Chapter 7: The Widows' Web & A New Ally
Leaving Wanda and Pietro was harder than Adam expected. The two days he spent guiding them through the Guild System's basics, watching them experiment with their nascent GP, and seeing the flicker of hope in their eyes, had forged a genuine connection. He'd bought Wanda the 'First Aid Skill Book' (2 GP) with some of his GP, reasoning basic medical knowledge was essential for anyone in their line of work, and it gained him some extra loyalty. He'd also convinced Pietro to use his first GP on an 'Agility Potion' (1 GP), which immediately made his already blurry movements even more impossible to track. Their loyalty had nudged up to 92% and 90% respectively.
"Be safe, Adam," Wanda had said, her eyes, now a little less haunted, meeting his. There was a raw, nascent connection between them, something beyond just Guild Master and member. It was the beginning of the future he craved.
"You too, Wanda. Pietro, look out for her," Adam replied, a rare moment of genuine seriousness in his voice. "Focus on those skill books. They're your real power, your real freedom."
Then, he was gone. His next destination: Budapest.
The journey was tedious, a blur of buses, trains, and covert border crossings, each funded by small, precise GP conversions from his dwindling reserves. He wasn't exactly living it up, but he was getting by, a ghost in the machine of international travel. His mind, however, was already racing ahead, planning his next move, anticipating the sharp tongue and even sharper skills of his next target.
Budapest. The city of spies. The scene of so much trauma and so many secrets for two specific Widows. Adam knew the story. Natasha and Yelena. The Red Room. The escape. The lingering ghosts. He needed Yelena. Natasha would be pulled into the Avengers Initiative soon enough, but Yelena was the blank slate, the one who craved purpose beyond her past, and possessed the lethal skills Adam desperately needed.
Locating her wasn't easy, even with his meta-knowledge. Yelena was good. Very good. She lived off the grid, a ghost living in the shadows. But Adam had a few tricks up his sleeve, courtesy of Jeremy's previous intel. He knew general Red Room safe houses, typical Widow operational patterns, and a few high-value targets Yelena might be keeping an eye on.
He spent two days tailing leads, observing shadowy figures, and blending into the city's backdrop, feeling utterly out of his depth in a spy game he only knew from movies. The Guild System was silent, no "proximity alerts" for Yelena. She was simply too good.
Finally, late one night, he found her. She was on a rooftop, silhouetted against the dim glow of the city, watching a building that reeked of old-world espionage. She was poised, lethal, a coiled spring ready to strike.
Adam, surprisingly, just walked up behind her. Not silently, not sneakily. He made enough noise for her to detect him, but not enough to trigger an immediate attack. He cleared his throat.
"You know, for someone who apparently likes to stay invisible, you pick some surprisingly photogenic rooftops," he quipped, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to be disarming, but with an underlying steel.
Yelena spun, a knife appearing in her hand as if by magic, held point-first towards his throat. Her movements were fluid, terrifyingly fast. Her eyes, cold and assessing, bore into him.
"Who are you?" she hissed, her Russian accent thick, her grip on the knife unwavering. "And how did you get up here?"
Adam raised his hands, palms open, a picture of non-threat. "Relax, Black Widow 2.0. No need to get stabby. The name's Adam. And let's just say I have a knack for finding people who are exactly where they're supposed to be, even when they don't want to be found."
Her eyes narrowed further. "Black Widow? I am not her. And who sent you?"
"Nobody sent me, Yelena. I came because I know about your past. About the Red Room. About the lies. And about what you really want: a purpose that isn't dictated by someone else. A true family, not a forced one. Freedom, real freedom, to decide your own path." He watched her carefully. The mention of the Red Room hit a nerve. Her expression flickered, just for a moment.
"You know nothing," she sneered, but the conviction wasn't quite there.
Adam pressed on, softening his tone. "I know enough. Enough to know you're tired of being a ghost. Tired of chasing shadows. What if I told you there's a way? A network. A Guild. Where you can use those incredible skills of yours, not for some puppet master, but for something real? To fight actual threats, to protect people, to build something that lasts, something that empowers you."
He watched for the tell. The fractional hesitation. The subtle shift in her weight. She was listening.
"Sounds like another form of control," she scoffed, but the knife hadn't moved an inch closer.
"It's a choice, Yelena," Adam countered, his voice gaining a quiet intensity. "A voluntary alliance. You convert your skills, your resources, into power. Guild Points. You use those points to buy enhancements, training, information. You choose your missions. You choose your path. I'm the Guild Master, yes, but my goal isn't to control you. It's to empower you, to build something strong enough to stand against the storm that's coming. A storm bigger than anything the Red Room ever cooked up."
He paused, then pulled the trigger. "A storm that would make the Red Room look like a kindergarten playground. And you, Yelena, you're exactly what this world needs to face it. A lethal, pragmatic, completely unburdened force of nature."
[Character Sighted: Yelena Belova – Detected]
[Proximity: High (Within 2 yards)]
[Send Guild Invitation to Yelena Belova? Y/N]
Adam mentally sent the invitation. The shimmering prompt appeared before her, just as it had for Wanda.
Yelena's eyes widened, a rare flash of genuine surprise. She saw the invite. She saw the possibilities. The knife slowly, almost imperceptibly, lowered. She stared at Adam, her expression unreadable, then at the floating prompt.
"You are insane," she stated, but there was no malice, only grudging respect, and a hint of intrigue. "Absolutely, spectacularly insane."
"Insanity is subjective, Yelena," Adam replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "Survival is not."
The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy. The choice was hers. He felt the notification.