X. Emris

The night air in Sokovia was thick with smoke and the metallic scent of spent ammunition. Perched on a crumbling rooftop, I had the perfect vantage point of the chaos below. The Avengers were tearing through the Hydra forces like wolves in a henhouse—Steve Rogers leading the charge with his shield flashing under the dim lights, Natasha weaving between soldiers with her batons sparking, Tony soaring overhead, the Hulk smashing everything in his path, Clint's arrows flying through the air, and Thor swinging his hammer blasting through Hydra's makeshift defenses.

It was almost impressive.

But I wasn't here to admire the show. I had a mission of my own.

Slipping from the rooftop, I landed soundlessly on a staircase, my dark clothing melting into the shadows. The Hydra compound loomed ahead, a monolith of reinforced concrete and steel fencing, its insignia barely visible in the flickering emergency lights. While the Avengers were keeping the grunts occupied outside, I'd take the direct approach.

Two guards stood by the back entrance, rifles in hand, their expressions tense. I didn't give them time to react. With a flick of my wrist, I sent a throwing knife spiraling into the first man's throat. He gargled, clutching at the handle as he crumpled to his knees. The second barely had time to raise his weapon before I closed the distance, twisting his arm until the bone snapped like dry wood. His scream never left his lips—I slit his throat before it could.

Slipping inside, I moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors. Alarms blared in the distance, but they weren't for me. The Avengers were keeping them busy. I moved like a phantom, dispatching any unfortunate soul who crossed my path. One man rounded the corner ahead of me, raising his gun. I slammed his head into the wall, feeling the sickening crunch of his skull fracturing. Another rushed me with a knife—I let him get close before catching his wrist and forcing the blade into his gut. He gasped, eyes wide with betrayal as his knees gave out. I left him to bleed.

I wasn't here for the common soldiers. I had bigger prey to catch.

The hallway ahead led to a reinforced door, the kind only opened for people with the right clearance. I smirked. Lucky for me, the dead man at my feet had just the right kind of hand. Dragging his limp body over, I pressed his palm against the scanner. The door unlocked with a hiss.

Inside, Baron Wolfgang von Strucker sat behind his desk, unimpressed. He looked exactly as I remembered—calm, collected, and entirely too smug for a man whose empire was crumbling.

"The Serpent," he greeted me, folding his hands on the desk. "I was wondering when you would come slithering in."

I tilted my head, smirking as I approached. "And yet, you didn't run."

"Why would I?" Strucker gestured to the monitors behind him. The feeds showed Hydra agents still battling the Avengers outside. "You have bigger threats to concern yourself with than an old man."

I leaned against his desk, meeting his gaze with a cold smile. "I'm not here for you, Strucker."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Then why are you here?"

I straightened, rolling my shoulders. "I want to see the twins."

His expression barely flickered, but I caught it—the slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle tensing of his fingers. He wasn't expecting that.

"They are not yours to claim," he said finally. "They belong to Hydra."

I laughed, low and sharp. "So did the Winter Soldier. And look how well that turned out."

Strucker's jaw tightened. "You can't control them."

"Maybe not," I admitted. "But I can offer them something you can't. Besides, I don't want to control them."

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. Then, finally, Strucker leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Very well," he said. "Follow me."

As I followed him down the corridor, the sounds of battle outside grew distant. Hydra was losing. The Avengers were relentless. But for now, my focus was on something far more interesting.

It was time to meet the twins.

Strucker led me through a series of winding corridors, the sterile glow of overhead lights casting long, angular shadows along the walls. The deeper we went, the quieter it became, insulated from the battle raging outside. It was almost eerie, the way the distant gunfire and explosions faded into a low hum, like an afterthought.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridor, Strucker began to speak. "The twins are special. Volunteers, but not by choice. They lost everything when a Stark missile destroyed their home, their family. For two days, they lay in the rubble, staring at an unexploded shell with Tony Stark's name on it. That hatred drove them here—to us."

He stopped in front of a reinforced door and pressed his hand against the scanner. "The girl, Wanda—she has abilities beyond comprehension. She can manipulate minds, see into the fears of her enemies, and bend reality to an extent we still struggle to measure." He turned slightly toward me, his expression one of calculated pride. "The boy, Pietro—he moves faster than the eye can track. A living bullet, too fast for anyone to stop."

The door unlocked, and Strucker looked at me once more. "Do not underestimate them."

I smirked. "I don't underestimate anyone."

Strucker pressed a key into the control panel, and the lock disengaged with a soft hiss. He pushed the door open, gesturing for me to enter first.

Inside, the room was surprisingly bare. A single metal table sat in the center, two chairs positioned on either side. Against the far wall, a pair of cots were neatly arranged, though neither looked used. And in the middle of it all stood them.

The Maximoff twins.

Pietro leaned against the table, arms crossed, silver hair slightly disheveled as if he'd been pacing only moments before. Wanda stood beside him, her crimson coat unbuttoned, dark eyes assessing me with wary curiosity. I could tell they had been waiting, though they weren't sure for what.

Strucker stepped inside behind me, clasping his hands together. "Children," he said smoothly. "I believe you are already familiar with the Serpent."

"Familiar? No," Pietro said, tilting his head. "But we've heard stories."

I smirked, taking a step closer. "Only good ones, I hope."

Wanda's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she didn't speak. Pietro, on the other hand, snorted. "Depends on who you ask."

I let my gaze drift between the two of them, studying the way they stood together. A united front. Protective. Defensive. They had spent most of their lives relying on only each other, and it showed.

"I wanted to meet you both," I said simply. "To see if the rumors were true."

Wanda finally spoke, voice softer than I expected. "And?"

I let a slow smile spread across my lips. "They don't do you justice."

Pietro arched a brow. "And why would you care?"

I shrugged. "Because I'm like you."

Silence stretched between us for a moment, the weight of my words settling in the space between us. Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly, searching for deception. I let her look—I had nothing to hide.

Strucker, ever the impatient man, exhaled sharply. "The Serpent is here because she understands what it means to have power beyond human comprehension." He turned to me, expectant. "Show them."

I glanced at him, then back at the twins. If they wanted proof, I'd give it to them.

With a mere thought, the air around us shifted. A flicker, barely noticeable at first, like the shimmer of heat on pavement. Pietro stiffened, and Wanda's eyes darkened as she felt it—a subtle, creeping sensation along the edges of the mind, as if reality itself had momentarily blurred. The room seemed to pulse, the walls bending inward for a fraction of a second before snapping back into place.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Pietro blinked rapidly, shaking his head. "What was that?"

"A taste," I said. "Of what I can do."

Wanda was quiet, thoughtful. Then, slowly, she nodded. "You weren't lying."

"No," I said, tilting my head. "I rarely do."

Before the conversation could continue, the intercom on the wall crackled to life. A Hydra soldier's panicked voice rang through the speaker. "Sir! The Avengers have breached the lower level! Tony Stark is inside the compound!"

Strucker swore under his breath, turning sharply to the panel. He pressed a button, barking orders in German before spinning back to us. "We are out of time. You stay here."

Pietro straightened, his expression shifting from curiosity to determination. "No. We can help."

Strucker shot him a sharp look. "No, you will not."

Pietro and Wanda exchanged a glance, but I could already see the decision forming in their eyes.

I smirked. "They're not very good at taking orders, are they?"

Strucker glared at me before pointing a firm finger at the twins. "You will stay here."

Pietro rolled his eyes, and Wanda sighed. But they didn't argue. Not aloud, anyway.

Strucker turned to me, lowering his voice. "I need you to help hold them off."

I raised a brow, crossing my arms. "What, and fight the Avengers for you? You must be really desperate."

Strucker's jaw clenched. "I am simply asking you to do what you were trained for."

I chuckled. "I was trained to do a lot of things. Cleaning up your messes wasn't one of them."

Strucker looked ready to snap at me when, suddenly, an alarm blared through the compound.

We both turned to the twins.

They were gone.

Strucker slammed his fist onto the desk, cursing under his breath. "Damn it."

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head with a smirk. "I like them."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The compound was a maze of dimly lit corridors and flickering emergency lights, the distant echoes of gunfire and shouting filtering through the walls. Hydra was losing. It was only a matter of time before the Avengers tore through the last of their defenses and claimed their prize.

I moved swiftly, avoiding unnecessary encounters. My mission was done—well the side mission I created for myself. I had met the twins, confirmed their abilities, and knew they weren't the mindless soldiers Hydra wanted them to be. Now, it was time to disappear before I overstayed my welcome.

Or so I thought.

"Alright, who let the snake slither in?"

The voice was unmistakable, dripping with that arrogant, teasing charm. I turned the corner and found myself face-to-face with Tony Stark, his repulsors primed and glowing faintly in the dim light. His armor was scratched from battle, but he still held himself with that effortless confidence, as if he hadn't just fought his way through an entire army of Hydra goons.

I rolled my eyes. "You followed me all the way to Sokovia, Stark? I'm flattered."

He smirked. "Nah, kid, you followed us. You really gotta work on your stalker tendencies. It's getting creepy."

I crossed my arms, matching his smirk. "Please, you wish I was stalking you. You'd be so lucky."

He let out a short laugh, lowering his repulsors just slightly. "Okay, I'll admit it—I'm starting to like you. You've got that whole 'mysterious villain' thing going on. Very edgy."

"Great," I drawled. "Power down Tin Man."

Tony tilted his head, his expression shifting ever so slightly. Less amused, more... curious. "Seriously, kid. What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "Sightseeing."

He gave me a look. "You followed us all the way to a war zone for a tour?"

I stayed silent. He wasn't an idiot, and I wasn't about to start explaining myself.

Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Listen, I don't know who's got you on a leash, but I've seen enough mind-controlled people to last a lifetime. I can help you."

I hesitated. Just for a second. The idea of being free, of not having to answer to Dragunov or Hydra or anyone else—it was tempting.

But it was also impossible.

Tony caught the pause and pressed on. "I've got resources, I've got tech, and I've got a serious soft spot for strays. You don't have to keep playing their game."

I shook my head, pushing down whatever brief hope had flickered in my chest. "You don't get it, Stark. Some chains don't break."

His jaw tightened. "They do if you have the right tools."

I took a step back. "Then you better start shopping, because this one isn't coming off."

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us moving. Tony Stark, the genius billionaire who had somehow managed to look at me and see something worth saving. And me, the girl who had long since stopped believing in escape.

Then I turned on my heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Tony standing there with nothing but unanswered questions and a war still waiting to be won.

The cold Sokovian night pressed in around me as I slipped out of the Hydra compound, my mind an unrelenting storm of thoughts. The distant sounds of battle had died down, replaced by the eerie stillness of a mission completed. The Avengers had what they came for. Hydra was falling. And yet, I remained standing in the wreckage, caught in the limbo between what I had always known and the fleeting whisper of another path.

Tony Stark's words lingered in my head, irritating as a splinter I couldn't dig out.

"I can help you, kid."

Help me? The idea was laughable. I didn't need help. I didn't need saving. I had survived the Black Lotus since I was five years old. I had endured training that would break most men. I had killed without hesitation, without remorse. It was my nature. It was what I had been made into. And yet...

For the first time in years, something in me hesitated.

I moved through the rubble, the remnants of the Hydra stronghold crumbling under my feet. My body acted on instinct, slipping into the shadows, avoiding the sporadic patrols of what remained of Hydra's forces. But my mind refused to obey. My thoughts spun wildly, circling the same impossible notion.

Could I get out?

No. The answer came swift and brutal, a blade cutting through the fragile thread of uncertainty. Dragunov would never allow it. The Black Lotus would never allow it. I wasn't just an asset—I was theirs. If I tried to leave, they would drag me back kicking and screaming, or they would put a bullet in my head. Either way, freedom wasn't an option.

But what if it was?

Tony had said it like it was so simple. As if I wasn't tangled in a web that had been spun around me for nearly two decades. As if I could just decide one day to walk away. He didn't understand. He couldn't. No one could.

I continued to wonder the battlefield, stopping for a moment to think. I leaned against a broken pillar, exhaling slowly. My hands trembled. I clenched them into fists, forcing the weakness away. I wasn't weak. I wasn't fragile. I was the Serpent, and the Serpent didn't waver.

But the war inside me wouldn't quiet.

If I left, what would I even be? The Black Lotus had taken everything from me—my childhood, my freedom, my choices. They had built me from the ground up, filling me with purpose. Without them, without Dragunov's orders, without a mission... what was left?

Emris didn't exist outside of the Black Lotus.

The thought made my stomach twist, a sharp pang of something dangerously close to grief. There had been a time, long ago, when I wasn't just a weapon. I barely remembered it, flashes of color and laughter buried beneath years of blood and orders. A part of me, deep and buried, ached for it. For something I could never have again.

Tony's voice echoed in my head.

"You're not a machine. You have a choice."

But did I? Really?

I let my head fall back against the cold concrete, squeezing my eyes shut. This was dangerous. Thinking like this was dangerous. It was the kind of thinking that got people killed. Dragunov had always been clear—loyalty was survival. Hesitation was death.

And I had never hesitated before.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had been fooling myself. There was no way out. The Black Lotus would hunt me to the ends of the earth if I defected. I would never stop running. And even if the Avengers could keep me safe, what would I do with that freedom? What life could I possibly have? Did they think I could just slip into society, get an apartment, find a job? Maybe go to therapy and unpack nearly two decades of trauma?

No. That wasn't my reality. My reality was missions and orders. It was blood on my hands and bodies at my feet. That was all I knew. That was all I would ever be.

I took a deep breath and pushed all doubt aside. This was weakness, and I refused to be weak. The Black Lotus was my home. Dragunov was my master. The mission was my purpose. And that was all there was to it.

I rose to my feet, shoving every doubt, every hesitation deep into the void where they belonged. I had a mission, and I would complete it. I would find the Winter Soldier. I would bring him back. And I would silence this pathetic flicker of doubt before it turned into something dangerous.

I moved swiftly through the battlefield, slipping into the shadows where the flickering lights didn't quite reach. My plan was simple—find an exit, get out unnoticed, and disappear into the night. But, as always, things didn't go according to plan.

I turned a corner around a tree and immediately halted.

Steve Rogers stood at least 10 feet away from me in the snow.

His shield was strapped to his arm, his suit slightly torn from the fight outside. His sharp blue eyes locked onto me the moment I appeared, and his expression hardened with suspicion and something else—surprise.

"You," he said, voice laced with confusion and irritation.

I exhaled sharply, already annoyed. "Oh, fantastic. Just who I wanted to see."

I took a step back, already planning my next move, but Steve wasn't having it. He shifted, subtly blocking my exit. His stance was rigid, like he expected me to attack him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "Taking a leisurely tour. Thought I'd admire the depressing architecture. What does it look like, Rogers?"

He wasn't amused. His jaw clenched, his expression darkening. "Are you working with Hydra?"

I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. "None of your business, Stars and Stripes"

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

He took a step closer, his shoulders squared. "If you're involved in any way with Hydra, you make it my business."

I scoffed, folding my arms. "Look at you. All righteous and noble. Always the perfect soldier, huh?"

Steve exhaled sharply, like he was trying to rein in his temper. "This isn't a joke."

"Of course not," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing ever is with you."

His patience was wearing thin—I could see it in the way his grip tightened on his shield. "Why are you here, Emris?"

I hesitated for just a second, then shrugged. "I wanted to meet the twins."

He frowned. "The twins?"

"Pietro and Wanda Maximoff."

Something in his expression shifted, a flicker of understanding. "You mean the two victims Hydra experimented on?"

I tilted my head. "I wouldn't call them victims. They made their choice."

Steve's lips pressed into a thin line. "You're defending them?"

"I'm saying not everything is as black and white as you make it out to be." I took a step closer, smirking. "You always act like you're above everyone, like you know what's best. But you don't, Rogers."

His eyes darkened. "And you do?"

"I know more than you think."

Steve stared at me for a long moment, and then, quietly, he asked, "Do you know where he is?"

The shift in his voice—the weight behind those words—made me pause. I knew exactly who he was talking about. I shouldn't have brought him up, but I couldn't help myself.

"You mean the Winter Soldier?" I asked, feigning innocence.

Steve's eyes sharpened. His whole posture tensed, like he was bracing for a blow. "You do know something."

I smiled, tilting my head. "Maybe." I don't know a damn thing about his whereabouts but I like seeing America's golden boy get angry.

His hands curled into fists. "Tell me."

I pretended to consider it. "No."

Steve moved then—fast. But I was faster. He swung out with his shield, and I dodged, spinning away before he could strike. He followed, bringing his weight into the fight, aiming to pin me down.

I ducked under his next move, sweeping my leg out and knocking him off balance. He stumbled back but recovered quickly, lifting his shield defensively. I smirked.

"You really want to do this, Rogers?"

He didn't answer. He lunged again, this time leading with his shield. I sidestepped, driving my elbow into his ribs before twisting away. He barely reacted—super soldier durability and all that. He turned sharply, throwing a punch, but I caught his wrist and used his momentum against him, twisting him around and slamming him into the ground.

His back hit the concrete with a thud, and I pressed my forearm against his throat, pinning him in place. His breath was heavy, his muscles tensed as he fought against my hold, but I didn't let up.

"You should be grateful," I murmured. "I could do worse."

Steve's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with defiance.

I smirked. "I could send you spiraling again. Put you in another illusion, make you feel like the world is falling apart beneath you. But I won't."

He exhaled sharply, anger flashing across his face. "Why?"

"Because unlike you, I know when to walk away."

I released him, stepping back, and just as I did, I heard footsteps pounding down the hallway.

"Steve!"

Thor's voice rang through the field, and I cursed under my breath. Time to go.

Steve pushed off the wall, but before he could do anything, I gave him one last smirk. "We'll call this a draw."

Then I disappeared into the shadows, leaving him behind.

Let him stew in his own frustration. I had bigger things to worry about.