Chapter 40 to Chapter 43
Winter in the Urals is long, with snow covering the ground for much of the year. During this time, as Leon focused on raising his family, he began to think about when they should leave their hidden life.
After several years of laying low, both Leon and his family had grown significantly in strength and numbers. Aside from Clarice and Lady Deathstrike, Yuriko Oyama, everyone else, including the youngest, Alina, had mastered the breathing techniques to a competent level.
Additionally, the two types of Haki, Observation and Armament, were now used proficiently by most of them. In short, they were strong enough to handle nearly any threat the world might throw at them.
However, Leon never considered Sky Blade as a place to settle. While it boasted a wormhole function and an elegant environment, Sky Blade was his ace, his hidden trump card. Exposing it by letting Wanda and the others live there was too risky.
His cautious nature had allowed him to endure the isolation of the mountains for several years. He knew the immense power of Sky Blade was far too dangerous to flaunt, and he couldn't afford to attract the attention it would bring.
I would have to be bit by a rabid dog to make that sort of stupid decision.
So, on this day, Leon gathered his entire family together to discuss something important: the idea of leaving the Ural Mountains and re-engaging with society.
To his surprise, instead of excitement, everyone exchanged uncertain glances. The room fell silent. Curious, Leon picked up little Alina and asked for her thoughts.
"I want to stay with you," she replied softly, tears building up, "I don't want to be separated."
In that moment, Leon understood. Everyone had misunderstood his intention. With a tick mark on his forehead, he clarified, "I never said we were going to split up. I just meant we should leave here and reconnect with society. We can still keep this place as our base."
He continued, "We have a plane, and Clarice's abilities let us travel easily. You've all been training hard for years, but it's also important to have contact with people outside."
Leon's goal had always been to ensure the safety of his family. Now that they were secure, he felt it was time for the next step. Most of them were still young—only around seventeen, still in the age of making friends, exploring life, maybe even finding romance.
He didn't want to keep them tethered to him forever. Like baby birds, they would have to leave the nest eventually, learn to fly, meet new people, and experience life to truly grow.
"Oh, that's fine then," everyone said, their heavy expressions quickly lightening up once they realized Leon wasn't talking about splitting up.
"Hihihi," Alina made a cute face, biting her tongue out and smacking herself lightly on her head.
With the misunderstanding cleared up, the group began eagerly discussing possible places to settle. Some suggested Brazil, or Greece, while others leaned toward the United States. No one mentioned Russia or other Eastern European countries—after all, they were looking for a better environment, and many places in Eastern Europe were still poor, underdeveloped, or even war-torn.
Compared to Eastern Europe, Western countries offered a more comfortable life, especially for those with money. The United States, being the world's most developed economy and military power, was an attractive option. It was, after all, a paradise for the wealthy. Some even joked about how it wouldn't be a burden to cause trouble in the U.S., as they harbored no affection for it.
The only debate left was which city to choose. Some favored Chicago, others New York or Los Angeles, but all the options were among the biggest and most well-known cities in the U.S. Since they could easily travel back and forth with Clarice's special abilities and their fighter plane, everyone figured they could settle wherever they wanted without any trouble.
Wanda, Pietro, Leon, Sergei, Natasha, Yuriko, and the four children decided to move to New York. Meanwhile, Gennady, Sumarokov, and Lomon Losov chose to settle in Chicago, and the rest went to Los Angeles, spreading everyone out across the U.S. to maintain a balance.
Getting everyone enrolled in schools wasn't an issue, as they had all kept up with their studies over the past few years. With some money and the right connections, getting green cards was also handled without much trouble.
Leon bought a property on Long Island, New York, for $80 million. The 70-acre estate boasted a vast green space and was completely private, offering world-class fitness facilities and a beautifully designed landscape. It included an 8,000-square-foot horse farm with both indoor and outdoor riding arenas, fenced small horse farms, and a large pasture with a viewing platform.
In addition to the horse facilities, there was a swimming pool with a Jacuzzi, an outdoor kitchen, an indoor basketball court, and a barn-wood indoor theater. The main house, a perfect blend of traditional and modern design, covered 9,000 square feet across two floors, plus over 4,000 square feet of underground living space. It featured six bedrooms, five bathrooms, five fireplaces, and beautiful woodwork throughout. The second-floor outdoor deck provided a stunning view of the pool and rolling green lawns.
The main house, designed in a Colonial style, has a subtle elegance, its understated exterior hinting at a quiet luxury. It's the kind of home that reflects the true lifestyle of the ultra-wealthy.
On the day Leon moved in with the Maximoff twins and the others, the excitement was palpable. The expansive grassland surrounding the estate offered plenty of space for helicopters and planes to take off at any time. The Maximoff twins and the four children spent the entire day exploring every corner of the vast manor.
In this affluent neighborhood, paying the right property fees guarantees top-tier security. A professional security team was hired to guard the perimeter of the estate, ensuring complete protection from intrusions. The cost? Expensive, but Leon didn't mind. He was rich.
Additionally, the Maid and Housekeeper Association provided a team of well-trained maids and butlers, offering impeccable service. Leon could even customize the length of their contracts to suit his needs.
With everything settled, Leon and the others began their new life in New York.
Whoever said money can't buy happiness was surely one jealous son of a bitch.
…
The sun shone brightly over the manor, its warm rays bathing everything in golden light. By the outdoor pool, Leon lay back on a sun lounger, dressed casually in a plaid shirt and shorts, soaking in the sun while browsing something on his laptop. Nearby, the cheerful sounds of the four kids splashing around in the pool filled the air.
Pietro, off in the distance, was enjoying himself at the horse track, while Wanda and Natasha, both in swimsuits, approached with plates of food. Wanda placed the plates on a nearby table, and Natasha settled into the lounge chair beside Leon, teasing him.
"Hey, rich man, why aren't you swimming?"
Leon smiled, glancing at her. "Because I found something interesting."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh? What could possibly grab your attention?"
Leon turned his laptop towards Natasha and Wanda. On the screen was a breaking news headline:
[Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, has been kidnapped.]
"That playboy? You're actually paying attention to someone like him?" Natasha asked, clearly curious. Tony Stark was well-known, more for his flamboyant style and public image than for just being wealthy. It didn't seem like someone like Leon, with his practical mindset, would care about Stark at all.
Leon shrugged. "Maybe it's just boredom."
Natasha seemed skeptical, but Wanda, with a cold tone, chimed in. "That bastard deserves to be kidnapped. He should be killed."
In the years since Leon had taken them in, both Wanda and Pietro had found a sense of belonging, and their deep hatred had eased. But that didn't mean it had disappeared entirely. Their bitterness toward Tony Stark still lingered.
Tony's arms had devastated their homeland, and now, as they settled into New York, Wanda had been thinking about revenge. Finding out her enemy had been kidnapped right as she arrived felt like some sort of twisted irony, leaving her more frustrated than satisfied.
Leon didn't try to stop Wanda or Pietro from harboring their grudge. After all, while Tony Stark would eventually become Iron Man and redeem himself as a hero, he was far from innocent. As the chief beneficiary and inventor of countless weapons, Stark had directly and indirectly caused untold suffering. Families had been torn apart, and children, like the Maximoff twins, were left orphaned and displaced.
Redemption may come in the future for the prodigal son, but as far as Wanda and Pietro were concerned, it hadn't arrived yet. Their desire for revenge was only natural.
Leon had no reason to stop it. Honestly, he thought Tony was lucky. If he had not been kidnapped and crossed paths with the current versions of Wanda and Pietro, Tony's chances of survival would have been slim. The twins were now super-enhanced, far beyond what they'd once been.
Their physical prowess alone could promote the rapid growth of their abilities. Pietro could move at the speed of sound—or faster—and Wanda, with chaos magic in one hand and powerful Haki in the other, was far stronger. Together, they were an unstoppable force.
Leon couldn't imagine how Tony would survive an encounter with them, he didn't think even Tony's advanced Mark II armor would stand a chance against the twins. They had become something like natural disaster, one that a normal human could do nothing about.
But Leon didn't dwell too long on Tony's situation. It wasn't something he or Natasha talked about much. As they lay sunbathing by the pool, a comfortable silence settled between them.
After a while, Natasha suddenly spoke up. "Leon, I want to find my sister."
"It's about time," Leon replied lazily, barely looking up.
"I just don't know how to face her," Natasha admitted, her voice tinged with bitterness. The past between her and her sister was complicated. She had run away from that family, from Yelena. But now, with Dreykov gone and her past behind her, Natasha felt ready to face the unresolved tension between them. There was a knot in her heart she needed to untangle.
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Leon glanced at her, noting the mix of emotions on her delicate face. He spoke gently, "You can't run from this forever, Natasha."
"I know," Natasha nodded, lying back on the recliner as she gazed up at the clear blue sky, her eyes distant and unfocused. She seemed lost in thought, her mind wandering to places unknown.
The sound of the four kids laughing and splashing in the pool filled the air, mingling with the faint neighing of horses from the nearby pasture. Birds chirped in the forest, their calls crisp and melodic. The peacefulness of it all made everything feel dreamlike, almost lulling her into sleep.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Natasha suddenly stood up. With graceful steps, she began walking away, her figure slowly disappearing into the distance. Just as she was about to be out of sight, she called back, her voice floating through the air, "I've requisitioned the plane. I'll be gone a few days."
"Enjoy yourself, Natasha," Leon called after her.
"Maybe," she replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into the manor house. Minutes later, the sound of an aircraft engine roared in the distance. A black jet lifted off, its engines glowing with fiery intensity before it slowly ascended into the sky, vanishing from sight.
"I actually wish I could see how that plays out," Wanda said quietly as she lay on the recliner beside Leon.
"Then why didn't you go with her?" Leon asked.
"Natasha wouldn't want us tagging along," Wanda responded with a hint of frustration.
"Or maybe you're just waiting for news that Tony's dead," Leon suggested, challenging her.
Wanda didn't deny it. Instead, she nodded slightly, her voice cold. "Yeah, I'm waiting for that damn arms dealer to go to hell."
"If he comes back alive, I'll kill him myself," Wanda muttered darkly.
"Then you'll have to wait," Leon replied with a tone that carried a deeper meaning.
Wanda felt something off in his words, but she didn't push it. Instead, she let out a couple of frustrated sighs and then, feeling the warmth of the sun and the peacefulness of the moment, drifted off to sleep.
…
Sophia.
The sun shone brightly over the city, illuminating the vibrant streets and casting a warm glow over the scene. Everywhere you looked, streets, alleys, squares, and parks were hidden beneath a canopy of greenery. Rows of linden trees, Arabic rubber trees, French plane trees, and Canadian poplars lined the roads, perfectly arranged.
Bright flowerbeds and well-kept lawns adorned every corner of the city. In front of every house, under windows, and both in front and behind homes, flowers and plants bloomed in abundance. The scent of flowers filled the air, carried from the many shops that sold a variety of blooms along the streets. The whole city felt like a blossoming garden, with white and light yellow houses adding to its elegant charm.
On one bustling street, construction was underway on houses, with shops offering a dazzling array of goods, and the streets were filled with laughter and the hum of people going about their day.
Among the four- or five-story yellow brick buildings, one stood out in the middle of the street. Outside a house on the top floor, a woman with ash-blonde hair and a black leather jacket unlocked the door. She casually tossed her motorcycle helmet onto the table by the entrance. As soon as she stepped inside, her eyes sharpened, instantly alert.
Her entire demeanor shifted. Her body tensed, slightly hunched forward as she swiftly pulled a Glock 17 from the small of her back. Holding the gun in both hands, she assumed a textbook combat stance, moving cautiously and quietly as she began to sweep through the house.
She checked her bedroom, the kitchen, and the bathroom—nothing out of the ordinary. Only the living room and balcony remained.
A fierce glint flickered across her sharp features. Pressing her body against the wall, she pulled out a compact makeup mirror, carefully extending it just enough to survey the living room without exposing herself. The room appeared empty—no one was there.
Still cautious, she sidestepped into the living room, angling herself perfectly to avoid any potential sniper fire from the balcony. She moved toward a locker with a coded lock, quickly punching in the numbers. From inside, she retrieved several pieces of equipment.
Gun in her right hand, tactical grenade in her left, she advanced toward the balcony. The wind whipped the curtains, sending them fluttering wildly. Leaning slightly, she peeked around the corner, careful to maintain cover. No one was there. One final check—her side of the balcony.
With a sudden motion, she whipped open the curtain and aimed her gun—nothing.
Where had they gone?
Her brow furrowed in confusion. Could it have been a thief?
Just as her guard began to drop, a raspy voice sounded behind her. "Seems like you haven't lost your edge, Yelena."
Yelena's eyes widened in shock. She spun around, aiming at the source of the voice, but before she could react, her pistol was effortlessly snatched away by a powerful hand.
The cold barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Yelena's forehead.
The person holding it towered over her by half a head, dressed in a red coat, sweatpants, and white sneakers. Burgundy hair cascaded from the temples to the chest. Yelena's expression shifted when she recognized the familiar face.
Her eyes grew fiercer.
"Natasha... you finally showed up."
It was Natasha, her sister, who had been searching for her.
Natasha smirked slightly, her red lips curling upward. "You don't seem too happy to see me."
"Oh, trust me, I've never been happier," Yelena replied, her eyes blazing with intensity. As soon as she spoke, she jerked her head sharply, attempting to grab the gun with her right hand. But Natasha was ready. She pulled her arm back just enough to evade Yelena's grasp, keeping the gun aimed at her sister's forehead.
Yelena, moving like a swift cheetah, sidestepped the gun's aim while closing the distance between them. In one smooth motion, she drew a dagger from the sheath on her thigh.
The two sisters clashed in a fierce, silent struggle that lasted less than ten seconds. Close-quarters combat, joint locks, grappling, dagger strikes, and kicks were all exchanged in rapid succession. Each movement was calculated, every dodge and counter potentially deadly.
One mistake, and either sister could have found herself in a desperate situation.
Yelena's attacks were relentless and fast. She fought with a desperate edge, willing to risk injury in exchange for a chance to land a fatal blow with her dagger. However, Natasha's combat experience, especially against Yelena, was unmatched. What Yelena hadn't anticipated was that Natasha's physical abilities had improved dramatically over the years. Her reflexes were now beyond that of an ordinary person.
With every strike, Yelena became more and more shocked. All of her desperate attempts were effortlessly countered by Natasha, and several times she found herself nearly trapped, her life in danger.
As a fellow Black Widow, Yelena carried a deep dissatisfaction with Natasha. She didn't see herself as any less capable and, driven by both pride and personal reasons, wanted to prove she was just as strong, if not stronger. Yet, as the confrontation unfolded, she realized the stark difference in skill between them.
Natasha could have easily subdued or even killed Yelena at multiple points, but she didn't. Instead, she countered Yelena's attacks with a calculated ease that felt more like teasing, which only infuriated Yelena further.
Just as Yelena began contemplating a desperate move to finish the fight, Natasha seemed to anticipate her thoughts. With a knowing smirk, Natasha's speed and strength suddenly overwhelmed Yelena. Before Yelena could even react, Natasha knocked the dagger from her hand with a swift motion and disarmed her of the grenade she held.
In an instant, the muzzle of Natasha's Glock was once again aimed between Yelena's eyes, leaving her frozen in place.
"You..." Yelena gasped, her voice laced with disbelief. This level of power and speed was beyond anything she had imagined. Natasha, the strongest of the Black Widows, had always been formidable, but this... this was something else entirely.
Natasha shrugged slightly. "A little sister will always be a little sister."
The double meaning in her words made Yelena grit her teeth in frustration.
Natasha finally lowered her gun and smirked. "Not bad. You've made a lot of progress."
"Humph!" Yelena scoffed, saying nothing, but inwardly, she couldn't stop thinking about Natasha's extraordinary strength and speed. How did she get so strong?
…
After the tension between them eased, Yelena temporarily abandoned the thought of confronting Natasha. She was more intrigued by how her sister had transformed so dramatically in just a few years, as if she had become a completely different person.
Natasha had once been a ruthless spy, skilled in deception, with blood on her hands. But now, to Yelena, she seemed like a sunflower in full bloom—warmer, more compassionate, with a tenderness in her eyes that made Yelena uneasy.
Yelena couldn't fathom what Natasha had gone through to bring about such an extraordinary change in both her strength and her demeanor.
"Did you have something to do with what happened to Dreykov, Natasha?" Yelena asked, cutting straight to the point.
More than a year ago, Dreykov had unexpectedly disbanded the Red Room and spent enormous sums to help the trained Black Widows return to their homes. Yelena had been one of them.
But Yelena had sensed something was off. Natasha's defection and Dreykov's increasingly erratic behavior had led her to believe it was all part of another conspiracy. Unable to trust the situation, Yelena fled, eventually settling down temporarily while she investigated Dreykov's strange actions.
Unexpectedly, not long ago, Dreykov had died in a mysterious explosion. The circumstances were so unusual that Yelena couldn't wrap her mind around what had truly happened. But now, with Natasha's sudden appearance and her noticeably enhanced physical abilities, Yelena's sharp mind quickly connected the dots.
Natasha didn't deny it. "Uh-huh," she hummed, before adding, "But his death had nothing to do with me. It's a pity he didn't die by my hand."
Yelena frowned, her gaze piercing. "So, it seems your life is much better than I imagined."
"Indeed," Natasha admitted with a light smile.
"But you didn't come to find me until now?" Yelena's voice dripped with dissatisfaction and resentment.
Natasha sighed, clearly troubled. "Yelena, you know—"
Before she could finish, Natasha suddenly turned her head toward the balcony, her instincts flaring. Without warning, she grabbed Yelena and pulled her aside.
In the next instant, a black arrow zipped through the air, narrowly missing them and embedding itself in the opposite wall.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
A series of beeps came from the small gap between the star-like metal parts of the arrow, signaling that it was about to explode. Natasha and Yelena realized the imminent danger at once.
In perfect sync, Yelena and Natasha sprinted toward the balcony, leaping off just as the explosion ripped through the living room behind them. Boom! The blast sent a massive shockwave through the building, flames erupting as the explosion reverberated through the neighborhood, sending pedestrians below into a frenzy of alarmed screams.
As they fell from four or five stories high, Yelena quickly pulled out her grappling gun, aiming it at the wall above. She fired, and the black hook secured itself to the third-floor wall, halting her fall. Instinctively, she glanced at Natasha, expecting her to do the same—only to see Natasha plummeting freely toward the ground.
Yelena's eyes widened in panic, her hand reaching out, but Natasha was already out of reach. To her astonishment, Natasha performed a graceful mid-air flip, landing firmly on her feet. She absorbed the impact with barely a bend in her knees, unfazed.
Yelena descended slowly using her grappling hook, landing beside Natasha with a bemused sigh. "So, you're secretly a superwoman in a blue suit who can fly, huh? When were you planning to show me the big 'S' on your chest?"
Natasha shot her a playful look, glancing across the street as if unfazed by the chaos they'd just escaped.
Natasha immediately activated her Observation Haki. Instantly, the world around her seemed to slow down. Two streets away, she sensed a powerful malice—a presence far stronger than most, even stronger than Yelena.
"Hey, we gotta go," Yelena urged, tugging on Natasha's sleeve. But Natasha shook her head, glancing at the curious crowd gathering around them. She whispered, "There's only one person out there. Follow me."
Without waiting, Natasha dashed toward a narrow alley. Yelena, reluctant but trusting, gritted her teeth and followed close behind.
Despite Yelena's intense training and impressive speed, which could rival that of an Olympic sprinter, she struggled to keep up with Natasha. They weaved through alleyways, cutting across streets, dodging bystanders and pushing through crowds. Natasha was focused, her senses locked onto the figure moving rapidly through the area.
The more Yelena ran, the more frustrated she became. No matter how hard she pushed herself, Natasha seemed untouchable, always a step ahead. "Has this woman mutated or something?" Yelena muttered under her breath, embarrassed by how easily Natasha was outpacing her.
Their high-speed chase through the crowded neighborhood drew attention from pedestrians, many of whom stared in surprise at the two women darting through the streets.
They alarmed many people, especially the man being chased.
However, the man was no ordinary target. Dressed in tactical gear, with a quiver slung across his back and a sleek black composite bow in hand, he moved across rooftops with the precision of a parkour expert. He followed a carefully planned escape route, leaping from one building to another. After a few minutes of running, he vaulted over the edge of a four-story building, grabbing onto the metal fire escape attached to the wall, and descended quickly to the alley below.
A motorcycle, prepped and waiting, stood at the ready. He reached it and started the engine, but just as he was about to speed away, he felt a sharp gust of wind behind him. His instincts kicked in. Without thinking, he ducked, then rolled off the bike. In one fluid motion, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed, his movements precise and deadly.
But he was too late.
Before he could release the arrow, a heavy blow slammed into his chest, like being struck by a speeding train. The impact sent him flying. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body smashed into a wall, rebounding off it before collapsing onto the ground, gasping for air.