The plan was good. Great even. Not perfect, but it made sense and was their only option. From the photostatic veils and switching places, to filling Yelena on everything through earpieces. Natasha knew it could work. It had to. She didn't even want to think what would happen if it didn't.

The one and only difficulty on her side was Katya. There wasn't much they could do about her. With Dreykov finding out she's alive he would be cautious. So they had to be too, and could only hope he wouldn't hurt her. Because he wouldn't break his long lost and found toy. Something he worked on so hard, something that was supposed to be perfect. Even revenge for taking it away, for stealing her, wouldn't make him hurt her.

It wouldn't.

It wouldn't, right?

Keeping the act when facing the man that cheated Natasha out of her life was a challenge. To focus on the mission, on the main reason she came all this way, while her mind kept suggesting to her the worst possible endings, the darkest scenarios. Maybe they were already frying Katya's brain, trying to take away everything she was. Maybe she has already forgotten her. Maybe she was already nothing more but an empty shell. Maybe her daughter was gone, only a weapon left in her place.

She never should've agreed to that. How could've she been so stupid?

All her life Natasha thought that the hatred and loathing she had for General Dreykov couldn't get any stronger. That it was not humanly possible to abhor someone even more, as she already did despite that man with every cell of her being. And yet there it was.

"When you look into the eyes of a child you have raised, no mask can hide that."

She couldn't help but catch his hand before his pudgy fingers reached for her temple, but knowing she wouldn't achieve anything that way, she let go and let him turn the veil off and then take it off her face.

"Welcome home." Dreykov greeted and Natasha had to stifle the urge to spit in his face. She had to be better than this.

She stood up and Taskmaster, who stood still in the back so far, immediately drew a weapon. The man raised his hand in a silent command. "Now, now. Don't go breaking my new toy."

"What was my mother's name?" Natasha asked, looking him dead in the eye.

"Where we buried her, there was a tree. A pink blossom. Beautiful." Romanoff wanted to scoff at his stalling. She wasn't sure yet what the exact purpose of it was, but it was clear. "And there was a tombstone, with her name engraved on it. What was her name?" he let out a dry chuckle. "Unknown."

Natasha shook her head. "You don't feel anything? You feel anything when I killed your daughter?"

"Is this your haunted past?" Dreykov laughed. "Thank you, Natasha." he walked around the desk and approached Taskmaster. "You gave me my greatest weapon. Say hello."

From the moment the helmet was off, every other word he said, sounded like it was reaching her from afar. Clouded, blurry, unclear.

"When your bomb exploded, it nearly killed my Antonia. I had to put a chip in the back of her neck. Look at her." the man ordered. "You find it difficult to look at her? I do. And it's all your fault. Because you stole from me. You made me redo what could've been my greatest project. Shall we check how much you ruined it?" he came back to his desk and made a few taps on it.

A door behind Antonia opened, almost soundless and hidden so perfectly that Natasha didn't notice it earlier. "A daughter for a daughter. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"

The footsteps were the only sound in the room. Light, but steady, their rhythm even. Too even. Robotic almost. And there she was. Just like when they saw each other last time. Still dressed in the catsuit Mason organized for her. Her short, white hair still in the two braids Natasha did in that motel in Budapest. But her face... The light behind her eyes was completely stifled, making them seem darker. There was no trace of emotion on her face, just an empty stare fixed on a point somewhere in the distance. Her back was straight, arms on her sides, not completely loose but also not standing at attention.

Natasha scanned her daughter's face. It was so uncanny to look at her, just a few steps of distance between them, and at the same time to know that Katya wasn't there.

"You don't seem surprised." Dreykov cocked his head slightly, watching Romanoff. "So you found out the truth? It's a shame I'll have to punish Melina for that." he clicked his tongue. "Yes, you and Soldat, it was a perfect match, in many ways."

He crossed the room and stopped between Taskmaster and Katya. He put his arm on his daughter's shoulder. "My Antonia, she's my greatest weapon. But that was never supposed to be her role. Yet you tied my hands, left me no choice." the man glanced at Natasha who was forcing herself to look away from the shadow resembling her daughter.

"I couldn't leave this project unfinished, there was too much potential. But Hydra backed down, took their scoundrel with them after you messed with him. I couldn't start from scratch, so someone had to take her place." his eyes moved to Katya. "She... She would've been perfect. She was born for it. Designed from the very first cell of her being. She was never supposed to be a child. Something weak, so fragile. How you ruined something so beautiful, I will never understand."

"Don't touch her, you-" Natasha snapped when he raised his hand to caress the girl's cheek with one finger.

"Ah, ah, ah," Dreykov warned. "You see, I've heard how attached you're to her. To Katya, was it? Ironic, the name choice. I had to be prepared. Povernis" he ordered and Katya turned around, like a remote-controlled toy. Natasha gasped quietly. There was something attached to her neck, with drops of already dried blood around it. "This? This is my backup. All it takes is your one wrong move, one word too much from your mouth and she'll be dead. One tap is enough to lacerate her spinal cord. Although I think it would be only fair to blast half of her face off first, to get even." the man clicked his tongue, glancing at Antonia. "But enough of this bullshit. Go to work, I have rats in the basement."

The helmet once again covered the Taskmaster's head and she left hurried by Dreykov.

"Didn't you hear a word a just said?" If he heard Natasha pull out her gun, while facing away from her, he didn't even flinch. The man slowly turned back to her, slight amusement playing on his face. "I thought you care about her." he gestured at Katya. "But, please, be my guest."

Confusion washed over Natasha when her finger trembled on the trigger. "Oh, it's the safety on?" Dreykov mocked and with ease took the gun out of her fingers. He looked at both sides of the weapon before shooting at the ceiling. "You know, I should kill her simply for you trying. But I've got a better idea."

He crossed the room and stopped in front of Katya. Holding her chin, he tilted her head back, then to one side and the other. He observed her and judged, from every angle there was. Like a child picking out a new toy. "Her programming was never finished, so it's very likely it's unstable. There may be some... side effects to activating it. But why don't we give it a try, hm? I'm wondering if she takes after Soldat." he took a step back, with a sardonic smile on his face.

"You will burn, and you will burn out." he began. For the first time since Katya entered the room, something shifted on her face. Her eyelids fluttered. "You will be healed and come back again.*" her left hand twitched, eyes squeezed shut. Then she exhaled loudly, eyelids went up. Her posture changed. She lifted her chin slightly, her legs moved as her stance widened. Her shoulders squared, head moved slightly like she wanted to crack her neck. It reminded Natasha of seeing someone wake up, trying to get the stiff muscles to move. But then she went still.

"Ya gotova otvechat'" she announced, her voice harsh but plain. Breath hitched in Natasha's throat. Her words echoed in the back of Natasha's head, said in James' voice. She wished for so long to never see him like that ever again. Yet she never thought she would see Katya in this role instead.

"Incredible." Dreykov assessed. "Spitting image of her papa, don't you think?" his voice was dripping with mockery. "But don't worry, she won't move unless ordered to." he sat behind his desk.

"What was the last time you had a conversation with someone who wasn't forced to talk to you?" Natasha asked, forcing herself to look away from Katya. Technically, the girl was safe. All Romanoff had to do to keep it that way was to play her cards right.

"You ran away to fight the wrong war. The real war was fought here, in the shadows."

"You didn't fight in the shadows. You hid in the dark."

"Real power comes from undetectable influence."

"If no one's noticed, then why even do it?" she inquired, leaning over his desk, her hands propped on its edge. "You're nothing. You have nothing."

"There are fifty people on this planet..."

Natasha interrupted with a scoff. "Oh, stop it."

"Don't tell me to stop!" Dreykov raised up from his chair rapidly. Thanks to his reaction, Romanoff realized how easy to affect his ego was.

"If I don't tell you to stop, then how will you know how to shut up?" she let out a groan, followed by a chuckle when the man swung and hit her for the first time. "Come on, you think I can't take a punch?"

Another hit. She stumbled and saw Katya out of the corner of her eye. The girl didn't twitch, her whole body was still. Like a mannequin. "God damn it, you're weak." Natasha mocked, looking back at Dreykov. "I bet it's easier to be tough in front of defenseless little girls, huh?"

The third punch was followed by a kick. Natasha spit out some blood between the hits. "You wouldn't be so glib if you had any notion of the scope of what I've built. I own this world."

"You seem desperate to impress me." Romanoff regained her balance and stood up.

"I don't need to impress anyone." he pushed a chair back and pulled out a hidden compartment of his desk. "These world leaders, these great men, they answer to me and my widows." after he slid his ring over the console, a holographic display showed. "Look at them. These girls were trash. They are thrown out into the street. I recycle the trash and I give them purpose. I gave them a life."

White dots started flickering all over the displayed world map, followed by photographs of hundreds of little girls. Natasha came closer.

"It's my network of widows that helps me control the scales of power." Dreykov continued his speech. "One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command and a quarter of the world will starve. My widows can start and end wars. They can make and break kings."

"You control all of that from here?" Natasha asked. She felt she was close. Just a little bit more.

"And with you, an Avenger under my control and with what was rightfully mine, back where she belongs," he gestured to Katya who still resembled a sculpture. "I can finally come out of the shadows, using the only natural resource that the world has too much of. Girls."

"All from that little console?" Natasha couldn't suppress a triumphant smile anymore as she turned to face Dreykov.

"Oh, you find this amusing?"

The easiest way to make someone talk is to give them a feeling of an upper hand. Of being above. Fooling them into a big villain speech, one that usually contains their biggest secrets. Doesn't matter if they're an Asgardian demigod, a high-ranked member of an organized crime group, or a leader of the biggest child trafficking organization in the world. They're all the same. Full of themselves with a fragile ego that needs just a little bit of flattering.

"Don't take it personal, but... Thank you for your cooperation."

Dreykov's expression fell for a split second but he quickly repaired his mistake.

"You weren't quite strong enough, so I guess I'll have to finish it myself." Natasha looked around his desk.

The man let out a dry chuckle "What are you going to do?"

Without hesitation, Romanoff slammed her head down on the desk, where she left a drop of blood. The thud was accompanied by a crack. "Sever the nerve."

Injuring her nose in any way was usually followed by a wave of dull, pulsing pain, but this time it wasn't even bothering her, quickly forgotten and pushed back to the back of her head. She had more important things to take care of than a broken nose. Just before she threw the first punch, Dreykov had enough time to slam his hand on the tablet before falling backward on the impact of Natasha's hit.

She had one goal. Don't let him talk. Don't let him order Katya to do anything. He will never again hurt her. He will never hurt anyone again. The chance to beat him, kick him, send blow after blow somehow felt freeing.

"Not so talkative now, are you?" Romanoff mocked, before ruining his efforts to stand up with another kick. He hit the desk before tumbling to the floor. "You took my childhood. You took my choices and tried to break me." Another hit, aimed at his stomach. "You took my daughter. And you're never gonna do that to anybody ever again."

Natasha screamed when she was suddenly pulled back. Dreykov stood up and closed the console hidden in his desk. "Nobody leaves this room until she's dead." he addressed the group of Widows that entered. He stopped just before the threshold "Vdova." Katya's head moved in his direction. "Finish her if they fail. Make her suffer."

translations:
"povernis" - turn around
"Ya gotova otvechat" - I'm ready to comply

*"You will burn, and you will burn out. You will be healed and come back again." - quote from "The Brothers Karamazov" by Fyodor Dostoevsky