The red-robed old woman leading the group sneered.
The other red-robed women around her exchanged mocking looks.
Hearing the instructor's words, Natasha's heart skipped a beat. It felt as if something had lodged in her throat, and even her breathing turned uneven.
She was afraid of death—of course she was.
Yet she still didn't move from in front of Herman. This unexpectedly selfless display from the future Black Widow left Herman slightly surprised.
He hadn't expected it.
So, Natasha had once been kind at heart?
Images of the future Natasha—swift, precise, eliminating her targets without hesitation—flashed through Herman's mind. He couldn't help but sigh. In the end, it was always the environment that shaped a person's character.
Look at her now.
How kind she seems.
Then again, thinking about it, perhaps Natasha's eventual decision to "turn from darkness to light" came from that lingering conscience. Maybe that's why she later betrayed the Red Room and joined S.H.I.E.L.D.
Her missions for S.H.I.E.L.D. made it clear that this woman, born in the Soviet era, truly fought for Earth's peace.
Maybe that was her atonement—for all the years she lived as the Black Widow.
Whatever the case, even with the Black Widow name, Natasha clearly lacked the ruthless mindset that title implied. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for Earth's future, and Nick Fury's trust in leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. in her hands, both proved that she possessed the heart of a true hero.
In some parallel universes, she was even deemed worthy to lift Mjolnir. Only a handful of mortals across the Multiverse could achieve that. Odin's enchantment alone was enough proof that Natasha had the soul of a hero and a leader.
Still, years of spy training had buried those qualities deep. Had her life mirrored Captain America's, she might have become a hero of World War II as well.
And in intellect and strategy, she clearly surpassed Cap. She was a true commander—rarer even than Cap's kind of field leader.
After Nick Fury's death, many were qualified to lead S.H.I.E.L.D., yet Natasha's appointment as Director wasn't due to seniority alone.
In fact, Agent Hill's credentials far exceeded those of someone who spent most of her time on the front lines.
If Natasha had received the same treatment as Cap, she could have accomplished even more. Sometimes fate was simply unfair.
Herman fell into thought. The commotion before him felt meaningless.
"If I'm wrong... if all the Red Room's investment in me can be discarded so easily, then go ahead—pull the trigger."
Natasha's eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn't name.
Her heart was pounding over two hundred beats per minute, her head light and dizzy. Yet the faster her pulse, the sharper her mind became.
The Soviet Union was struggling, its expenses enormous. Natasha was betting that the Red Room wouldn't waste a resource it had invested so heavily in.
Trained to be a killing machine, she had always failed emotional evaluations. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't become the cold-blooded tool the Red Room wanted. Maybe that was why she hadn't been brainwashed like so many of her peers.
She despised the Red Room's cruelty from the bottom of her heart.
Her defiance today wasn't just about pity for an innocent man—it was the eruption of years of buried resistance.
So be it.
Death didn't frighten her anymore.
At least dying as a person was more dignified than dying as a tool.
She repeated that thought over and over in her mind. Her heartbeat and breathing began to steady, as if she had come to terms with life and death in a single moment.
"Number Thirteen," the red-robed leader said softly, "what am I to do with you? You're clever, truly... You're also the most talented trainee I've seen in years."
The old woman didn't pull the trigger. She smiled faintly, her tone laced with admiration—and a hint of regret.
"But that kindness you can never shake off is absolutely what keeps you from becoming the greatest agent. You have potential far superior to ours."
"Why waste your talent like this?" The red-clad old woman leading them looked somewhat envious, but her gaze gradually turned cold and detached.
"I admit... our organization has faced some financial issues recently. But what does that have to do with me? To be honest, I've never particularly liked you."
The red-robed leader tightened her grip on her pistol, her tone icy. The other elderly women around her were clearly her most trusted confidants.
"Don't confuse my personal feelings with the organization's stance. Even as a tool, I have my moments of willfulness..." The red-robed leader gave Natasha one final warning.
"Now, either step aside, or I'll treat you as a defective product. When I return, I'll report that you resisted to the end and that I had to put you down."
The gun in her hand gave off a faint click, as if a bullet could burst from its chamber at any second.
"Go ahead... maybe this will be a kind of release for me." Natasha still didn't move. She knew she couldn't resist several instructors at once, so she simply closed her eyes and whispered softly to Herman behind her.
"See? I told you to run with me, but you wouldn't listen. Now we're both done for." Natasha forced a faint smile, her words laced with helplessness. Beneath it, though, was guilt—remorse for dragging an innocent man into this mess.
"Actually, your instructors are right. To become a great agent, kindness is just a hindrance. Only a foolish agent would cling to it. Your best move now would be to turn around and kill me, then go back with them." Herman's voice came steady and calm from behind her.
"!?"
Natasha froze.
She had imagined countless possible things Herman might say, but not this. Even if she had a thousand chances to guess, she would never have expected this strange man to offer such a suicidal suggestion.
Are you kidding me?!
I'm risking my life to protect you!
And you're calling me foolish for it?
Natasha, who had finally found some calm and accepted her fate, felt her emotions flare up again. Her composure shattered completely.
She suddenly wondered if she shouldn't have stepped forward at all. Maybe she should have let this ungrateful fool—who couldn't even see the situation clearly—get himself killed instead. Wouldn't any normal person feel moved by someone sacrificing themselves for them?
Herman's calm "critique" didn't just frustrate Natasha—it robbed her of even the smallest sense of satisfaction that came with protecting someone at the end of her life.
It was infuriatingly hard for her to accept.
"Are you out of your mind?! Do you even know what's—" Natasha's face twisted with disbelief as she turned, ready to unleash a final round of complaints at Herman before she died.
However—
"Enough! Since you're so determined!"
The red-robed leader's patience snapped. She pulled the trigger without hesitation. The modified firearm in her hands had enough power to punch through multiple bodies.
At that moment, in the eyes of the red-robed women, Herman and Natasha were already cold corpses.
...
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