Widow's Shadow

III: Interval

January 15 2027

Istanbul, Turkey

Natasha stormed through the splintered door speckled in bullet holes and into the blinding afternoon light. The sun was at its peak and the bazaar began to die down. Its noise was a mere whisper compared to the raging fire burning in her brain, the opportunity that was in arms reach was now a cold blistering wind sending chills down to the bone.

Her hair was like ashes flying in the breeze as her pace became faster. James ran towards her, a trail of warm light glistening across the vibranium as he extended his hand for her shoulder. He stopped midway, as if he can see the flames outlining her body.

Blood trickled down her deep brown jacket as she headed to their revamped Dodge Challenger. It's sleek paint the color of an imminent storm, the streaks of sunlight bursting out like lightning.

The passenger seat was now warm with Natasha's body heat as she sat on the black and tan leather. James threw their bags in the trunk, the metal body shook as it slammed shut. A second later James' right index finger was on the scanner and the Challenger roared to life and the windows then darkened, turning to one-sided glass.

Natasha pulled out a first aid kit from under her seat and peeled her jacket and shirt off, revealing the wound. She patted a wipe dipped in rubbing alcohol over the hole, wincing with every touch, then she placed the gauze and tapped it to keep it in place. She grabbed James's hoodie that was in the back seat, the smell of rosemary and mint wrapped around her as she slipped into the soft fabric.

James swerved onto the empty street, one hand on the leather skin of the steering wheel and one on the stick-shift. Natasha leaned her head onto the window, the cold layer of glass kissing her forehead; its chill cooling her hot flesh.

The shooting replayed over and over in her head, the sounds of gunshots echoed in her ears and the information glued to the front of her brain. The name—Marlisa Zola—was so fresh and dead to her, like roadkill being eaten by the blazing sun. Whoever she was, like Trikov, she knew how to stay under the radar.

The oxygen was sucked out by the silence that was radiating off the two souls confined in the grey vehicle. It was so suffocating and gut-wrenching that James broke the silence.

"I thought the Winter Soldier initiative was dead, buried with Zola's bones."

Natasha kept her forehead on the window. "Arnim died, but his work and bloodline didn't. Like roaches without their heads, they can still function and get the work done."

James nodded, even though Natasha didn't glance at him once. He suddenly felt a lump in his throat and it felt like rejection. Trying to push that to the farthest corner of his brain, he asked the system if there was any information on Marlisa Zola or any attempts of the Winter Soldier initiative. To his surprise, her name and photo popped up on the windshield as the car went into auto drive mode. The system's soft female voice rose from the speakers that surrounded the vehicle.

Marlisa Ethelinda Zola, Female, age 39, is a distant relative of the infamous Arnim Zola known as the master of biochemistry, was born in Algermissen, Germany and graduated from Karlsruhe Institute of Technology in 2009 at the top of her class. Major is unknown and job history is unknown. 

The flow of information suddenly stopped, two words popping up on the windshield.

Information restricted.

The voice then died down, along with the information.

"Run encryption." Natasha responded while staring at the picture the glowed in front of her. Marlisa's skin was fair and her hair was golden, her beauty stood out so much that Natasha wondered how someone so dark could look so innocent. Her eyes were hazel under the glossy black reading glasses she wore. The photo was taken no later than 2009, meaning that her face could've changed dramatically over the years.