A/N This is my first story and I would REEEEEEAAAALLY appreciate it if those who read could tell me if you liked it and what I should change! I doubt I'll continue if I don't get any reviews so please share your opinions if you want me too, I value them!
The wind - as if it felt tired of battering humans with it's chilly air - was reluctant in it's sporadic gusts, but fluttered the jacket of a Miss. Ceriela S. Pell anyhow. The slightly-taller-than-medium height brunette tugged her soft minty collar closer to her cheeks as a defense against the crisp Manhattan air, and struggled down Tessanan Boulevard with a briefcase and a determined gaze. At the entrance to a humble apartment, she let out a breath and relaxed slightly before entering. She had things to do.
"I think we've got our suspect," Agent Natasha Romanoff whispered into her ever-present earpiece. "Slice of pie" narrowing her eyes and watching the aforementioned suspect disappear into the building, Agent Romanoff slid her loaded pistol into the pockets of her scholarly guise.
"I believe the saying you're looking for is 'Piece of cake' Agent," Director Fury responded from back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, amused, "and very well done."
Agent Romanoff smirked "No, I meant pie. I've already found what I'm looking for." She said, leaping adeptly from her shadowy rooftop hiding place and rolling to a stop in an alley directly across from the building that was her target. A discreet check showed her costume to be unruffled - and more importantly - believable. Crossing the unusually calm street, Agent Romanoff hurried into the apartment building, and traveled to the first floor. Double checking the address on the door in front of which she stood, and plastering a large smile on her face, she knocked.
Sighing loudly, Ceriela Pell set her briefcase down on her cozy hallway table, and doffed her sensible combat boots and heavy coat. At hearing a knock at the door, her first instinct was panic – she wasn't expecting any visitors. Quickly, she snapped open her briefcase and grabbed several vials and papers, quickly hiding them but a few feet away in the kitchen.
"Just a minute! " She yelled clumsily, rushing to the door and trying desperately to fix her stray hairs in the hall mirror. Standing outside the door was a striking blonde in a creamy blouse and pencil skirt, who looked rather familiar.
"Hello?" Ceriela said cautiously. Holding out a flawlessly manicured hand, the blonde wasted no time in introducing herself.
"Corina Dowdrey from the Ghalter University of Science – you may have heard of me," she said proudly, inviting herself in.
"Well I- I can't say that have," Ceriela said, embarrassed "and as for Ghalter…" For the first time, the blonde seemed slightly put out.
"You applied for a job there no? Ceriela Pell? Our interview – informal, not to worry – was scheduled last week to be at exactly…" She glanced down at her watch "…now."
Ceriela pondered this, trying to recall a conversation she had had with any universities, until it dawned on her and she snapped into hostess mode.
"Of course! I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was… official." Truth be told, it had been an offhand comment to a contact at said university that had led into "So, 7:00 on Thursday?" and had been unsuitably responded to with a "Sure, sure, I don't think I'm busy" from Miss. Pell, who happened to suddenly be regretting the inattention paid.
Nodding, and looking a little flustered, she gestured to the closet "Come in, come in. Shoes go just there, yes, now – coffee or tea?"
"Tea would be nice, thank you." Agent Romanoff responded, quickly observing the small apartment. It was extremely tidy and uncluttered for one who seemed so scattered, rugs and furniture pristine and minimal, walls and cabinets clean and organized. This young lady mustn't have been in most of the time - or perhaps she simply didn't own much. To Natasha's left was a small hallway ending it what she assumed was the bedroom, to her right a living room, and in front of her stretched a longer hallway. This hallway led first to the kitchen, in which Miss. Pell could be heard bustling about to start the tea, and then to two closed doors – one to the right, and one at the end of the corridor. Natasha would no doubt be visiting those rooms later.
"She's younger than I expected," admitted Fury "Not the type you expect to be planning homicide and stealing dangerous chemicals and tools." Natasha – or 'Corina' cleared her throat in agreement and made her way to the kitchen.
"Is this okay for our purposes?" The young criminal asked, placing a steaming mug of sweet smelling tea in front of a chair. Agent Romanoff nodded politely and sat down, thanking Ceriela for the warm drink. "Now, I've heard a lot about you Miss. Pell, and I must say I would be glad to have you at our university. We're always looking for enthusiastic workers"
Ceriela smiled brightly, internally worried about what this lady could possibly know about her. "Wow, thank you! What kind of things would you be looking for? I know this is 'informal'" - air quotes - "But I'm sure if I tried, I could dig up a resume?" Agent Romanoff laughed lightly.
"That won't be needed, I'll just ask a few questions. Could you tell me about your schooling?"
"Of course!" the brunette grinned readily. After a lengthy discussion in which Ceriela made up absolutely all the information she gave, and Natasha used her impressive interrogation skills to catch any holes in her information , Fury gave Natasha the go ahead to continue the investigation. "Now, Agent Romanoff, but we need her alive – and that's only after you have enough proof." A frustrated look flashed across Natasha's face.
"Miss. Pell? I'm afraid I need to use the restroom…"
"Definitely, door at the end of the hall." Natasha entered the hallway and quickly reached the bathroom, locking the door. "And how do you feel about shortbread?" Ceriela hollered from the kitchen.
"Yes, it's great" Natasha said dismissively, most likely not loud enough for her to hear. Quickly discarding her blond wig and getting her pistol ready for action, she went straight to the window. Silently promising herself never to do undercover work again – she was more of a bust a couple heads in and shoot the criminal kinda gal – she popped the screen out professionally and swung outside to the thin ledge below. Several feet to her left was the window to the study, and her destination. A quick jimmy, and the lock gave way. Ripping away the dark curtains, she scanned the room around her.
"Alright I'm in" she said.
"Good. I have some other pressing matters to attend, just find her research and materials, and take her in" Director Fury responded, over-confidently.
"Done aaand done." Said Natasha, landing silently on the study's carpet.
Ceriela wasted no time. As soon as she heard the bathroom door shut, she sprang into action. What this 'Corina' didn't know was just how much Ceriela did know.
"And how do you feel about shortbread?" She hollered, having no intentions to serve any. Shuffling the vials and papers she had hidden earlier into the fabric of her shirt, she opened the kitchen window and crawled out unceremoniously. Living on the first floor of the building had it's perks, and she landed on the ground as gracefully as possible, sliding down with help of the available awnings. In no time at all, she grabbed the previously stolen car-keys to a previously stolen car from her pocket, and she started the engine.
As soon as Natasha stood up she let out a low whistle. The entire room was a mess. One large table centered the lightless space, completely covered in vials, beaker and papers. Some being heated, some bubbling of their own accord – the place looked like a bomb. "Tsk, tsk, what have we here" the Agent muttered. Directly beside the door were metal containers labeled with the Stark industries logo, and beside that was a bookshelf stuffed to the teeth with books about explosives, chemicals and poisons. Every single thing inside the makeshift lab was stolen and dangerous. Agent Romanoff had no reason to take anything back for verification, this stuff could have her locked up without further examination. Satisfied, Natasha cocked her gun and burst out the door and into the kitchen with a threatening stance. The only problem? Her gun was pointing at an empty kitchen and an open window. Letting out a Russian curse word she rushed to the window as she heard an engine start and let out a precisely aimed bullet – no one got away from Natasha Romanoff.