Widow of Siberia

Chapter 5

After the great disappearance, the blip as the West called it, everyone had come back exactly as they were. Where they stood exactly. Except for one. Natasha Romanoff, a woman who had not disappeared five years before, had appeared in Sidorov's labs in a rain of dust like the rest of them. A gift to Russia. And a prime tool of control for Sidorov. 

The black combat suit was recreated from Dreykov’s old designs, adjusted from the old tyrant's whims to fit a more practical look. Zipped all the way up to her throat and completely covered her body from her neck down. Vienna's hands carefully placed a black mask over the lower half of her older sister's face, very similar to that of the Winter Soldier. She had cleaned Natasha up, washed and dried her hair, and braided it out of her face, wiped her skin clean of blood and dirt. 

“Best spy in the world,” Vienna whispered, looking at the great Black Widow, back in her uniform and retrained in the Red Widow’s way. “Who are you?”

“The Black Widow,” Natasha responded, her voice even and muffled behind her muzzle. 

“Good.” Vienna nodded to Sidorov who was standing at the back of the room, observing the presentation of rebirth of the Black Widow. “And where is home?”

“Right here, in the motherland.”

“This test will determine how far we have to go,” Sidorov said, stepping forward to take a closer look at his newest asset, “her mind is malleable, but no one truly changes without a permanent alteration.”

The Red Widow felt her shoulders tense, her breathing shallow and quick until she could recompose herself again. “Yes Sir.”

Thick fingers on a heavy arm traced over the muzzle on Natasha’s face, too interested in his new experiment to notice his old one. 

“Those little traitors that followed you up here, it will be a perfect test,” Sidorov said, his voice low as he stared at the thin white scar that cut down under the mask from Natasha’s eye. “I'm sure you trained her perfectly.”

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The cold of Siberia was bitter and searing. Too long out in it would cause serious injury, even with the necessary equipment. The Thunderbolts were as insulated as they could make themselves, and as focused as possible. 

“And you're sure?” Yelena Belova asked as she and the team stayed concealed in the trees with the uneasy feeling of being watched. 

“Yes.” Bucky told her with certainty. He would know those bunker doors anywhere. Part of his training had been done inside Sidorov's lab, part of his enslavement. 

“How do we get in?” she asked, her eyes trained on the door. 

“Well…” he said, turning his head towards Yelena before pointing behind them, “we'll probably need her hands first.”

Their heads turned quickly, snapping around at speed. Her red suit was like a splash of blood amongst the snow, cloak billowing in the icy wind, a shadow at her shoulder. The Red Widow stood silently, unphased and unalarmed at her position being made. 

“Jesus Christ,” John Walker exclaimed, shuffling back through the snow to maintain a distance between him and the Widows.

Yelena’s eyes wanted to stay on the Red Widow but the Widow at her shoulder held more of her attention than Yelena would have liked. 

The red hair and black suit, she thought, it was a trick. It had to be. Recruit a Widow that looked like Natasha to throw her off. A sick trick but not beneath the red room.