ELEVEN.
❝ target : peter parker ❞
"FOX? FOX, COME IN."
A patchy voice cuts through a low hum of radio static, "Fox, do you copy? Talk to us, Svetka, come on."
The comm buzzes, but no one responds. With a simultaneous sinking feeling in their stomachs, three people realize that it's been too long. Svetlana was supposed to be in and out of the building within twenty minutes, and it's getting close to forty—five now. She had volunteered herself for the small undercover role, knowing she was the least recognizable of their crew. Her parents agreed, though Bucky was a bit more reluctant. Still, she's eighteen now and she knows what she's doing. She said as much when she made her argument to go in alone.
Now, they're beginning to wonder if they were wrong.
Nervous energy crackles through the air.
Bucky grits his teeth for another silent moment before he determines, "I'm going in."
"James. Stand down." Natasha bites back from her perch on a rooftop, "James! Do you copy?"
Now Natasha has two people not responding over their shared commlink. Wonderful, she scoffs to herself. The woman huffs a breath and rolls her eyes, pushing up from her sniper's nest and jogging across the rooftop on silent feet. She tracks his familiar form as he slips out of his own hiding place and turns down a sudden corner. Natasha makes a leap and then drops down into the alleyway in a familiar pose, finding herself blocking Bucky's path.
"Don't," she warns.
His eyes and voice grow fiery, "I'm not gonna just sit here while our daughter—,"
"—has it under control. It's been radio silence." Natasha cuts in evenly, "She hasn't said the distress word. She knows what she's doing. We gotta trust her."
"And if she's hurt, if he hurts her, Natalia—,"
"She was trained for this, James." The redhead replies firmly, gaze level with his, "She was raised for this. So, stand down."
"Then if she's hurt and we didn't do anything..." His eyes are wide in fear, "That's on us."
Natasha nods simply, "Agreed."
Bucky grits his teeth as he turns and paces back into his agreed position.
As soon as he's out of sight, Natasha quickly swivels around and presses her fingers to her comm, "Svetti, you gotta come in, baby girl, come on."
Svetlana better know what she's doing.
━━━━━━
SVETLANA KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING. Sort of.
She just wishes she could remember the distress word. Oh, and also hadn't lost her commlink.
She's in a bit of a sticky situation.
Currently, she is tied to a chair. Which is not overly convenient, given the circumstances. Her lip is swollen and she's seeing stars. A tight silver dress hangs from her hips and her sleek black tights are now torn. She pouts her mouth boredly, humming and tapping her heels against the rough concrete to pass the time.
"—apprehended at the party." In the room next door, three men are conversing, "Got into a firefight with security trying to leave on a stolen HYDRA transport ship—,"
"Wonderful. How pleased the doctor will be to see one of his old patients in chains."
Said doctor and his pair of thugs emerge from the doorless entrance of the warehouse, each dressed in a fancy black suit with a white bow tie. Covered in wrinkles and age spots, Svet realizes just how old the doctor is. So much older than she remembers him being, even if he had been caught up in the Snap. The girl pleasantly smiles before she spits blood to the side, tossing back long black hair, letting cool air settle on her sweaty skin.
"Still unwilling to talk?" The doctor's first companion ponders.
The girl rolls her big eyes away, seriously bored with this whole show of force. If they;re going to do it, they should just get it over with. At her silence, the doctor wheels over a squeaky cart full of sharp metal tools. His clammy fingers slowly trail over each menacing item, lingering on one that looks particularly pointed.
"Your name." He purrs, trailing one hand down her cheek while the other taps the tool against her bottom lip, "Speak now, my child, or I'll force it out of you."
Svetlana stares him straight in the eye and so resolutely lifts her chin as if to say, go ahead, do it, nothing you do can hurt me anymore.
"Alright, then." He digs a hand into her wig, yanking her head back and her mouth open.
Cold sharp metal slides along her tongue and clamps around one of her back molars, tight and rough. He gives a tug, making her catch her breath when her head jerks forward with the tool.
"Your name." The doctor hisses, "Or I relieve you of one of your pretty pretty pearls."
She smirks despite the tools in her mouth.
So, with a snarl, the doctor gives one final terrible yank and then her back tooth is being ripped from her jaw. A shriek threatens to ripple loose from her chest, but she shuts it down nearly as soon as it starts. Blood gushes in her mouth, so much of it that it begins to overflow and spill down her lips. She coughs on the taste of iron, feeling it slip down her throat to choke her.
Then, she does something startling, something the doctor does not expect.
Svetlana laughs through the blood, a near hysterical sound, spitting the scarlet red and spraying it onto his suit coat.
He jerks away from the blood, startled, frightened. He tosses the tool onto the cart, heaving from the effort. When he snags the next tool, the doctor's hands are shaking. It brings Svet some kind of satisfaction. This one is a long slim knife and he presses it to her bottom lip, his face nearly touching hers when he continues with his threats and demands.
"Your name!" The doctor yells, voice shaking in terror, "Tell me which one of them you are!"
"I'm no one." Svet whispers, a tear slipping down her cheek, "No one worth you remembering."
He curses her in her mothertongue, teeth baring and nose touching hers, "You're mine, you little shlyu—ha! You're mine and you will tell me which one you are!"
"Natalia." She breathes, laughing when he pulls back in terror, "Yelena. Melina. Nadia. Tatiana. Mila. My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my sisters, my friends. We all remember who you are, Doctor Rodenchko."
His eyes are frozen in horror, physically trembling before her.
"You will be the last person on earth who thinks that they may own me. I am not your plaything, and no one owns me." She hisses, shaking with rage, shaking with spirit and love and freedom, "You want to know my name? I am Svetlana Barnes—Romanoff, daughter of James, daughter of Natasha. I am Silver Fox."
With that, she slams her head forward and collides her forehead with his.
The first thug quickly tries to take a swing at her, but she drives her heel into his groin to hear him screech. The second runs up and she spins around so the chair legs take out his own. When the first moves to reapproach, Svet rolls with the chair and drops the legs back onto his feet. She snaps her head back at him, breaking his nose and then promptly tripping him.
Svetlana springs off the second thug's back, somersaults, and breaks the chair across the doctor's back. The old man cries out, but Svetlana doesn't take the time to mind. She simply rolls away, pulls off her wig, picks up her purse, and then slings one of the wooden chair legs at the first of the doctor's men. The leg cracks against his forehead and drops him to the floor, limp with unconsciousness. When the doctor gets up to flee, the teen flings forward her grappling hook and yanks back, pulling his legs out from under him.
The second thug barrels towards her, red—faced and absolutely furious, but Svet so very nonchalantly sighs to herself and reaches into her purse. She casually scrounges through its contents before grinning at what she finds. The whole world slows when she drops her purse to reveal what's in each hand.
The doctor and the thug freeze.
Svetlana glances around, blood dripping from her lip as she holds a gun and a grenade high.
The thug glares at her, spitting, "You think I cannot disarm you, little shlyu—ha?"
"You could try. But if you take the gun, I drop the grenade. If you take the grenade, well, you know what happens..." Her lips form a silent 'boom' before she smirks.
They both turn a very unique shade of green.
With her comm gone, Svetlana needs some way to make contact. It's a little reckless, but it might just do the trick. She quickly hurls the grenade out the window before diving forward, rolling head over heels when the explosion rocks the alley below and the building around her. The final thug fires blindly in reaction, a blaze of gunfire that is promptly taken care of by the cavalry. As she leaps back to her feet, Svet throws her fists into the doctor's throat and rib cage before sweeping low to take out his legs before she lands on top of him, gun raised towards his forehead.
"Wow." She breathes, his terrified eyes wide on her bright grin, "That was exciting, no?"
The remaining windows of the warehouse shatter as the other three members of her crew crash into view. On his feet, Sam's vibranium wings snap shut as Natasha lands in a roll and Bucky already has his gun aimed high.
"You shot at my girls." he glares down at the thug now bleeding out, "That was your last act on earth, pal."
Now his mind has been healed and he has come to forgive himself of his past horrors, James Barnes has to admit he is all too happy to cock the rifle, taking aim and finger hovering over the trigger.
"Oh good." Natasha hums casually, peering over at the doctor, "He's dead."
"Not quite." Svet pushes the gun further into his forehead, "And I do not think he will come quiet."
"Speaking of 'quiet'..." Bucky frowns disapprovingly at their daughter, "You took out your commlink?!"
"Sorry Papa." She winces sympathetically, letting Sam help her to her feet before she brushes off her dress, "But the explosion got your attention, no?"
"It definitely did." Sam agrees, already calling in their police backup, "It got the attention of the whole city, most likely."
Slowly, her parents and uncle approach the sprawled body of Doctor Rodenchko who glares up at all of them.
"Na... Natalia," the doctor grunts in recognition, "What a long time it's been. Still as delicious as ever."
Svet's nose scrunches in disgust and Bucky's shoulders tighten.
"Thanks, but no thanks." Natasha just smirks pleasantly, cocking her head to the side, "Currently, I'm involved. Off the market, as they say in the civilized world... So why don't you come quietly and we can make your price the antidote to the poison my daughter put in your first drink, darling? Then we can catch up on old times..."
His eyes widen, darting to the younger redhead who is standing between her mother and father.
Svetlana waves.
"Ach!" The disgusting man scoffs as he finishes his survey of his captors, "Look who this is: the new Captain America. Struggling to carry the mantle, are we?"
Bucky's eyes flare and his mouth opens to defend his new friend when Sam speaks up for himself, beginning so calmly, so comfortably.
"When found us again, Rogers told me to hang on to this." Her uncle Sam glances down at the red, white, and blue shield on his arm, "If he can share, you can too. So you — and all those guys I imagine put you up to this — are going to have to learn to get used to it. I'm Captain America now. Deal with it."
Police swarm the building in the next minute, cleaning up the mess left behind by the firefight. As their small team moves out into the dark street, Svetlana draws in a deep breath of New York air. It's not particularly fresh; in fact, it smells very much like pizza, hot pretzels, and a bit like garbage. But it's home. Now that she's looking around, Svet realizes that they might they're somewhere in Queens.
The thought makes Svet's heart skip a beat.
"Rodchenko was one of the Red Room's main psychological programmers in the mid—1970s and beyond..." Natasha is explaining to the two men at their sides, "He implanted cover identities into operatives pre—mission. I think he was the one who made Melina and me believe we were ballerinas all those years."
Bucky cocks his head towards her, "To be fair, you do have the moves."
She winks back, "To be fair."
As Sam gags, Svet squints in suspicion. Is this flirtation? It never is clear to her.
It does become clear, however, when they lean in and share a kiss.
Sam gags a bit more. Svet just smiles and looks away.
They pack it up for the night. Sam heads back towards his apartment while Bucky, Natasha, and Svetlana climb into the black Stingray to head back home. They'll debrief in the morning. Some minor medical attention and a good night's sleep is what's needed in the meantime.
Bucky and Natasha are deep in a conversation about what movie they're watching that night when a quiet chirp interrupts them, making Bucky curtly stop and Svet's eyes light up with glee. With a little gasp, the girl reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone. Natasha smirks and smacks Bucky's arm to stop watching in the rearview, but it's hard to look away from Svet's complicated expression. Her previously big eyes and bit lip all droop somewhat, the excitement seeping out of her at whatever she's seeing on screen.
the invitation is still open!
sent at 9:03 p.m.
Svetlana sighs and squeezes her eyes closed.
━━━━━━
ALL THE LIGHTS ARE OFF WHEN THEY GET HOME.
Everything is how they left it in their perfect little home. The yellow front door is still locked. Their chimney is smoking from their electric fireplace. Sandwich is excitedly waiting for them in the foyer. But something feels very, very wrong.
Svet goes still in the middle of their living room, sharply catching her breath.
"Svetla?" Bucky gently cups her face in his hand, murmuring, "Hey. Doll, you okay?"
The girl's eyes dim and she whispers, "Someone is here."
Their goofy dog now whines worriedly at their feet. Poor Sandwich, Svet briefly thinks through her panic, He really is the worst guard dog in the world.
The family of three immediately arm themselves, spinning around with each of their individual weapons raised to meet their intruder. In the corner of their living room, a dark shadow sits, silent and watching.
"Boy, did you pick the wrong house to rob." Natasha breathes evenly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Bucky instinctively steps somewhat in front of Svet and Natasha, shoulders tight and weapon ready.
"Show your face, or I swear to God, you'll be pumped full of lead so fast—,"
The little lamp flicks on and there, sitting upon the loveseat, still half—hidden in the shadows, sits none other than Nicholas J. Fury.
"Nick?" Natasha scoffs out slowly, dropping her arm and shaking her head, "What in God's name were you thinking?"
Staring curiously at the man, Svet slowly follows her mother's lead. Bucky, however, is not so eager to drop his weapon. He's much less tense these days, not so prone to immediate violence, but not when his family is involved.
"Been a long time." His singular eye darts between them, brow raising at the sign of weapons, "Gonna shoot me again, Barnes?"
"Uh, no." Bucky doesn't break eye contact, jaw clicking when he finally lowers his gun, "Sorry about that."
"I've had worse."
"Not from where I was standing." Natasha comments lightly, moving into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, "You here with a mission, Nick?"
"Not for you." Fury flicks his between the pair of adult assassins, "Or you." But then his gaze drifts and settles on the youngest spy in the room.
Svet's eyes widen, "Me?"
"Yes. You."
Fury swiftly stands from the loveseat and holds out a cream—colored folder without another word. Svet reluctantly takes it, pulling it close to her chest. Her delicate fingers fumble on the edge, hesitating for just a minute, trying to piece together what in the world could be inside. It's quite thin, which suggests not much information, which then suggests this could be a fact—finding mission.
Svetlana has never been on one of those.
Her mind drifts to the text she received not half an hour ago. It could be a good excuse to get out of it, to turn down the invitation. Fear stings like alcohol on an open wound. Using this mission to turn down the invitation would be the coward's way out. Didn't she decide she was going to be brave for his sake?
Fury notes her hesitance and quietly adds, "I believe you already have a connection with the target."
Bucky glances at her like he's never seen her before, "She does?"
Svet is equally confused.
With a careful exhale, the redhead flicks open the folder and her eyes shoot wide. Inside, it's not reports of a rogue group of supersoldiers or the codes of a missing nuclear warhead, but it's the picture of a boy. A very familiar boy with brown eyes and golden—brown hair and a smile that makes her heart skip two beats. Her cheeks flush and she keeps her head bowed to make sure no one can see.
"There's a new threat heading our way. And we need you to keep an eye on Spider—Boy. Lay low, watch out for him, keep him on the path of helping us out."
Bucky's expression tightens at what he sees over her shoulder.
"What new threat?" Natasha rejoins them with a mug in her hands, face serious.
"Something out of this world," Fury answers dryly, a pointed glance to the folder.
Her parents huddle around her, both frowning, already scanning the information in preparation of a new fight, but only one thing sticks out in Svetlana's mind:
"You..." The words are getting trapped in her throat, "You want me to spy on Peter Parker, yes?"
"He's dodging my calls. I don't have any easy way of getting a hold of him. That's where you come in, Miss Barnes—Romanoff." Fury steps closer, singular eye narrowed in on her uncertain face, "You've already been enrolled into Midtown School of Science and Technology, and you've already been invited to attend their school trip."
"You have?" This is news to both of her parents.
Svet keeps her lips sealed.
She doesn't even bother to wonder how he found out Peter invited her on the school's summer trip to Europe. He is Nick Fury, after all. He sees all, even with one eye.
"This is your mission, should you choose to accept it: accept the invitation. Then, create a fake identity, make friends, and protect Spider—Boy. That simple."
"It's never 'that simple'..." She whispers, looking back down at the folder in her eyes.
"No, Miss Barnes—Romanoff. It never is, is it?" He smiles at her, looking almost fodn before he holds out an airline ticket and American passport, "I'll know you accepted my offer if you use this ticket tomorrow morning at 7:30 sharp."
He nods at each of them in a sign of farewell and then, without another word, he pats Sandwich on the head and disappears into the night.
In his wake, shocked into silence, Svetlana's small family stands in their living room. They each listen to the other breathe, and it's clear no one is sure what to do now. Bucky and Natasha watch Svet for a while, cautiously waiting in case she wants to speak first. But she doesn't. She just stares at the folder in her hands with a complicated expression.
"This is serious." Natasha is the bravest of their trio, breaking the silence as she sits on the couch, "I could see it in Nick's face; there's something not right there. What really worries me, though, is that I don't know exactly what he has up his sleeves with this."
"Really? Nick Fury with a secret agenda?" Bucky sighs and rubs his forehead, "You don't say."
Natasha snorts and he smirks tiredly her way.
"I..." Svet's voice is raspy, quiet in her nervousness, "I think I want to do it."
They both turn to look at her, a very clear blend of confusion and surprise evident on their faces.
"You do?"
Svetlana nods slowly, hands wringing in front of her, "Yes. I want to go. For him."
"Do you want us to go with you?" Her parents are all too eager, "We could help you, make sure that both you and Peter are safe—,"
"No. This is on me. Just me..." She bites her lip, "Me and Peter."
Svet likes the sound of that. Natasha seems to, as well.
Her mother's expression softens, watching her daughter with an understanding gleam in her green eyes, "Do Peter really invite you to go along, Svetti?"
Svet bites on her lip and shrugs, "Yes. A few weeks ago, and again tonight. We text."
Bucky looks just as worried as he is confused, "You what?"
"Yes! Text! You know, like this!" Svet quickly mimics the motion with her thumbs, "On the telephone. It is what the cool kids do, Papa."
Natasha buries her chuckle into her coffee.
The girl blushes and looks down at the passport and ticket, each bearing a fake name. The sting of fear in her heart is replaced by a slight prick of guilt. Technically, yes, she will be spying, but it's only to ensure that he's safe! Protected! That's what... that's what being a good friend means, isn't it? She'll go. She'll get on that plane tomorrow morning and she'll go. No more running away. No more being afraid. There are butterflies in her stomach and bees buzzing in her head. She's never felt quite like this before. Peter. Her heart skips another beat.
"I should..." Svetlana draws in a sharp breath, suddenly brimming with excitement, "I should go pack!"
She's just turning to go when she catches the flicker of worry that crosses Bucky's face, gone quickly as it had come, but just not fast enough for her to miss it. She slows on her path to the staircase and stops in front of him, hands gently raising to cradle his rough face.
"Papa..." She whispers, morning sky eyes meeting ocean blue ones, "Pozhaluysta, ne serdites' na menya. I need good luck on this trip." Please do not be angry with me.
"I'm never angry with you, Lana." Bucky slowly sighs, taking her much smaller hands in his, "I'm just... cautious."
Natasha smiles at her feet.
Svetlana understands immediately, of course she does. "Papa, no one can take me from you. Not ever again. I promise it."
Bucky dons a smile for her sake, and she returns it with a quick kiss to his cheek.
She's already up the stairs and nearly in her room when she hears Bucky's low voice murmur, "I don't like this."
The teen freezes in her doorway, heart leaping into her throat, twisting in concern. The last thing she wants is to worry them, or make them unhappy.
Natasha's voice meets his, just as quiet but far more steady, "James, Svetlana is the most beautiful human being I've ever known, but that doesn't mean her people skills couldn't use a little help."
"You think this secret mission with Fury would help?"
"I think it would help a lot. She would get to be with other people, not just us."
"We're her family." Bucky's voice is soft and a bro desperate, "We're enough for her—,"
"And I'm not saying we aren't, James, I'm just saying Svetti needs to know people close to her own age, see what it's like to be young, in a way I never got to. She needs to know how to interact with the world beyond the Red Room, Hydra, the KGB, and the Avengers. All she's ever known is fighting; I want her to know a little bit more about living. And if this is the only way she's going to learn, then she should."
A slow gentle silence separates them, leaving space for Bucky to think.
"Besides," Natasha casually adds in, "I think she likes that boy Peter."
"What?"
"James." The woman gives a laugh that slowly fades to a sigh, "We have to let her go."
Another brief silence and then Bucky concedes, "I know."
Svetlana walks into her bedroom with a smile on her face.
━━━━━━
AT 6:59 AM, IT'S ALMOST TIME TO BOARD.
A group of everyday normal American teenagers wait at their gate. It's too early for most of them to even be awake so some are taking catnaps and a few are sipping coffee while others are glaring grumpily off into space.
Peter Parker is doing none of those things. He stands amongst his classmates, yawning and staring out the big window with his headphones in.
It's been years since he traveled to Europe, but the memories still feel fresh. Fresh and painful. He's determined to make it a good trip, though, to give himself a break and remember to breathe again, like his aunt May said.
There was really only one thing — or person, rather — that he thought could really make this trip worthwhile.
But she never showed.
Peter clears his throat and turns up his music, waiting for their zone to be called. Ned Leeds suddenly coughs on his chocolate milk, nearly spitting all over on his best friend standing across from him. Peter jumps and makes a face, preparing to ask his friend what's wrong when he stops up short. Ned's eyes are frozen wide and his mouth is hanging open, stunned into silence.
Peter tugs out his headphones just in time to hear his teacher, Mr. Harrington, announcing, "—Everyone! There's a new student of ours I'd like you to meet—,"
Brows furrowing, the teen quickly swivels to get a better look as his teacher rests a hand on a petite redhead's shoulder.
"—Lana Rushman."
Their eyes lock, and Peter Parker grins.
━━━━━━ annie speaks ━━━━━━
AHHHHH! oh my gooood! okay, it's happening. everybody stay calm! the peter and svetlana (sveter) ship is setting sail! i'm so fricking excited, you guys, so so excited. i can't even begin to explain it.
so we really went ALL OVER THE PLACE with this chapter but i really wanted to transition from the mission mode of our little quartet into meeting nick and THEN meeting up with peter and the gang. also, did ya'll notice all of the comic quotes i dropped in that first half? writing bucky, nat, and svet together is absolutely my favorite. and now, svet is on a mission to spy on her crush, peter. hopefully the whole 'spying thing' doesn't come back to bite her....
who's ready for a love story?
(ps: i'm going to be dropping a writing instagram soon, are ya'll ready for that too?)