Hunting Spider

...1...

A cement brick bloomed out of the frozen countryside, all sharp edges compared to the snowy rolling hills. The crisp air rushed through the air vents almost too fast to be breathed, not unlike the people running around inside the facility. 

One of those people stalked down a narrow hallway, windowless but speckled with doors. The rooms were empty, yawning with potential. All but one. 

In front of room 704 stood a guard, dressed in enough tactical gear to stop several hundred bullets - in theory. He eyed her skeptically as she approached, but there was an unmistakable badge clipped to her jacket. 

"Schmidt," she greeted, looking down at him from the stilt height her heels provided. He looked at the tablet on his wrist, then to her badge. 

"Ms. Levitt, I was not informed of a visit today." 

"I would suggest you step aside for your superior, Schmidt." Natasha Romanov, or Fjerda Levitt for now, growled. Her normally red hair was tucked under a short dark wig, and glasses perched on the end of her nose. 

Schmidt did, in fact, step aside. Fjerda Levitt was highly ranked, and therefore rarely seen by the lower ranked workers. Especially Harold Schmidt, who had finally worked his way into a guard position. Much to his pride. 

Natasha would've loved nothing more than to bash the man's head in, but she didn't have that kind of time. Clint and the other Avengers were breaking into the facility, she was sent in for extraction. Project 001_15 also known as the Hunting Spider was in room 704. There was nearly no information on the bio-weapon, just that it was the first and only one of its kind - a new project headed by Dr. Fischer. The Avengers had managed to see a few classified documents on the weapon, but they consisted only of results. And were the results ever terrifying. 

Natasha scanned Fjerda's key card, nearly breaking character to smirk at the blood smeared on the back of it. Pushing the door open, Natasha stepped in to a windowless room, with a table off to the side, and nothing else. 

Scratch that, the metal object in the corner had a small blanket over it, was it supposed to be a bed? And there was something else; an object cowering under the 'bed'. Natasha resisted the urge to double check the room number - she knew she was in the right place. She just didn't know what this thing was. It shuddered, a whimper bouncing off the cement walls of the room. 

Oh no, was Project 001_15 a... person? 

Eight Years Earlier 

"Your time is up, Dr. Parker." The glass door swished open, revealing a monochrome man. From his white hair, to his pristine lab coat, and white shoes, it was hard to tell where the man began and the linoleum floors ended. 

"Fischer, I told you, I need more time." Richard Parker turned around, blocking the papers scattered on his desk from view. His wife, Mary, glared at the man that walked in with all the vehemence in her. If there weren't so many guns trained on them at all times, she could've cracked the man's skull. 

"All evidence to the contrary, Richard." Fischer took a leering step forward, white shoes not making a sound. "We have a recording of your conversation with your wife yesterday, outlining your whole plan." The couple shared a look, color draining from their faces. 

"Fjerda," Fischer called over his shoulder, a lady trotting in. She had long dark hair and glasses, guns strapped on every available space. "I need to see those papers." Fischer gestured to the stark sheets Richard was still trying to shield. Fjerda pulled out two guns and aimed them at his chest. 

"I would suggest you move, doctor."

"Have you no humanity?" Mary screamed at her, surging forward. Immediately, a gun was leveled at her chest. "No." Fjerda sighed, pulling the trigger. The shot made a muffled cracking noise, quieted by the silencer on the end of the assassins guns. Richard screamed as his wife's body crumpled, her white lab coat staining crimson. He ran to her, supporting her as she gasped for life. 

Fischer shuffled through the documents, grin widening in a sickening fashion. "So, you finished your formulas," he scoffed, "and planned to take them to the government? How, exactly? Everyone from your unit thinks you're dead!" He laughed, folding the papers neatly. 

Walking to the door, Fischer paused, looking back at Fjerda. "Do me a favor, darling," he sneered, "make it quick." 

Two gunshots later, all that was left of Richard and Mary Parker, respected CIA agents presumed dead years ago, were two corpses clutching each other in a pool of blood. 

It wasn't for days that Hydra's scientists discovered the genius pair had the last laugh. There was a discrepancy in the formula's. But it was no mistake. It wouldn't have been a problem at all had Richard Parker still been alive, it was as if he knew they would kill him. 

The formula for the genetic altering radioactive solution had a carefully crafted equation that made it impossible to develop without Richard Parker's DNA. In fact, they could not give the elixir to anyone other than Richard Parker, or it would kill them. If the equation was removed, the remaining mixture was a volatile explosive with enough power to kill a whole room of scientists. 

Ask Doctor Fischer how they discovered that. 

Hydra had been bested by a couple of CIA scientists, without even knowing until it was too late! They were ready to scrap the whole project - Fischer included - when they found their way out. 

It was nearly a year later when they found their solution. Only because Fischer was about to be... retired did he suggest this course of action. Richard and Mary Parker were survived by their six year old son. He lived with an aunt and uncle. The uncle was Richard Parker's brother, so there was a chance he was also compatible. 

Hydra took them both. 

May Parker was left to mourn her husband and nephew-turned-son, both presumably dead in a corner store shooting. The shooter hit a propane tank, sending the building in flames. The two bodies they found were unrecognizable. It was a closed casket funeral.