NIGHTMARE ▹ Natasha Romanoff

thirteen.

Robby Sharpe lived in a house in the suburbs that he definitely shouldn't have been able to afford.

Svetlana has almost expected SHIELD to roll in choppers and jets to bring her there, but instead Natasha took a black SUV and rolled up.

They stopped outside the driveway, Svetlana unarmed and Natasha armed to the brim. She'd tried to get a gun, but Fury had remained adamant that she stay unarmed. She was very done with that.

"Try not to look too agnet-y, okay? He scares easily." She said, glancing back at Natasha as she strolled up the walkway and knocked on the wooden door. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

There was a shuffle inside, and after the sound of multiple locks being undone, the barrel of a shotgun was shoved out the crack of the door.

"Who are you?" Came a gruff voice from behind the frame. Svetlana put a hand on Natasha's arm to stop her from attacking.

"It's me, Robby. Lana." She pushed the door with her foot and the man moved away, a smile breaking out on his face. He was old, in his upper fifties, with an unshaven face and a balding head.

"Lana! Long time no see!" He grinned at her and put the shotgun down on a wooden table. Then he saw Natasha. "Who's that?" He hissed in Russian, looking at Svetlana with anger.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at the attempted secrecy. "That's Natalie; she's with me." Svetlana lied, moving past him to walk further into the house. "I see you upgraded form that shack in Montana."

Robby was still eyeing Natasha, who was gazing coolly back. "It's not mine." He said, reluctantly turning to follow Svetlana through the corridor.

Svetlana snorted and leaned against the wall. "Oh, I know that." She watched the man. He wasn't too different from when they last met, two years ago.

"So, Lana darling, do tell. Are you here on business or pleasure?"

"Business, I'm afraid. I need to know if there's been any word about Ivanov in the down low." She watched something barely perceptible twitch in his face.

"I haven't heard anything." He said, avoiding her direct gaze. "I'm pretty sure he's dead." Svetlana narrowed her eyes and stepped towards him.

"I'm serious, Robby. If you've heard anything, tell me. Now." His face twitched again. "Were you threatened? Bribed?" She asked.

He glared around the room, then huffed dejectedly and threw himself into an old sofa chair. "There was a shipment. Big. People weren't too keen to talk, but I got the gist of it. Apparently, Ivanov was helping something move stuff."

Svetlana frowned "Thing?" She questioned. He nodded, then glanced at Natasha.

"Can the red head be trusted?" He asked lowly in Russian. Natasha glared.

"Yes, the 'red head' can." She snapped, to Robby's surprised look. He then nodded slowly.

"In Queens, apparently. An abandoned warehouse." He looked around again suspiciously, even though they were inside. "That's all you're getting from me! Now go; don't ask me more of this." He turned around sharply and hobbled off.

"We'll see ourselves out, then." Svetlana muttered. Natasha watched her.

"Let's grab him. He might know more." She said.

Svetlana shook her head. "No, Robby's a stubborn bastard. If he says won't say more, he won't." She spooked up at Natasha.

"Guess we're going to Queens."