With the discussion done, Maxim had returned to Madripoor, arriving in his own private command chamber, a quiet place beneath his home. He sat at the computer, relaxing as he thought of his future plans.
The Mind Stone pulsed in his possession and Maxim eventually pulled up a holographic software that showed over a dozen women's files.
These were Black Widows he had saved from Dreykov, who had stayed with him, committed to working to make the world a better place. All of these women had taken him up on his offer to complete missions for him when asked.
He browsed the various files , looking at what each agent specialized in before picking six of them.
"Initiate Widow Protocol. Authorization: Novikov-Prime," he said.
With that, the message travelled out, bouncing off Madripoor satellites and towards those who it was meant for. Only six received it. Only six would understand what it meant.
And only six responded.
Within the hour, they arrived, quiet as smoke, faster than any official transport. Maxim didn't summon them to a base or a war room.
Instead, he met them in the underground sanctuary carved into the earth beneath his penthouse, a space he rarely used, reserved for moments requiring precision and discretion.
They emerged from the darkened threshold one by one, dressed plainly in travel wear but carrying the unmistakable posture of lethal professionals.
The first to step forward was Anya, sharp-eyed, efficient, her mind always running three steps ahead.
Next came Talia, taller, with a razor-sharp edge in her movements that betrayed her preference for knives. Then Alina, Tatyana, Mila, and finally, Ahri, who was younger and softer spoken, but no less deadly.
They stood in a half-circle around him. No one spoke.
"I have a mission for you all," Maxim said, his voice quiet but absolute. "One that requires more than force. One that requires masks."
The room dimmed as he stepped forward, holographic images appearing with information about the mission he'd be sending them on. The women browsed the information intently whilst listening to him speak.
"Secretary Ross has begun clandestine experiments using Extremis, mutant DNA, and remnants of old super-soldier projects. Three facilities are operational. Shielded. Buried. Hidden under shell corporations with legitimate fronts. They are developing enhanced soldiers in secret."
A few glances were exchanged among the women, but none of them interrupted him.
"I don't want to storm the gates. That's what Ross expects. I want infiltration. I want to tear it down from the inside. Quietly. Efficiently. And permanently." He explained.
Mila tilted her head slightly. "Infiltrate where? The labs?"
"No," Maxim answered. "The people funding them. Politicians. CEOs. Military officials with black budgets and dirtier hands. The labs are a symptom. I want the disease."
Anya folded her arms. "And what are we to do? Spy? Kill?"
"When necessary," Maxim said, "But not immediately. You'll go in as Secretaries. As aides. As personal trainers. Assistants, Cleaners. You'll learn what they fear, what they hide, who else they work with. And when the time is right, you will decide whether they deserve mercy... or silence."
None of them looked away. This wasn't new territory for them. Just a new game board. With Dreykov, they'd each done missions like this many times before, what Maxim was asking wasn't anything to be curious about.
Maxim raised his hands, and the golden light of the Mind Stone intensified. The air shimmered around each of them as if reality itself were bending, compressing, reforming.
"I'm not sending you in unarmed," he said. "You're going in as someone else. Someone they'll trust. Someone they'll let too close."
The Golden Light of the Mind Stone exploded, and swiftly wrapped around all of their bodies. It also expanded out further, seeping into the consciousness of thousands around the globe who were persons of interest, and hacking into various technologies, creating new identities.
The process was instant and seamless. Their fake backgrounds were established with psychic proof buried into anyone notable, job records and all. The psychic aura he wrapped around them would make the people he wanted them to investigate subconsciously answer all their questions, and no-one else would bat an eye about it.
Tatyana touched her face, not feeling any particular difference but knowing what Maxim had done to her and the others, "How long do we stay under?"
"As long as it takes," Maxim answered. "You'll have complete autonomy. You'll know how to reach me if things turn."
"And if we're burned?" Katya asked.
Maxim didn't blink, "You won't be. But if by some miracle that does happen, Then I'll come for you."
There was silence again. But this time, it was different, heavier with understanding. With trust.
"Who are the targets?" Anya asked, voice sharp.
Maxim turned toward the floating holographic display A.N.G.E.L. projected from the wall. The faces of six men and women appeared: senators, oil magnates, biotech billionaires, and a decorated general hiding behind a public charity. Each had ties to Ross. Each held a key piece to the infrastructure propping up the hidden project.
"These are your introductions," Maxim said. "The ones behind the curtains. Get close. Learn what they know. And when the time comes, bring them to me."
He paused. Then added quietly, "Alive… if they deserve to be."
No one argued. These weren't young Widows looking for orders—they were veterans, and they had each made the choice to answer his call.
"Your extraction paths are encoded in the neural implants I gave you. They'll only trigger when needed. Until then, this mission never existed."
They all gave curt nods. Professional. Poised. Ready.
Maxim watched as they left, one by one, vanishing into the dark as silently as they had come. Once the last of them was gone, the room fell still again.
He stood there for a long moment, surrounded by shadows, staring at the fading light trails of the holograms.
Ross wanted a quiet war. He would get it.
But it would be on Maxim's terms. And he had just unleashed six ghosts into his enemy's house.
"Now the game begins," Maxim muttered, letting the darkness fold him away once more.