𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙉 ✮ 𝘯. 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧

{𝟎𝟕} - 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

Mission Site

Washington, D.C., USA

May 2001

"TWO iced Americanos, please."

Semna handed the clerk a ten dollar bill, glancing around anxiously. The beat of her foot on the sidewalk blended in seamlessly with the noise of cars passing her by each second, making her mess of wavy hair fly around her head, no attempt at taming it succeeding one bit.

"Yeah, that'll be just a few minutes."

Semna smiled tightly and pulled her hood up and over her face, stomping away from the coffee stand. She stumbled through a crowd of people and emerged on the other side to meet a smirking, mischievous-looking red head. Semna took the seat across from her, slumping down into it.

Natalia chuckled. "Not enjoying yourself?"

"I hate it here." Semna blew a loose piece of hair out of her face, staring as it came right back down onto her cheek. "I knew it would be warmer but this is ridiculous."

"In the weather's defense, you are wearing a hoodie and long pants," Natalia quipped. She watched as Semna rolled her eyes and adjusted her position in the chair, no doubt trying to get comfortable against the butt of the gun tucked in her holster. Her eyes darted around, glistening so brightly in the sunlight that Natalia thought she could see the reflection of them on the sidewalk. "Also, a little tip—" she leaned in and lowered her voice, "—try to look like you belong here. You're acting too suspicious."

Semna kept her eyes on Natalia, giving her a look that said what they were both thinking:

I don't belong here.

For Semna's first time in the field, Natalia could admit that she was doing about as well as she had expected. For people like them, the task of going out into a very public setting for the first time in their lives was no simple event; and yet, they were expected to treat it like any other. Natalia, for one, could barely form a coherent thought on her first mission. And now, a year and a half later, she was finally teaching Semna the tactics that she was forced to pick up on much more quickly back then. Semna, for one, had improved in her own ways already. So far she had been taking each piece of Natalia's advice with a smile and a nod, doing what she could in their limited time span to change it.

However, Natalia couldn't ignore the dark circles under Semna's eyes. She couldn't overlook the thinning physique or the bruised limbs; nevertheless, she stayed silent.

She hadn't yet dared to ask Semna about her sudden reappearance days before their mission. She hadn't yet asked about her abrupt change in behavior, or what had happened to her over her two months of being away. She could only cast her eyes down at the thought of it, and at the thought of their brief conversation about it the last time they had seen each other.

"I don't understand why you couldn't have done this yourself," Semna muttered. "I thought the Madame trusted you, hm?"

"She trusts me," Natalia shot back. "This isn't exactly a one-man job."

"You're telling me you couldn't observe and take notes?" Semna sneered, chuckling to herself. Behind Natalia, she watched as a group of men left the Russian Ambassador's residence and climbed into a tinted vehicle parked along the street. She squinted through the crowd, spotting the last one push a large, black briefcase into the trunk, then turning in the opposite direction. "Didn't the Madame say the package hadn't been brought to the States yet?"