culmination
(n.)
the highest or climactic point of something, especially as attained after a long time

•••

"you can forgive yourself now."

•••

Budapest, Hungary

Gunshots rang out like alarm clocks. The smell of fire and dead men surrounded them. Screams of panic and pain filled Natalia's ears.

She didn't care. Why would she? She was raised to not feel a thing about homicide. And she didn't. She couldn't imagine killing someone she loved, but she could kill people she knew with little to no problem. She remembered Yelena. But she hadn't thought of her. Not since the act had been done.

She remembered the children's ward. It diid bother her then. She didn't care. Buts she did think about it a lot. That was something she had done for the enemy. Half those children were innocent. But the other half was far from it. The half that was her. She felt better about this.

She was killing these people on her own behalf. She wasn't brainwashed. She knew that these people had done bad things and she knew the they all had to die. Innocent or not. To destroy Hydra, not even killing the root won't work.

You have to destroy it all. Pull it out root and stem, torch the dirt and the plant. She knew that Hydra's words were no idle threat.

Cut off one head and two more shall take its place.

Everything had to go. Everything.

Doctors in on call rooms. Patience in the operating table. The military officers that attempted to protect them. Natalia had lost plenty of men. But she had gotten past the guard. She was in.

Agent Barton landing the jet atop the hospital roof on a helicopter with his firing squad and spread out, preparing for assaults.

"This is Barton!" Barton yelled into his earpiece. "Shes already hit. There are a lot more men than expected. We need a platoon of men and fire and rescue. Immediate medical help!"

"Copy that," the comms came over. Barton looked out to the sight before him. And he was, for the first time in his life, horrified.

The air smelled of smoke and burning plastic, woods, people.

Clint flinched. There was no smell like burning flesh. It will leave a mark on anyone. The air was cloudy with smoke. Real clouds were firming in the air along with it. The screams of the people inside filled his ears, followed by the indisputable sound of automatic rifles. Glass breaking. Fire crackling.

The gravel under his feet began to feel like hot coals, but he ignored it.

"Fire and rescue is on the way," Clint called to his men. "Even though we want to, saving the people is not why we are here. I've got men hitting the base floor and basement. Half of you are assigned to the second. The rest will take the third. You goal is to take out every mercenaries you find. I'll take the Black Widow, but if you see her, for God's sake shoot her."

Barton took his bow off his back and snapped it in place. He looked up to see his men already scattered and attending their assignments. He huffed in anticipation and sprinted over to the roof door, hitting the lock off with the head of his bow.

His kicked the door down and began down the stairs slowly, watching, listening, feeling...

With each step he took, the noises of battle grew louder: she had already gotten to the third floor. Or at least her men did.

In one swift motion, Barton reached behind his head and pulled out a general arrow and nocked it, ready to let it loose on whoever may come at him. He had, of course, three pistols in his belt should anything out of the ordinary happen.

When he reached the end of the staircase he only found an empty hall. It was evacuated. When he reached the end of the hall, however, he did hear murmurs and breathing in one of the rooms.

He opened it to see nothing. It was a lab. He listened for the breathing and followed it to a cabinet, still holding up his bow.

When he opened the door, he saw four panicked scientists squished together in the tiny space, shaking and sweating.

He let the bowstring relax and gave the scientists a nod. "Stay here until rescue comes. I'm only the exterminator," he revealed, trying to lighten the mood a bit. The scientists had a look of relief wash over them, but they were still, far on edge, he could tell.

Then he moved on.

For Natalia, everything was still going close enough to the plan. The entire first floor was wiped out, she knew. There was no S.H.I.E.L.D. intel on that floor, but there was plenty in the basement and second floor.

She made her way through the massacre, gong to get the rest of the second floor intel, when she heard the shattering of glass. Shards flew everywhere and so did gunfire. From two parties. Turns out a strike team had been set on she and her men.

Natalia watched some of her men fall while just as many as the others fell. She let her automatic go off to give her cover as she fled to the staircase. She bolted in, closing the door behind her.

S.H.I.E.L.D., she realized. They knew she would be here. She dropped the rifle and drew her handgun.

There was someone here. She could feel their presence. It was strange. Someone who was skilled enough to make no noises or sudden movements. This man would fool any given Soldier or spy. But she was neither. And for some reason, she knew that neither were they. Whoever was in this stair hall with her.

Natalia couldn't help but give a little smile when she realized it. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent their Hawkeye to kill her. She knew about Hawkeye. She had read all the files she stole. Agent Clint Barton was most likely the only man left in this world that could have a chance in defeating her besides the the alien anomaly Fury had bumped into. But he's keeping that quiet.

But she wasn't going to.

She hopped up to the hollow space under the stairs, waiting for him make his move. And as if on cue, Natalia moved aside and let an arrow wiz by her. It had been shot through the step. It would have it her heart if she hadn't moved in time.

She smiled. Natalia liked this. She had never had a matched opponent in her career. Only James. Who she had refused to hurt. She swung her body over to where he back was again the bottom of the staircase and made no noise while doing so. The assassin dropped down and fired another arrow at her head.

But Natalia had seen it coming. She moved aside just in time. She was now staring the S.H.I.E.L.D. assassin in the face and smiled.

"If you had used a handgun, I'd be dead," Natalia said, as she drew her own gun on him. Before she could pull the trigger, he used his bow and knocked it out of her hand. It was Barton's turn to smile.

"If you knew how to use a hand gun, then I'd be dead," he retorted, re-nocking his bow and letting it loose. Natalia pulled another handgun and shot the arrow mid-air, sending little pieces of debris falling to the ground.

Barton tried to his his surprise, but Natalia saw right through him and winked. She then pulled the trigger again, but he had dropped too quickly and took her by the ankles. Mid fall, Natalia pulled the trigger again, but Clint kicked it away with with steel toe, putting a bullet hole in the drywall behind them.

He reached for the gun, but instead grabbed her wrists. Unfortunately for him, the Black Widow was stronger. But that didn't mean Barton would let go.

She tried to yank away, but he kept his grip tight. So instead, Natalia pointed the gun at his face, with his hands on it. He struggled against her strength and soon realized that he couldn't overpower her with only his arms.

He brought up his right leg and wrapped it around her elbows, making them both lose the gun. Natalia had fallen onto her back, so Barton found the opportunity to straddle her and end her for good.

He had he down to where his weight held her down,but her arms were flailing everywhere, clawing, scratching, punching, and slapping at his chest, abdomen, and arms. Everything stung, but he fought through the pain of her attacks and eventually got his knees holding her down by her wrists.

His legs did their best to wrap around her waist and legs. Barton had the Widow pinned, but her strength would soon allow her to break free. He held her head down with his left hand and drew his pistol with his right.

Natalia struggled under the assassin's grip, but he was losing strength. He could never last as long as she could. She watched him draw his gun, but he didn't get it to her head before she had turned over on top of him, wrestling for the gun.

But it was kicked away. Natalia drew a knife on him, but before she could cut his throat, he kneeled her in the gut, bit the wrists that was connected to the knife hand, and stole the knife. Then she took the last gun on his belt and tried to pistol whip him.

He dodged the maneuver, causing Natalia to lunge forward, allowing Barton to give her a swift, hard kick to her behind, pushing her to the floor. He scrambled for the remaining handgun that worked and pointed it at Natalia.

And there she was.

Unarmed and ready to die.

She looked up at him, scared. "Please, Agent. I'm just trying to do the world some good!" she pleaded, scrambling against the wall. She had played him. Being a girl was always amazing, because either they underestimated you, or the were over sympathetic. She could play any man like a piano.

"Good?" asked Barton, taking another threatening step towards the redheaded spy. "How are you doing any good?" he asked gesturing around him. "How is this doing good?"

Natalia shook her head, dropping the persona. It was time to tell the truth. "You don't understand! Cut off one head, toe more shall take its place!"

"You're Hydra!" he growled. "Old news!"

"No!" Natalia sneered back at him, poison in her voice. "You are Hydra. You all are Hydra. I've seen it! S.H.I.E.L.D. is Hydra! I am trying to destroy Hydra!"

Clint found himself lowering his weapon. "So are we! and you're a real setback right now. Not to mention all the people you are murdering. Do you know how hard it is to keep you from the public?"

"I don't really care," Natalia spat. "I've got red in my ledger. I'm here to wipe it out."

She may be telling the truth, but her body was lying. She reached for the bow Hawkeyes had dropped. She was going to get rid of his and finish what she had started.

Then Barton found himself thinking back to Secretary Pierce's words. Was this just a big misunderstanding? Was it something that could just be swept under the rug? She would be a great agent to work with...

"Widow—" he began to try and reason with her, but it turns out she had been acting. Now, looking down the barrel of his pistol was the nose of an arrow. Barton felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. "Touché."

"I'm going to kill you now," Natalia told Barton. He remained calm.

"If you kill me, I kill you. Then how are you to wipe out the red?" he asked, hoping that the last bit of sentiment she had let on wasn't all lies.

"Well what happens if I don't kill you?" she asked. "You kill me anyway."

The Clint found himself thinking over one of the most important decisions of his life. One that would change it forever, no matter which path het took. He remembered what fury said: "Shoot on site. She's too dangerous to be kept alive." But then he remembered the Secretary: "The woman's a victim of her own mind. Help her turn herself around."

"No I won't," Barton said, lowering his weapon. "You can't wipe out any red by making more. S.H.I.E.L.D. is the counter organization of Hydra. Join us. Clear your name. Hydra is your for the destroying."

Natalia's eyebrows creased together. "Your not telling the truth," she stated, tightening the bowstring.

Barton dropped his gun. "S.H.I.E.L.D. helps you out, or they lose their best agent."

The bowstring slackened. "I know the S.H.I.E.L.D has something to do with Hydra," she insisted. "I saw it. Project Paperclip."

"Please, Widow," Barton said. "I know. I been a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. for years. We work day and night to shut down hydra. You can be a part of this. Just put down the bow."

Natalia looked nervously around the room. She drew the arrow back and approached the door she had entered from, peeing out the slim window. All her mercenaries were taken out. She should defeat all of them alone. Fire and rescue had shown up.

She watched in horror as body after body were covered by a sheet. The world seemed to slow down. The fire that burned the hospital began to burn inside her heart. It was a hatred. How had she let herself do this.

After all Hank Pym and James had sacrificed to get her out of a life of killed. After all the sacrifices she had to make. All the kills that were necessary for her to get out.

And this. This was unnecessary. And it was in that moment, as more S.H.I.E.L.D. men approached her, that she realized: she was wrong. S.H.I.E.L.D. was the right choice for her. It was how she was going to wipe the red from her ledger. How she would avenge James.

She dropped the bow and arrow and watched in silence as Agent Barton ordered for her to be put in chains and that she was no longer a shoot-on-sight.

It was time for a change. A real change. And this was her final culmination.

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