The two women strolled down the street as if they weren't running, talking amiably.
What's it been now? Fifteen years?" the redhead asked.
"Seventeen," the black-haired woman replied. "It feels more like seventeen months, though. How's it been going?"
"Insane, mostly. With my team, you don't really expect anything else. How about you?"
"Oh god, you've got nothing on me," the black-haired woman cackled.
"Alien Norse gods."
"Sentient carnivorous plants."
"Sentient robots."
"Ninja robots."
"Spear that controls people."
"A solution that controls people."
"Captain America."
"A machine living as a man."
"Hulk."
"Not-dead people with autopsy reports."
"Who?"
"Oh, a supervillain, AI with a god complex, old friend of Max's, knockoff assassins, Furan, a student of mine - well, two of them, actually - the usual."
"Furan?"
"Unfortunately. He's dead again."
"Which one?"
"Piotr. Anastasia's dead. Which other one could come back?"
"Anastasia's alive."
"Seriously? How?"
"Serum."
"How do you know?"
"Red Room records. Looks like our boyfriends finally found us," the redhead muttered under her breath as two distressed men raced around a corner. "Stay safe."
"I'll try." The two women departed.
"Who was that woman?" the older man asked. The woman sighed.
"Someone I used to know."