She glanced around her surroundings and looked back down to her dimmed screen. There was a message from the employer, containing a name, a time and a location. The unholy trinity for a hit.

Silently, she was patting down her tac gear covered legs she put the satellite phone away and found a small disc the size of a two pence coin. Sliding it out of her pocket she held it lightly in her palm before rising slightly over the crates of Raphael forgeries to get a glimpse of the situation she was attempting to handle. The hit was to take place in two weeks, there was nothing she could do but carry out the clean up for her current assignment.

Three men were arguing at each other, hissing in Romanian, trying to decide the best way to smuggle the forgeries to buyers and black market dealers. All of them were a mild threat, an annoyance to be dealt with, however this actual job obviously had more members than these men who hadn't even planned how to get the merchandise around. Amateurs.

Fortunately, they weren't particularly vigilant as they didn't notice her flinging the disc at the middle man, who went down, falling ungracefully. She pulled out a pistol strapped to her back and aimed it at the man with the balding head. Silencer already screwed on, the only sound was blood splattering from his skull and his body dropping to the stone ground.

The last man staggered back in horror. She rolled her eyes and stalked towards him. He was young, 30 maybe, not that his age would do him any good. Her pistol was at close range to his heart now. He begged for his life. She tilted her head to a side, but pulled the trigger anyway.

She left the bodies where they were for her employer and the local authorities to find. Digging out the phone she made a call.

"Имя?" the male baritone voice on the other end asked.

"Грейс," she replied with her current alias.

There were sounds of typing and clicking before he replied in a strong Brooklyn accent, "Ma'am, you have an extraction scheduled at 1900 local time at the Jonathen Field, ready for mission report and debriefing as soon as you get to the secondary base in Vancouver."

"Спасибо," she said.

Ending the call she headed over to the first man to go down, and picked up the abandoned disc, removing any evidence that could potentially be traced back to her. The small device was tapped out from use but it could be altered to work again. Not to produce a large enough amount to kill a person, however enough to either knock someone out for a while, or for the lucky ones, an unexpecting shock from a handshake.

The metal disc was slipped back into the pocket it came from as she made her way to the south east entrance, admiring the forgeries she passed, only looking and not touching, because there was nothing worse than getting caught on a crime you didn't actually commit. Whoever had created the Raphaels had talent, such good fakes that even she couldn't tell the difference if the original and one of these were put before her.

Leaving the building she headed to the safe house that held her other belongings. It was only around 4pm, meaning it was still broad daylight and her tac gear stood out in the immediate area. She needed to blend in. Her safe house was at least two miles away, an easily manageable walk but she stood out, her only option was to borrow a car.

Of course she would see to the return of the vehicle as soon as she was done with it, along with a large sum of money, or it would be taken care of by work. She picked out a dusty grey 4x4, one of two on this street alone. Pulling out a small pack of lock picks she selected her tools and worked her way opening the door to the driver's seat. The picks went back into her tac vest, and she leaned under the steering wheel to yank down on the plastic to reveal a tangle of coloured wires. She removed one end of the thin green wire from it's place above and pulled down forcefully on the red one, the green went in the gap the red left and after taking the end of a navy ignition wire she carefully brushed it against the red primary power one.

This lead to the engine rumbling and the dials coming to life. She secured the wires together and checked the gas, half tank, that was good, it would get her to the safe house and to the extraction point easy. Climbing into the driver's seat she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pale from stake outs at night and sleeping little during the day, her brunette hair was mussed from running her hand through it too much and her eyes had tinges of camo paint still on them, an all together look of exhaustion. Taking off her tac vest she put it in the passenger seat, this left her in a dark grey t-shirt, a small relief in the humid weather.

She headed northeast for all of 10 minutes before she got another call, this time from someone familiar. She got it out of her vest before answering the call, putting it on speaker and into the cup holder.

"Irina!", Doug yelled, either in a panic or from excitement.

"What is it?" Irina replied, "You know you're not supposed to call unless you're dying or it's a level 9 crisis."

"Is that any greeting for your oldest friend in the world?" he said with a faux disappointed tone in his voice.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm glad to know you're alive, now is there any actual emergency or are you just wasting my phone charge?"

There was a slight pause before Doug said, "Well, um.. Actually it's Mel's birthday next month and we were just wandering if you are going to be in town for it, and if you're going to bring anyone?"
Eventually she would be able to see into her own skull if she kept rolling her eyes so hard, even so Irina replied with, "Yes, I think I can make it, I'll have to fit it around the Azarov job though, and no I'm not bringing anyone. I told you already, I can't, too busy and it's too dangerous."

Doug made a noise before she carried on, "And you remember what happened with Steph."

He sighed dramatically and said, "I know what happened but it happened like months ago."

"Did you apologise to her about the Osin Incident?" Irina asked, hands leisurely on the wheel as she took in the bland surroundings.

"What do you take me for, of course I did, you know I saw her a few weeks ago, hanging outside Harry Winson..." he trailed off suggestively.

"None of my business now. Anyway I've got to go, I'm still on the clock, unlike you," she said.

"All right, but we are going to talk about this later," he replied with a grin in his voice.

"Sure we will, I'll see you soon."

"Stay safe and bye," Doug said before she hung up.

The safe house was used by multiple agents, however it always stayed safe. Everyone cleaned up after themselves and left the place in a presentable state when departing. No one would want to bring the wrath of any agent down on them simply because they couldn't keep clean. An unnecessary risk to take as it wasn't difficult to find out who had the safe house before one another.

In reality the safe house was in an apartment building which was owned by a Portuguese woman with a teenage daughter, who wouldn't say anything to anyone as long as her daughter was set for college and there was food on the table.

Irina arrived at the location, pulling up and parking on the curb of the other side of the street. She leaned under the steering wheel and dispatched the red and blue wire from each other before tucking them away from sight. Grabbing her tac vest she got out of the car and headed towards the door of the building. She reached into one of the many pockets of her trousers and retrieved a set of keys attached to a purple key fob that said 'VASE'. As she opened the door the owner's daughter came in front of her and waved.

"Hi, Grace," the girl greeted, using Irina's current alias.

She smiled back warmly and walked through the dingy hallways up to the safe house on the second floor. Irina got to the reinforced door and slid in the other key on the purple fob, opening to reveal a small living room. She was still in her tac gear and was grateful that the teen from downstairs didn't say anything, the girl was probably used to a variety of agents passing through her doors. Heading to the bedroom she dropped her vest on the bed beside the duffle bag which she picked up and then walked into the bathroom opposite.

She had time to kill before getting picked up as it was only 4:40pm. She took a long comfortable shower, using up most the hot water available for the apartment, it wasn't as if there was enough space for a bath. Irina changed into standard khaki pants and a black t-shirt, putting essentials into the upper pockets of the trousers.

Staring into the mirror as she brushed her teeth she could see that her eyes were clearer without the residual camouflage war paint around them, but the rings around her eyes were still prominent, she was still worn out from the whole week of field work without enough rest. What she desperately needed was a solid 9 hours and half a bottle of vodka.

She twisted the creaky old tap to allow cold water through to rinse her toothbrush before putting it back into her duffel bag. She sighed and ran a hand through her wet hair. Putting the bag back onto the bed she headed to the kitchen to scout out anything worth eating.

The cupboards were lined with random tinned foods, some local and some that seemed like they had been there since the safe house had started up. They ranged from tomato soup to butter beans to sardine strips. What was far too out of date and inedible she threw into the bin and it left her with few choices. She grabbed a can of what she thought might not give her food poisoning and turned on the gas, praying that a flame would come on. After pouring the can into the small pan she rummaged through the drawers, looking for cutlery and a plastic mixing spoon. Eventually the cream coloured chicken soup began to heat up and she stirred clockwise, trying to avoid burning anything or sticking to the bottom of the pan. Her culinary skills were average, enough knowledge to survive on her own and to adapt but she was no professional chef, better to leave the experimental attempts to Doug.

The soup began to bubble slowly and she found a medium sized bowl which she rinsed out before the soup went in. She filled the pan with water and left it to the side of the sink, and then went towards the living room.

There was a two seater couch facing the old bulky television, a window with lace curtains to the right and the front door of the apartment to the left. Beside the couch there was a worn wooden side table with a cheap lamp plugged into the wall socket, she put the warm soup down, it looked more appetising than it did 10 minutes ago. She took a few steps towards the telly and leaned over to see the wires behind it, everything seemed to be in order so she switched it on.

The screen burst with colour and a Romanian soap opera started, the couple were screaming at each other about an estranged son who was sitting in the corner, about which parent was going to get custody. She found the remote on one of the shelves of the table the telly was on, sitting on the lumpy sofa she put a frilly pillow on her lap and the bowl on top of that. She flipped through the available channels and settled on an old episode of a crappy medical show with voice overs in Romanian and with german subtitles. The first spoonful of soup wasn't entirely pleasant but it was manageable and the taste began to fade away, favouring the warmth instead as the radiators didn't do the room any justice.

She pushed her still damp hair over her shoulders. The earlier tension in handling those men had faded away. There were no strong feelings of guilt nagging her, they were bad criminals that her employer said needed to be stopped and so she stopped them. It wasn't her only job for them though, there was always the short recon missions that generally only took a few days or the long undercover ones that weren't particularly her favourite, it was effort to keep up an alias for so long. Sometimes it was months before she saw her friends again.

The show ended as Irina finished up with her soup. She got up, nudging the cushion to the other seat. She washed the pan and bowl methodically, domestic work was calming. Leaving the room she went to put on socks before going back to the sofa, and after another episode of the hospital programme it was almost time to leave.

At the window she pushed the curtain aside to peer over the street and to check on the car. There was nothing suspicious at hand, a few stragglers coming home from work and the odd car passing by. Satisfied she came away and went back into the bedroom. Putting on her regular combat boots she surveyed them for any blood stains, there was nothing as 'too careful' in her line of work. Then she stuck her hand into the duffle bag and pulled out a comfortable navy blue leather jacket which she slipped on. In civilian clothing she looked less conspicuous.
After going to the toilet and doing some last minute checks around the apartment she gathered her belongings and left the place as she found it, slightly dusty but orderly. She closed the door on her way out and quietly went down the stairs, then giving a quick wave at the owner's daughter before leaving. The keys went into a side pocket in the duffel bag and she crossed the street to the car which was left undisturbed.

She pulled the driver's door open and hopped in. She started the car again with the power and ignition wires and turned from the curb, going south east towards the extraction point. It was 6:15pm and Jonathen Field was only approximately 5 miles away, and on empty roads it wouldn't take long for her to get there. She'd walk but the car gave her better cover than being out in the open. Soon the tarmac fell away turning into country roads as she got closer. Finally parking at the end of a track she got out, taking the bag with her. Then in was a short mile walk on a off road trail to get to the field.

Technically it was a privately owned small airfield that belonged to one of the more senior operatives under a pseudonym. One of the locals were paid to stay on the small farm house, which she could see on the other side of the large field, they maintained the area and made a small side profit for themselves by selling root crops.

The sun slanted as it was beginning to set and she leaned against the wooden fence waiting. She carefully scanned the immediate area but there was nothing that was an obvious concern. There were birds nesting in trees and there was the odd chirp from woodland animals: it was peaceful.

She started to get bored from waiting around but soon enough the tell tale sounds of a jet became louder. The spot in the near distance came closer and closer and finally it descended onto the grass in front of her. The birds that were quiet before flew away at the disruption. She slung the straps of the duffel bag over her shoulder and jogged towards the jet, the back of the aircraft lowered to the ground to allow her entrance. As she walked on she was hit with scents of gas and metallic hatch closed up and and the jet took off once again. There was an agent to greet her, she looked to his badge, level 2 then.

"Agent Surikova, I'm Agent Palmer," Palmer said to Irina offering his hand. She shook it. He pointed to the pilot, "That's Aplin and that's Keller," he said gesturing to the co-pilot.

She nodded at each of them as the turned to flash grins at her.

"How has Romania been treating you?" Palmer asked standing up but holding onto a support bar. The other hand fiddling with his sleeve edge.

She pushed down on one of the seats before sitting down and said, "Okay. Nothing I couldn't handle."

They stayed in a silence for a few minutes and were on the outskirts of Oradea when Agent Aplin said, "Better strap in, guys. It's going to be a long flight." He looked over to Irina, "Get some sleep before debriefing."

Her duffel bag was at her feet and she reached in a pulled out a plastic water bottle. She took a sip as Palmer sat a couple of seats down from Keller. Two hours passed quickly and she gave up on trying to stay awake for much longer. The three agents weren't very strong threats, they didn't radiate danger and she could easily take them in any case. When she was almost dozing there was an incoming call coming in from Agent Aplin's phone.

She looked over at the sudden noise and saw Aplin checking the caller ID, he glanced over to Keller who shrugged.

Agent Aplin

"Sir," he said after accepting the call, he put it the phone on the console and on speaker. No room for careless flying.

Have there been any complications?

"No, sir," he said and he shook his head even though whoever he was talking to couldn't see it. She made a mental note.

What is your ETA?

Aplin looked at his left wrist and said, "Uh, seven and a half hours."

The voice paused. And how is Agent Surikova?

He turned around and said, "She's fine, I think."

Good to know. Safe travels. The call ended from the other end.

"What was that?" Agent Palmer asked confused. His expression spoke for all of them.

"I don't know," Aplin replied.

Palmer directed his focus on Irina, "You know anything?"

She shook her head and said, "Does he do that often?"

"What? Commander Goodwin? No, not that I know of. He's too important to be dealing with drop ins for assignments," Keller said, the first time talking directly at her instead of murmuring quietly to Aplin. It didn't matter she heard it all anyway, the jet wasn't exactly huge and her hearing was sharp.

They all settled back to their respective positions. This time Irina took a hair tie off her wrist and pulled her hair back into a low bun, accepting that there was still seven hours left on the flight. She leaned back and drifted off.

She woke when someone was shaking her shoulder gently. Normally she would go to sleep alone and wake up alone. Routines were what killed you in the this line of work but this was one thing she had stuck to, there was less risk of someone killing her in her sleep, and so there was no blame going to anyone for what happened next.

A knife was in her hand in an instant and pressed against the person's throat. She opened her eyes. It was Keller.

"Whoa," he said. Unprepared for an attack. Something he should work on she thought.

She brought down her knife slowly, "Sorry."

He held his hands up defensively, making no sudden movements, "Um, it's okay. I probably should have thought about this better, but, um, no harm, no foul. And we've just landed. Agent Aplin and Palmer are already off the jet."

She nodded in response and got up, putting her duffel bag over shoulder again. Following him out Keller led her through a hangar door, they walked onto a tarmac landing strip before entering the main base of operations. At the desk she was handed a standard name badge with 'LEVEL 8' printed clearly, then she put her bag, shoes and jacket into a tray and walked through a metal detector. Similar to one you would find in any airport but this also performed a full body scan, retinal scan and was able to identify any weapons under skin. She passed. Taking her shoes she quickly tugged them on and threw her jacket over her arm. Looking up there was a woman in a sleek pantsuit waiting for her.

"Follow me, please," the woman said. Her face seemed familiar.

Keller gave a quirk of his lips and turned to leave. Irina walked behind the woman silently, they weaved through corridors and hallways, passing other operatives and agents in the process.

They arrived at a door to a conference room, the woman turned to face her and said, "Go ahead."

Irina stepped in and looked up to see Agent Belovna and Chief Executive Officer Maxwell standing at the other end of the table. Neither were in a good mood.

Irina nodded at both of them respectively, "Sir, Ma'am."

"Sit, Surikova," Agent Belovna said, she picked up a recording device and began debriefing.

Agent Belovna had taken a seat with Irina but Maxwell stood in his place, occasionally shifting, but watching Irina carefully. This didn't unnerve her. She continued mechanically, pushing down the instinct to glare at him. She explained what her assignment was and what she did to complete it, telling them what decisions she made at each point and why. She was elaborating on half-truths.

When she finally got around to the situation with the three men in the warehouse she had to take care of, she skimmed on the actual details.

She sighed, leaned back and said, "They were attempting to figure out buyers when I got there. Part of the mission was to eliminate anyone afflicted with the forgeries, I had all the toys I needed from the dead drop earlier but at that point I only had a few knives left and my gun, I put the men down but secured the perimeter before entering. None of the entrances could be opened unless it was the local authorities doing so or us."

"Good, good," Belovna said primly, she folded her hands together, "The paintings are safe then and there should be a team down there for clean up by Sunday, everything will be bagged and tagged. And then, what happened?"

"I hotwired a car, it's just outside Jonathen Fields, would you, uh, mind finding the owner and covering the expenses? Then I stopped by the safehouse to collect my things. When it was time I left for the extraction point at Jonathen Field. Agents Aplin, Keller and Palmer were present and we landed here approximately 0530 hours."

Belovna nodded and clicked on the recording device. "I'll see to the car situation. Do you have anything to add?"

"No, ma'am," Irina said.

"Well, you're free to go, thank you for your co-operation," she gave a quirk of her lips and then pressed down on the intercom button, "Emma, can you come in here, please."

The young woman from earlier opened the door. "Yes, Miss Belovna?" Emma asked.

"Please escort Agent Surikova back to reception," she instructed.

"Yes, Miss Belovna," Emma replied.

The girl brought her back down to the other side of reception where she had to go through similar procedures entering. When handed her things she got out her satellite phone and punched in a number. Even though she wasn't technically meant to use the device so freely, it was only for contacting for check-ins and emergencies. Her personal phone was currently in her bedroom at her apartment.

The call was finally picked up and Irina said, "Hey, Lola."

"Hey, 'Rina, what's up?" Lola asked, there were crashes in the background.

"You busy?" she asked.

"Eh, not really, why? What's happening with you?"

"Mind picking me up? Just got back from Romania and I don't really want to take one of the cars, they all have trackers in them."

Lola gave a short pause before saying, "Yeah, at the Vancouver base?"

"I'm in the waiting area up front."

"Gimme 20 minutes," Lola said and then ended the call.

Irina sat down in one of the plastic seats, the back of her feet resting on either side of her bag. She stared at the opposite side of the wall with a display that was titled 'We Want You!' with an image of one of the more famous operatives posing, pointing a finger at the camera. A poster encouraging people to join.

There were more details she tried to read but she was interrupted in her thoughts when a bright orange flame can flew down from the open corridor on the floor above.

She watched as it sailed sailed forwards and crashed onto the wooden floorboards. It was a burning office trash can that was half full of papers and a brown file folder. The faint scent of smoke and fumes hit her a moment later just as someone tumbled out of the room the bin came from. The person was yelling unintelligible things back at the agent standing at the door looking exasperated and tired.

The standard guards finally jumped into action and two of them took one arm each of the man shouting angrily and lead him out of the building, forgoing all other security. Another guard came with a fire extinguisher and put out the flaming mess. The majority of the agents in the lobby could have handled the scene going on but left it, if it didn't directly concern them most agents kept to themselves.

Irina sat quietly, watching the commotion and soon enough there was no evidence that there even was a burning wreck to begin with and the floor looked clean. The man was lead far from the building by security and procedures went on like normal.

After a few minutes Lola finally came around, her red Audi pulling up in front of the glass doors. Irina jumped into action and got to the car and opened the door smoothly and slid in.

"Sup, bitch," Lola greeted as she stepped on the gas. She was in grey sweat pants and an oversized (Irina's) black long sleeved top.

"Hey, Lols, how are you doing?" she asked.

Lola rolled her eyes and said, "I'm great, slightly hungover but great."

Irina ran a hand through her hair, nodding, and then opened the glove box, she found a dark blue sharpie and a sheet of slightly crumpled lined paper. She started doodling swirls and leaves as her friend kept driving.

Then Lola fiddled with the radio controls for a while until it landed on a song they both liked, she was humming along to it before she asked, "So, you hungry?"

"I could do with some food."

She made a sharp turn on the wheel and they took a right into a car park of a friendly diner, just in time for the early breakfast buzz. Irina didn't question her choice just climbed out of the Audi just as Lola did and walked in together.

They grabbed a booth by the window and took a menu each from the stand they were pinned to.

"So how was Romania?" Lola asked, eyes scanning through the drinks section.

"It was okay. Sunny, classified, bloody, y'know," she replied.

"Good, good. The eggs benedict sound nice."

"Hmm."

Irina cautiously examined the diner, checking the exits, looking at the people currently present and monitoring those entering and leaving.

A waitress came by and asked, "You girls ready to order?"

Lola gave an award winning smile and said, "Yeah, I'd like the Marilyn Benny with a side of french fries and an iced coffee with ice cream and a shot of caramel."

The waitress, named Betty, finished scrawling and turned to Irina, "And you, sweetie?"

"I'll have a grilled ham and cheese with a fruit side salad and a side of bacon, and an espresso butterscotch milkshake, please."

That's what she and Lola first bonded over a few years ago, their love for cold drinks at all times of the day, and their insatiable sweet teeth.

"That'll be right out," Betty said as she collected their menus and Irina muttered a 'thanks' when she handed hers over.

"Hey, so you know that guy I was seeing, James? Well, we actually decided to keep it non exclusive, like open, open," Lola said happily, she was twisting her bird necklace about.

Irina was a little surprised, most James didn't seem like the type of person to agree to something like that. Although she'd only met him once, and he was drunk. "Really? Are you sure? You talked to him about it thoroughly, right?" she inquired.

Irina could almost hear Lola's eyes roll. "Of course I did, I made it very clear of my intentions and most guys run to the hills but he actually agreed. Honestly, I think he might be the one. Uh, well, eventually I mean. Not right now, I'm young and still want to have fun, and he gets that. That's what makes us so perfect..." she trailed off dreamily but still looking enthusiastic.

Irina let her friend babble on about James, she was too tired to talk but not enough not to eat. The elderly couple in the booth behind her were already eating when they got there and the smells from their plates swamped her. Her stomach groaned and protested, not getting anything smelling that amazing from the measly canned soup in the kitchen at the safehouse.

"That sounds nice, but I'm not sure about you getting married and settling down anytime soon," Irina commented when Lola was pausing in between her ramblings.

"Ha. Ha. I tell you now, I could get married and have kids and live in the suburbs whenever I want. Urgh, enough of me, when was the last time you were in a serious relationship?"

"I wouldn't call what you and James have 'serious'. And for your information, I'm not seeing anyone since Steph, you know what happened. I had to have this exact conversation with Doug earlier, not my idea of fun."

Lola was making a faux affronted face and she retorted with, "Well, your idea of fun is a stake out in Odessa or consuming copious amounts of vodka and, or tequila."

"To be fair that last one also applies to you."

Lola grinned even more, it took on a scary level now. "Yup, you're absolutely right," she said with no hint of shame in her voice.

Betty came back with their food, looking and smelling perfect, "Eggs Benny?"

Lola was thinking on the same wavelength as Irina: she was half drooling, obviously it had been a while for her too. "Yeah, that's me," she said.

Betty sat the other plate down in front of Irina, then she handed the sides and cutlery out. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

They both immediately dug in, slicing up the food and shoveling it in.

"We are so coming back- " Lola groaned, mouth full, "- to this place."

"It's heavenly," Irina agreed, chewing on warm crispy bacon.

A few moments later Betty dropped off their drinks with a friendly smile. At the same time they Lola clearly liked Irina's milkshake more because she hopped up from the red seats of the booth took a hit of their cold beverages. Lola's eyes widened. "Gimme," she said, she made grabbing motions with her left hand, her other was holding a fork with asparagus on. Irina swapped the positions of their drinks and tried Lola's iced coffee. It was good, like I-would-kill good. However and pulled out two straws from the counter.

"We're sharing," she clarified and stuck one in each glass.

Only around 15 minutes later they finished their food, they had stopped mechanically eating to chat and share plates. By the end there was nothing left, no leftovers or scraps, the dishes were completely empty. Betty came around one last time to hand them their bill, it was relatively inexpensive for a meal that size and definitely worth coming back, Lola picked up a business card after they paid for their meals and left a hefty tip to Betty on their way out.

"God, I'm so full, it's ridiculous. Also have you noticed how frickin' colorful Canadian money is? Like $5 is actually blue and $10 is purple," Lola babbled as they got back into the car.

"I'm not having this conversation with you again, you've lived here for a really long time, you'd think you would at least get used to the color of the currency. And you work for the CIA, shouldn't you be used to this stuff by now?"

Lola shrugged and said, "I only commute to the states every now and then." She turned the engine on, they left the parking lot and headed in the direction of her apartment. Then despite her vigilance and caution, Irina began dozing off, lightly napping against the headrest while Lola continued humming to the radio. Around 10 minutes later they made a left turn and reached a block of apartments, Lola pulled into her usual spot in the private parking lot and switched off the engine.

She leaned over slightly and flicked Irina's cheek. Irina jolted awake squeaking and looked around her surroundings to find Lola grinning wildly at her.

"Jesus! Don't do that to me," Irina said, over playing her reaction, she rubbed her cheek and mock glared.

Lola chuckled and opened the car door, "Unable to resist, secret agent lady."

"Unfathomable stupidity, more like," Irina grumbled getting out as well.

"Eh," Lola offered as she shrugged again.

They headed up to their floor and they kept nudging each other as they went, and Lola nearly knocked over a vase of lilies as large as her niece so she couldn't really be blamed for that. Lola's giggles could be heard from the building opposite, although the walls weren't exactly soundproof. The breaking of the photo frame however was definitely her fault, she had shoved Irina into a violet striped wall and ended up bouncing back at her more viciously, making the frame topple over and crack. For state of the art secret assassins, they really needed to work on their balance.

Eventually, they got to the dark green door which had a printed, '34', on it without smashing anything further. Instead Lola fumbled around in her pockets until she got out a different set of keys to her car one. Her apartment keys had a black and white dice hanging off the ring and a small plastic rose hooked onto that.

As soon as she swung open the door, Lola threw the keys into a glass bowl along with her pocket change. She turned to Irina and grabbed her shoulders, looking into her eyes and said seriously, "You are a weird person," she let go and circled behind her, hand on hip, "Right, you're in the guest bedroom as per usual and you're cooking," Lola pushed Irina forward, hard enough to make her stumble.

Irina caught herself, stood in all her 5'7 height and glowered at her, before racing through the living room to Lola's bedroom in retaliation. "I'm raiding your closet," she yelled. She jumped into Lola's room slammed the door and turned the lock, leaving no time for her to protest.

"Hey," Lola shouted through the door, "Take care of the shoes!"

Irina laughed but didn't respond, she was elbows deep in Lola's small walk-in closet. She toed off her boots and left them and the side of the door. Lola's room was slightly neater than her closet but not by much, Irina was currently going through her supply of denim, ranging from stiff pearl white to dark skinny jeans.

Eventually Lola had settled to a quiet mumble and Irina had found a pair of blue comfy light wash boyfriend jeans. On Lola they were slightly long but they settled on Irina just above the ankles, her height had a few inches on Lola's, who was more petite than her. She took off her cargo pants and folded them and chucked them onto a chair and pulled on the jeans. Then she moved onto the tops in the corner, picking up clothes and putting them away as she went. Looking through the t-shirts, she took out a few she liked and decided on a plain white tee. She walked over to the long stand up mirror and yanked off her shirt, it went on top of the pants on the bed.

Staring at the mirror she saw herself in a jeans and a black bra, faded stretch mark scars below her belly button from puberty and other more unnatural scars littering her torso, chest and arms. Some were small and bare unnoticeable, others stood out, shiny and harsh. She didn't mind the stretch marks as much, they were a sign she had lived and grown but a few battle inflicted scars were difficult to look at, they weren't the only ones, there were some on her back but she didn't have the strength to turn to look at them.

The white t-shirt was still in her hand, she slipped it on and padded silently on the cream carpet back into the closet. Searching through the cardigans and sweaters her eyes found her hunter green cable knit sweater. A treasured favorite. Tugging the sweater from the hanger, she put it on, reveling in its comfort.

Whenever she stayed over at Lola's she sometimes had to leave her clothes and belongings behind for a mission and her clothing usually made its way into her closet, which meant free reign when she needed a place to stay. Her other things were in a large purple box in the guest bedroom, the toiletries and random CDs were.

She left the closet, much tidier than when she first came in, and pulled off her socks putting them on top of the pile on the bed. She scooped them up and picked up the boots, she juggled them in one arm while she unlocked the door and left, walking towards the living room.

Lola was munching on popcorn from a large purple bowl in her lap while she watched entranced as Loki give a monologue on the television screen. Irina came in and stood to the side of the sofa. She dumped her old clothes into the frayed armchair to the left of the couch and she cleared her throat, putting a hand on her hip.

Lola turned her attention to her and whistled, "Damn, how the hell do you make simple look so good?"

Irina shrugged and with one hand on the arm of the sofa she swung up and jumped onto the seat next to her. "Well, it's my outfit for tomorrow," she said.

The popcorn jostled violently and pieces fell over Lola's body and the couch. Lola gave a small gasp and exclaimed, "How could you!"

Irina rolled her eyes and stuck her hands deep in the bowl and came out with a palm full, she chucked a few pieces into her mouth. They were plain but amazing all the same. Lola just said, "Meh," and turned back to the movie, forgiving Irina for the moving of the popcorn.

Irina watched the film for a couple of moments before reaching over and sliding a black hair tie off Lola's wrist. Lola stayed limp, letting her take the tie, just keeping one hand continuously popping popcorn pieces into her open jaw.

Irina raked her hands through her hair and then pulled it back before twisting into a bun. She rolled up her sleeves to just above her wrists and leaned back, enjoying the casual and civilian moments.

An hour later the movie had finished Lola was gushing about it for the millionth time, she was ranting on about how Lex Luthor was an asshole, even with some good lines and how Harley and Poison Ivy was totally a thing. That was the beginning of a chain marathon of superhero films, from terrible to amazing. It took up to 15 minutes for Lola to stop babbling on about one.

12 hours, 7 giant bags of popcorn, 2 take away pizzas and an unlimited supply of flavoured water later, Irina heaved herself off the sofa and picked up her clothes from the armchair and said, "Right, I'm going to crash. See you in the morning and don't stay up too late."

"Yes, Mom," Lola droned out, rolling her eyes.

Irina slipped out of the room and went back into Lola's bedroom. Her clothes were tucked under her arm and she used the other to choose a raggedy novelty shirt, a pair of silk shorts and briefs from a small drawer that only held her underwear. She made her way into the guest room, her usual room, and quickly got changed. She went through her regular night routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She got to sleep quickly, even with the rest she got on the jet over she was tired enough to fall unconscious.