The warehouse was a confusing maelstrom.

The scents and the body heat of dozens of people blended together, and the painful cracks of gunfire bombarded Matt's sensitive hearing. But within moments of crouching by the main door of the squat, rectangular building, he started to sense the order in the mayhem.

The Widows were advancing through the space in teams, covering each others' backs, their movements precise and economical. Their enemies were spread out and floundering, seemingly taken off guard, and too poorly trained to adapt to the sudden attack.

No. Not quite. Matt cocked his head, assessing the occupants of the warehouse further. They weren't poorly trained, they just weren't used to working as a team. As individuals, they definitely had some skills...but they still weren't a match for the Widows.

He followed the fight from the sidelines, knowing it wasn't his place to intervene, that it wasn't his battle. But he was poised to enter the fray if Calina or one of her sister's were at risk of getting hurt, or if something went wrong.

And after ten long minutes of fighting...something did.

The balance of the fight somehow shifted. Something turned in the favour of Volkov's men, and the Widows formation started to fracture. They started to take more hits, and they had to scramble to try to cover each other.

But not all of them managed.

Matt caught the moment one of the smaller Widows came up against a hulking thug almost twice her size. He could smell the gunpowder from her weapon where it had been knocked to the ground, and she was reduced to dodging and spinning out of the way of the brute's powerful fists, her own hits landing with barely any impact against his muscled mass.

Sensing the danger she was in, and knowing it was time to act, Matt sprinted through the doorway and into the warehouse. He leapt over workbenches and the boxes littering the cavernous space and reached the Widow just as her opponent picked her up by the throat and slammed her onto the concrete floor. Matt launched himself into the air, twisted, and used his momentum to kick the Russian in the side with full force. The brute grunted as he flew across the floor, and Matt quickly leaned down to check on the Widow at his feet.

Up close he recognised her as Inessa, one of the Widows from the cabin. She was sprawled on the concrete, eyes closed and not moving. The scent of copper filled his nose, but before he could check for the source of bleeding, his opponent got to his feet and came at him.

That's right, Matt thought as he ducked under a right hook. Pick on someone your own size.

He parried the hook with a one-two jab of his own, and attacked with a series of kicks and punches...but just like Inessa, his hits barely registered. The hulking Russian just absorbed the impact and kept standing. Even a booted kick to the face - with Matt's entire forced behind it - did little more than snap the man's head to the side. He just spat out a globule of blood and smiled, baring red-stained teeth.

Matt took a step back, frowning. His first kick had managed to affect the guy...but was that just due to the element of surprise? Because nothing was working now.

Who the hell was this?

What was this?

There was no time to figure it out - it was the brute's turn to go on the offensive, and Matt had to use all his concentration to avoid the attacks.

Given his size, the man wasn't exactly light on his feet, but his fists packed a huge amount of power. The support beam to Matt's right splintered into fragments when one of the punches missed Matt by a hair and impacted the wooden structure.

Matt wasn't so lucky with the next hit. He was a fraction of a second too late to fully dodge an uppercut, and the glancing blow to his chin was enough to send him flying backwards. He landed in a heap next to the still-unmoving Widow. He gave himself a moment to shake off the ringing in his head from the impact before staggering back to his feet.

But it was a moment too long.

It gave his attacker time to swipe Inessa's fallen gun and start firing. Matt dodged the first round, his honed senses moving him out of the line of sight before his addled brain had a chance to catch up.

The next round glanced off his mask.

But by the third round, Matt was ready. He ducked and spun out of the way, grabbing his billy club from his holster. With a sharp flick, he sent one end of it barrelling towards the gunman. The baton hit the man in the hand with a crack, and the pistol flew out of his grip.

Before Matt could follow up the move, a familiar figure came sprinting towards them from the right. Matt watched as Calina leapt up onto a nearby workbench and used the added height to launch herself onto the shoulders of the Russian brute. She wrapped her long legs around his chest and jammed both hands into his neck, sending bolts of crackling electricity through his system.

As the incapacitated man dropped to the floor, Calina gracefully rolled off his shoulders, somersaulted across the floor, and came up in a crouch at Matt's feet.

She stared up at him, mouth parted in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

There was no time to reply. Another man had chased Calina across the room and was coming in hot. Matt grabbed Calina by the arms, pulled her to her feet and shoved her behind him just as the newest aggressor reached them.

This one had a knife. A long, serrated dagger that flashed towards Matt as the man attacked. Matt blocked the blade with the edge of his baton, and countered with an elbow strike. Calina stepped out from behind him, dropped into a spinning crouch and swept the knife-man's legs from under him. He collapsed to the floor, and Matt followed him down, hammering a vicious punch into his face to knock him out.

Another assailant came running at them, this one a similar build to the electrocuted brute.

And he was just as strong.

It took Matt and Calina working together to take him out, the two of them utilising their strengths in tandem - Matt's offensive skills, Calina's agility, the weapons strapped to her wrist, and the baton in his hand.

And they complimented each other perfectly. They both seemed to instinctively knowing where the other one was, and what they were going to do. They were so in sync, it was like a dance. As if they'd been training together all their life.

As the man finally fell unconscious at their feet, Matt turned to Calina and touched his gloved hand to her cheek, his senses checking her over for any injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She pressed his hand to her face. "No, I'm fine. Are you?"

"I'm good. But who the hell were those guys?"

Calina shook her head. "They're not supposed to exist. And they're definitely not supposed to be here."

———

Their intel had failed them.

All of Anya's careful research, the days and days of carefully scrutinising the footage from this warehouse, the weeks spent wading through the information from Ranieri's laptop...and no one had realised that three members of Volkov's team were supersoldiers.

Well, super-ish soldiers.

The former Soviet Union had never quite managed to faithfully recreate the serum that had transformed Steve Rogers into Captain America. They'd come close with the Red Guardian during the Cold War, but a fire had broken out in the lab hosting the supersoldier program, and decades of research, and the top minds involved in the project had gone up in flames.

Over the years they'd tried to reverse engineer the serum from the Red Guardian's blood. But the resulting super soldiers were weak facsimiles, and they invariably succumbed to an aggressive form of blood cancer, accelerated by the serum.

It was no secret that Dreykov's ultimate goal had always been to combine the mind control of the Widows with the power and strength of the Red Guardian - he'd even experimented on his own daughter to try to achieve that aim. Calina had just assumed all that research had been destroyed when the Red Room fell.

But Volkov had obviously managed to find a few vials - and a few volunteers - and had created a cadre of three semi-enhanced soldiers.

Enough to give the Widows a fight tonight.

But not enough to thwart their victory. Calina glanced around as the warehouse suddenly went quiet, the gunfire little more than an echo, and the sounds of hand-to-hand combat silenced. All of Volkov's men were down - either knocked out or dead - leaving only the Widows and Matt left standing.

Matt.

What was he doing here?

Before she could ask, he suddenly pushed past her and crouched down behind one of the toppled workbenches. Calina followed, her boots crunching through broken vials and beakers as she hurried to catch up.

Rounding the table, she spotted the still figure sprawled on the concrete. "Inessa!" she gasped. She dropped to her knees and patted the Widow's face gently. "Inessa? Can you hear me?"

There was no response. Stomach lurching with fear, she scrambled at the material of the other woman's high-collared suit, tugging it down to try to reach her pulse.

"She's alive," Matt reassured her. "But one of those 'things that shouldn't' exist slammed her hard."

Calina let out a shuddering breath. She hadn't realised Inessa was in trouble. All of the Widow's training and strategy had fallen apart once they'd encountered the supersoldiers. 18 against 9 had turned out to be shitty odds when super-powered, 6-foot-5 killing machines were part of the 18. They'd lost track of each other in the melee, their careful plans to watch each others' backs had fallen apart in the struggle to just survive the fight.

The fight that Matt had wanted no part of. The fight that he didn't agree with, and the one which went against every facet of his moral code.

But the one he'd joined nonetheless. To help her and her sisters.

"Thank you," she whispered, knowing instinctively that Inessa would be dead if it wasn't for him.

"You can thank me when she wakes up," Matt said, probing the back of Inessa's head. When he lifted his hand, his glove was wet with blood.

"How is she?" Yelena asked, fear evident in her husky voice. She and the rest of the Widows had rushed over to crowd around their fallen teammate.

"She needs a doctor," Matt answered. "She's got a nasty laceration. I can't sense a fracture, but she'll need to see a doctor to be sure."

Yelena nodded, then turned to Calina. "You and Katya, take her to St Jude's across the river. The gear's in the van - you know the drill."

Calina nodded, then looked to Matt. "Can you carry her out? I'll be there in a second."

"Of course." Matt lifted the other Widow in his arms and followed Katya as she led him out of the warehouse.

"Will you guys be okay here with all the...clean up?" she asked Yelena.

"We have enough time," Yelena replied. "Anya's checked the airwaves, and no one's reported the gunshots to the police."

"That's not what I meant."

There were several bodies on the ground who were merely incapacitated and not yet dead - including the two supersoldiers that she and Matt had fought. They needed to be taken care of. And Volkov still needed to be interrogated. Once again, she felt like she was being given the easy way out. That her sisters were taking on the dirty work of killing, while she left with her hands somewhat clean.

"We'll handle it, Calina," Yelena said, not unkindly. "Inessa needs you. You're best placed to sell the cover-story to the medics - you're a lot less beat up than us, thanks to your boyfriend."

Calina glanced around at her sisters, realising Yelena was right. They were all littered with wounds and bruises, while she was relatively unscathed. "Okay. I'll check in later."

Yelena nodded, then turned and started barking orders at the rest of the team.

Calina jogged out of the warehouse towards the van stashed in the adjacent lot. The earlier pain in her knee - forgotten during the heat of battle - flared up as she ran. By the time she reached the vehicle she was limping badly.

"You okay?" Katya asked from the driver's seat.

Calina nodded and jumped in the back, pulling the sliding door closed behind her.

Inessa was laid out on the floor, still unconscious. Matt sat by her head, his mask in his hands. The sight of his messy, sweaty hair caused a pang somewhere deep in Calina's heart. She wanted to freeze time and live in this instant forever. She wanted to avoid the inevitable moment when he would say goodbye and she'd lose him for good.

But they needed to move. Now. Inessa needed medical attention as soon as possible...and she wanted Matt as far away as possible from the warehouse before the executions began.

So she sat down, took Inessa's small hand in hers, and called out to Katya. "Let's go."

———

Five minutes later, Calina started to strip, knowing it was time to put the plan in action. She pulled down the zipper of her suit and started to wriggle her arms out of the tight fitting material.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked, sounding confused.

"Getting changed," she explained. "I can't take Inessa into the ER looking like this."

She kicked off her boots and peeled off the rest of her outfit, then rummaged in the duffel bag stashed in the back of the van. She eventually found what she was looking for and pulled it out, the heavy sequinned material rustling in the quiet of the van.

Matt cocked his head to the side and frowned as he tried to place the sound. "Is that your dress?" he asked. "The one you wore the night we fought?"

Calina laughed, the sound holding a bitter edge. "Yeah. Maybe one of these days I'll actually get to wear it out dancing."

But maybe not. This particular dress held nothing but bad memories now. In fact she was starting to think it was cursed. First there was the mind control incident, and now one of the worst case scenarios from this battle was playing out - a Widow was injured enough to need hospital care.

Calina finished dressing, quickly fixed her hair and applied some make-up. Then she turned her attention to the unconscious woman on the floor. She quickly removed Inessa's suit and placed a different dress around her neck. As Calina gently manoeuvred Inessa's arms through the sleeves, the other woman finally started to stir. "Why'm I naked?" she slurred.

Calina froze at the sound of her sister's voice, then let out a shaky laugh. "You're not naked. But you hurt your head, Nessie." The nickname came out of nowhere. But it felt right. It made Calina realise how much she cared about the younger Widow...and how worried she'd been that she'd never hear her voice again.

She pulled Inessa into a seated position, quickly tugged down the dress, then let the injured woman rest against her. Her head fell heavy onto Calina's shoulder, and Calina gently smoothed a hand over her braided hair as she explained what was happening. "We're taking you to the hospital. But we need to get the cover-story in place first. You remember the plan, right?"

Inessa started to nod, but groaned as it aggravated her sore head. "Party time."

"That's right. Just one more thing to do." Calina glanced up at Matt. "Can you-" Her question died on her lips as she saw the strange expression on his face. His head was still tilted to the side, his eyes were soft, and he was smiling a small, affectionate smile. It was so out of place in this van soaked with fear and sweat and blood, that she didn't know what to make of it.

"Matt?"

The smile dropped. He shook his head as if clearing it. "Sorry, what?"

"Can you pass me the bag by your feet?"

He reached down and grabbed the paper bag, handing it over. She pulled out the bottle of whisky from inside, unscrewed the cap and downed a heft swig of the dark liquor. Then she deliberately splashed some of the contents over Inessa's outfit.

"So that's the cover-story," Matt commented, putting together the plan. "You were out drinking and got injured."

"Yep," Calina replied. "We're just two innocent, twenty-something party girls living it up on a Friday night."

Matt shook his head in admiration. "You guys really thought of everything."

"We had a lot of time to plan for all eventualities. Well, almost all eventualities." The last part was muttered under her breath.

But, of course, Matt caught it. "You're referring to those men in the warehouse?" he guessed - correctly. "The ones who aren't supposed to exist?"

"Frickin' supersoldiers," Inessa muttered, still slumped against Calina.

Matt sat forward. "Supersoldiers? Really?"

"Yep, really," Calina confirmed. "Do you see why someone like Volkov - with his knowledge of how to create monstrous armies - needs to be taken off the board?"

Matt said nothing and Calina winced internally - she didn't mean to drag up their fight again. She didn't want to remind him of why everything between them had fallen apart.

Luckily, she was saved by Katya. "We're here," she called from the driver's seat.

———

Matt felt the van slow as it made a left turn. The sounds of beeping monitors, and the smell of antiseptic and blood grew stronger as they approached the entrance to the hospital.

"You okay here?" Katya asked Calina.

"Yeah, I got it," Calina replied. "Can you drop Matt off somewhere dark and shadowy on your way back?"

"No problem," Katya called pulling to a stop. "Be careful."

"You too. I'll call with an update once we've seen a doctor."

"Do I get a call too?" Matt asked. They still hadn't gotten a chance to really talk. The whole reason he'd been at that warehouse tonight was to see her, to talk to her.

To figure out where they both stood.

Even if that mean re-hashing their fight from the other night, so be it. He just wanted to talk to her.

Instead, she was about to leave, and he felt a sudden, irrational spasm of fear that he would never see her again. That she would disappear forever and he'd be left with nothing but a disconnected phone number and a pile of regrets.

Calina paused, her fingers resting on the door handle. She turned to him slowly. "Do you want me to call you?"

"I think I made that pretty clear when I dialled your cell a million times today."

She frowned. "You did?"

Matt frowned too. "Yes. I called you all afternoon. Because we need to talk, Calina."

The confusion radiated off her - and it felt honest and true. She really hadn't known that he'd called.

Had it all just been a misunderstanding?

He'd spent hours fuming with anger over her 'cold shoulder' treatment of him, and he'd recklessly traveled all the way into Jersey to hunt her down...all for nothing?

No. Not for nothing. If he hadn't been there in that warehouse tonight...and those men had managed to kill Inessa and overpower Calina...

He couldn't bear to think about it.

He was meant to be there tonight. Call it God's plan, or fate, or just wild coincidence...for whatever reason, he'd ended up in the right place at the right time tonight.

"I hate to interrupt," Katya called out, "But you need to go, Calina, before someone takes too much notice of this van."

"Right," Calina said. She pulled her hand from his and wrenched open the sliding door. Then she helped Inessa out, one arm wrapped tightly around the other woman's waist. She looked back at Matt and bit her lip. He could sense her indecision - and her struggle between helping her friend and not leaving things so uncertain between them.

So he let her off the hook. "Go," he said, grabbing the handle of the door. "Inessa needs you. We can figure this out later."

"Okay," she nodded. "I-I'll see you later."

"See you later." He pulled the door shut, and followed her with her senses as she hobbled with Inessa into the building. As Katya started the engine, Matt listened as Calina put on a show for the medical staff inside.

"Please you gotta help us, my friend fell!"

He laughed at the unexpected, note-perfect Brooklyn accent.

"We were just out drinkin' at that bar, you know the one in Bushwick with the balcony and all those fairy lights, and she fell. Outa nowhere. There was all this blood and she was knocked out cold."

She'd completely morphed from his sweet, serious Calina into the perfect rendition of a vapid, drunk party girl.

It was impressive, really.

"What's so funny," Katya asked.

"Calina. She's really selling your cover-story."

"Yeah, when she gets into character, she really commits. She should be on the stage."

"I can't really picture that." Calina was too reserved to chase a life in the limelight. She wanted a simpler future, filled with happiness and meaning.

He just hoped he could be a part of it.