"Huh? What happened?" Congressman Stern asked immediately, his voice tightening with concern.
Ethan Voss allowed a hint of hesitation to enter his tone, carefully setting the stage for the story he had prepared. "Justin Hammer is a very eccentric businessman," he began calmly. "I'm honestly not sure how he managed to sell such a massive shipment of weapons to the Middle East in the first place."
"There's an arms magnate operating out there," he continued, lowering his voice slightly. "Someone whose identity is extremely well concealed. Apparently he only recently decided to sell the shipment, and I happened to learn about it by chance."
Stern quickly understood what Ethan was implying. "So if we want those weapons back," he said slowly, "we'd have to buy them back from that dealer."
"That's correct," Ethan replied.
A long pause followed as Stern processed the situation.
Ethan could easily guess what was running through the congressman's mind, because the logic represented the thinking of most American politicians. As long as the stolen weapons weren't inside the United States, whether they were recovered or not didn't truly matter to them.
The only thing that mattered was public perception.
As long as American citizens believed those weapons wouldn't threaten their safety, the problem would eventually fade from attention. The lives of people in the Middle East were not part of the calculation, and no one in Washington was willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to protect them.
That political reality meant Ethan would earn less profit.
Fortunately, he had already prepared a solution.
"Stern," Ethan said after a moment, "I'm afraid we may not have any choice but to buy those weapons back."
"What do you mean?" Stern asked cautiously.
Ethan let out a regretful sigh as if he were revealing troubling news. "I've uncovered some additional information," he said. "This mysterious arms tycoon seems to have made contact with certain organizations operating in Afghanistan recently."
Stern's breathing slowed as he listened carefully.
"You know the United States has quite a few military bases stationed there," Ethan continued. "If we just stand by and allow those weapons to fall into the hands of hostile groups, there's a real chance they'll eventually be used against American soldiers."
"And if that ever becomes public knowledge," he added, "who do you think will be blamed?"
Stern immediately understood the danger. "You're right," he said quickly. "We can't ignore something like that and then pretend we aren't responsible later."
Ethan smiled faintly on his side of the phone. "Exactly. That's why I think buying the weapons back is the safest solution."
"But you should prepare yourself," he added calmly. "That arms dealer won't be cheap."
"Don't worry," Stern replied with confidence. "The people involved in this will understand the stakes. They've all been through enough political storms to know what's at risk."
"Good," Ethan said. "Then I'll wait for your good news."
Several days earlier, Ethan had arranged for Natasha Romanoff to travel to Russia under the pretense of a business trip.
He had deliberately assigned a large security detail to accompany her, supposedly to ensure her safety during the visit. In reality, the bodyguards also served as a convenient method of surveillance.
Natasha had done everything she could to shake them.
Despite her considerable skill, she couldn't fully escape their watchful eyes. Still, through careful maneuvering and patience, she eventually managed to locate the person she had come to see.
Her mother.
The address led her to a secluded farm located on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. The property was surrounded by numerous alarm systems and security measures, but to someone with Natasha's training, those defenses were almost laughably simple.
She slipped through the perimeter undetected.
The moment she entered the property, her gaze locked onto a familiar figure standing beside a pigsty.
Melina.
The woman who had once played the role of her mother for three years.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Perhaps it really was the strange bond between mother and daughter, because Melina eventually recognized her before a single word was spoken.
Later, inside the farmhouse, the two women sat across from each other at a small dining table.
Natasha studied the familiar face carefully. "I thought you were dead," she said quietly.
Melina gave a small shrug, as though the matter were trivial. "Well… the truth is that I didn't die."
Natasha's expression tightened. "I cried for you," she said softly.
A complicated emotion flashed through her eyes as old memories resurfaced. "But I could only cry quietly under my blanket at night, because the Red Room doesn't tolerate weakness."
"Anything considered unnecessary is treated as waste," she added bitterly. "And waste gets eliminated."
Melina opened her mouth as if she wanted to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.
"I never imagined you were still alive," she finally said after a moment. "And still working for the Red Room."
Natasha leaned back slightly in her chair.
"Did you ever try to contact us?" she asked. "Even once?"
Melina hesitated again.
Then she inhaled slowly before answering.
"Sometimes when someone disappears from your life suddenly, you don't feel anything at first," she said quietly. "But as time passes, you eventually realize they're gone, and that's when the emptiness finally begins to hurt."
Natasha stared at her intensely. "So you did feel it," she said. "Then why didn't you come find us?"
Pain flickered briefly in Melina's eyes.
"I'm an agent," she replied. "Agents learn how to suppress certain… unnecessary emotions."
Natasha laughed softly, though tears glimmered faintly in her eyes.
"So Ohio was just another mission for you," she said. "My sister and I were just temporary assignments."
"But have you ever considered that those three years were everything to us?"
Melina froze.
For a long time she said nothing.
Finally, her voice grew hoarse.
"What exactly did you come here for today?"
Natasha straightened and met her gaze directly.
"I need your help," she said firmly. "Help me destroy the Red Room, kill Dreykov, and rescue Yelena."
Melina's eyes widened with shock.
After several seconds she slowly shook her head.
"You can't do that, Natasha."
"Dreykov is far too powerful. Even if I helped you, it wouldn't be enough."
Natasha bit her lip as frustration surged through her mind.
"Then tell me why," she insisted. "Maybe I can find people who can help."
Melina gave a bitter smile.
"I designed most of Dreykov's systems," she said quietly. "I understand his strength better than anyone."
"He commands thousands of operatives and influences events across the entire world. Women like us are everywhere, working under his control."
"I'll find a way," Natasha said stubbornly, though uncertainty churned inside her mind.
She believed Clint Barton would help her without hesitation.
But what about S.H.I.E.L.D.?
She honestly didn't know.
If Nick Fury discovered that Dreykov was still alive and the Red Room remained active, how would he react?
Natasha had once claimed she had already eliminated Dreykov during her final mission before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. That lie had allowed her to escape Budapest with Barton after several days of hiding.
If the truth came out now, Fury might question everything about her loyalty.
Even Clint could end up implicated.
For the first time in years, Natasha felt the weight of isolation settle over her shoulders.
After wandering across the world for so long, she realized she might still be completely alone.
Just then, the sound of a doorbell echoed through the farmhouse.
Melina immediately stiffened like a startled cat.
Her reaction was so sharp that Natasha frowned in confusion.
"What's wrong?" Natasha asked cautiously. "Why are you reacting like that?"
Melina's expression darkened.
"I've installed extensive security systems around the entire property," she said slowly. "Not a single alarm has been triggered."
Natasha blinked. "But nothing triggered when I arrived earlier either."
"That's not the problem," Melina replied.
She swallowed once before continuing.
"The problem is that I never installed a doorbell."
Natasha froze.
For a moment neither woman could determine whether the visitor outside was friend or enemy.
After all, no normal person carried a doorbell around with them.
Moving carefully, Natasha approached the door and opened it cautiously.
The moment she saw the person standing outside, she couldn't hide her surprise.
"Boss?"
Ethan Voss stood there smiling casually.
In his right hand he carried a large bouquet of carnations, and with his other hand he casually pulled Natasha along as he stepped into the living room.
Ignoring Melina's suspicious stare, he pushed the flowers directly into her hands before introducing himself politely.
"Hello," he said warmly. "My name is Ethan Voss. I'm Natalie's employer. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I'm extremely grateful that you raised such an outstanding employee for me," he continued with an earnest expression. "I value her greatly. In fact, I worry about her so much that I sometimes dream she might leave my company."
Melina stared at him in bewilderment.
Her gaze shifted slowly between Ethan and Natasha, clearly struggling to understand what was happening.
Natasha forced herself to calm down.
"Mr. Voss followed me here the entire way, didn't he?" she said evenly. "I thought I had already shaken off all those annoying tails."
Ethan gave her an approving thumbs-up.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," he said. "You did an excellent job."
Natasha snorted softly.
"So Mr. Voss came here to help me deal with Dreykov, right?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"Natalie, your ability to adapt to new situations is honestly impressive."
Natasha crossed her arms.
"No one compares to you, Mr. Voss," she replied coldly. "I knew this whole situation was a trap you arranged, yet I still walked straight into it."
Ethan chuckled.
"That's exactly why I like you," he said with a smile. "If you hadn't gotten involved, I would have been very disappointed."
Natasha didn't respond to the teasing.
Instead she looked directly at him.
"Enough games," she said calmly. "Just tell me what brilliant plan you've prepared."
.....
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