Outside the Red Room Base, Frank hovered steadily in the air, issuing commands while Big Head nervously worked on hacking the system. Ivan darted along the perimeter of the Base, moving with lightning speed.
He had already taken out several fighter jets. Whenever he spotted someone attempting to board a plane, he lashed out with his long whip, slicing both the individual and the aircraft in half. The sight was so gruesome that those fleeing the Base no longer dared to approach the jets. Meanwhile, Abomination and the others stormed into the chambers from different directions.
Following Frank's orders, they avoided direct confrontation with women but showed no mercy to men. Abomination's raw strength left nothing standing in his wake—except for the women. Natasha's family, however, struggled to keep up.
Alexei, the first and only super soldier of the former Soviet Union, was no longer in his prime. Super soldiers aren't immune to aging, and his strength had waned over the years. In his youth, he might have been a match for Captain America. He had known glory—clinging to the wing of a plane under a hail of bullets to escape the U.S. government with his family. But his story was far removed from Steve Rogers'.
Steve had been frozen for over sixty years, waking up with his body still at its peak age of twenty-seven. As a super soldier, his prime lasted longer, and his combat skills only improved with time. Twelve years later, at thirty-nine, he achieved his most dazzling feats. But where was Alexei at thirty-nine? Locked in prison.
Countless lives and families had been ruined just like his. Dreykov, the man behind it all, was truly devoid of any virtue. Alexei's best years had slipped away in a haze of imprisonment. He hadn't transformed; if anything, his peak had been his starting point, and now he was on an irreversible decline.
So when he entered the Red Room, his rage was at its maximum, but his body struggled to keep up. Melina, a professional scientist and skilled agent, relied entirely on her armor for combat. Her skills were decent but unremarkable. The real stars of the show were Natasha and Yelena.
Despite sharing no biological parents, the sisters' combat styles were nearly identical. Both had been trained in the Red Room from childhood, molded by the same brutal regimen. The only difference? Yelena couldn't stand Natasha's habit of striking dramatic poses mid-fight.
"Alexei, the old men doing morning exercises on the street are more agile than you. Pick up the pace!" "Melina, I heard you've been cozy with the Red Room. Still a spy, aren't you?" "Natasha, stop posing like an idiot. I didn't set up a camera for you." "Yelena, you've gotten fat enough to break hearts."
Hong Fei's voice cut through the chaos, dripping with sarcasm. Frank immediately barked, "Resolved?" "On my end, yes," Hong Fei replied. Frank roared, "Pick up the pace, all of you! Is that armor just for show?" The team's attacks intensified instantly.
"Big Head, take over the Base's network," Hong Fei ordered. "Boss, give me one more chance—I'm almost done!" Big Head pleaded. "Cut the nonsense. Get your artificial intelligence moving and spread the inhibitor everywhere!" Reluctantly, Big Head abandoned his hacking efforts.
Once the AI took control of the Base, the inhibitor was deployed through the ventilation system. Red smoke soon filled every corner. The widows' fierce gazes softened, then shifted to expressions of dazed confusion. Slowly, recognition dawned on their faces, followed by a mix of excitement and seething hatred.
After a while longer, with the cooperation of the Black Widows, all of Dreykov's die-hard loyalists were killed, and the Base was successfully taken over. Jessica, as instructed, guarded the area below the Base; her main responsibility was to ensure nothing fell from the Base.
At this moment, she threw the large pile of miscellaneous items she was holding onto the ground and collapsed, gasping for air. "Natasha, Yelena, bring all the Black Widows up here." Before long, a group of people entered Dreykov's office; the dense crowd was packed so tightly there was barely enough room. Beside Hong Fei, Dreykov's arm had been severed by Hong Fei.
The stump was no longer bleeding, but his body looked incredibly stiff, as if he had lost control over himself. Facing dozens of Black Widows, Hong Fei said, "I am glad to see you all in this place, in this way today, but I would also prefer that not a single one of you was standing before me today." Not just Natasha, but everyone's gaze fell upon Dreykov.
"I know you are all eager for revenge now, but there is one more thing I must clarify first. You all think you were abandoned orphans, adopted by the Red Room and then trained to become Black Widows, but the truth might be even more cruel." In a flash, all the Black Widows turned their heads in unison to stare at Hong Fei. "That's right, you guessed correctly.
There are indeed some among you who were abandoned or were orphans whose parents died, but that is not all. The Red Room has a special selection mechanism; many of you had happy and complete families, but your potential was spotted by the Red Room, and so you were taken away." Immediately, a clamor arose, and in the blink of an eye, the room was in an uproar.
Natasha and Yelena, who were standing at the very front, took a step forward, and the others followed suit. Hong Fei raised his hand to stop them and raised his voice: "I know what you want to ask! But the answer is somewhat cruel. Some of you truly became orphans, but others were still lucky. However! That is not important right now.
Telling you this is to let you clearly recognize the source of your hatred, and it is also to let you vent your hatred in the time to come!" "Dreykov, you all know him. Now, he is yours." Having said that, Hong Fei turned and flew away from the place with Taskmaster.
He did not deliberately emphasize the method, because he believed that this group of Black Widows would definitely bring Dreykov even more terrifying fear before his Death. Arriving at the exterior space of the Base, standing on the aircraft runway, Taskmaster suddenly felt as if her strength had been drained; she collapsed to her knees, and then opened her skull mask.
Beneath it was a cheek that appeared somewhat hideous after being burned on the right side, and even her two eyeballs looked quite terrifying. Her face was already soaked with tears, and more and more tears were spilling from her eye sockets. Dreykov was her father, and now, he was walking toward Death. Of course, she was not feeling heartbreak, nor was there any need to grieve for him.
She was not happy either, because she could not find any reason to be happy in her experiences. The past, for her, was a complete and utter tragedy. Hong Fei did not speak; he also did not know what he could say right now. Antonia's strength was not weak, but perhaps she had already died after that explosion back then.
What grew was her body, and her Soul, which had been controlled by others' wills all along—the only thing that hadn't grown was herself. The only thing worth being glad about was that from now on, she could officially be herself again. Frank and the others flew to Hong Fei, and Hong Fei immediately composed his mood, his eyes sweeping over the group.
A palpable tension gripped the group, as if a blade hovered above their necks. "The Red Room's methods are impressive, yes," Hong Fei began, his voice cutting through the silence. "But their combat power? Mediocre at best. I expected a decisive victory—and technically, we achieved that—but what I witnessed was chaos. Everyone fought alone, with no strategy, no cohesion."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Frankly, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tactical teams grasp the concept of teamwork far better than you do. Frank, I'm not talking about you." Frank nodded, his expression grim. "I know the issue. I noticed it last time, but since we were on break, nothing changed. If anything, it's gotten worse. That's on me."
Hong Fei's nod was curt. "This isn't your fault. I'm well aware of that. People like them—regardless of their abilities—are arrogant. Some rely on brute strength, others on intellect, some on scientific achievements, and others still on raw potential. They all think they're special."
He wasn't mincing words; he was calling them out directly. "I know exactly what's going through your minds. Heroes? Villains? Doesn't matter. You all see yourselves as unique, independent. Why should you cooperate with him? What makes him worthy of your collaboration? Everyone wants to shine, everyone wants to lead. Well, guess what?" His voice sharpened. "Do you think I'm dead?"
The last sentence thundered through the air, his energy surging like a storm. The sheer force of it sent shockwaves rippling through the clouds.
The four facing him instinctively stepped back half a step, their movements jerky. Once the echoes subsided, they hurriedly returned to their positions, heads bowed, bodies rigid. "Ambition isn't a bad thing," Hong Fei continued, his tone icy. "But you need to rethink your approach. If we were to measure by raw strength alone, none of you would still be breathing."
He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Individually, each of you is replaceable. Anything you can do, I can do better. So why do I keep you around? Because you're supposed to be a team. A team doesn't need lone wolves. I'm glad to see you hone your individual skills, but I also need to see teamwork. Cooperation. Unity."
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Without that, you're nothing but a waste of my time. If you want to live, fall in line. If you want to die, I'll oblige you right now." Silence followed, heavy and unbroken. The breeze stirred, the clouds drifted, and no one dared respond.
After a long moment, Hong Fei turned and walked away. The group waited until he was out of sight before collectively exhaling. Jessica collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, utterly spent. Big Head slumped down with a thud, his hacking mission incomplete, his fear of Hong Fei's wrath still fresh. Ivan sighed softly, resigned to his fate; escape seemed impossible now, even for him. Even Abomination scratched his head sheepishly, guilt etched across his face.
Alexei and Melina stood apart, not yet fully integrated into the team, but the tension had weighed heavily on them as well. Especially Melina; she couldn't shake the feeling that Hong Fei, in that moment, had been more terrifying than Dreykov ever was. Dreykov was dead—a villain who met a fitting end, his body obliterated, leaving no trace. It was a clean, pure conclusion.
When death claimed him, Hong Fei surged with raw, primal energy. It roared through his veins like a flash flood, filling every fiber of his being with newfound strength. This overwhelming power drove him to act—he had to leave, had to hide.
Inside the Base, he stumbled blindly into the nearest room, slammed the door shut, and collapsed onto the floor. The transformation wasn't painful. Not exactly.
Although he could feel every inch of his bones and flesh tearing apart and knitting back together, the sheer exhilaration of the process drowned out any physical discomfort. Of course, the sight of him writhing on the floor, trembling and drooling, might've made that claim a little harder to believe.