Budapest

Chapter 17

Natasha Romanoff
(Natalia Romanov)
I shrug the woolly coat on over my dress. Doing up the first button, I listen to all the footsteps of the people walking down the street. By the looks of most of them, they must be going to the same place I am. The theater.
I never have had time for petty things such as the theater, and this is no exception. My sole purpose of going is to draw Ivan out of hiding. But it may not work. He may know it's a trap, but even if he does, the American might be gullible enough. I grab my gun and place it in the strap attached to my thigh. I wince slightly as it rubs against my stitches. I have to be careful with my movement, as to not over exert myself. I don't want to be slowed down and if I rip my stitches I definitely will be. I fix the back of my shoe to make it sit better on my foot. Grabbing my bag, I shove the essentials inside. If I get into trouble I don't want to be stuck with low supply, but I can't carry everything so I shove a few bandages and ammunition behind the dresser, in the hole in the wall I created. I fold my black widow suit tightly and put it in the large coat pocket. Checking one last time in the mirror, I walk out and onto the street. The cool air is pleasant on my skin. I've always been one to love the cold. Growing up in Russia would do that to a person. Glancing quickly around, I follow the crowd. I'm now in the higher standard of the capital. Hungary has many beautiful places, especially in Budapest, but beautiful things aren't always as they seem, so usually I avoid them.
My eyes skirt over the whole theater. It's white with red on the roof. The windows seem to all be perfectly distanced apart. My hair falls forward off my shoulders as I look at the ground. Comparing the stones to the ones I saw earlier I gather that it's about 100m from this theatre to where I left the rest of my supplies. I observe every person's movements as they stand in the line. Some stand in groups speaking fast Hungarian with the occasional banter of laughter. With the many voices mixing together, I can only catch the occasional word.
'izgalmas'
'jegyes'
The lights turn on from within the building and people begin to enter. I reach into the smaller pocket that lies on the outside of my coat and grasp my fingers around my ticket. The ticket booth looks old, with small cracks around the base of the structure. It's original paint job is fading. The red looks dull, with the occasional bright spot. I place the ticket on the counter, pushing it towards the young man standing behind it. His whole demeanor changes when he sees me. He goes from slightly slouching to puffing out his chest.
"Helló, hogy vagy?"
(Hello how are you?)
I put on my fake smile that seems to make him a lot happier. It may look like I'm happy but I detest the way his eyes keep wandering to every woman's chests as they walk past. Men always look at woman like they are some kind of object. My views of them haven't been changed and I doubt they ever will be.
"Én vagyok a jó. Azt hallottam, ez a teljesítmény igen látványos volt!"
(I am good. I heard this performance was spectacular!)
Before I get a response from him, I walk inside.
The carpet is a simple red with the walls decorated with what looks like Roman paintings. While others stop to admire the paintings, I head in the direction of the stage. Before I enter the proper theatre, I slide my hand into my coat, covering it up as if I am just adjusting it. As I bring my hand back out, my fingers hide the tiny camera. I stick it to the door. Checking once over my shoulder, I enter inside, throwing my hair back over my shoulders. It reaches my waist easily.
I take a seat at the back, on the end. The rest of my row is unoccupied but not for long. Soon every seat in the building is taken and the lights dim.
A hush falls over the audience as the curtains draw back and the light come on around the stage. All eyes are on the dancers who have just begun their routine, except mine. A small smile creeps onto my lips. I have been rewarded for my brash move. Ivan is here. And so is the American.