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four

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

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𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗭𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗬𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗪 a week after they had landed in New York City. They had taken the brief time that they had in America for Zhenya to be acquaintanced with the Avengers.

She had met Clint, who, after showing her his skills in archery, had been met with big, wide eyes that stared at him as if she had just seen the most spectacular magic trick. After that, they had spent countless hours in one of the tower's training rooms with Evgenia attempting to perfect her archery. 

But the skill didn't hold her attention for very long because when she ran into Thor who was using his hammer to heat up the microwave in the kitchen, the child found another hobby.

Natasha had dragged the reluctant girl away from the kitchen when she found the pair continuously zapping the microwave with electricity.

'Zhenochka! Your powers are not used for playing around with kitchenware,' she had scolded.

Now, Evgenia sits on the bed, watching as the redhead double-checks the guns and knives that she'll need for their mission.

'You good? Ready?'

The girl stands up, her metal leg clicking into place as she swivels around to check that her long coat covers the gun that's strapped to the back of her flesh thigh. The knife feels cold, even through her tights. 

Their target tonight is Olga Bagrova, better known as Madame B. Natasha had located her after a week of searching and contacting old allies. Zhenya is not surprised that she is alive, the Red Room must've pumped her with all the anti-aging serum that they had.

The aim of the mission is not to receive some clarity. No. There is no clarity to be given. The aim of the mission is to eliminate the women once and for all. She would never torture any more little girls.

The walk to the Bolshoi is a short distance from their apartment. Evgenia notices that her gait is balanced, even as she walks through the bumpy street filled with large patches of ice and snow. When they reach the theatre, a long line stretches from its elaborate front door and down the steps. She makes sure to keep her grip on Mama's black coat as they weave through the crowd to the front of the line.

Although the guard doesn't look particularly delighted to let them in before the other guests, a show of their VIP pass has him reluctantly leading them into the building.

The building in question had a tall roof that seemed to stretch into the heavens. Red decorates the curtains and the carpet on the floor and the rows of seats seemed endless. The child absent-mindedly follows her mother into a stairwell on the side of the aisle as she turns her head around to peer at the carvings on the balconies with saucepan sized eyes.

A heavy, velvet curtain covers the opening to their booth. Evgenia darts in front of her mother and ducks into the booth. Inside, a row of grandly decorated armchairs rest behind the barrier and although she was distracted by the beauty of the theatre just mere minutes ago, the ingrained skills that she has been taught kicks in and her attention is on finding the sniper's rifle that should be hidden under one of the chairs.

Natasha finds it before she does. The redhead turns the chair over and using just her bare hands, punches a hole in the bottom before pulling a dismantled gun out. Evgenia is tossed the magazine and bullets and within seconds, Natasha is beside her, ready for her to assemble the rest of the rifle with the magazine. 

It's a hauntingly familiar feeling as her muscle memory clicks in and Zhenya's hands fly across the different parts of the weapon, locking them into place before checking to see if the silencer is in place. She aims the gun at the opposite wall and for a reminiscent moment, she sees herself in 1991, feet firmly planted onto the gravel road as she aims her weapon at a brunette man with a metal arm, practicing her form.

'Khorosho idti.' It's good to go.

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The corps de ballet dance off the stage as Juliet move towards the audience, her eyes never once leaving the audience.

Evgenia's hand rests under her chin as her eyes dart back and forth from the performance and their target that sits a few metres before the stage. Bagrova's posture looks relaxed to the untrained eye, but Zhenya has sharp eyes and she notices that although the woman is seated back into the plush chair, her muscles are tense and her fists are balled up under the nightmare blue dress.

As the violins in the orchestra build up to fortissimo, Evgenia rises from her seat quietly and stalks to the edge of the balcony. She rests the rifle on her knee and she points the barrel through a small hole in the wood. 

The music from the orchestra is almost deafening now - a loud bubblegum pink as the violins screech and the harp bellows. Juliet's slim arms wrap around her head as leaps across the stage, performing a grand jeté. There's a dramatic crescendo as the ballerina performs a last bravura.

Evgenia holds her breath as the woman let's herself fall onto the wooden panels of the stage. She tightens her grip on the rifle and points it towards the target. There's an ending screech from the violin as the musician draws their bow across the E string.

She fires. 

A bullet is released from the chamber and hurtles itself from the balcony and down towards the unsuspecting woman. She waits around long enough to see the satisfying redness spread like wildfire on the back of her greying head. 

And as Olga Arslan hits the carpeted ground of the Bolshoi, two former students slip back into the shadows.

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had a lil bit of writer's block and a shit ton of homework to do which is why the update is a day late this week. 

as always, please like and comment if you enjoyed this chapter, it helps me feel a little more connected to you guys.