Code Name: Untraceable

Chapter Six: On the Rocks

(Frankie's POV)

Tonight's mission was simple:
No guns.
No intel.
No blood.

Just whiskey.

She slipped into the bar like smoke-black jeans, leather jacket, gloves still on. Hair pulled low. Earbuds tucked away for once.

She picked the corner booth with the best view of the exits and the worst lighting. Ordered her drink neat. Half shadows. Half silence. Everything exactly the way she liked it.

The bartender didn't ask questions. The regulars didn't look twice. Places like this didn't care who you were-only that you paid cash and kept your drama outside.

Frankie sipped slowly. Let the burn sit.

For a moment, she felt... still.

And then chaos kicked the door open.

"WE ARE HERE FOR VODKA AND VICTORY!"

She didn't need to look. She knew that voice. Alexei.

Yelena stormed in next, dragging Ava by the wrist. John followed, yelling something about karaoke night. Bob hesitated in the doorway like he already regretted everything. Bucky brought up the rear, hoodie up, hands in pockets, not even pretending to enjoy himself.

Frankie sank a little deeper into her seat, one brow raised.

"Of course."

The Thunderbolts took over the bar like they owned it. Yelena ordered three drinks at once. Alexei started telling a story that involved grenades and grandmothers. John challenged a stranger to darts. Ava stole someone's fries. Bob apologized for literally nothing. Bucky sat in the corner, drinking black coffee and silently plotting his escape.

Frankie chuckled under her breath. It slipped out before she could stop it.

She hadn't meant to enjoy the moment.
Hadn't meant to feel anything.

She reached for her glass-only to pause.

Yelena turned.

Locked eyes with her.

Blink. Confusion.

Recognition.

"Hey-"

But the booth was empty.

The drink sat untouched, still half-full.

Just a ghost of a smirk lingering on the rim.