Four weeks had passed since the team broke the news to Natasha. She showed no signs of remembering anything, she was still persistent in going back to Russia to complete her missions.
It was last week when Roman attacked her in the armoury hoping she would get some sort of flashback but all he received was a black eye and a bloody nose. She had become faster and stronger than her previous self. It was like her body and mind were abnormally enhanced, to the point where they started questioning what the Soviets really did to her.
As Natasha stood in front of her bathroom mirror, she was different. Everything was different and it's going to take her some time to adjust and adapt to this new lifestyle. In her hand she held a box of red hair dye, it's a good place to start - she thought. Her identity was taken from her and she's taking it back.
Tonight there was a ball, a mafia ball in Sicily and like every other year, the Diavolo was invited to keep the peace between the different organisations. She couldn't recognise the girl that was looking back at her. Red long hair, vibrant green eyes and a long fitted black gown with a slit that ran from her right thigh all the way down.
"You look stunning, bambina," Papa said as she made her way down the stairs, she returned his compliment with a small smile. It made sense that she understood Italian, it was that one language she could never forget.
She shifted her gaze from Pops to Robin who was standing with a grin on her face.
"Ready?" Robin questioned gesturing her towards the car.
***
"Director?"
"Yes, come on in." The Director of the CIA spoke whilst sitting behind a desk full of paperwork, his glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose and his tie was loosely hanging from his collar.
"Sir, it's about Agent 08."
That was all it took for the young man to have the Director's full attention. He stopped what he was doing and nodded at the agent to continue.
"We believe she is in fact still alive," He handed the man a file. "She goes by the name Natasha Romanoff in the Russian database, and it appears she's working as an agent for the KGB."
To say that the director was intrigued was an understatement, he knew she had previous interactions with the Russians but to be working for them, made her even more dangerous. "Is she still in Russia?"
"No sir, we got intel that she'll be at the mafia ball in Sicily tonight." The Director mused over the information, if she was in the United States, they had the right to intervene but was that really the best choice?
"Great, send my best agents there to keep an eye on her but don't make contact just observe. If she's working for the KGB we can't risk getting involved."
"Right away Director Miller."
***
It wasn't just a regular ball. It was the Italian annual ball, every mafia association around the world is invited.
This year she was sat at the bar with a glass of champagne enjoying her own presence, the music and couples dancing around her. She could only pray that nothing went wrong this year.
Beside her came a young man who ordered a whiskey from the bartender. She could feel his presence but her posture didn't change she remained facing forward, "We weren't supposed to meet again." She uttered bringing the champagne glass to her lips.
"Couldn't stay away, could I? Although I almost didn't recognise you with red hair." He replied studying the side of her face.
"I thought killing your father would've kept you away from me."
"When I was 7 years old I was kidnapped by the Russian mafias, my father made a promise he couldn't keep. That was the night everything change." His voice showed no signs of doubt or sorrow.
She finally turned to face the boy in a navy blue tuxedo, "What are you doing here Dylan?"
"I took over my father's mafia after you killed him." He shrugged, showing no signs of emotions.
"You did what?" She loudly whispered, her eyes growing wide.
"Calm down Nat, it's not that bad."
"Not that bad? Do you know how many targets are on your back right now? Your father played dirty and you're going to suffer the consequences of his actions." She pressed attempting to lower her voice as more people entered the ballroom.
"I know what I'm doing Nat, I've paid off the Russians and I'm already trading with the English again." He insisted, with a heavy sigh.
"Alright if you say so," She replied still uncertain of his safety, "Just be careful, running the American mafia isn't easy."
"Yeh, well someone has to do it." He replied with a small smile.
"Well that someone wasn't supposed to be you," She said getting up to leave.
"Will I see you again?"
"Depends," She shrugged, "Are you hoping to die soon?"
He smirked, "No ma'am."
"Good," She said, "Stay out of trouble Dylan."
So far, there has been no gun fires or bloodshed. But Natasha couldn't help to notice the four men dressed in black suits with well-polished black shoes. That was when she realised something wasn't right. Although they were trying to be discreet about it, she noticed how their eyes would trail over her every move.
They were special agents.
No doubt the CIA, after the Cold War the agency and the KGB had never been eye to eye on things, if they knew she was working for the Soviets then she was in trouble.
She walked over to the one man who had all the answers. "Gabriel, care to dance with me?" She asked offering him his hand.
"I would love to sweetheart." He replied accepting her hand and leading her onto the floor by placing a flat hand on her lower back.
"Everything okay?" He questioned slowly moving with the music.
"What does the CIA want with me?" She blurted out, both hands were around the back of his neck.
Gabe looked shocked at the question, "Well you used to work for them sweetheart and then they fucked you over."
She raised an eyebrow in response her face twisted slightly, "I used to work for them?"
"You had a mission in Colombia, some intel got leaked and they assumed you were the mole. That was when you got sold to the KGB."
She tried to recall her memory of being in Colombia but she couldn't, "So why do they still have a problem with me?"
"Sweetheart, you're pretty much on top of their list of wanted vigilante. Same for the Interpol...."
Gabe continued to talk but she couldn't hear him, his voice became background noise. All she could focus on was the four agents closing in on her.
"....MI5 the British Intelligence Agency, even wants you."
They were discreet about it but anyone would know that they weren't mafias, their suits were tailored to perfection and their earpieces weren't discreet either.
"....Hell, don't even get me started on the FBI."
She stood upright and patted his shoulder, "Thanks for the dance."
As she was leaving a hand grabbed her wrist. She made no hesitation to attack his wrist twisting it around so that his arm was folded behind his back. However he was fast, with his other hand he reached for her neck and flipped her over him, forcing her to land on her back.
Natasha groaned as she sprung back on her feet, now it was four against one, she stood in the middle of the four agents. One came running towards her, he threw a punch aiming at her face but she dodges it and catches his fist, twisting it whilst side kicking his ribcage.
A taller guy came charging towards her. She took this opportunity to run towards him, then jumped wrapping her legs around his neck and flipping his whole body over her.
The other two agents left standing shared a look between each other, one of them threw his body weight behind the fist that edged closer to her face, she ducked out the way before it was able to make contact. With her two hands, she grasped his head and brought her knee to his stomach.
The last agent looked puzzled, almost scared. He did something that didn't surprise her, taking the easy way out. As soon as he pulled out his gun, her's was already aimed at him.
"Andrew?" Came a familiar voice behind her.
"Roman?" The agent questioned with a stunned expression.
Natasha didn't hesitate, she gripped her gun and shot him. Right between the eyes. From the other side of the room, Zara's mouth flew open, Gabe too had his hand over his mouth, they had a rule - no killing unless it was the last resort, they would always take them down by combat.
"Are you crazy?" Roman beamed grabbing her by the arm, whilst doing so he noticed how there was a coldness in her eyes, the eyes of a killer. That was when he remembered, they made her like this, this is who she was trained to be.