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Once every thirty days, the Spirit of Vengeance got to make a request to judge any number of sinners. Such was the price for a near-invincible level of power. For that privilege, the Spirit could do more than ask—it could take over and puppet her, turning her into an instrument of divine wrath.
Natasha only had two non-negotiable lines in the contract for this condition.
No targeting the Widows. If the Spirit wanted sinners, it could have anyone except for the Red Room girls.
The second was staying on Earth. The sinners had to be present here. By the Spirit's own words, Hell existed and so did Heaven. There might be other alien worlds out there. The clause would save her the effort of leaving her home planet on the Spirit's whim to explore other worlds.
Until now, these conditions hadn't mattered.
The Spirit hadn't stumbled across a soul rotten enough to push the limits of her patience. To the Spirit, the combined corruption in Norman and prison full of tortured souls was worth upsetting Natasha over.
The instant Natasha felt the Spirit take over, she knew her promise to follow Dante's orders had become meaningless. As a part of their contract, she wasn't even allowed to fight back. If she resisted, the contract's punishment was absolute. Her soul would be annihilated on the spot.
'Make it quick.'
It was the only request she could make to the Spirit, who began judging the mad researchers, saving the evil Norman for last. The Spirit suddenly felt a wave of strange power. Through the Spirit's eyes, Natasha saw Dante surrounded in a dense black aura. The symbiotes recoiled in fear.
She thought she had seen the full extent of his powers on the ship. She hadn't even come close. Looking at him now gave her chills. A cold feeling of dread as if she was looking at her own end.
This power wasn't simple.
Dante used his aura to ensnare the symbiotes, which ticked off the Spirit.
"Bothersome." The Spirit didn't appreciate someone meddling in her business. With the chain, she hurled Hellfire to obstruct Dante. "I don't know who or what you are, but it'll be best for you to stay out of this."
The Spirit gave a warning, which was rare for someone with her temper. Her usual response would've been to burn everything in her path.
An absurd thought flashed through Natasha's mind.
'Is she not confident in defeating him?'
Natasha didn't know the Spirit's true limits. She didn't even know whether her contractor had limits. But if a warning came out of her mouth, then something about Dante made her wary. Perhaps there was a chance he could stop this from turning into indiscriminate slaughter.
The flame in his eyes flickered. "Is Natasha still in there?"
'Yes, I am.'
Of course that voice never reached Dante.
The Spirit answered instead, "She can hear you, but she cannot act. The pact binds her. The sinners must be judged."
"There are innocent people here. You can't just kill them all."
Natasha agreed with him. People deserved a chance at redemption. If someone had decided she was irredeemable years ago, she'd have died in the Red Room. She was the living proof of it.
The Spirit's judgment would just end their lives.
She felt mockery from the Spirit. "The innocent have nothing to fear from my gaze."
"Bullshit."
Natasha would've laughed if she could.
'Yes. Exactly. Bullshit.'
Dante attacked again with a dense wave of death aura. The clash between the bright Hellfire and dark smoke-like flames surprisingly ended in his victory. He still had the spare strength to free the symbiote hosts by ripping out the symbiotes.
He talked to Felicia then fearlessly approached the Spirit like he had complete confidence in his power.
"I don't care who or what you are." He threw her words right back at her face. "Just get the fuck out of here."
Though the Spirit's skull remained impassive, Natasha felt her emotions through the connection formed by their contract. The one that bestowed power upon her.
Awe, fury, and a little bit of curiosity.
The Spirit fixed her gaze on Dante. "You serve the cosmic entity Death."
Natasha had no idea what a cosmic entity meant, but she understood enough to tell they were powerful. Someone having cosmic in their title implied they were extremely vast and important, most likely beyond the human scale. Death might be the source of his power as well the source of his flames and supernatural appearance, which got her the title of his bride.
"I don't serve anyone. Death is my companion."
"Companion," the Spirit repeated. "How... mortal of her."
Judging from the Spirit's tone, Natasha could discern Dante's feat of making a companion out of a cosmic entity was quite impressive.
"Are you stopping this, or do I have to use force?"
That was a confidence bordering on arrogance. It rubbed the wrong way on the prideful Spirit.
"You would threaten judgment itself?"
"I didn't fear death herself. What makes you scarier than her?"
"How audacious." The Spirit chuckled, and Natasha agreed with her for once. "Death doesn't bring the soul-searing agony of Hellfire. I do."
The battle started right there. The first exchange told Natasha everything about the gap in actual combat skill. The Spirit had no sense for combat and techniques—she only knew brute strength. It was precisely why the Spirit rarely tried to take over and let Natasha judge on her behalf.
Dante, on the other hand, moved like a trained martial artist.
"You have skill," the Spirit acknowledged without hesitation. "But skill alone will not save you."
"Are you sure about that?"
Another exchange occurred, and once again Dante came out on top. His counter-attack was a straight right to her ribs, which sent the Spirit skidding backwards.
"Amazing," the Spirit complimented him again, becoming more and more impressed. "How did Romanoff not know about your martial skills?"
"She knows nothing about me."
Natasha felt that one in her chest. It was aimed straight at her competence. She had no choice but to accept it. Nothing in the official records matched the man before her. Even SHIELD couldn't find out why a depressed intel broker suddenly grew powerful and involved himself in the mutants' business.
"Yet you know about her past in the Red Room," the Spirit mused. "You would make for a brilliant host. Alas… you have no drive for vengeance."
The offer stung more than Natasha wanted to admit. To the Spirit, Natasha was the "best vessel" for the insatiable vengeance she had for the people controlling the Red Room.
However, Dante was the opposite. He seemed aware of the darkness of the world, yet acted like it didn't exist. A man who acted on his heart.
"I don't need vengeance, or you."
'Nobody needs them.'
An ordinary, boring life was worth more than divine power if the price was losing yourself.
The Spirit chuckled. "Show me then. The power of Death's companion."
The third round was brutal. It was also the most tense. The Spirit lost her head at Dante's hands. As a result, the world went dark for a few moments until the Spirit regenerated.
'He isn't holding back.'
She was grateful he wasn't pulling punches and giving everything to stop the Spirit. But also sad at the same time. It was still her body being shattered and remade.
"Impressive."
The Spirit didn't share Natasha's mixed feelings. If anything, the Spirit grew more and more fascinated with Dante, to the point she had forgotten her initial goal of judging the sinners.
"If you're so impressed, why don't you get the hell out of Natasha?"
Natasha's thoughts crashed right there.
'Did he just…'
Was he doing this for her?
That didn't seem right. He wanted the fastest solution. Getting the Spirit out of her body was the fastest way to end this conflict. But… maybe there was more to it. Maybe he wanted to help her. After all, they had fought together and even cooperated—things that made people connect.
She couldn't reach a neat conclusion as most of what the Red Room had taught her didn't apply to him.
"I cannot do that. Norman Osborn and all these prisoners will be judged for all their sins."
"I can give you that guy. But can you spare the rest?"
The Spirit refused to back down. Why would she compromise for one man when she could judge every evil soul here?
Dante's flaming eyes blazed. "Then I'll just beat you until you accept it."
'Please do,' Natasha thought. 'Beat up this stupid Spirit until she lets go of my body.'
The next exchange brightened her flames of hope. He used a striking technique that the Spirit couldn't defend despite her best efforts. Her bones shattered with cracks that made her want to sob. She wasn't feeling pain, but feeling her body break down wasn't a pleasant experience.
"You fight so well," the Spirit continued to praise him. "Yet SHIELD has never heard about you. Which Hell did you crawl out of?"
Natasha wanted to know too.
"The ashes of a dead universe," he said with a click of his tongue. Maybe serious, maybe joking, only he knew. "Listen, I'm a sucker for compliments, but there has to be a limit."
"That is a valid point. I should finish this quickly and cast my judgment on these sinners."
The Spirit started to take the battle seriously.
The result was ugly.
The Spirit got completely outclassed and shoved into a prison cell, every bone broken down into a pile of ashes.
'Fury thinks he can control him.'
The Director couldn't tolerate not having a leash on something this powerful. Laying hands on such a powerful man wouldn't end well for anyone in SHIELD. Not even the Nimrod Sentinels could stop him since his powers weren't based on mutants.
She had to stop Fury from trying anything reckless.
'It's not over yet.'
However, that would come after Dante survived the Spirit's wrath.
"That actually hurt," the Spirit said, sounding almost pleased. "I haven't taken anything like that in my entire life."
Dante stood there, staring at the Spirit regenerate like nothing had happened. That wasn't the profile of a triumph victor. If anything, he seemed to be in despair after realizing the Spirit's unlimited regeneration.
He could break her, but she would just come back. Again and again. Until Dante ran out of fuel.
Anyone would despair in such circumstances.
The Spirit initiated another attack. Dante moved forward rather than retreating, grabbing her by the skull and lifted her in the air. The Hellfire burned his hand, yet his flesh regenerated just as fast.
"What are you trying?" the Spirit demanded to know.
For the first time, Natasha heard uncertainty in it. She knew exactly why that was. Dante was trying something reckless to stop this battle.
"Mystical energy!" The Spirit gasped. "No, you cannot use sorcery on us."
'Sorcery?'
Her mind jumped to the teleportation he had used to bring them here. His way to end the battle was to bring them away from the sinners.
He opened his eyes, gazing into her burning eyes with his own. "Let's visit Heaven. Together."
The world changed in an instant. The color flooded everything, violent and beautiful. Glittering skies and colorful galaxies swirled around them.
And she understood one thing immediately. Wherever they were going… it was very, very far from Oscorp Island.
The answer soon revealed itself.
The first thing Natasha noticed was the smell of damp earth and clean air. They were in a forest. A mountain forest. The slope angled upward behind them and the terrain was littered with boulders the size of cars half-buried in roots. To her right, the land fell away into a valley.
And in the distance, visible through gaps in the branches, a city rose against the horizon.
A sprawling golden city with towers and spires reaching the sky. The architecture was vast and futuristic, yet had a ceremonial aesthetic to them. She even saw structures floating on their own.
It looked like something out of myth. Although quite different from Heaven in her mind, the city could easily pass as some version of Heaven.
"Asgard," the Spirit whispered the name under her breath. The feeling Natasha felt from her was that of contempt and disgust. "You brought me to Odin's little realm."
Dante brushed his chest, casting away the golden glow on his body, and laughed. The laugh of a victor.
***
Meanwhile—
"Dante!" Felicia's voice cracked as she screamed his name. She sprinted toward the prison cell where Dante had vanished.
Nothing.
She pressed her hands against the cracked wall where Natasha had slammed into moments before, as if touch could somehow tell her where he'd gone.
He had teleported away with that terrifying woman—no, not woman. Natasha's body was inhabited by a supernatural being, the being who provided her power.
The fight she'd just witnessed... it was something she never thought she would see outside of a fever dream.
And even with all that, he hadn't been able to hurt his opponent.
So he'd done the only thing he could.
He had taken her somewhere else to give her a chance to find her father amidst these symbiotes.
She forced herself to breathe deeply and forced the spiral of worry down—she could deal with emotions later. He had given her an opportunity. She couldn't let it go to waste.
"Laura," Felicia said in a steady voice. "Help me find someone in this."
All the symbiotes were stripped away already, leaving only humans. Hundreds of humans.
Laura retracted her claws and tilted her head slightly. "Who?"
Felicia rattled off Walter's features quickly. Laura absorbed it all silently, processing.
Only when Felicia finished did she speak again.
"Will he…" Laura hesitated, looking at the empty space where he had disappeared, as if she couldn't help it. "...be alright?"
Something softened in Felicia's chest despite all the worries. She forced a smile and patted Laura's shoulder. "He's a lot tougher than you think. And he isn't alone."
Whatever "Heaven" he had dragged the Spirit to, Death wouldn't let him die there. Felicia was certain of that much.
She didn't worry about him dying.
But the damage he would take was another story.
After all, he couldn't abuse his powers endlessly. There was a mental limit, where exhaustion led to nosebleeds and possibly worse consequences. He had collapsed for seventeen hours when using Death's powers, or so Silvija had told her.
Laura nodded slowly, accepting the answer. Perhaps witnessing that battle finally humbled Laura into seeing him clearly, that he didn't need to scheme to get what he wanted. He had no ulterior motives for her.
Now she wouldn't doubt his intentions or suspect ulterior motives as he could achieve feats like that on his own.
Felicia glanced back one more time at the empty space. Then she forced herself to move, following Laura towards the unconscious group of people.
Felicia felt Norman's gaze like a crawling thing. In any other moment, he would've made it a show. He would've twisted the knife and used it to humiliate her.
But it didn't come.
Norman had gone quiet after witnessing the battle.
As if the fight had stolen something from him.
He was no longer arrogant.
Only now did it seem to be sinking into him that Skullfire wasn't his opponent.
Skullfire wasn't even playing the same game.
For people at that level… Norman Osborn was an insect. A clever insect with toys, sure, but still something that could be crushed underfoot the moment it became inconvenient.
If she had wanted to humiliate him, now was the best chance. Unfortunately, she wasn't in the mood to gloat or joke around either. Neither of them.
She took out her encrypted device and sent a comm to Silvija. Norman knew everything so they might as well bring these people out and hand them over to the authorities.
'She is probably sleeping.'
Felicia rubbed the back of her head. "How long do I have to wait here?"
***
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