Inside the base, the trainee Black Widows didn't flinch at the sound of the alarm. They continued training as usual, led by none other than Natasha's younger sister—Yelena.
Meanwhile, squads of heavily armed guards rushed toward Landing Pad 5, their rifles raised and ready.
As Smith Doyle and Natasha turned a corner, they came face-to-face with one such squad. The moment they locked eyes, the guards raised their guns and opened fire.
But in a flash—ZIP!—Smith Doyle moved like a bolt of lightning, charging straight into them.
"Ah—Ah—AH—!"
"BANG BANG BANG!"
The guards flew in every direction like fireworks. One slammed into the ceiling, another into the wall, while others crashed through the doors along the corridor. Their armor shattered, and none of them got up.
Even though Smith Doyle held back his strength, these guards didn't stand a chance. One touch was fatal.
Trailing behind, Natasha gawked in disbelief.
"Smith, if you told me you were Superman right now, I'd believe you."
"You sure you're not from Krypton?"
Clearly, even a seasoned agent like Natasha had read Superman comics.
Smith Doyle gave a light chuckle. He wasn't from Krypton—technically, he could claim to be from Planet Vegeta, considering the Saiyan blood running through his veins.
Natasha jogged up beside him, still stunned.
"You were incredible just now."
They pressed forward, Smith guiding them toward the area with the strongest power readings. After all, Yelena—codenamed the White Widow—was the next-generation Black Widow after Natasha. She'd be easier to locate by tracking power levels.
But to Smith's disappointment, none of the combatants in the Red Room base even broke a power level of 8. Most hovered between 5 and 7.
So Smith and Natasha plowed through their enemies with ease. Smith did the killing; Natasha followed close behind, full of admiration and non-stop praise—almost making Smith feel like he'd accidentally brought Deadpool along.
While the two tore through the facility, in a nearby office, General Dreykov was drenched in cold sweat.
At first, Dreykov hadn't taken Smith Doyle seriously. That changed the moment he watched Smith take out a squad of guards like paper dolls.
"H-How is he this strong?"
"Super soldiers aren't even worthy of shining his shoes!"
As someone who once oversaw Russia's super-soldier program, Dreykov knew their limits well. He'd personally chosen Alexei for the experiment and knew exactly how strong, fast, and durable they could be.
Watching Smith slice through the Red Room forces like a knife through butter, Dreykov realized: he had to leave.
"Deploy every available operative. I want the intruders surrounded immediately!"
Summoning his personal guard, Dreykov grabbed a tablet-sized control console and began retreating.
This console was linked to all his agents operating outside the base. Only a small portion were present inside—most of the Black Widows had already been dispersed around the world, infiltrating key organizations.
With this device, Dreykov could manipulate oil prices, crash stock markets, and with a single command, starve entire populations. Losing it was not an option.
Elsewhere in the base…
After Dreykov gave the order, all training ceased. The Black Widow trainees grabbed weapons and swarmed toward Smith and Natasha. Guards flooded in from every hallway.
But sheer numbers meant nothing against overwhelming power.
Smith Doyle raised a hand toward the approaching wave.
"Playtime's over."
"BOOM BOOM BOOM!"
Dozens of energy blasts erupted from his palms, disintegrating the attackers on impact. The surrounding structures were heavily damaged, but the Red Room's flight engines remained untouched, keeping it airborne.
Natasha spoke up, "I know where they train the Black Widows and where Dreykov's office is. Melina gave me a map of the layout."
Smith nodded, and they headed toward the training facility—which, conveniently, was also showing the highest concentration of combat power.
After another short skirmish, a group of armed women emerged, blocking their path. Natasha immediately spotted her sister.
"Yelena!" she cried.
But Yelena didn't respond. Like the others, she was completely under Dreykov's control.
"Smith, that blonde one's my sister. Please—don't hurt her."
Even as Natasha pleaded, the rest of the trainees charged at Smith.
Among them, Smith noticed a variety of ethnicities—white, Asian, Black, and more. It was clear Dreykov had deliberately diversified his Widow recruits to better infiltrate every corner of the globe.
Smith chose not to use energy blasts. With a wave of his hand, he deflected every incoming attack.
"CLANG CLANG CLANG!"
Shuriken and bullets clattered to the floor, ineffective. Yet the Widows charged on, fearless and relentless.
Smith didn't hold back. He killed every single one with swift, brutal strikes—everyone except Yelena. In his eyes, there were only three types of people: enemies, allies, and strangers. Gender made no difference.
Soon, Yelena was the only one left standing.
Still under control, she lunged at him.
Smith vanished in a blur and reappeared behind her, delivering a precise karate chop to the back of her neck—THUD—knocking her out cold.
He'd carefully restrained his strength. Otherwise, she wouldn't have survived.
Natasha rushed over and caught Yelena before she hit the floor.
"Thank you," she said softly.
With the mission nearly complete, Smith's power scanner suddenly detected an odd pattern—a group was moving not toward them, but toward the lift platform.
In an instant, Smith understood.
Dreykov was trying to escape.