NIGHTMARE ▹ Natasha Romanoff

fourteen.

"I hate stakeouts." Natasha declared. Svetlana agreed. Locked up in the stuffy car, watching the entrance of the warehouse, was very, very, boring.

They were sat alone, since a larger team would have been suspicious. Fury had insisted on a reconnaissance mission first, to confirm the intel.

Svetlana watched Natasha, then spoke, "That cut. How'd you get it." Natasha looked surprised when she mentioned it. "It looked pretty new." Svetlana continued.

Natasha turned her gaze back at the entrance. "Albany. I was there that day. Well, nearby." It was Svetlana's turn to be surprised.

"Oh." She said. They were silent for a second. "Did you know any of them?" She asked softly. Natasha gave a brief nod, looking away.

"A few of the agents. They were good agents. Good people." She said briefly, clearly showing she didn't want the topic pressed. Svetlana nodded.

Somehow, she felt guilty. Like if this really was her country's fault it counted as hers too. She swallowed.

There was suddenly movement. A long, sleek black car pulled into the street and parked harshly at the gates of the warehouse. The driver got out and hurried round to the side, pulling the door open.

Out of the car stepped a tall, well built man wearing a deep black three piece suit and loafers. His black hair was slicked back, and his eyes were covered by pitch black wraparound shades. Svetlana knew that when he took those off, the eyes beneath would be just as soulless and dark.

"He got fat," she breathed.

Natasha turned sharply to her. "That's Ivanov? Are you sure?" She asked. Svetlana nodded. She would never mistake that face.

Natasha nodded back, then spoke into the comm quickly, informing Fury. She looked at Svetlana, and a silent understanding passed between their eyes.

They watched as Ivanov looked at his surroundings, leaned in to tell the driver something then walked through the warehouse side door.

The driver hurried back into his seat and pulled the car out hastily, speeding off down the small street.

In sync, Natasha and Svetlana opened their doors and climbed out of the SUV. Natasha wasn't dressed in the black leather cat suit, but in a tight black shirt and jeans, with a leather jacket buttoned over the top, and black boots.

Svetlana had been giver something vaguely familiar to wear; simple black and easy to move in. But still unarmed. Natasha pulled a gun out of her holster as they walked around to the warehouse wall.

She put a hand on Svetlana's arm to stop her advance, then pressed an identical gun into her  palm. "Don't tell Fury," she said. A smile tugged at the corner of Svetlana's lips.

Checking the door Ivanov had used first and confirming it was locked, they turned to find another subtle way in. Together, they scaled an ancient fire escape that crawled up the side of the grey building. The door at the top opened with a shove, creaking in its hinges and threatening to fall off.

Stepping silently into the building itself, they found themselves in a hollowed out space. The fire door had led them onto a thin strap of floor along the entirety of the warehouse, placed at least two floors up from the ground. A small staircase led down to the main ground. The strip of floor was empty, except for a few boxes. They kneeled behind one of these, watching the going ons down below.