Natalia sprints through the streets and alleyways of Moscow, her red hair streaming behind her, gun in hand. She knows they're after her, knows she should never have stayed here so long. She let her guard down. And now her past has come clawing back up from its grave, determined to drag her down instead.
When she left the KGB two years ago to work alone she knew she would be put on their target list, but since she was operating on her own now she had a limited knowledge of their whereabouts. She'd managed to stay ahead of them for some time, but recently she had been noticing more eyes watching her when they thought she wasn't looking, her jobs sabotaged or harder to complete. They knew.
Natalia ignores the panic and keeps running from the assassin she knows is trailing her with a kill order. If there's one thing she knew about the KGB is that they don't take well to agents leaving, and although she was one of their best agents she ditched them after only a few years. She knows they will not be merciful.
Before she knows it she idiotically runs into a dead end alley. She turns, bracing herself, for her opponent.
Natalia is startled to see the face of a fellow agent she worked with many times. Alek Roske eyes her with something other than hatred—animalistic and predator-like, yes, but with longing. She pushes away the memories of their time together—he loved her but she had never wanted anything to do with him.
"Natalia," he chuckles in Russian. "How long do you think you can keep running?"
"I was doing pretty damn fine on my own," she spits. "I get a lot more money from working alone and I'd like you guys to get off my ass."
"You can't just kill targets the KGB's after and take the money for yourself. They're not happy, Talia."
"Don't call me that."
He puts his hands up in a mocking surrender. "You know who else isn't happy with you? The Americans."
"SHIELD," she states, not a question. She's killed several of their agents who either got in the way or were wanted dead by some of her employers. She also finds it entertaining to botch their missions—stealing weaponry and helping their targets get away is great fun.
He nods. "You're pretty high on their list."
"Aren't you here to kill me?" Natalia asks, annoyed.
"I thought I could convince you to come back."
The thought chills her. She's sick and tired of being manipulated by corrupt organizations. "You know I never would."
"You're right," Alek grins. "Enough with the small talk."
Like lightning, she lunges at him and wrests the gun away, throwing him to the ground. He pulls a knife from nowhere and slashes at her leg, not too deep but enough to be painful. They roll around, two deadly agents locked in a fight to kill.
He beats her up, but she doesn't hesitate. Slowly she tires him out and gains the upper hand. And then she gets ready to do what she's been doing since she was five—kill him. Just as he grabs her hair in his fist and leans in to taunt her yet again, because she's just a weak used girl and he's never failed to remind her of that, she twists his gun back into him and fires. He falls back, frozen, hitting the ground like a rock. She pulls another of her own guns and shoots him again, two more times, until the light flicks off from his eyes and his blood floods the dirt. She takes his ammo and weapons, finds the tracker and earpiece he wears from the KGB and crushes them beneath her heel. Finally, Natalia drags his body into the dark corner of the alley and wipes his blood from her palms.
This is what she was made to do. Right?
She forces herself to look away from Alek. She has to get the hell out of Moscow or the KGB will find her for sure—they will be far angrier with her now for killing one of their top agents.
Natalia walks slowly, casually away from the corpse and out of the alley, already planning out where she will run to now. She can't come back to Moscow, not for a long, long time.
Back in the alleyway, an American man with a bow and arrow crouches on a rooftop in silence.