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❛ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐝 ❜
𝐒𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠, 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
It had been nearly three months since Kira 'woke up'. Three months since she got her mind back and the red room was destroyed. Two weeks since she had left Yelena and the other widows.
It wasn't a decision that was easy but needed to happen. Dreykov pronounced all of his widows dead as they were taken so no one would come looking for them. The world had never heard of her.
And she intended on keeping it that way.
Walking through the busy streets of St Petersburg, Kira headed towards the Mariinsky Theatre. A drop zone of documents. With the other inactive widows no longer using it, it was the quickest way to get a new start.
The thin fabric strap bit into her shoulder. The bag swayed by her side. Growing damp from the rain but more or less dry. Pulling her coat closer she sped up against the wind. Recently dyed red hair crept out of her hood as she crossed the final road at the east side of the theatre.
A high stone wall covered her from any moonlight and cameras.
' 8... 9... 10.. '
14 paces away from the street front. It was here. 3 different kits for documents out of the country. Three chances to start over.
Hidden behind the dumpster 3 paces to her left sat a crowbar, muddied and crumbling, but it would do the job.
Pulling her arm back and forth with the object in hand. Preparing it for impact. Stretching her muscles in the heavy rain. Hoping the metal rod doesn't break before she swings.
'THWACK'
It crumbled. Straight from her hand, the pieces flowed with the rain.
" Блядь " fuck
It was gone. Her weapon just turned to dust. And the stone front was still whole but with one large crack headed straight down the middle. Hiding the safe door behind it.
She went to her boot. Grabbing her knife, a sharp steel blade glints in the little light shining Kira's way. Crouching closer to the stone and began hacking away.
Little by little, chipping away at the grey stone she revealed an old safe door. Pleased with the access she got and tucked the blade back next to her ankle. Pulling out the trusty lock-picking kit from the small backpack. Brushing away at the small debris from the lock - steadying herself. Listening closely to the pins and mechanisms. Swiftly picking the locks.
It was old school. A simple 5-pin lock, the same locks she picked in her formative years in training. The images flooded back as her muscle memory took over.
Fingers flew through the lock as her instructor's voice shivered down her neck.
" Вы быстрее этого " you are faster than this
The third pin was fixed, and she began the fourth. The rain made the tools slick between her fingertips.
" Ты лучше этого " you are better than this
Hastily, the final pin clicked. Carefully she twisted the housing to the right. Waiting for the satisfying click. Which she did. She was happy with herself - doing it on the run from Alexei and his boisterous tales. Doing it not for a mission but for herself, to start over.
" Тебе нужно поправиться, Кира. " you need to get better Kira.
The dull thumping in her skull grew louder. Ignoring it, she pulled the thick door open. Peering in to see three cases with documents for her to print a passport at the consulate during the daybreak.
" Вы должны быть лучшими, чтобы занять свое место в мире " you need to be the best, for you to take your place in the world
The only noise bringing her out of her memories was the cat screeching. Its hissing and its claws growing closer with each passing second. Dodging the stray pieces of rubbish and debris, stalked closer to Kira. The golden eyes stood out against the dark coat of fur. She put her lock picks in her pocket and grabbed her small handgun from its holster.
She had 6 bullets. And didn't want to waste on a cat. The animal froze at its potential demise, snarling as it glared at the once brunette girl. Deciding she wasn't worth it.
' Not the first one to think it.'
Reholstering the firearm, returning to the decaying safe in the stone. The sound of the rain hammering against the steel door. But it was fairly deep so the dockets were perfectly dry.
Here was Kira's final chance. A choice of three. 3 unassuming names which are perfect for the taking.
Victoire Burke
Nina Clarke
Giselle Mazet
Simple birth certificates. No photos. Nothing tying her to the names but nothing saying that it wasn't her. So she closed her eyes and grabbed a docket. Pulling the name out of the hat. She could deal with the name, it was just consistently dying her hair that would annoy her.
Stuffing the paperwork in her bag, and shutting the old safe shut for the next agent to come along. Replacing the old stone with the faux covering behind the bins to her right.
Now her old life was over. She was a new person.
A stranger who fled back onto the street front - headed towards a consulate. It didn't matter which. All she needed to do was to slip in unnoticed, hey wasn't her first time but it may be her last.
