Chapter 20

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At night, on the side of the Ural Highway, a man in a blue jacket and peaked cap stood silently. In front of him were two wrecked Humvees. The scene was shocking, even for someone like him, who had seen a lot. One of the vehicles had been sliced clean in half by something sharp, and the occupants inside had their necks slashed, their veins opened. It was a relatively quick death, compared to the other car.

The second vehicle was crushed beyond recognition by some immense force. The resulting explosion had turned it into a charred metal shell, filled with twisted remains and blood splatter. Clint Barton, wearing special night vision sunglasses, captured the scene and uploaded the footage through the micro-monitor on his glasses' frame. His expression was grim.

Clint, an ace agent from a mysterious organization, was in Russia on an assassination mission. His target: a notorious female spy, Black Widow. She had killed numerous high-profile political figures over the years, even affecting the organization behind his mission. However, upon entering the country, he discovered that Black Widow had defected and was now being hunted.

After tracking her to this location, the trail went cold. He glanced at the road—too many overlapping tire marks made a proper investigation near impossible. His organization didn't have enough influence in Russia to dig deeper.

After a moment of silence, Clint got into his car and left the scene, heading back to his rental apartment in the nearby city of Perm. Upon arrival, he carefully checked the surroundings and his apartment for any signs of surveillance. Once he confirmed it was clear, he took out his communicator.

It wasn't long before the device connected. A deep voice spoke from the other end.

"Clint?"

"Sir, someone rescued the target. She's disappeared without a trace."

"Any leads?"

"Based on the clues I traced, someone like me was chasing the target," Clint said, his voice steady. "There was a shootout at the Perm City Drama Theater, and they fled. They left Perm sometime between early morning and noon. The team of killers that were after them? Found dead more than ten kilometers away on the roadside."

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. "Is there another force involved?"

Clint nodded, though the person couldn't see him. "It's not ordinary people. The information's been uploaded. The methods used were... unconventional."

There was the sound of rapid typing on the other end. After a few seconds, the voice returned, sounding intrigued. "Mutants, perhaps?"

"Judging by the scene, that seems likely," Clint replied.

"Continue the investigation. I'll activate the agents in your area to assist."

"Understood, sir."

Clint ended the communication, violently ripping the device apart and tossing the pieces into a garbage bag. He moved to the living room, sitting down on the sofa. Spread across the table was a topographic map of the surrounding area. He marked locations with a pen—Perm City, the starting point—and followed the kilometer markers to nearby towns, deep in thought.

"Was this an accident, or was it all part of a plan?" he murmured to himself.

Early the next morning, rain tapped lightly on the window, blending with the soft chirping of birds from the nearby jungle. Despite the tension in Clint's mind, the sounds outside created an oddly peaceful harmony.

In the room, Natasha lay on the soft, warm quilt. Her eyelids fluttered before she slowly opened her eyes. Her light green pupils appeared confused at first, but in the next moment, they sharpened as her instincts kicked in. She reached for the pillow, her muscles tense—then she relaxed, realizing there was no danger.

Sitting up in bed, the quilt slipped off her figure as she leaned against the headboard, her gaze drifting toward the window. The lush jungle outside, glistening in the rainy season, was a serene sight. From below, the sound of laughter and play reached her ears, and a soft smile curled on her lips.

Tap, tap, tap.

There was a knock on the door. Natasha raised an eyebrow, slipping into her cotton shoes and walking to the door. Opening it, she found Wanda standing there with a sweet smile.

"Good morning, Natasha," Wanda greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning," Natasha replied.

"It looks like you slept well," Wanda noted, observing how much better Natasha looked, the tiredness from before almost gone. She handed Natasha a bundle of clothes. "I figured you didn't have anything to change into. You can borrow mine. It might be a bit tight, though."

Wanda gave her a playful, slightly resentful glance, noting the difference in their figures. They were similar in height, but Wanda's hips and chest were smaller—a detail that made her a bit self-conscious. Still, she reminded herself she was still growing, so there was no rush to worry.

Natasha, amused by Wanda's expression, accepted the clothes with a smile. "Thank you."

Wanda shrugged. "Breakfast is almost ready. You can come down and eat after washing up. Also, I've got something good to teach you today."

"I'm looking forward to it," Natasha replied, her curiosity piqued.

After Wanda left, Natasha changed into the clothes. They were a bit snug, as expected, but nothing she couldn't handle. Once she was ready and had freshened up, she made her way downstairs.

By the time she arrived, everyone was already up and had even done their warm-up exercises before breakfast. Natasha saw her place set at the dining table.

"Hey, Natasha, good morning!" a few greeted.

"Good morning, Sister Natasha!" chimed in the younger ones.

Natasha smiled and returned each greeting warmly. Wanda waved, motioning for her to sit next to her. As Natasha took her seat, Leon brought out the last dish.

With Leon leading the way, everyone began their breakfast. Seeing how eagerly the group ate gave Natasha a good appetite as well. It was rare for her, but she ended up having a full breakfast alongside them.

Afterward, they all helped clean up the dishes, chatting as they went. Once the kitchen was tidy, everyone had a little free time—some watched TV, some played games, and others headed out for a bit of fresh air.

Leon went straight outside and left.

Watching him head toward the back of the mountain, Natasha sat on the sofa with little Alina in her arms. Curious, she turned to Wanda, who was happily sipping hot milk while leaning on the sofa.

"Wanda, where's Leon going so early in the morning?" Natasha asked.

"Him? He's off to practice," Wanda replied.

"Practice?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh," Wanda nodded. "All of us need to practice. It's the foundation for how we survive in this world. You'll need to, too."

"Me?" Natasha's eyes lit up with curiosity and anticipation.