Alexei Shostakov, the Soviet Union's first and only super soldier, stood as their answer to Captain America. Known as the Red Guardian, his strength in the cinematic universe... well, let's just say it was best left unmentioned.
In the movies, he was portrayed as Natasha Romanoff's adoptive father. In truth, their family had been a meticulously crafted lie, a cover for an agent operation. Alexei served the Soviet Union and prided himself on being close friends with General Dreykov, the head of the Red Room.
But Dreykov didn't share that sentiment. Alexei's belief in their friendship was pure delusion. His decades-long imprisonment? That too was directly tied to Dreykov. Now, Alexei surged to his feet, his eyes bulging with intensity. "Who are you? Which country's super soldier?"
Hong Fei smirked. "Old man, you're outdated."
Gunshots erupted.
In one fluid motion, Hong Fei spun, drawing his Cross-blade and slashing downward. Four muffled thuds echoed behind him. Alexei glanced back to see four perfectly aligned bullet holes in the wall. Above them, Natasha's plane was strafed by machine gun fire from the watchtower. The aircraft shuddered, its metal hull dented, before climbing away.
Alexei barked, "What's happening? Why is she leaving?"
Hong Fei raised an eyebrow. "Scared?"
"Scared?!" Alexei glared furiously. "Do you know who I am? The Red Guardian! A warrior forged of steel!"
Hong Fei patted Alexei's belly with mock admiration. "I think you're more of a golden warrior. Soft and shiny."
Alexei stumbled back, speechless.
Before he could retort, Hong Fei's tone hardened. "If you can fight, go fight. If you can't, find somewhere to hide." Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply. His arm whipped out, and the Cross-blade shot through the air like a dart, piercing the narrow opening of the watchtower.
Inside, the soldier who had been firing at the helicopter collapsed, the blade embedded in his skull. In the same instant, Hong Fei launched himself into the watchtower at inhuman speed. He yanked the blade free and reappeared at the doorway, where dozens of firearms trained on him and fired simultaneously.
This time, Hong Fei didn't bother deflecting the bullets. They ricocheted harmlessly off his nano armor. He sheathed the blade and drew twin pistols from his thighs. Activating his Eyes of Death, markers flashed across his vision. He pulled the trigger without hesitation, golden bullets streaking from the muzzles and finding their targets with lethal precision.
Dozens of bodies crumpled to the ground. Holstering the pistols, Hong Fei stepped onto the railing and leaped into the chaos below. His fists and feet moved like phantoms—brutal strikes one moment, fluid entanglements the next. Bodies fell, flew, or crashed into groups wherever he passed.
The snow kicked up in swirling clouds, each wave rising before the last could settle. His black silhouette moved through the storm of white flakes, a living embodiment of shifting Yin and Yang. In moments, he carved a path from one end of the iron cage-lined road to the other. The prison gate loomed ahead.
Even Natasha, who had seen him fight and had even fought him herself, couldn't help but stare in awe. Alexei, his hairline receding nearly two palms high, gaped at the scene. Inside the prison, more than a dozen guards armed with electric batons and riot shields hesitated. When Hong Fei's gaze fell upon them, they retreated in unison.
The crash echoed through the air as sparks erupted from the shoulder of Hong Fei's armor. Without hesitation, he drew his pistol and fired blindly over his shoulder. A second later, a body crumpled from a distant tower, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Hong Fei exhaled sharply, feeling the drain on his stamina. He turned to Alexei with a curt nod. "Old man, ready?"
"What?" Alexei's beard quivered, confusion etched across his face.
Hong Fei grabbed him by the collar, and they shot into the sky. The wind roared in their ears, flattening Alexei's cheeks and threatening to strip the hair from his scalp. At peak speed, Hong Fei could hit 500 km/h. The helicopter had retreated two kilometers, but Hong Fei closed the distance in ten seconds, slamming them both into the open cabin.
Natasha secured the door as Hong Fei retracted his nano armor, settling into the co-pilot seat. Alexei sprawled on the floor, his wide eyes fixed on the vanishing armor, disbelief written across his face. Natasha glanced at Hong Fei as he donned his headset. "Why'd you take them out?"
"Didn't like their faces."
Her eye twitched. That answer was insultingly vague. Behind them, Alexei scrambled to his feet, leaning forward to scrutinize Natasha. His lecherous gaze roamed shamelessly, but she ignored him completely, focusing on piloting the helicopter.
Natasha hadn't yet revealed herself to the world as an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. The public remained unaware she was the sole female among the original Avengers. Alexei, imprisoned for decades, had last seen her as a child. Cut off from the outside world, he hadn't recognized the woman she'd become.
"Who are you?" Alexei demanded, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Natasha didn't turn, her tone flat. "Alexei, you're still a bastard."
"Natasha, are you asking, or am I?" Hong Fei interjected casually.
Alexei's eyes bulged. "Natasha? Natasha! You're Natasha?" He leaned further forward, straining to get a better look at her face. Natasha remained indifferent, her focus unwavering. "Alexei, tell me everything about the Red Room."
"The Red Room?" Alexei hesitated. "I don't know."
Natasha took a deep breath, activated autopilot, and removed her headset. She moved to the rear cabin, her expression hard. Hong Fei eyed the cockpit's array of unfamiliar controls, feeling the urge to re-engage his nano armor. Natasha reached out, flicking off Alexei's headset. "You don't know? What about Dreykov?"
"Dreykov?" Alexei's face lit up with excitement.
"Yes, Dreykov. The head of the Red Room."
"Ha! General Dreykov, my good friend. He gave me glory. I became the Soviet Union's first and only super soldier. I could've been more famous than Captain America. But then he sent me to Ohio for that stupid mission. Three years! I was so bored I wanted to cry!"
Natasha stared at him, unblinking. Those three years—after she'd been "abandoned"—she'd spent in Alexei's fabricated family. It was the most profound, fleeting, and only memory of warmth she had.
Alexei shrugged, his tone careless. "No offense, but that was—"
Slap!
The blow came out of nowhere. Alexei didn't see it coming, let alone dodge it.
So his head hit the metal cabin with a bang, and his body slid off the chair. When he looked up, he clutched his bleeding mouth. Lowering his palm, he found two teeth—one dull gray, the other gleaming gold.
Alexei glanced over to see Hong Fei sitting stiffly in the co-pilot seat. Without turning, Hong Fei said, "If you don't know how to speak, I can remove your teeth and cut out your tongue." Alexei's eyes flicked to Natasha. Her face was blank, almost bored.
He tossed the gray tooth onto the floor and pocketed the gold one, blood still smeared across his mouth. "Natasha, you know, after you left, I was thrown in prison when I got back. Half my life, I've spent behind bars. Why? Why did he lock me up?" His words tumbled out in a chaotic stream—rants about the country, society, organizations, ideology.
He sounded like a madman, someone whose mind had cracked after years of confinement. Natasha listened in silence, but to Hong Fei, it was like the incessant buzzing of a hundred flies. He rose and strode toward Alexei. "Where is the Red Room?"
Alexei shrank back, shaking his head. "I don't know."
"Great."
Hong Fei grabbed his collar and dragged him to the cabin door. He kicked it open, and icy wind rushed in. Alexei thrashed, clawing at Hong Fei's grip, his face red with effort, but it was useless. Hong Fei leaned out, and Alexei dangled mid-air, hands clutching Hong Fei's wrist.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know! But you can find Melina!"
Natasha shot to her feet. "Wait, you're talking about Melina?"
"That's right. The Melina you know."
"I thought she was dead."
"Interesting thought. But she's a scientist, a strategist. I'm a brute, and she's a cunning fox."
Hong Fei pressed, "Where is she?"
Alexei shouted, "I can take you to her, but let me up first!"
Hong Fei ignored him. "Where is it?"
"I—"
His word was cut off by a scream as Hong Fei released him. Natasha's face tightened with alarm. "He hasn't said it yet!"
"You don't want him to die, do you?"
Natasha hesitated, then grabbed the parachute under her seat and moved to jump. Hong Fei stopped her. "Let me do it."
He dove after Alexei, accelerating as he fell. The closer he got, the louder Alexei's screams became. The ground rushed up. At the last moment, Hong Fei swooped down and caught him, stopping his fall just two centimeters above the earth.
Alexei kept screaming. Hong Fei frowned, flicked his wrist, and Alexei's head smacked against a rock with a dull crack. The man went silent.
In the next instant, they were back in the cabin. Alexei lay on the floor, one hand clutching his chest, the other his head, gasping for air.
"Speak."
Alexei rattled off an address.
Natasha slid into the pilot's seat, programmed the destination, and exhaled. Moments later, Alexei tapped her shoulder lightly. She turned to see him gesturing mysteriously. With a resigned sigh, she returned to the rear cabin.
Then, Alexei leaned into Natasha's ear, lowered his voice to a whisper, and asked, "This boyfriend of yours is a bit fierce. Does he hit you often?" Natasha's cheek twitched. "He's not my boyfriend." But she had been hit—and hit hard, at that.