A rainy night in Budapest: taking death's bullets for you

1999, Budapest.

Icy rain, laden with the thick stench of gunpowder, battered an abandoned heavy industrial factory in the Eastern European city.

Rusted steel girders groaned under the strain of the gale. Natasha leaned behind an abandoned hydraulic press, gasping for breath. Rain streamed down her red hair into her eyes, making them sting unbearably.

She clutched her left abdomen. Warm blood kept welling between her fingers, dripping down her combat uniform into the oil-slick puddle below and spreading into a dark red stain.

"Romanoff, you can't escape."

Harsh Russian pierced the curtain of rain through a loudspeaker. Outside the factory, three armored vehicles blocked every exit. Blinding searchlight beams swept back and forth across the ruins like the eyes of death. More than twenty fully armed elite Red Room assassins advanced toward her in a fan formation, submachine guns raised.

As the Red Room's most perfect "Black Widow" creation, she knew better than anyone what happened to those who betrayed Dreykov.

There was no rescue, no miracle. The S.H.I.E.L.D. extraction point was three kilometers away, and with the amount of blood she had lost, she could barely even stand.

Biting her pale lips, Natasha drew the Glock pistol from her outer thigh, ejected the magazine, and checked it.

Only three rounds remained.

She gave a bitter smile. One of those three bullets was for Dreykov's dogs. The other two would go through the underside of her own jaw before she let them take her alive.

Just as she was about to lean out for one last counterattack, an extremely faint metallic scrape came from the ventilation duct overhead.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three muffled, suppressed shots rang out in succession.

The searchlights shattered. Before the three closest Red Room assassins could even scream, blood blossomed between their brows, and they toppled stiffly into the muddy water.

Darkness fell in an instant.

A shadow dropped soundlessly from a steel frame more than ten meters high like a night owl. The moment his feet touched the ground, he went into a tactical roll, sliding with extraordinary precision behind Natasha's cover.

The strong smell of blood mingled with cheap tobacco washed over her.

"Are you insane?" When Natasha recognized him, a rare flicker of panic crossed her blue eyes. Even her voice shook. "The signal I gave you meant retreat! Dreykov has mobilized Budapest's entire underworld. Did you come back here to die?"

Lynn knelt on one knee in front of her without a word.

His left arm hung limp, two pieces of shrapnel visibly embedded in his shoulder. His black tactical vest was already soaked with blood. Breathing heavily, he pulled a mud-stained military coagulant injector from behind his waist and, without hesitation, plunged it into the edge of Natasha's abdominal wound.

"Hss-" The sharp pain made Natasha instinctively arch her back.

"Bear with it, Nat." Lynn's voice was terribly hoarse, but it carried an unquestionable steadiness. He tore open a roll of bandages with his teeth and wrapped her waist and abdomen quickly and roughly. "I told you. If we leave, we leave together."

"Are you an idiot?" Natasha seized Lynn's collar, her eyes reddening with the violent surge of emotion. "I'm Red Room property! My life has been expendable since the day I was born! Is throwing away your own life for a tool worth it?"

As a killing machine, she had been taught from childhood to discard all emotion. Yet the man before her, the partner who had faced death with her countless times over the past three years, kept throwing himself in front of lethal bullets for her like a madman.

Lynn's hands paused.

He raised his head, his deep eyes fixed on Natasha in the dim light. He offered no explanation. He merely took her blood-soaked hand and pressed a fully loaded Beretta pistol into her palm.

"You're nobody's property." Lynn wiped the rain from his face, his lips curling defiantly. "You're Natasha Romanoff. As long as I'm still breathing, no one is taking you back to that hell today."

Those words drove into Natasha's heart, frozen for more than twenty years, like a red-hot iron nail.

Boom!

Before Natasha could respond, an RPG round trailed flame as it slammed into the wall beside the hydraulic press.

A violent blast swept over them with a hail of rubble. Without hesitation, Lynn tackled Natasha to the ground, shielding her tightly beneath him. A fist-sized fragment of rebar grazed his back, tearing away a large chunk of flesh.

Lynn grunted, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth, but he did not even frown. He quickly pulled Natasha into a roll behind another abandoned metal trough.

"They're going to storm us." Lynn quickly peeked out. The mercenaries outside had switched to heavy weapons and begun indiscriminate covering fire.

"The underground drainage channel." Fighting the agonizing pain in her abdomen, Natasha pointed at a heavy iron door in the deepest part of the factory. "That's the only exit they haven't surrounded. It leads straight to the Danube. But the door's hydraulic system is broken. Someone has to pull the control lever manually from outside, then lock it down."

At that, Natasha's voice abruptly cut off.

Pulling the control lever manually meant that person would be left outside, facing automatic fire from dozens of guns.

"I'll pull it." Without the slightest hesitation, Lynn quickly removed his last two high-explosive grenades and secured them in the tactical slots on his chest.

"No!" Natasha seized his wrist, her nails almost digging into his flesh. "They'll riddle you with bullets! We can try another direction, or I can stay and cover you..."

"Listen, Nat." Lynn gripped her shoulders with astonishing force. His gaze was more serious than ever, with a trace of grim resolve.

"On three, run for the iron door. I'll cover you and pull the lever." Giving her no chance to argue, Lynn drew a combat knife from his thigh holster and held it in a reverse grip.

"Lynn..." For the first time, Natasha's voice carried a plea.

"Three!"

Lynn sprang to his feet. Without counting two or one, he raised his submachine gun and charged straight into the dense hail of bullets outside.

"Lynn!" Natasha's pupils constricted. The instant Lynn charged out, instinct drove her to grit her teeth and sprint toward the iron door to the underground drainage channel.

Gunfire erupted.

Like a lone wolf driven into a corner, Lynn fought without any cover. First, he tossed out a bloodstained coat as a feint to draw their fire, then used exceptionally tricky footwork and precise bursts to force back the front line of the assault.

Bullets grazed his cheek and punched through his thigh, but he did not even pause. He fought his way through a bloody path and reached the control console beside the iron door.

Natasha threw herself through the iron doorway and turned to look outside.

By a flash of lightning, she saw what Lynn looked like now.

He was covered in blood. A large-caliber bullet had shattered his left leg, and he could barely remain standing against the control console. Yet he still clung tightly to the rusted hydraulic gate lever.

"Lynn, get in! Hurry, get in!" From behind the iron bars, Natasha frantically pounded the doorframe, tears finally spilling uncontrollably from her eyes.

"Don't look back, Nat."

Lynn looked at her, his lips lifting into an exceptionally gentle smile. There was no fear in that smile, only the release of a burden finally lifted.

With the last of his strength, he yanked down the hydraulic lever.

Clang!

The heavy iron door crashed down, completely separating Natasha from the hell outside.

Through the final sliver of space beneath the iron door, Natasha saw more than a dozen submachine guns aim at Lynn at once. Lynn calmly pulled the pins from the high-explosive grenades on his chest.

"No!"

BOOM!!!

The deafening explosion blew off the factory's entire roof. Blinding flames swallowed Lynn's figure, and the violent shock wave surged through the vents into the underground passage, hurling Natasha away.

In the final second before her consciousness sank into darkness, all that remained in Natasha's mind was the image of that man, covered in blood, still smiling at her.

"Beep-beep-beep-"

The shrill alarms of medical equipment echoed wildly in her ears.

The real world, in a top-secret underground medical room at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Triskelion.

Natasha's eyes flew open on the hospital bed. Her pupils contracted violently, her chest heaving like a bellows as cold sweat instantly soaked her hospital gown.

"Lynn!"

She instinctively bolted upright, her right hand reaching for the sidearm at her waist, only to find cold medical tubing.

"Agent Romanoff, calm down."

A deep voice carrying a one-eyed man's authority sounded beside the hospital bed.

Dressed in his signature black trench coat, Nick Fury stared at the Black Widow on the bed with his one remaining eye, his brow tightly furrowed.

"You suddenly lost consciousness on the communications tower and fell thirty meters. If it hadn't been for the safety net, you'd be a corpse right now." Fury braced both hands on the edge of the bed, his tone cold. "Tell me, what exactly did you see? Why did your heart rate exceed a hundred and eighty beats per minute while you were unconscious?"

Natasha did not answer.

She stared blankly at her empty hands as the searing memory of that rainy night in Budapest battered her reason like a tsunami.

That had not been a dream.

The heart-rending pain, the warmth of Lynn's palm, and that final, resolute smile were so real that every nerve in her body trembled.

He was dead.

Blown to pieces to save her.

No... wait!

Natasha jerked her head up. Just hours ago, she had been in the Safe House, caught in a chokehold by that rampaging Scarlet Witch! Lynn was still alive! He had been right there!

"Director Fury." Natasha's voice was frighteningly hoarse. She slowly turned her head to look at Nick Fury.

The eyes of an ace spy, which should have been utterly calm and devoid of any personal emotion, now roiled with a chilling obsession and madness.

"Where is Lynn?" Natasha asked, enunciating every word.

Fury keenly picked up on the strangeness in Natasha's tone. As a top agent he had personally trained, Natasha had never asked about a man's whereabouts with such intense possessiveness.

"He's dangerous, Natasha." Fury straightened, his gaze becoming extremely wary. "Not only does he control that witch, he's also entangled with a Spider-Woman from another parallel universe. I've already designated him Zero Number Taboo. S.H.I.E.L.D. is assessing the possibility of eliminating him."

At the word "eliminating," Natasha's pupils abruptly tightened.

"Eliminate him?" Natasha suddenly laughed.

She ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand. Blood immediately spurted out, but she did not even glance at it. Stepping barefoot onto the cold floor, she slowly advanced on Nick Fury.

"Director." Natasha tilted her head slightly. Her voice was gentle, yet carried a murderous intent that sent chills down the spine.

She suddenly raised her hand and, moving at a speed even Fury could not react to, snatched the sidearm from his waist and chambered a round with a click.

The dark muzzle pressed directly between Fury's brows.

"Anyone who dares touch him..." Natasha's blue eyes were bloodshot, her lips curling into a twisted smile. "I'll kill them."