Американская
Months passed one by one without a move being made. Yelena opted to take her time. Perfection was required when dealing with a mark the caliber of Natalia Romanova. There was no margin for error, no room for mistakes. One slip-up, and her entire operation would crash into a fiery heap of failure. It was with these undeniable facts in mind that she kept ignoring Thule Society's urges for an update on her progress. At best, she told them she was still in the planning phase.
Their insistence on moving up her time table to their liking had long worn thin on her nerves. It was as if they failed completely to understand the delicate and intricate planning process an operation like this required. She had little time to lose focus on unnecessary things like whatever it was that they were planning.
Or, that was what she thought. It wasn't until about two months ago that she realized that she could use Thule to her advantage. She dropped a piece of information to a person that she knew the SHIELD agents would come across. She knew that this person would let that piece of information slip in exchange for a lighter prison sentence – or, perhaps, to avoid the torture methods of the Black Widow. Either way, Yelena got what she wanted – SHIELD agents on the beginning stages of a wild goose chase.
It wasn't to lead them off her trail. No, rather, it was to guide them exactly where she wanted them to go. Fruitless lead after fruitless lead would do nothing but frustrate them. And while that wouldn't make them sloppy and prone to make risks, it was exactly something a lesser assassin would take advantage of. Yelena knew that, and she knew that Natalia knew that. Giving them exactly what they needed to go at the appropriate increments would lead Natalia directly into the center of her web, where there would be no escape.
A perfect plan for a perfect mark. Nothing less was acceptable.
Soon, it became time to set her plan into motion. The first order of business, obviously, was to pick off the SHIELD lackeys one by one until this was a one-on-one affair.
First on the chopping block was Mackenzie. He was a good deal larger and stronger than Yelena, so a physical confrontation was out of the question. He was also much warier and more perceptive than his size would suggest. She would need to be careful if she was to catch him off-guard.
She followed Natalia's team to France, where another one of the clues she allowed to them to obtain led them. From there, she waited and watched. She observed everything, but most importantly, took note of all the times they were alone at any given point during the day. Those times were few and far between, to her irritation.
Perhaps I don't need to get him alone, she thought to herself during the fourth consecutive day she observed Natalia's team enjoying a discreet lunch at a particular restaurant. She noted that Mackenzie always had water with his lunch – which was, of all ridiculous things, a cheeseburger with fries. Water with ice.
Her lips curled into a smile as a plan formed in her mind.
It had been several months since they heard a peep from the other Black Widow. That alone had Natasha feeling uneasy; but add in the fact that the other agents were starting to get comfortable had her on edge. It wasn't that they weren't taking the mission or the threat of the Black Widow seriously, it was that they assumed that she would be able to handle it if it came to that.
While Natasha was more than certain that she could handle it, there was no guarantee that they would make it through the battle unscathed. Or at all.
She wanted to impress that on them, but it seemed that this was going to be one of those deals that was learned the hard way.
They were currently in the same restaurant that they had been eating lunch at every day for the last four days. SHIELD agents were creatures of habit. Natasha knew well that the other Black Widow was there, watching and observing their every move. With that in mind, they sat in the far corner of the room. Natasha was sitting with her back to the corner, where she would be able to observe everyone who was walking in and walking out, and even could see into the kitchen whenever a waiter slipped inside.
Nothing was out of the ordinary thus far, and that raised her hackles far more than any kind of chaos would. It was like being in a room while knowing there was a big spider lurking somewhere. Paranoia was far more likely to set in if one didn't know where it was, rather than being able to see exactly where it was laying in wait.
As she scanned the room, the other agents spoke quietly among themselves. Nothing in particular, certainly nothing about the mission, but just small talk to convincingly appear to be nothing more than a group of tourists enjoying a lunch together at their new favorite French restaurant.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mack dipping what looked like a litmus test strip into the pitcher of water they had been given by the waiter, just like he had been doing every day they went to the restaurant. Mack was just a paranoid as she was, it seemed; good.
"All clear," he announced.
She knew that strip was the test for any kind of poison: arsenic, cyanide, etc. She knew that the Black Widow was going to make her move, and poisoning their water was a good way of doing it. It seemed Mack realized that, as well.
"Food's good to go," Bobbi remarked. With that confirmation, they started eating. Not even a full minute into their lunch, something happened.
One by one, people around the restaurant convulsed and fell from their seats to the floor. Foam leaking out of their mouths, making them appear as rabid animals. "What the hell?"
Natasha's critical eyes scanned the people. She noticed that one in particular had taken a sip from his glass before convulsing. A glass, she noticed, that had previously been filled with ice that had long since melted. The water was clean, as was the food, yet... "The ice!" She slapped Mack's glass out of his hand. "The ice has been laced with cyanide."
"Holy shit."
Screams of terror and panic rippled through the previously jovial restaurant. Natasha had seen this scene unfold hundreds of times, to the point that she was numb to the entire affair. Her eyes narrowed. If she were behind this, she would be somewhere nearby to make sure her mark was dead. With that in mind, she jumped out of her seat and scampered outside. As soon as she hit the door, a Caucasian woman with short blonde hair – who had been sitting in the outdoor patio of a restaurant across the street – jumped out of her seat and started running.
"There you are." Natasha gave chase, nimbly avoiding incoming cars while not taking her eyes of her prey.
"Romanoff!" she heard Triplett call. She ignored him. This was her best chance to catch a glimpse of her would-be assassin and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.
The blonde woman darted into an alleyway. Natasha was right on her heels. When she saw her agilely hop on top of a dumpster in one leap, then leap another ten feet to reach the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder that led up the top of the building, she knew that this was the woman she was looking for. This was the Black Widow.
Natasha mimicked the feats of athleticism and climbed up the ladder as fast as she could. When she reached the top of the roof, she found her waiting.
Natasha felt her breathing slow to a crawl; this woman... no, this girl was just like her. Her stance, the way she carried herself, her meticulous planning, her patience; all hallmarks of the Red Room. The girl couldn't have been older than 21. Natasha had been a Black Widow for so many decades that she didn't even realize that so many young girls had still followed in her footsteps even after she left. She had been considered the greatest by her handlers, but that didn't mean they would stop trying to emulate her success after she defected to SHIELD.
The two women stared each other down, neither moving a single muscle too quickly.
"I'll admit," the blonde finally spoke in perfect English with no hint of an accent, "I wasn't expecting to meet you so soon face-to-face."
"No Russian?" Natasha pondered.
"I know you Americans have issues understanding any language expect English."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That wasn't the first time one of her countrymen made such a comment. "How original. So, couldn't help but notice you've been stalking me."
"Da. There is a hefty price on your head, and I plan on collecting."
"Awful cocky to be telling me you're gunning for me. I may have to shoot you dead right here and now."
"Hmph. And miss out on a prime opportunity to find out what Thule Society is planning?"
While that was extremely pertinent to the entire reason she was even called in, she felt that taking down the woman in front of her was more important. The others could handle Thule on their own; this girl was hers and hers alone. "I now know where my priorities lie."
A ghost of a smile appeared on the girl's lips. "I'm flattered, Американская*. However, I think you'll find me more than your match."
(A/N: *American)
Natasha didn't respond, to either the boastful challenge to her skills or to the insult. She didn't take her eyes off her, not even for a second. One second would be all she would need to put a bullet in her skull and run off to Thule to collect her money. One second was not what she was going to give her.
Something rattled behind her.
The girl's eyes widened as she whipped out a handgun.
On reflex, Natasha rolled to her right to hide behind an airduct, the only available cover on the roof. A shot was fired, but landed short. A cloud of black smoke erupted from the ordinance, blinding Natasha and obscuring the girl's escape. "Shit!" There was nothing she could do. If she ran blindly through the smokescreen, then she'd leave herself wide open in case the girl didn't leave. A risk she couldn't and wouldn't take.
There would be plenty of opportunities to bring her in, that was for sure.
"Romanoff?" Mack was the first to kneel beside her under the cover, followed by Triplett and Morse. "What's the play?"
"It's over. I got a good look at the assassin. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, Russian, no older than 25, but that's... suspect." The smoke cleared quickly, revealing that the girl was indeed in the wind. Natasha sighed and stood. "She confirmed she was hired by Thule Society, so she's the one who killed Kukal months ago."
"Did you get a name?" Triplett asked. "Maybe she's got a SHIELD record."
"No. I didn't ask. I didn't recognize her, and I know all the Red Room graduates that came after me. She's recent, so she's been covering her tracks well enough to fly under Coulson's radar."
They had no name, hardly any leads to go on that would lead them to the girl, and nowhere that was safe for them to hide from her. They did, however, have a face. Natasha would never forget the girl's face; she could no longer hide from her. If they crossed paths again, she would end this game, and end her. "Come on, let's go."