Chapter 25- Blood in, Blood out

Natalya found herself laid on the ground fully stunned. Her body was an aching morass of pain, making her every movement a stabbing agony. It reminded her of the price she had paid in assisting a man who now held her imagination and...perhaps even her heart.

An enigma named Bond. James Bond.

Despite the many weeks they had spent together, Natalya Fyordovorna Simonova still could not quite fathom the aura of contradiction which surrounded this MI6 agent. He was cruelly serious and yet not without a sense of humor. Also, Bond was probably the most capable lover Natalya had ever knew (not that she had many). He took Natalya to the very limits of physical pleasure. Natalya hesitantly shook her head; Bond's stamina could be frightening at times.

And yet...sometimes Natalya discovered that her newfound lover could be cold. So very cold. A woman of immense emotional empathy, Natalya could not understand why this was so.

Bond had so much going for him. Strength, looks, charisma. He had them all. But why this feeling of...sadness which now radiated from the core of his being? It was a strange puzzle which Natalya was avowed to solve. She owned herself that much. What could it be? Natalya mused. A failed relationship? Women trouble? Natalya instantly dismissed the idea. Bond was far too hardened for something like this to adversely affect him. Despite his flaws, Bond was stronger than that. Women were an intrinsic part of his life. Natalya instinctively knew that women flocked helplessly to his charms. How could they not? Natalya herself was one of them. The clues were obvious from the very beginning. After their very first night of lovemaking, judging from his expertise, Natalya could already tell that James Bond certainly did not lack for female company. How else could Bond develop this…ability to make her feel so...alive? Energized? Wanted?

Natalya sighed at her memory of Bond's lovemaking technique. He was a true master of his craft.

Professional or otherwise.

Bond's hands were those of a master sculptor'. Manicured and dexterous. There were no wasted movements. No frivolous dallying. With a cruel violence that shocked her, Bond molded Natalya's exquisite flesh into a state of orgasmic perfection, leaving her in a breathless stupor. This came to the following question. When this mission was all over, would their relationship continue?

Natalya doubted it. Still she would do her utmost to try. This man Bond was worth the risk. A warrior (of sorts) since birth, Natalya Simonova was hardly the kind to give up.

Not without a fight at least.

These thoughts and more passed through Natalya's mind as she lay on the warm ground. They seemed incongruous at best. Distracting her from the dire situation that had befallen them.

"Enough of this!" Natalya silently told herself gritting her teeth "I have to...get up." Despite this, the young computer programmer nearly fell down. Beads of sweat ran down her fine brow, drenching the olive-green T-shirt she wore. Her immaculately coiffured hair was in disarray. It spread out across her face highlighting the emerald specks of avid frustration in her eyes. Struggling against the growing pain, Natalya willed herself to rise. It was imperative she faced the task at hand. Their lives depended on it.

Love indeed made people do wonders.

Her bones aching, Natalya looked upon an awesome scene which seared into the memory of her mind.

Happening not twelve feet away from her was a titanic struggle between two implacable forces. Good and evil. The embodiments of light and darkness were succinctly reflected in two distinct individuals.

James Bond. Of Her Majesty's Secret Service.

Xenia Onatopp. Ex-Georgian Fighter Pilot, Director of Operations for Janus.

Two formidable foes. Evenly matched in skill and deadliness. In the end however, their fate, their very survival was decided through the impact of a single kick. It was dealt by the most unlikely person. A young Russian Computer Programmer named Natalya Simonova.

The feisty Russian watched anxiously as Bond engaged Xenia with a lightning flurry of blows. The crunching sound of bone impacting against skin reverberated across the jungle floor. So intense were their movements that Natalya was hard pressed to keep up. Their feet moving about rapidly in a macabre dance of death. Warriors without peer, Bond and Xenia understood that a single misstep could spell their doom. Each strike had to be calculated with the utmost precision.

No mistakes could be permitted.

Instinctively, Natalya understood this. Though she lacked the specialized training of her peers, Natalya possessed both a stubborn will and a deep intelligence of mind. She was warrior born in every sense of the word. It would be several years before her full potential was awoken, but even at this nascent stage of her life...Natalya Simonova was not to be trifled with.

As Xenia was presently about to find out.

Launching herself with a leaping kick, Natalya hit Xenia squarely in her chest. Call it a primordial instinct a hunch or... just plain foolishness, but if there was one thing never in doubt, it was simply this.

Natalya's actions mattered. Especially at this point.

In fact, it was this move that turned the tide. Which led to the events ahead. The destruction of the Goldeneye. The death of Travelean. Bond and Natalya's subsequent romance. It all began here. Natalya's spark of courage shone brightly here. It lit the aura of her promise and goodness to the stratosphere, a rare precious gem that was now being uncovered. Bond himself was particularly impressed. While Bond had always known the young Russian had more than a smithering of steel in her, this particular act came as an interesting surprise.

Natalya's strike flung Xenia off Bond, sliding her almost twelve feet. For a moment, just a brief moment, the Janus operative was caught breathless with surprise. She seemed utterly incapable of moving. Her mouth open in a silent O, Xenia stared daggers at Natalya. Her rival returned the glare nonchalantly.

"My dear, you're going to have to do much better than that." Xenia said snidely. A sliver of white anger was in her voice. With an agile leap, Xenia couched and leapt back on her feet. Natalya watched silently as Xenia raised her hands threateningly. It was clear that a new offensive was forthcoming. One that would be directed solely at Natalya herself.

Tired, her nerves frayed to the point of breaking, Natalya refused to budge from where she was. Whatever that would happen next, she would meet with dignity. The time for running was through.

For her, at least.

The sight of Xenia rising consumed Natalya's consciousness. It was akin to watching an implacable juggernaut approaching to ram oneself head on. Not particularly pleasant. In fact, ever since Severnaya, a silky fear had wormed its way into Natalya's heart. It had gone unnoticed for some time, but now this encounter by the jungle had brought it all out in the forefront.

Natalya had by now gained a particular deep fear of Xenia. Understandable of course. The hurts that Xenia had inflicted on Natalya would have shattered a less determined individual. It was a testament to Natalya's courage that she even now managed to compose herself with such calm abloom. Nevertheless, a speck of fear remained. A seed of doubt that easily sprout into a paralyzing shiver. The truth of the matter was every person had their own demons to slay. And Xenia was Natalya's. She was her nemesis. Her bane. A match made in hell. There were several reasons for this. The fact that Xenia had personally butchered Natalya's friends was one, of course. Another lay in the makings of Natalya's psyche. It was a most interesting tale.

While the life of the average Russian was rather...sedentary, Natalya Simonova considered her life quite otherwise. To her the safe way was usually the right way. Natalya had strived to keep herself busy of course. An idle mind was after all the devils workshop. But they were on the whole mundane ordinary things. Like taking a driving test, or fighting over a wanted promotion. These were tiny matters that occupied her mind satisfyingly, providing Natalya with a simple and yet rewarding existence. Stability indeed had its advantages. A good job. Friends. The adulations of her peers. A young woman in her early 20's could hardly have hoped for more.

And yet...

It was simply a torn page of National Geographic that started it all. Natalya had seen it lying in a road wastebasket on her way to work. It depicted a dazzling blue sea. Undulating waves and sandy beaches the color of salt. In the drab existence of modern Russia, this picture was not unlike a ray of sublime sunshine. It captivated Natalya in a way she had never imagined before. A stoic Russian, Natalya found herself wanting to break down and cry. She controlled herself, of course. But the experience was most disorientating. Natalya was reminded of an odd word she had picked up whilst reading those decadent western magazines. What was it? Ah yes...Kismet. Could this be happening here? Somehow, Natalya doubted it. She was no believer of destiny. Astrology, fortune-telling were for her merely foolish wives tales waiting to be debunked. Fate. Her fate would be held firmly in her own hands. She was responsible of her own life. Never one for excuses, it was Natalya's own adamantine will and brainy intelligence that allowed her to overcome the many adversities St Petersburg life had to offer. Natalya's successes validated her beliefs and made her...a typical Russian.

Cynical, plain speaking and cautious.

But still a small seed of hope lay within Natalya. Childhood memories nurtured it along with her passionate nature. Though she tried to deny it, Natalya still searched for love, excitement. An experience...an adventure that would both complete and transform her. This torn National Geographic picture marked the first step on Natalya's journey to liberation.

Hesitantly and with a slowness that belied her excitement, Natalya placed the tattered sheet of paper in her skirt pocket. Straining to maintain a calm demeanor, Natalya tried to take stock of what had happened to her. She stole another quick glance at the object in her pocket. It was merely a picture. A rather picturesque one, no doubt. But hardly worth getting worked up for.

Natalya prided herself on being objective and honest. (When you came down to it) What was the case here? Old memories being reawaken? Or what it a sign of something deeper? It was a twelve minute walk to her workplace. But for Natalya, it seemed almost like a lifetime. Slowly she mulled over her options. This was definitely not a matter that would go away. Natalya was astute enough to realize that.

Placing the tattered photo over her workbench, Natalya came to a decision. She would travel to the location in the picture someday, no matter the cost. This National Geographic picture represented a small slice of heaven to Natalya. She became besotted with the image of sandy beaches and blue currents. Somehow, it soothed the turmoil in her heart and offered Natalya something she had long forgotten.

Peace.

Thus began a four year love affair with the Caribbean (where Natalya discovered the picture was shot). Slowly but surely, people noticed a subtle change in Natalya. She was softer, more open. A sarcastic sense of humor began to emerge from her. It was sharp and biting and yet...there was a gentle, warm undertone to it. Like how the scalding warmth of boiling water melted away the frost of a winter's cold. Refreshing and with a pleasant afterglow. Natalya also acquired a unique way with words. She married her industrial manner of speaking with a breathtaking seductiveness that now commanded her audience's attention. It stunned everyone. When asked on this sudden change, she merely smiled without a word. No explanation was ever given. In all, it added to the renowned Simonova mystique, making Natalya's already attractive features all the more lovely. A blue glow suffused her, giving Natalya a stunning appearance of health. She seemed utterly...reborn. Far and beyond the woman she previously was before.

A change of attitudes could indeed accomplish miracles. Plus a new outlook at life.

The little National Geographic picture followed Natalya around for the next two years. It was her faithful companion. Either hidden under a drawer sometimes or stuck openly on an open window. After all, there were some working places that...discouraged personal decorations. It was all about policy. Contrary to popular belief, Mother Russia had not completely reformed from its Marxist past. Natalya Simonova of course understood that about as well as anyone. Natalya still remembered how a government recruiter had once refused her because she did not fit the "Proletariat" image of the New Russian Woman. Even years later, the memory still rankled. Natalya swore she would prove everyone wrong.

And in time she did.

It took a little help though.

The National Geographic picture made all the difference. If there was anything that could light a bonfire in a strong-willed woman, it was this. Naked desire. And the eagerness to improve her own life. For Natalya herself, the course was already clear. The Caribbean Sea. That was her goal. Sooner or later, Natalya would taste its blue waters; feel its white sands caress her skin. It would surely be heaven and Natalya would savor every moment of it. A unique experience beyond compare. After a lifetime of struggle, Natalya Simonova would finally be able to close her eyes, and...Relax.

The odds were stacked against her accomplishing this though. For someone stuck in post-modern Russia, the Caribbean Islands might as well have been located on the moon. It was that far away. Reaching it would take connections and cash. Both of which, Natalya was in short supply.

There was a way out though.

Natalya knew that the Russian government offered a few exclusive positions, that permitted (if not encouraged) foreign travel. Intelligence related, mostly. They were rarely (almost never) offered to women and were hotly contested for. Candidates were carefully screened for their loyalty and intelligence. After the spy debacles of the 80's, The Russian Cheka (or KGB as they were more commonly known) was not taking any chances. They wanted the best and were willing to pay for them. Floundering economy be dammed. Mother Russia's Security was far too important to be left in the hands of amateurs or Incompetent bureaucrats. Natalya herself did not quite share their goals herself but respected the sentiments. This young Russian was if nothing a realist. A job worth doing should at least be done well. That was Natalya's maxim.

Apparently, someone out there agreed with her.

Natalya was surprised. Astounded really when she was told that she had been chosen to assist the Russian Military by working at a top-secret facility in Severnaya. It was an especially plum position that paid handsomely in American dollars. Natalya had expected a little...grease trading before the position could be awarded to her. A well priced bribe or sexual favor at the very least. Could someone have actually recognized her talents for what they were, regardless of her gender? In this case...apparently yes. It was almost enough to make her a believer again. Natalya never did quite find out who her hidden benefactor was. But in a way it didn't matter. If all went well, three years would be all Natalya needed to amass enough American Dollars for her Caribbean dream.

That was the refrain of course. If all things went well...

Natalya's neck was slick with sweat as she watched her nemesis approach. There was an unreasoning sensation of fear as Natalya pondered over her options. She had definitely not signed up for this. Facing a trained killer with her bare hands was not her idea of a great time. Still...the fate of the world was at stake. Natalya sneaked a quick glance at Bond. His face in a state of intense concentration, Bond struggled to get back on his feet. Silently, Natalya met her lover's eyes. They were brimming with a fierce sense of strength and concern. A warm wave of affection passed through Natalya. This was a man she could give her life for. Who merited her respect. Trust was the cornerstone of any relationship and here Bond was suddenly taking the first step. He was trusting Natalya to keep herself alive without his help. Even if the chances of that happening on her own were...slim.

Never a coward at heart, Natalya resolved to play this game to the end.

Her analytical mind fluxing into overdrive. Natalya positioned her left hand in a rudimentary defensive posture and studied her opponent. It was not a pretty sight. A rancid smile was appearing on Xenia's face. It spread from grin to grin. Natalya had the impression Xenia was like a Hyena in heat. Cruel and lustful. Natalya shivered and quickly ran through the meager list of fighting techniques at her disposal. None seemed particularly appropriate for the task at hand. With only seconds to spare, Natalya did what other legendary fighters did in impossible situations of this sort.

She improvised.

Feinting with her right hand, Natalya threw herself forward. It was an ungainly, even clumsy maneuver. Infantile compared to Bond's practiced movements. Xenia almost laughed in derision, as her hands began to weave itself an appropriate defense. She already had it all planned out. First a palmed strike to the young Russian's wrist. Natalya would try to block it, of course but Xenia...

Xenia grinned wolfishly. Natalya would have no choice but to react just as she had planned. Her actions would be the same for any trained fighter, no matter their skill levels. Each fighting discipline had their distinctive limitations. Students of each discipline were conditioned from young to reply to various forms of attack in a static and preprogrammed manner. Experts had more varied combinations at their disposal but their reaction remained essentially the same. This childish attack would be no different, Xenia thought. Natalya's assault could be broken apart with three simple moves. Xenia was absolutely certain of this.

Fate however had other plans.

Even the most experienced chess player could be thrown off guard by a random move by an amateur. The professional's tendency to overanalyze worked against them. It slowed them down, dulling their reaction time. There was nothing so jarring than that unexpected move which went against all your expectations. The unpredictable fighter was sometimes the most dangerous. Which was the case here. Through a combination of sheer luck and intuition, Natalya had stumbled on Xenia's only weakness.

Overconfidence.

Her movements like quicksilver, Natalya surprised even herself with the surety of her actions. Twisting herself into a quick roll, she fooled Xenia with the impression she was feinting left. When in reality, Natalya was seeking to grapple close with her opponent. If she could entangle Xenia…

There might still be a way out of this predicament.

With a gasp, Xenia's eyes widened slightly as the petite Russian barreled right into her. There was little subtlety or finesses in the movie but Xenia was hardly in a position to criticize. She was far too busy fending off Natalya's frantic advances. Xenia came to the realization that she had made a grievous miscalculation.

An animal once cornered, retaliates in the most dangerous manner.

Xenia quickly adjusted though, once the initial shock wore off. Natalya's efforts though enthusiastic and forceful, lacked precision and effectiveness. She was not hitting the vital parts strongly enough. Xenia shook her head wryly. The young Russian's efforts were almost pathetic in a way. All fire without any control. What was she seeking to accomplish? To buy time for her lover?

If so it was to be in vain. Xenia planned to give Natalya a rude awakening. There would be no survivors to this little farce. It was essential that Travelean's plan go off without a hitch. There were rich rewards to be discovered in its wake.

Ah the chaos. The sweet chaos that would soon occur. Xenia swore she would savor every moment of it. Economies destroyed. Governments toppled. Victims to be liberated aplenty. Xenia swore that she would taste and savor every speckle of blood spilt on the wretched ground of England.

Nothing else would please her better.

Except the humbling of the annoying gnat standing before her. Natalya Fyordovorna Simonova had delayed Xenia long enough. It was now time to bring this play to an end. Xenia was already overdue in returning to base. Travelean would be expecting her.

Despite his cold exterior, Xenia knew Travelean had taken quite a shine to her. Was he…heavens forbid, in love with her? Xenia smirked at that thought. It was ludicrous of course. Travelean's fascination with women ran more to the pliable sort. Like the helpless sniveling Russian cowering before Xenia now.

No…Travelean merely wanted Xenia's body. It was lust. Pure and simple. Her reputation as being a "Black Widow" was merely an added allure.

Xenia smiled; it was sexual domination in its worst form. Her favorite, by the way.

Ignoring Natalya's futile attempt to grapple her onto the ground, Xenia raised her two hands for downwards strike on Natalya's neck. It would splinter her bones, leaving every orifice of her very self writhing in excruciating pain.

Simply lovely, Xenia thought. This feisty little kitten was now about to find herself de-clawed in a most dreadful and undignified manner. A pity, really. Natalya would never expect it in a thousand years. She possessed a strong spirit no doubt, but it would avail her none here.

Refinement of the spirit was useless without vigorous cultivation of the body. It would seem Miss Simonova had forgotten about that particular maxim. While the young Russian possessed a natural aptitude for unarmed combat, her body was unable to meet the pace of the battle's demands.

Nevertheless, Xenia still saw in her a worthy opponent. Natalya Simonova's reflexes were amazingly fast.

Not a match of Xenia's of course. But it would equal hers with just a few years training. This little kitten had potential. It would be best to end this threat now, Xenia thought worriedly.

The Janus assassin had not survived this long by allowing unnecessary risks.

Still…Natalya might yet serve another purpose, Xenia mused.

This could be what she had been long searching for, Xenia thought. A little plaything she could amuse herself with whenever things were dull. Seeing Natalya's defiant attitude and highly attractive features, Xenia knew she had found the perfect candidate.

She was going to enjoy playing with this young Russian for a long time. Once Natalya was neutralized, she would be the subject of a rather unorthodox medical experiment. One that would imprison that precocious mind of hers in a paralyzed block. Natalya Simonova would be conscious but unable to move. Painfully aware of every indignity that Xenia would inflict on her. The very thought of it made Xenia shiver with anticipation. Natalya was in the end a worthy opponent. Very few people could have escaped like she did in Severnaya and Moscow.

And to confront Xenia head on like this?

Surprising. Definitely surprising.

Natalya Simonova merited further study. Preferably, up close and personal. Where her body could be molded at her leisure. Xenia felt a shiver of excitement spread through her spine.

This would be good.

Xenia could already imagine running her immaculately manicured fingers through Natalya's fine hair. Slowly caressing the young Russian's ivory white skin. Beauty and violence had always fascinated Xenia since she was young. It always astounded me how quickly matters…broke down. How a person once so strong and healthy before could so quickly become a maggoty corpse fit for buzzards. Pleasure into pain. Youth and death. A strange dichotomy. It was a heady mystery indeed,

Xenia's father was a case in point.

Neither a mortician nor a mercenary. He was but a humble shoemaker hawking his wares from town to town. People who knew Gregori Onatopp described him as a laughing, bear-like individual who never hesitated to help the elderly in need or to lift up the downtrodden with a kind word.

The man was a pillar of the community.

Appearances were indeed deceiving. When the remains of over 20 mutilated corpses were found decomposing in a rancid coal pit, it took over a month before suspicion finally fell upon jovial Gregori. A more innocuous candidate for villainy could hardly be found. Gregori had always looked so…friendly. Tempting.

Mind numbingly normal in other words.

What was going on in the mind of this mild mannered father of one? Psychosis? Perhaps the killings were a mere demonstration for his 11 year old daughter? A stunning Georgian named Xenia. A statement on the transitory nature of existence?

We may never know.

What is on public record is that Gregori Onatopp disappeared without a trace, a day before he could be arrested. It was as if the white snow had swallowed him whole, blanketing his sins with a protective cover to prevent the world from contamination of his presence.

Coincidence? Perhaps. Premeditated? Certainly.

What people didn't know is that it was young Xenia Onatopp that disposed of her father.

They didn't know that even as the killing blow struck into his left eye, Gregori Onatopp was proud of his daughter.

A father's love indeed.

His protégé had learned her lessons well.

Very well.

Dealing the sleep of death was Xenia's duty now, Gregori thought melancholically as the life bubbled away from him in red rivulets. He had no regrets.

His job. His mission was now in fine hands.

Even when a child, Xenia had demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for dealing death. Cats, dogs, farm animals. For starters. Then came more…advanced categories. The typical drunken wino. The lost hitchhiker. Father and daughter shared in their kills. Gregori had held them down while Xenia dispatched them with a cold ruthlessness. It was unnerving in a way, to a lesser parent.

Gregori was not a lesser parent.

While he may have been guilty of many sins, cowardice and mediocrity were not one of them. Gregori gloried in her daughter's potential. Yes…Xenia would soon surpass him in no time. She was dedicated, highly intelligent and…precise in her cutting.

Gregori Onatopp was immensely proud of his darling daughter.

There was one small matter though. Just a there was always a miniscule imperfection in every diamond. There was a tiny flaw about Xenia that bothered Gregori.

She was totally infatuated with the kill.

The gleam in Xenia's eyes. The sheer core of hate that ate her from within. How many times had Gregori reprimanded her on that? It was unseemly. The gift of death had to be given dispassionately. It was a noble undertaking that merited the seriousness of silences.

Why take pleasure from it?

Still…Xenia was young. The pangs of youth, perhaps. She would outgrow it in time, Gregori thought. As matters went, they still had a good many years ahead of them. Their activities had remained unnoticed so far. And in the event that he was caught (Gregori was a realist), Gregori was certain that Xenia could take over admirably. His daughter was a class in herself.

But that was for the future.

A future that was now strangely cut short by Xenia herself. Gregori supposed it was his own fault. He was getting old and the last few kills were sloppy in execution. His last dispatching had literally led back to Gregori's house.

Gregori blamed himself, of course. He really should have known better. Cleanliness was next to godliness where evidence was concerned. How many times had he drilled Xenia on its importance?

And now he had broken that cardinal rule himself.

Which made what was happening to him now all the more bearable. It was all a matter of time really. The police asking questions. The whispers. The suspicious looks from the neighbors. Their activities would have to be severely curtailed while Gregori remained under suspicion.

Best it ended this way. With his death baptizing Xenia's beginning. His little girl would cut a swath across the world in a manner no Georgian had ever done before.

She would become the purest of the pure. The last woman standing. A human free from the shackles of self and morality.

19 years later, Gregori's little girl had racked an impressive number of 378 kills. Her 379th now lay almost helpless before her. She had a name.

Natalya Simonova. Computer programmer.

A more feisty fighter had yet to be born. In spite of her…training inadequacies, Natalya's battle against Xenia had become almost epic in scope. It defied all previous predictions. Natalya should have been pleased that she had lasted as long as she did.

Not that it mattered now. In a few moments she would be dead. And contrary to popular belief the dead have no opinions. They have no feelings, no regards on how they are even thought of after they are gone.

They simply…do not care.

But the living certainly did and Natalya Simonova was still alive. She enjoyed the experience (despite its drawbacks) and planned to keep it that way for a long time to come.

Of course in order to do that, Natalya had to have a plan. A way out of this predicament.

Natalya sighed, living was certainly not easy. But dying was turning out to be even harder.

Nevertheless, she just had to try...

To be continued