culmination

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

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"you can forgive yourself now."

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Budapest, Hungary

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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."

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