Thanks to angiev441 for the reviews. This latest installment is written by Hawkward Russian herself. She wanted it posted in this collection so enjoy her fresh perspective on the characters.
"June, hurry up! Come on, you've been in there for a lifetime!" Clint groaned, leaning his forehead against the woodwork of the door.
"Relax," came June's complacent reply from within, "you still have eight more to go. Besides, this is a necessity. Unlike you, I can't risk being recognized. I need to change what aspects of my appearance I can."
"Yeah well you're taking forever. I was ready in three minutes."
A small silence emanated from the bathroom before Clint heard June's defensive murmur: "It's only been an hour..."
Muttering under his breath about male-female differences, he turned away from the door, making for the window of their hotel room to peer down at the lighted expanse of proud Moscow. Though beautiful, vast and majestic, shining like a beacon in the wintery night, for Clint the city brandished a hard edge; an underlying coldness that delved much deeper than the frozen Russian air. For Moscow, like all of Russia, was based upon the intricate yet deadly web of tradition, heritage, family honor and pride; a web that had ensnared June for far too long, and threatened her at every turn now that she had broken free.
No, Clint had no heart for Russia. If it wasn't for this mission SHIELD had tasked him on, he would have been curled up with June in their nest with a bottle of La Poire in their apartment back in the States. It was only for Coulson's badgering the higher-ups that June was permitted to side in as Clint's partner-something about the op serving as a good field test for any possibility of her becoming a permanent asset to the agency-and that neither assassin would take no for an answer.
All they had to do was not screw this one up. Which shouldn't be too hard. It was a letter drop.
After a brief consultation with his watch, Clint calculated the time it would take for them to drive to the high-end social club where they would intercept their target after he made the exchange.
"Hey June," he called out, loud enough for her to hear through the door, "we've got to leave here in three if we want to reach the Lake Yarina and set up a recon point before Solohob arrives."
"Okay. I'm ready." June called back, before emerging from the bathroom a few seconds later.
Clint's jaw dropped. The change was spectacular.
June stood draped in a black floor-length, back-less gown, her hair dyed a rich auburn and arranged in an elegant up-do secured by pearl pins, while flashing in place of her dark eyes were a pair of bright green ones, their color made possible by the contacts she wore.
"What do you think?" She asked, almost shyly, while watching his face closely in an attempt to catch and read his reaction.
"I think you need to dye your hair like that more often," he confessed, still unable to take his eyes off of her. "June...you look amazing."
She smiled brightly at that, and moved closer to straighten his tie and the collar of his tailored suit. "Its Katarina now, my handsome Viktor," she replied in a flawless Russian accent.
"Well now, Katarina..." He responded coyly, laying emphasis on the name and snaking an arm about her waist to draw her closer, his fingers just brushing her skin due to the cut of the dress. "I'm thinking I need to take you out more often if you look like this every time," his voice dropped to a whisper as he finished, "my beautiful Russian butterfly..." Trailing off with a slow and gentle kiss, unable to resist in the moment, Clint smiled when he felt her hand find his and their fingers intertwined.
"Ready to go?" June asked when they had pulled away.
"Woman, I've BEEN ready," was Clint's smart reply, to which June responded with a light smack to the back of his head, smiling despite herself.
Having made their way down to the lobby, Clint made June wait inside while he brought the luxury vehicle they had rented around to the front, holding the door for her as she slipped into the passenger seat, before running around the hood to the driver's side. It was a relatively short drive to their location, and Clint's watch showed his calculations to be precise when they pulled up at the curb of the club Lake Yarina at exactly the desired time.
Offering his arm to June-one that she accepted-Clint led them into the midst of the small trickle of members who were filing past the men manning the doors, the both of them easily slipping into their role as a couple; this being the first time it applied both on and off the job. Gaining access to the Yarina was smooth and simple as they merely had to ensure that their names were on the list (a necessity in which SHIELD worked its magic), the men posted at the door not even bothering with a pat-down as it was merely taken for granted that everyone within was either armed themselves, or had hired bodyguards shadowing their every move.
It was Russia after all.
Inside, the club was lavish, the interior screaming of an abundance of wealth with the style very much Russian, though not without a bit of Western influence here and there. From within, the Yarina seemed more like a casino than anything else, as most of its space was occupied by crowded game tables scattered about the center of the room. Two of the walls on opposite sides of the room were lined with a bar each, both manned by no-nonsense bartenders who glared at each other from across the room when they weren't occupied with filling shot glasses, while in one corner was a dance floor with an accompanying orchestra, and in the other was a comfortable lounge partially connected to the bar that shared its side of the room. The atmosphere was hazy and thick with the smoke from a hundred cigarettes, and though lax and lazy in mood, there was almost an indescribably sinister underlining.
The people of the Yarina were a mixed group of politicians with their wives, wealthy playboys accompanied by their small entourage of simpering call girls, and large "cultivated" Russian mobsters, each with his own protective circle of stony bodyguards. Everyone was expensively dressed, and everyone was looking to reduce their nearly bottomless coffers by a sum, or gain even more in the process. It was a glaring proof of how much the Yarina must have made in one night.
"Any sign of Solohob?" June asked in a low voice so that only Clint could hear in the constant drone from the crowded room and the crescendo of the orchestra, disguising her words under a slow smile and a teasing glance at Clint, as if she were whispering some innuendo directed at her lover.
"No. I think he's gonna be right on schedule." Clint replied through a whisper in her ear, her hair masking his lips as he kissed her neck lightly.
With June on Clint's arm, together the two of them slowly walked a circuit of the room, inconspicuously analyzing faces, vantage points, exits, and which mobster or doorman would cause the most trouble should something go down. It was a crowded lot, and the threats were so numerable that they soon had to muffle the alarm bells going of in their heads as both Clint and June subconsciously profiled hitmen, assassins, mobsters, and corrupt politicians in the faces they saw.
Yet what worried Clint the most was the fact that June was drawing heads. He could see it as they slowly passed by the men seated around the bars or game tables, and while a large part of him felt pride, there was also a possessive and protective itch that was steadily growing larger in the back of his mind until he involuntarily dropped a hand to rest against her low back. Coming to a stop at the bar beside the dance floor, their position commanding an excellent view of the door, Clint leaned casually against the bar and ordered two drinks for June and himself, smiling at her when the bartender turned away before leaning in to give her a lingering kiss full on the mouth.
"Clint, people are staring," June protested in a half hearted murmur.
"Let them," was his reply, kissing her once more before pulling away when the bartender returned with their drinks.
He had accomplished his purpose. The message was clear. Already men were shrugging to themselves and turning back to their games, nursing shots of vodka.
Suddenly June nudged him, giving him a nearly imperceptible nod towards the door. "Solohob's here," she murmured into her drink, watching him in the reflection of a polished mirror from over the rim of her glass.
Clint stole a casual glance over his shoulder as if looking at the ornate clock that hung over the door. "I count six personnel. All armed. Solohob is...armed. Ankle holster. No side arm."
June's eyelids narrowed a fraction as she mentally envisioned the take down, assessing the six bodyguards through the mirror and making a judgment call on who would be the first to react and how. "Six guards? Three each? Child's play."
Clint smiled slightly to himself at her confidence. "Think you could take them in those heels?"
"Why don't I kick you in the junk with them and you can find out."
Clint smirked. "Winner takes Solohob."
"Deal."
The two of them watched from the bar as Solohob and his men moved away from the door and deeper into the room, and when he took a place at one of the game tables with the air of a man who intended to stay awhile, both June and Clint wordlessly rose and went to the dance floor where a better view could be commanded.
"As soon as he meets his partner and they make the exchange, we close in." Clint reminded, sliding one hand behind June's back and taking up hers with his other hand as they began to gently sway with the music, alternating watches with whoever could view Solohob over the other's shoulder.
"Mm. But only once he's almost to the car. We don't want to engage...everyone else." June said, just relieving her shift up for Clint as they made the turn.
A moment of occupied silence passed between them, before Clint was suddenly surprised by a tap on his shoulder.
"Please excuse me, but the surely the stars would fall down from the heavens if I did not take up the chance to dance with such a breathtaking beauty as the woman on your arm," said a tall, dark man, smirking at June and giving her a slight bow, while it took every ounce of June's self control to not gasp and draw the Glock 19 that was currently strapped to her thigh.
It was Sasha.
"May I?" he continued, shifting his gaze onto Clint with a distinct authoritative and disdainful air, as if there was no room for a rejection.
'He doesn't recognize me,' June reassured herself, forcing herself to get over the initial shock before Sasha would suspect something was amiss.
As for Clint, he would much rather hand June off to a wildcat than to Sasha. It would probably be safer. Yet, he couldn't object. Not in the situation they were currently operating in. To object would be to attract attention or raise the suspicion of Sasha, and in the moment, to do either would spell out the certain termination of the mission, if not death. Looking at Sasha closely, Clint assured himself that he did not recognize June. And they had never met face to face. Clint only knew Sasha from reconnaissance SHIELD photos and the picture June had entrusted to him. And by reputation.
A quick glance at June was all he needed to know that she had come to the same conclusion, and was resigned to the fact that he must let her go. Clint would have to watch Solohob. And Sasha.
"Don't get too comfortable," Clint said in what could have been a light tease, but his low tone and fixed eye turned into more of a warning.
With alarm inside him, every fiber in his being wanting to hold June close and protect her from the monster who was currently leering at her, Clint stepped back and let Sasha take his place.
June had to suppress a shudder when Sasha's hand slid down her skin to rest against her low back, tasting bile and turning her head away to focus on the orchestra while she gathered her composure and buried the rising fear that swelled with the memories.
"Tell me," the man before her purred in a thick Russian accent and easy tone as they danced, "what is your name?"
"Katarina." June replied, relieved to hear that her voice held no tremor and was light and easy as she hoped. Turning her head back to face him, she gave him a smile.
"Katarina..." Sasha said, testing it, the name rolling over his tongue in a way that made June work to suppress another shudder even though the name was not hers. "A lovely name, for a lovely woman. I don't believe you have ever graced our Yarina's presence before...Are you new to Moscow?"
June flashed another soft smile, falling into the role of her cover and pushing the present danger out of her mind to focus. "Moscow? No. This city is the heart of Russia, and Russia is my heart. I am but visiting for now though, and have heard well of the Lake Yarina. It does not disappoint."
Sasha smiled in satisfaction. "Ah, so you are a true daughter of Russia. Will you be remaining in Moscow for long?"
"Alas, no. My husband is in the export business, and must travel frequently. We are only in Russia to meet with a partner of his. I believe we leave in the morning." June answered, leaving Sasha to wonder exactly what she meant by "exporting" as it was a popular term in the criminal underworld.
"I am dismayed that Russia will be deprived of your beauty so soon," he responded, avoiding the question as she knew he would.
June smiled agreeably, and they fell into a weighted silence in which June felt the strain of Sasha's eyes on her and found herself wishing the song to be over so that she could retreat from his dark virulity, and the weight of the fear that gripped her. Oh, how she longed for Clint by her side! Glancing over, her eyes found him just off to the edge of the dance floor, watching them like his namesake with a darkly clouded expression, and only briefly flicking his eyes over to glance at Solohob before resuming his steady vigil over Sasha and herself.
"You remind me of someone..." Sasha suddenly murmured, still watching her closely, and June snapped back to the near and present. "Someone I knew long ago..."
June drew in a breath. "Oh?"
"She was beautiful like you. Free spirited. Kind. Strong. And yet...willful. She ran from her destiny. Ran from where she rightfully belonged." He looked distant, eyebrows knitting as he went back in time.
June remembered too.
"One day I will find her..." he continued, staring into her eyes with conviction. "One day I will bring her back to her home. Back to her destiny. One day I shall reclaim what belongs to me." And the thumb of Sasha's hand against her back ran once, ever so slightly, across her skin.
This time, the shudder could not be suppressed, and Sasha looked at her questioningly, June beginning to worry that he was beginning to recognize her.
"Cold?" he asked, just as the song was ending.
"Very," she responded briskly, feeling the icy grip of fear and revulsion rising within her. "Thank you for the dance," she said quickly as the music ended, before walking speedily away into the crowd and smoke before he could say anything more, leaving him still standing on the dance floor staring after her until she was lost from sight.
Clint found her at the bar, downing a shot of vodka and hissing between her teeth, blinking far more than usual, and took the empty seat beside her, his hand finding hers beneath the bar. She gripped his as if he was her only lifeline.
They sat like that in silence for a long moment, until June spoke up in a flat, low mutter. "Where's Solohob?"
"He's making the exchange right now as we speak. A few more seconds and they'll close the deal. Your five o'clock."
She roused at this, and shifted her body position so that Solohob was visible across the room. He was talking interestedly with another strong armed man who looked like he had worked in the ship yard his whole life, also surrounded by a number of men under his command. As June watched, the two shook hands as a trade-off of briefcases was made, before the partner turned back to his call girl waiting by the lounge, and Solohob made his way towards the side exit, hemmed in on all sides by his bodyguards.
"Time to move." Clint said, as they both quickly rose and started after him.
"No guns," June warned. "We can't have half the club coming at us." Clint nodded, and they parted in the middle, June veering towards the front exit while Clint stayed on Solohob's tail while remaining concealed and inconspicuous in the crowd.
As Solohob and his men emerged outside of the Yarina and joined the frozen night air in the alleyway connected with the side entrance, they had not gone far before they were suddenly waylaid by June, appearing from around the corner in a nearly hysterical state, sobbing her heart out. Surprised, Solohob's bodyguards were quite at a loss what to do, and though the front two warily approached her, breaking the circle they had formed, they made no move in the first moment of confusion.
June's sobbing only increased, and she sunk to the pavement as if overcome, burying her face in her hands. When one of the guards was close enough to touch her, and was reaching out to do just that, a hand on his gun, Clint suddenly struck from the rear of the circle, knocking the two back guards' heads together three times, whereupon they collapsed to the pavement senseless, before he barreled forward to slam the third guard into the wall.
June, the moment Clint attacked, just as suddenly ceased sobbing and swiftly whirled around to take out the front guard's feet, his head hitting the asphalt with a nasty crack, while almost in the same moment, a knife seemed to materialize out of the second's throat. Jumping to her feet as the third front guard pulled his gun, she knocked it aside and latched onto his wrist, twisting it painfully to make him drop it, while slamming her elbow back repeatedly into his throat, crushing his larynx. As he began to suffocate, she stole the knife off his belt and tossed it to Clint who had just finished with his remaining share of six, the master archer catching it deftly by the handle and driving it into the side of Solohob's throat just as he raised his gun to train it on June. With a vicious backhand with the butt of the third front guard's gun, June downed the last man standing, and he collapsed unconscious before suffocating a few moments later.
"Is your fall back always going to be crying?" Clint teased, as he stepped forward to retrieve the fallen briefcase.
"Well, seeing as nothing unnerves someone quite like sobbing uncontrollably, yes. It seemed to work just fine tonight." Bumping Clint slightly with her shoulder as she fell into step beside him, she nodded towards the briefcase. "Mission accomplished?"
He smiled, taking her hand as they walked out of the alley strewn with bodies. "Mission accomplished. I don't know about you, but I think a hot shower is in order when we get back home, and then a movie in the nest. I'll take the first shift flying home."
June smiled at the thought. "I thought you said assassins don't get happy endings," she teased, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Well we'll just have to prove them wrong," he replied, and pressed a kiss to that auburn head.
