The life pod hissed and shuddered as its massive doors finally slid open, the mechanical groan echoing through the Raft's corridors. Inside, the compartment was cramped but secure, the walls lined with instruments and panels designed to support both human and supernatural passengers. Kamala, her group, Shang-Chi, his group, and Zemo hurried in, all of them still trembling from the relentless chaos outside.
As the last of the survivors scrambled aboard, Kamala's eyes darted to the open corridor. Yelena wasn't there. A wave of dread hit her chest. "Wait! Where's Yelena?" she shouted, panic rising in her voice.
A crackling voice came over the pod's public address system, distorted slightly but unmistakably hers. "I'm… cut off," Yelena said, her tone surprisingly calm. "The horde's blocking my way. I won't be joining you."
Kamala's heart leapt into her throat. "No! Don't do this! Come with us, Yelena! We can still make it!"
Yelena's voice was gentle but carried the weight of finality. "You need to go. Don't waste a second looking back. This won't be a bad death." There was a soft laugh beneath her words, a twisted mix of courage and defiance. "I want you all to honor me with every breath you take. Live… fight… survive. That will be my legacy."
Kamala's hands shook as tears stung her eyes. "Yelena, please…"
"I said go," Yelena interrupted, resolute now. "I'll see you on the other side—if there is one. Now, get moving!"
Reluctantly, Kamala and the others obeyed. The pod shuddered as the engines powered up. Its hull glimmered under the red emergency lights of the raft, reflecting the chaos outside. But even as the life pod began to rise, Kamala kept one eye on the corridor, unwilling to accept that Yelena had truly stayed behind.
Inside the pod, Yelena poured herself a drink from a small flask she had managed to keep hidden. She set it on a nearby console and leaned back against the wall, eyes scanning the darkened control room. The pounding of the horde outside grew louder, each thud sending a ripple through the metal floor. She exhaled slowly, bracing herself.
The doors to the control room began to creak under the pressure of the undead. Yelena's hand instinctively went to her weapon, ready to make a stand. The horde pushed harder, clawing and battering, the groans growing into a deafening chorus.
And then, just as she thought the moment had come, the doors swung open—not with a crash, not with a shattering of metal, but with a smooth, deliberate movement.
Yelena froze.
Standing in the doorway was a figure she had never expected to see: Alastor.
•••
Her posture stiffened, then relaxed slightly as she realized who it was. "What the hell…?" she muttered, staring in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
I looked around the room—the control panels half-destroyed, the distant rumble of the Raft groaning under pressure, the faint echo of the horde still clawing somewhere outside. The air smelled of salt, metal, and faint smoke. Then I looked at the bottle in her hand.
"What are you drinking?" I asked casually, stepping forward.
"Whiskey," she said flatly, raising an eyebrow. "The good one. I was saving it for when all this crap finally ended."
I didn't reply right away. Instead, I reached for the already-filled glass sitting on the console beside her. Without hesitation, I lifted it to my lips and downed it in one go. The burn hit immediately—fiery, sharp, alive. It felt real in a world that had gone completely insane.
"Not bad," I said with a faint smile as I sat down in the chair opposite her.
Yelena blinked, still looking at me like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "You shouldn't be here," she said, her voice lower now, rough around the edges. "You should be with the others—Kamala, Kate, everyone. You were supposed to get out."
I leaned back, resting my elbows on the chair's arms. "I heard your heartwarming little speech," I said with a grin. "So I thought I'd drop by… you know, to see if you were crying or not."
She stared at me for a second, then let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "You're insane," she said. "You actually came back here to make jokes?"
"Insanity keeps me alive," I replied.
Yelena sighed, shaking her head as she took another drink straight from the bottle. "You're going to get yourself killed one day with that attitude."
I looked at her—really looked at her. Beneath the sarcasm, beneath that hardened Black Widow mask, her eyes were tired. Haunted. She'd lost too many people and seen too much death. She'd tried to make peace with it by staying behind, by giving her life meaning in the only way she knew how—through sacrifice.
"This is really half-assed. I thought you didn't like heroic sacrifice."
Yelena gave a bitter smile. "You think I'm scared of dying?"
"No," I said. "I think you're scared of being left behind."
Her hand froze halfway to the glass. The silence stretched for a long moment before she finally sighed and sat back, looking at the ceiling. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?"
"Yeah, I get that a lot," I said with a smirk.
Outside, the distant pounding of the undead grew louder, echoing through the corridor. The control room's reinforced door rattled under pressure, the metallic groan reverberating through the walls. Yelena glanced at it, then at me.
"You realize they're going to break through, right?"
"Yeah," I said, standing up, cracking my neck. "But that's fine. I've still got some energy to burn."
Yelena rose to her feet as well, setting the whiskey bottle down on the console. "You came all this way to die with me?"
"No," I said, walking to the center of the room. "I came because I don't like goodbyes that sound like surrender. So let's get out of here."
~~~
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