unwavering. "Then I die trying."
Natasha felt her heart clench. He said it so casually, like it was just another day in the lab.
She didn't like it.
Not one bit.
"Fine," she said after a moment. "But when this is over, if you actually pull this off, I want answers."
Tony smirked, stepping closer. "Deal."
She hesitated, then added, "And Tony?"
"Yeah?"
Her fingers curled around his shirt, and she pulled him down into a searing kiss. It wasn't soft or slow. It was raw, desperate, filled with everything she couldn't say out loud.
When she finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her breath uneven.
"Come back in one piece," she whispered.
Tony's smirk softened into something almost tender. "I plan to."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door.
And Natasha was left alone, praying that Tony Stark wasn't making a mistake.
...
Tony slid into his Audi R8, the door shutting with a soft click. He pushed the start button. He looked at the night sky, deep in thought.
He was aroused.
Of course, he was. Natasha Romanoff wasn't just another woman. She was the woman—dangerous, intoxicating, and brilliant in her own right. All those kisses and seduction? That was enough to send even the most rational man into a tailspin. But Tony Stark prided himself on being anything but rational.
He shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the real issue at hand.
Trust.
Or rather, the lack of it.
Natasha Romanoff.
She had given him everything. The Red Room's locations, their movements, their weaknesses. It was the jackpot—too easy.
And that was the problem.
Leaning back against the leather seat, Tony took a deep breath, fingers drumming against the wheel. Natasha was good... too good. Her manipulation techniques were legendary, her ability to weave deception through truth seamless. A trained assassin and spy like her didn't just switch sides because of a few sweet words and a promise of freedom.
She wanted something.
Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, Tony wasn't betting his life on it. 'It's better to be a bit paranoid than to end up with a dagger in the chest in sleep.'
"Hermes," he said.
A smooth, synthetic voice responded. "Yes, sir?"
"Monitor all outgoing and incoming communications from Natasha Romanoff's known devices. Shadow her movements, but don't let her suspect a thing. I've already put the nanites into her body, but still... I don't want to take a risk."
"Understood. Any specific parameters?"
"Flag any unusual activity. If she's playing both sides, I want to know before she screws me over."
"Understood, sir. Initializing shadow surveillance."
Tony shifted gears and pulled onto the road, the city lights flashing past in a blur. His thoughts drifted to the mission ahead.
Twenty-four hours.
That's all he had to erase one of the most dangerous organizations on the planet. And he would.
...
[Lab]
Tony entered the lab after doing a proper scan and discarding his clothes and phone as usual. As for the car, he put the worker bots to dismantle it and check for anything suspicious, then put it back together.
'Time to get to work.'
A holographic interface flickered to life as he activated the main AI system.
"Welcome back, sir," Elena's voice came through the main computer.
Without wasting any time, he began hacking. His fingers danced over the projected keyboard, bypassing firewalls, decrypting encrypted data, and worming his way through layers of digital security like a ghost in the machine.
Whoever designed the Red Room's system was good.
But Tony Stark was better.
"Hermes, status?"
"All primary and sub-networks are breached. Accessing classified archives now, sir."
"Elena, start indexing everything. I want files on their operations, assets, and personnel, especially high-ranking officials."
"Understood. Running deep-scan protocols now."
Tony leaned forward as raw, unfiltered data poured into his system. His eyes flickered through rows of names, locations, mission reports, and… video logs.
A sinking feeling settled in his gut.
His jaw clenched as he accessed the first recording.
And then, his blood ran cold.
[Red Room Experimentation Archive – Log 2379]
A dimly lit, sterile laboratory. Metal tables with restraints. Rows of medical instruments laid out with precise cruelty. And in the center of the room, a child no older than eight was strapped down, her tiny limbs thrashing against the steel bindings.
She was screaming.
Not in the way a child screams when they're afraid of the dark.
This was raw, guttural agony.
A scientist, clad in a white coat, injected a thick, glowing serum into her arm. She convulsed violently, her back arching off the table as her veins bulged beneath her skin. Blood vessels ruptured in her eyes, turning them a horrifying shade of red as she gasped for air.
"Subject 2379 unstable. Increasing dosage."
The child's screams turned into a hoarse gurgle. Blood dripped from her nose. Her fingers clawed at the metal restraints until her nails ripped from their beds.
And then...
Flatline.
A monitor beeped. The scientist sighed.
"Another failure. Dispose of the body."
A soldier approached, unfastening the restraints, and with a casual flick, dumped the lifeless child onto a pile of corpses in the corner. Small, fragile bodies stacked on top of each other like discarded trash.
Tony's hands curled into fists. His breathing was slow. Controlled. Dangerous.
But he clicked on the next video.
And the next.
And the next.
Each one worse than the last.
[Red Room Training Archive – Log 3101]
A group of girls, no older than twelve, stood in a straight line, their expressions vacant. Hollow. A man in a crisp suit paced in front of them.
"Lesson three. Obedience."
He gestured toward one of the girls. She stepped forward, her hands trembling.
"Kill the girl next to you."
The girl hesitated.
A mistake.
A gunshot echoed through the room, and she crumpled to the ground, a single bullet between her eyes.
The instructor turned to another girl. "You. Pick up the gun."
The girl did.
"Kill the girl next to you."
She didn't hesitate.
The gun fired.
A dull thud as another body hit the floor.
A twisted game of survival.
By the end of the video, only one girl remained standing.
She was covered in blood.
And she didn't even flinch.
Then, the bastard stopped in front of another girl.
She was smaller than the others, her red hair disheveled, her green eyes flickering with barely contained fear.
"You failed your last assessment," the instructor said coldly.
The girl flinched but said nothing.
The instructor stepped aside, revealing another Widow—a slightly older girl. Expression blank, posture rigid. She held a knife in her hands.
"Correct the failure," the instructor ordered.
The red-haired girl's eyes widened in horror. "Please, no..."
The blade slashed across her throat before she could finish. Blood sprayed across the pristine floor. The dying girl gasped, clutching her neck, her body convulsing.
The other Widows didn't even blink.
"Failure is not tolerated," the instructor said simply, turning back to the group. "Continue."
Tony inhaled sharply, his stomach twisting.
[Red Room Obedience Test – Log 5420]
An older Widow in her late teens, or twenties, stood in front of a high-ranking Red Room official.
Her posture was perfect. Her expression devoid of emotion.
The official studied her for a moment before giving a simple command.
"Kill yourself."
The Widow didn't hesitate.
She brought her hands to her throat.
And ripped out her own veins with her nails.
Blood sprayed across the cold, sterile floor. Her body convulsed as she choked on her own lifeblood, her eyes wide, but not afraid.
Obedient.
Even as she died, she didn't resist.
The official simply nodded. "Perfect."
End log.
[Red Room Graduation Archive – Log 9999]
A dimly lit auditorium. Lined up in perfect formation stood a dozen women... no, not women. Weapons.
Their faces were expressionless, their eyes hollow. Each one bore the scars of training, both visible and unseen. They did not fidget, did not breathe too fast, did not betray even a flicker of emotion. They were the survivors. The best. The perfect Widows.
A man stood before them. Tall, clad in a black suit, his face obscured by a silver mask. A voice-modulated rasp emerged from beneath the metal.
"Today, you are no longer children. No longer weak, no longer disposable. You are the culmination of years of sacrifice. The embodiment of strength. The very essence of control."
He paced before them, his hands folded behind his back.
"You are Widows."
A synchronized step. A perfectly timed blink.
"You are weapons."
A slow exhale. Not one of them moved.
"You do not feel. You do not hesitate. You obey."
Silence.
Then he turned to one of the girls standing at the front of the formation. She was young, maybe twenty, maybe younger. Her raven-black hair was cut at sharp angles, and her eyes had that emotionless gaze.
She looked just like Natasha.
But there was no warmth in her green eyes. No soul.
"Who are you?" Dreykov asked.
"Widow," she answered robotically.
"What is your purpose?"
"To obey."
The footage ended.
...
Tony Stark leaned back in his chair, his entire body rigid. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
A metallic taste filled his mouth. He hadn't even realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek.
Slowly, deliberately, he exhaled.
And then, he spoke.
"Elena."
"Yes, sir?"
"Let's burn these bastards down," He cracked his fingers. "But let's make sure they don't get an easy death."
....
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