The Widow's Daughter ✔︎

Chapter Eighteen

I glared at him. "Go to hell, Ivan," I snarled. "Oh, wait. You're already in it."

Now it was Ivan's turn to scowl. He bent over my body and placed the tip of the long needle onto the skin of my neck, his hot breath on my cheek making me wriggle to try and get away. "Now you see, Kira," he whispered. "You've been in hell all along."

He inserted the needle into my neck and I cried out in pain, thrashing around to try and move, but the shackles held strong. Just as he was about to push down the syringe and inject the liquid into me, a massive boom resounded through the room. Ivan looked up and in that moment of hesitation, I bit down on his hand hard enough to draw blood. He yelped and drew his hand and the needle back, looking at me with death and evil in his eyes.

Something rammed into him and pushed him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. The something then proceeded to take out the two nurses and the five guards standing at the door while I watched in wonder. I couldn't believe my eyes when the something (or rather, someone) grabbed the key from Ivan's belt and inserted it into my shackles, letting me go free.

I looked at my saviour properly for the first time and gasped. It was a young teenage boy, my age I presumed, dressed in a red and blue skin-tight suit with black patterns all over it, like that of a spider's web. He had floppy brown hair and intelligent, bright eyes and dimples that made his entire face light up when he smiled. "Hi!" he said, pulling me off the operating table. "My name's Peter Parker. I'm here to rescue you!"

I gaped at him. "You're... Spiderman," I realised. "You're just a kid!"

Peter pouted. "I'm actually fifteen, just like you." He grabbed my hand and grinned. "Now, not to alarm you or anything, but we need to get out of here right now, because in exactly ten minutes, this entire place blows up."

"I know," I said. "Wait. Ten minutes??"

We ran towards the exit door, which I skilfully kicked open. Peter and I sprinted (well, Peter swung on his webs) through the cold, white hallways, my bare feet making slapping noises as we went. We turned left into a long, dark corridor, lit only by a few flickering strobe lights overhead. I tried not to panic, a sense of Deja-vu hitting me face-on as we ran down to the end, where we were met with three heavily-armed Russian guards.

"Это девушка!" one of them barked, the two others loading their rifles and pointing them at us. "Возьми ее!"

Peter swung me out of the way just as the guards opened fire, bullets rebounding around us. I snapped my fingers, using my probability gift to change the result of the bullets hitting us. Peter shot webs out of his fingers (which I now knew were his wrist shooters), sticking them to the walls. I knocked them out with three solid punches before they could alert any more.

"Mr Barton's being kept in here," Peter panted, pointing to a prison cell made out of dark glass-like material. "Quick, do your super-strength thing."

My strength was failing, but with a last burst of effort, the glass burst into millions of fragmented shards. Clint, who had been previously pacing around in his cell, spun around and gasped when he saw me. "Kira!" he exclaimed, lifting me up into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank goodness you're alright."

Peter coughed awkwardly. "Sorry to break up your touching reunion, but there's a whole heap of bad guys trying to kill us over there and if we don't get out, this entire place is going to blow up."

"Story of my life," I muttered.

"You get used to it," Clint replied, punching a Russian operative in the face. 

"That's kinda depressing," Peter said, spraying his web-juice-thing everywhere. "Come on!"

We ran down the hallway, my heart pounding so fast I thought it would leap out of my chest. A searing stitch was bursting through my entire right side but I kept on going, my aching legs killing me. "Kid, you're hurt," Clint said. "I'll carry you..."

I waved him off. "I'm fine," I said, swallowing and continuing running. We were almost out of Ivan's base, the gusts of freezing cold mountain air hitting us in the face, when I remembered something that made me stop.

"Kira, come on!" Peter yelled. "We're almost out!"

"The girls!" I gasped. "We need to go back!"

"Kid, we can't," Clint said gently, grabbing my hand and trying to pull me towards the door that led to freedom. "Going back would be suicide. We tried, but this was just one mission we couldn't complete. Sometimes life is like that."

I swallowed. "Maybe you can't," I said, trying to sound brave even though my legs were trembling like jelly and I was pretty sure I was about to faint any moment now, "but I can."

With my last effort, I pushed Clint and Peter out of the door and onto the mountain, where they rolled down the steep snowy slope (try saying that five times fast) and disappeared in a flurry of white. Adrenalin coursed through my veins, determination to save Tori and the other girls the only thing in my mind.

I tore through the hallways, ignoring the guards who shot at me, whizzing past them like there was no tomorrow. For a minute or so, I wasn't Kira Akiro-Bardasen, the girl who was a killer, the intern of Bruce Banner, the eater of Coco Pops, I was just a body, a vessel, sprinting to save a hundred girls who couldn't save themselves.

I sped up a set of stairs and found myself in a large, dark, cavernous room. To my right there was a wall of weapons, and to my left, there was the thing that I'd been looking for... a massive cell, filled with girls of every age - they were all gaunt and haggard, thin and weary, and they all had the same dark look in their eyes as Tori.

Trying not to think about my once-sister, I slammed my hand down onto a big red button that would let them out. The door to the cell opened but none of them moved. They looked at me with dark, hollowed eyes, their hair hanging limp around their shoulders.

"Come on!" I barked in Russian. "This place is going to explode in five minutes. Get out! Run!"

They didn't move.

I whacked the bars of the cell with my fist, breathing heavily. "Come on! Let's go!"

They didn't move.

"RUN!"

I resorted to my last option - probability. I used my gift to change their attitudes, the enormity of the task making me feel weary and faint as it drained all of my strength. One by one, the girls stood up, starting to panic and to run in the direction of the door. Soon, they'd all cleared out, sprinting to freedom, minus one.

I slumped to the ground, the world spinning. I felt sick, and everywhere hurt - my head ached like I'd just been in a car accident. My chest rose and fell, my white hospital gown damp with sweat.

I looked to see the last girl, not moving. "What are you doing?" I breathed heavily. "You need to get out... it'll explode..."

The last thing I heard were the words, "not without you, маленькая птица", before the whole world closed in on me, darkness enveloping my vision and blocking out all of my senses.

The last thing I felt were strong arms, lifting me up into the sky, carrying me, all the way home, as fire raged around, the heat searing my skin.

And the last thing I thought was of Natasha.

Of how I'd failed her.