26 [on the street in Nebraska]
"What do you mean, you lost her?!" Yelena's father screamed on the phone and Yelena bit her lip and swallowed. "Do you want to be the Black Widow or not, child?!"
"I'm gonna find her!" Yelena said back weakly. She was pacing outside a gas station in Nebraska, hugging a winter coat around herself and trying to reassure the man as much as herself. "It'll be okay."
"You will!" The man yelled. "And you must kill her soon!"
"I-" Yelena started, but her father continued.
"Or we'll send someone else! And that someone will kill you, too, Yelena!" He cried. Yelena felt her stomach drop with fear.
"You don't have to do that," Yelena said.
"Natasha Romanoff dies," the man threatened. "Russia will have a new Black Widow. And it matters very little to me whether or not it is you. You weren't the singular Red Room success."
"I know," Yelena said quietly.
"So do the job, little girl," the man replied and hung up and Yelena crammed her phone back into her purse and collapsed on the bench and put her face in her hands.
"Something the matter, little girl?" Someone next to her said and Yelena almost jumped because the words so mirrored the man's. She looked up and over to see a homeless man sitting next to her. Uncomfortably, she scooted away.
"Nothing," she said back.
"You have an accent," the homeless man noted. "Where are you from?" Yelena looked down at the ground and used her toe to scratch at the dirty pavement.
"I was born in Russia," she said back finally.
"Oh," the man said. "Are you here visiting?" Yelena shook her head then and raised one hand to put her too-bouncy curls behind her ear.
"I'm working," she said back and looked up at the man. "But I'm afraid I'm doing a terrible job of it."
"That's not good to hear," the man replied and Yelena frowned and looked back down and shook her head again.
"Have you ever…," she started quietly. "Ever had the opportunity of a lifetime put in front of your face? And it's like everything you've ever wanted is right there and suddenly, you're so stunned that it's there and you're almost so scared to have it that you let it slip away?" The man sat there for a minute and considered this.
"I do believe I know what you're talking about," he said back and Yelena sighed.
"Well, that's happened to me," she said. "It was like finding a gold bar on the street. Or a ticket to everywhere in your pocket. It's almost too easy." She looked at the man. "I could have everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm hesitating."
"Why?" The man asked and Yelena sighed. She put her hands into her pockets and leaned back.
"I guess I'm afraid," she said. "See it's, um…" And she stopped and tried to think of a way to explain her situation. "This job I want. This ideal job. I know I'm perfect for it, much more perfect than the person who's doing it now, and it'd be so easy to just take it. But I've waited for this all my life and now I'm scared."
"Oh," the man said, and it seemed like he was going to go on, but Yelena kept talking.
"I'll be kind of sad to take it from the person who already has it," she said. "But not sad enough to not do it. In fact, I'm almost excited to take it from them. It'd be a sort of honor. And I'm so good at this job. I'm so, so good. She's not as good as me, and she's getting older, and she even has a boyfriend!" Yelena cried.
"She shouldn't have a boyfriend?" The man asked and Yelena shrugged.
"I dunno, I guess she can," she said. "But it's not really characteristic of the, um, job. It's a little sentimental, for someone who's not supposed to have attachments. He's an easy target, and he's dead weight. I think she doesn't even know who she's supposed to be anymore, with regards to the job, of course. It's only a special kind of woman who can perform this job. I know what that woman should be."
"This seems like a very interesting job," the man said and Yelena nodded.
"It is," she said. "It's the very best."
"It seems as though, if this is something you want so badly and you're so much better, you should just take it. Don't be afraid," the man said and Yelena began to smile.
"Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right. I shouldn't let cold feet stop me."
"You shouldn't," the man replied. Yelena turned to him. She was grinning.
"It's so perfect," she said. "I can prove myself. There's a lot of honor that goes along with this job, you know. Everyone will know how good I am. And my parents want me to have it, and my country wants me to have it. It's what I've been trained for, you know."
"Good luck," the man said and Yelena smiled at him sweetly and stood up.
"Thank you," she said as she took him by the collar and hauled him up. "You really helped me sort things out."
"What are you doing?!" The homeless man cried and Yelena pulled out a switchblade lazily with one hand and flicked it open.
"I swear, it's not personal," she promised him as she pressed it to his throat. "It's just that, you know too much." She shrugged. "I needed someone to vent to."
"What?!" The man cried and Yelena smiled at him again.
"This is part of what makes me best for this new job," Yelena said sweetly and sliced his throat. "I'm just giving you a demonstration."
She cleaned the blade off on his jacket and dropped his body back onto the bench and strolled back to her car.
"Everyone will know how much better I am than you, Natalia Romanova," Yelena said in Russian once she sat in the drivers seat and pulled out her smartphone, scrolling through the new intel she was receiving. "I'm what the Black Widow is supposed to be. It seems you've forgotten."