Set pre-series. Nikita's search for Alex.
The universe was mocking her. She was exactly where she was years ago- heartbroken, alone, and high. She was just another vagrant on the streets, trying to survive until the next day. It was as though the past few years meant nothing. It was all a fever dream she couldn't wrap her head around. She certainly didn't learn anything. She had made a grand escape, yet past that she didn't plan anything. She was a waif again. The world had torn her apart, piece by bloody piece.
Nikita should've thought ahead. She never thought ahead or of the consequences. As a runaway, she earned her GED, she had money and food and clothes, and she made certain no one could hunt her down. But once she was on the streets, she didn't know what she was supposed to do next. The bad crowd and drugs found her fast. After Division, a cruel twist of fate ensured the same thing occurred. She faked her death, she removed her tracker, she had money and weapons, but she was still high. She couldn't resist.
Though, honestly, she didn't try that hard to not get high. In a vie for resources, Nikita joined an illegal fighting ring; she needed connections if she was going to run from Division. She quickly found what she needed, yet it didn't get her far. Since she had escaped, her drive and passion to do anything didn't exist. She didn't have a purpose. Daniel was gone, and her shot at a real life was dead. She had only escaped to screw over Percy and Amanda (and Michael). That was accomplished, so then what. Her only answer was the drugs offered at the fighting ring.
Strung out, barely surviving, fighting, always running, that wasn't how Nikita was supposed to live. Yet, she couldn't find the motivation to do anything else. There was no reason left to live. She hadn't lied when she had told Michael that. She could just drift until she reached the end; who would care either way. The only people who had ever fought for her left, pushed her away, or died. It would be best for everyone and everything if she simply faded away.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who was asked) she never got that chance. The universe really was mocking her. Nikita survived another fighting excursion, she made it back to her bare safehouse without being followed, and her hit did nothing to dull her anger, sorrow, and fear. She was left staring at the small TV that was somehow turned on. The news blared, but she attempted to ignore it. She didn't give a shit. Yet the world around her didn't care for her either. She was forced to listen. And she was forced to remember Operation Pale Fire.
It had been three years since the brutal attack on the Udinovs, yet Zetrov was thriving. The news of the Russian business wasn't what drew Nikita towards the television set, however. How could she have forgotten about that mission. It was the one thing she had ever done right. Out of all the pain, death, destruction, and hell she had caused, saving Alexandra Udinov was a bright spot. She wasn't what Division had forced her to become. She wasn't the monster she feared if she had saved an innocent's life.
God, just what the hell was she doing. She had escaped the hellhole, yet she was continuing to let it sink its claws in her. Hadn't she spent her years inside those walls fighting against everything thrown at her. So why the hell was Nikita wallowing in her anger and guilt then. She had proved time and time again that she was stronger than that. The fear of death hadn't stopped her from saving a life or falling in love. She had fought back.
So why had she stopped fighting once she ran. The allure of drugs couldn't have had that much of an effect on her. She had just given up. Which meant Amanda and Percy won in the end. If Nikita couldn't survive on her own outside of Division, then what was the point of screwing that place over. No matter what she did, the hellhole would've won in the end. That was the worst possible outcome. She couldn't let it all be for nothing.
She had saved Alexandra and had loved Daniel for a reason. Nikita wanted more than what she had; she tried to give herself and others better. Falling back into old habits destroyed what she had worked for- what Alexandra and Daniel had given her. She needed to keep fighting for them, despite Daniel's death being her fault. At least Alexandra was alive. Nikita's choices had actually done something good there. Maybe if she checked on the girl, saw the wonders of her efforts, she'd be strong again. Hell, she might even learn that she could fight for herself too.
First, however, Nikita needed to sober up. She had to get clean, break away from her terrible habits. Although she had done so before, it was beyond difficult going through the pain and ache alone. She just thought of Daniel to get through it- Daniel and Carla. They would've wanted that from her. It was the least she could do after the pain she had caused them. The destruction of her past couldn't be carried into her future. Although she never thought much of a future for herself, she knew she had to have one. She had to have some goal in mind.
All she could come up with was getting clean, and finding Alexandra. That was all she needed for the time being, though. Nikita was able to use the money and resources she had gathered to sneak into Moscow undetected. Tracking Nikolai Udinov's former driver from there was easy. He remained in the same place he had been three years prior. He was a consistent man, which boded well for Nikita. That meant Alexandra could still be safe.
"You… you're back…" As soon as Nikita climbed out of the car she had stolen and stepped onto the small property, the driver who had been doing yard work stammered to a stop. There was no doubting that he recognized her. Whether that was a positive for Nikita or not remained to be seen.
"I just want to know if Alexandra's okay," Raising placating hands, Nikita confessed. It could simply be a 'yes' or 'no' answer from the former driver. The second she knew if the only thing she had ever done right was still true, then she'd be on her way. She could find a new goal to achieve. However, the further she approached the man, the more frightened he became. Guilt and fear radiated off of him. It made Nikita pause, "Where is Alexandra?"
Maybe there was an edge to her voice, but it certainly wasn't enough to make the former driver panic the way he did. He was hiding something from her, something that didn't quite sit right with him. Nikita felt her own panic rise in her chest and choke her throat. Alexandra couldn't be dead. That couldn't have been it. Fortunately, the former driver reassured her. His statement was shaky, but he told his version of the truth, "She's safe."
"Safe where?" Nikita sighed. Although she didn't care where Alexandra was, as long as she was safe and sound, she still wanted to see her. She wanted to see with her own eyes that the girl continued to breathe. That should've been a simple request to fill, yet the former driver backed away from her again. He refused to look at her.
"With Zetrov gone, I needed the money and the protection…" His words were barely above a whisper. Shame coated the former driver's every word. It took Nikita a second to understand why. Of course he had needed protection after Zetrov was corrupted; enemies were everywhere, and he had Alexandra in his charge. But that wasn't exactly what he meant. Alexandra was a liability, and he needed money. He chose his safety over hers.
"You sold her? You said you'd protect her!" Nikita felt something snap inside of her. She thought she had felt anger before. She thought she had been angry at her foster parents, she thought she had been angry at Division, and she thought she had been angry at her life. But the lividity that washed over her was something she had never experienced before. She wanted to claim that she didn't understand it. But she knew why she was furious. She knew why she wanted to kill the former driver.
"The mob got her out of Russia. She's safer in America. They only know her as Sasha, not the heir to Zetrov," The former driver tried to justify his reasons for selling Alexandra to the mob, yet Nikita didn't want to hear it. Nothing in the world could excuse what he had done. He sacrificed a young girl for his own means. He gave her a fate worse than death.
"You sold a thirteen year old to the mob! Are you fucking stupid!" Instinct made Nikita bring a gun along with her to Moscow. She was sure (or paranoid) that she'd run into danger. Instead, she was just faced with rage. Instantly, she pulled out her weapon and aimed it at the former driver. He cowered away, but she closed the gap between them.
Clutching the fabric of his jacket, Nikita held the former driver in place. She shoved the pistol in his face, leaving no room for escape. He couldn't wiggle out of her hold if he tried. And he did try, "Please. What other choice did I have?"
"More than sex slavery if you ever stopped to fucking think," Nikita seethed. She had made up her mind. She was going to kill the former driver; she just needed information first. Her search for Alexandra wasn't over. In fact, it took a new shape. It had become another rescue mission, "Who'd you sell her to? What's his name?"
"Vlad. He operates out of New York City. That's all I know," The former driver gave up easily. His gaze was locked on her gun, shaking and close to tears. Nikita ignored him. She had what she needed. She readied her finger on the trigger. But then she heard a small voice from inside the house. It belonged to a child, calling to their father. Nikita cursed loudly and pulled away from the former driver. Even in her fury, she couldn't kill someone in front of their child. Kids shouldn't have to go through that trauma. They shouldn't know heart wrenching pain.
"If I find out you sold your own children too, I'm coming back for you," Pure rage and violence filled her threat. If the former driver harmed anyone else he was supposed to care for, she'd kill him. There would be no hesitation that time. He nodded frantically. She quickly and harshly pistol whipped him, and left him to wallow in his pain. He never once fought against her, nor did he raise any alarm.
That worked well in her favor. Nikita was able to sprint out of the yard, take off in her car, and begin planning to save Alexandra once again. Luckily, some of the contacts she earned in the illegal fighting ring had ties to the Russian mafia. A few of them might know of a human trafficker named Vlad. And if she tortured them enough, they'd give her the intel she needed. In no part of her planning or mad dash back to New York did she pause to think. She couldn't afford to stop. Alexandra couldn't spend another second with the mobsters. No one could.
Her torture methods proved beyond successful. In no time, Nikita managed to break into Vlad's brothel, kill any guard she ran into, and freed every girl she saw. There was no sign of Alexandra, however. God, she hoped she wasn't too late. She might just return to kill the former driver if she was. For the moment, though, she'd place all her murderous rage into finding Vlad and holding a knife to his throat, "Where's Sasha? The little girl from Moscow, where is she?"
"You think I'd remember every whore that came through these walls?" Vlad spat. Nikita dug the blade of her knife deeper into his throat, choking his laughter. She had taken him down easily. Without his guards or any girls to use as bargaining chips, the mobster was completely powerless. Killing him would be effortless.
"I'm not fucking asking," She just needed answers first. Nikita refused to give up. Not only did she owe it to Alexandra to actually save her and give her the life she herself never had, Nikita couldn't let the bad guys keep willing. Evil men had to pay for what they've done.
"She escaped. Bitch cut me and ran," Gritting past the pain and pressure, Vlad indicated the scar above his eye. Nikita nearly smiled. So Alexandra was alive, and she was a fighter. That was amazing. The relief of that fact was short lived, however. Vlad smirked at Nikita and pointed to a vial of used heroin on the ground. Her heart stopped at the implications. Alexandra was free, but not the junk the Russians had hooked her on, "But she won't be gone long."
Immediately, Nikita swiped her knife across Vlad's throat. It wasn't an instant kill. She wanted him to bleed out as she set fire to his brothel. Let him burn and drown in his own blood; he deserved it. When she returned to her safehouse, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She hadn't found Alexandra, yet she was proud of her actions. She put the skills she was forced to learn to good use. The evil was defeated. A plan sprang to mind at that thought. What if instead of burning brothels, she burned Division. Percy and that hellhole deserved to pay as well.
Over the frustrating years it took to find an illegal junkie on the streets of New York (if Alexandra was even still in the city) Nikita built her own version of Ops. She gathered intel, kept her skills sharp, and tracked Division's movements as best she could. There were some missions she was able to ruin, yet it seemed as though they were just hiccups to the black ops group; it continued to always win. Nikita didn't allow all the things against her to weigh her down, however- that would defeat her purpose. She kept moving, and kept her head high.
Being a rogue agent was good for her. Nikita had goals, plans, and constant movement. She never had to sit and dwell on her dark thoughts for long as she searched for Alexandra and hunted down leads against Division. Everything would fall into place eventually. She could continue raising hell and fighting for vengeance, and she could find Alexandra. The resources and contacts she had acquired finally pulled through with the latter. The teen was tracked to a crackhouse she frequented. Nikita burst into it immediately, "Let the girl go."
"Who the fuck are you?" One of the drug dealers spun on her instantly. Nikita was fine with that, though. It made the men back off from a screaming Alexandra. She had broken in at just the right time. She could save the girl once and for all.
"Fairy Godmother," Each syllable of her answer was punctuated by a punch, a kick, and a strike. Nikita dealt with the dealers without exerting herself. They soon laid unconscious at her feet, allowing her to focus on Alexandra. Relief flooded her at the sight of the teenager alive. Yet, it didn't last for long. In her panic, the teen had grabbed a gun. And in her high state, she shakily pulled the trigger.
"Whoa. Hey. It's okay. It's okay," Gently, Nikita approached Alexandra- Alex, as the dealers called her- and tried to grab the gun in her hand. She couldn't let the teen accidentally harm herself. Yet Alex wasn't paying attention to Nikita. She was too encased in her fear. She pulled the trigger again, forcing the woman to act. Quickly, Nikita knocked Alex unconscious and carried her out of the crackhouse towards safety, "Hi, I'm Nikita. Nice to meet you."