Natalia's hands floated above her head like a delicate butterfly. She reached for the sky, standing on the tips of her toes with her arms forming a circle above her. The strength and poise chiseled into her from years of training kept her balanced and unwavering.

She dropped her arms gracefully to her sides, then raised them up to her chest in a wide circle. She spun like a top, the world becoming a blur of color. She stopped flat-footed with her hands behind her back. Her wrists crossed each other with her fingers curved into claws in the way she was taught to end a ballet.

There weren't many memories or traditions she treasured from her time in the Red Room. However, ballet was the one thing from her training she actually enjoyed. No, enjoyed wasn't the right word. They taught ballet to improve the girls' strength and grace. Despite the grueling lessons, it was the one thing Natalia used for herself; to calm her mind.

Natalia shook her head, expelling the confusing thoughts from her brain. Individuality was foreign to her. The very idea made her head ache. She turned off the radio, plunging her apartment back into silence.

She sank into the red arm chair and unlaced her pink ballet shoes. She also removed her tights, leotard and skirt, exchanging them for a black dress.

The dress had one sleeve down her left arm, leaving her right arm and shoulder bare. The material was expensive and weighted. It cut low in both the front and back with a slit down the skirt. Just above where the slit began, Natalia strapped a holster onto her right thigh and a switchblade onto her left. The dress complimented her curves and slim figure.

Reaching up, Natalia freed her hair from the ballerina knot. The red curls bounced down her back. She enhanced her porcelain face with red lipstick, mascara and eyeliner. Dried nail polish matching her lips glossed her short fingernails. She draped a silver and ruby necklace against her throat with a matching bracelet on her right wrist and pair of earrings. Finally, she stepped into a pair of black heels.

She gazed into the full body mirror in her bedroom with a critical eye. She was the very image of unsuspecting death, a beautiful killer, a Black Widow.

She had heard the car, spotted the child, and just moved. She didn't remember thinking or hesitating. She felt the wind of the car whip past her as the screeching of tires filled her ears. The life in her hands trembled, safe, protected and alive. It was instinct, like when a mother sees their child in danger, except it wasn't. The girl wasn't her daughter. She can never have children.

When the adrenaline faded, Natalia silently cursed herself for risking her life to save another. She was trained to take lives, not save them. Her mouth spoke before her brain could catch up. "Are you okay?"

The girl had nodded, squeezing the life out of her stuffed toy as her entire frame trembled. Then the child embraced her, an assassin with the blood of her victims dripping from her hands. Natalia couldn't remember the last time she had been caught off guard. Her fight instincts flared up as she managed to quell them with an awkward pat on the little girl's back.

The girl would have been several years into her training if she was in the Red Room Program. Maybe that was it. Maybe she felt sympathy or pinning for something that was taken away from her, something she could give to the girl in one act.

No, that can't be it. Emotions are a weakness, a liability. She was taught better than that. A Widow felt no emotion, no compassion. A Black Widow is not weak.

She hadn't been thinking. It just... happened.

As she stared at her reflection now, her normally stone composure was confused, her eyebrows knitted together as she frowned. For the first time in her life, she could see something more than a killer. In that moment, she had been more than a killer. She had actually saved a life. Playing the moment over and over again in her head didn't help her believe it more. Perhaps... Could she dare hope to be more than a harbinger of death?

Her reflection said, "No. I have no place in the world."

Her expression hardened and her poise stiffened. A headache pounded behind her eyes and she grimaced in annoyance. Pain was an hinderance, not an inhibitor. It will be nothing more than a forgotten memory by the time her mission begins.

Reminded of the event, Natalia checked the clock. Grabbing her black handbag, Natalia left her apartment in an habitual stealth. She locked her door securely behind her, then took the elevator down to the first floor where her ride was waiting for her outside.

Her driver was a fellow KGB agent, so she could trust him to drive her safely to her destination. Unless he was a traitor or a mole. There was always that possibility.

After a twenty minute drive, they pulled into a circular driveway of a mansion. The gold onion domes shimmered in the garden and fountain lights. The building itself was a blinding white, or it would be blinding in the daylight.

Her driver glanced at her through the rear-view mirror."I will return in one hour. If he is not dead by then, I will leave you behind."

"He will be," Natalia assured as she stepped out of the car.

She showed her invitation to the doorman, who glanced at it before graciously welcoming her inside.

The interior reminded her of a palace. Thick pillars supported the domed ceiling, which was painted with bright colors like the Vatican. Along the walls hung art and showcased sculptures, Aleksandr Miroslav's art collection and the star of the gala. In the center of the room, a band played Russian melodies with instruments like balalaikas, kalyukis, and bubens.

Guests milled about the room, chatting, examining the art, or indulging in food and drink. Waiters weaved through the crowd carrying golden platters. Another way to acquire alcohol was at the bar located on the left. On the right, a pair of swinging doors connected directly into the kitchen. Two staircases on either sides of the room led to a second floor, a balcony that accessed a row of doors around the circular space. Bedrooms and more personal living spaces, she assumed. Natalia took note of all of this.

  Now to blend in and find Miroslav... or make Miroslav find me.

Natalia gracefully walked down the three steps to enter the room. A few pairs of curious eyes turned her way, to which she returned with a smile. They would smile and nod back before quickly returning to their conversations.

She snatched a glass of Sovetskoye Shampanskoye by a passing waiter as she explored the room. It didn't take her long to find Aleksandr Miroslav with the small crowd of guests surrounding him and laughing with him. The man was slightly pot bellied, about her height with well-kept dark hair and beard. He wore a cream suit and pants with a black bowtie.

  Target acquired.

She downed the rest of the bubbly liquid and set the empty glass on another passing waiter's tray. Natalia approached the group. She kept her distance, but she wanted to catch Miroslav's eye. And she did. Their eyes met. Natalia held the gaze for only a second, then she dressed him down with her eyes before suddenly changing her trajectory and walking away.

  Be bold and mysterious. Willing yet hard to get. Trap him in your web, Natalia. Madame B's lessons never steered her wrong.

Natalia took a seat at the bar, her back turned to her target. She ordered a vodka. Natalia couldn't hear his approach with the music, so she braced herself for Miroslav's sudden appearance. She had shown herself. It was his move now.

After her drink was poured, a figure stood beside her. She didn't look at him, but noticed a white suit out of the corner of her eye. Natalia smiled to herself.

"What is your name, Beautiful?" he asked her in English.

"Nadya Rodionovna."

His eyes lit up. "Ahh, a fellow Russian." He took her hand and kissed it. "Welcome to my humble home, Ms. Rodionovna."

"Hardly humble, Mr. Miroslav."

He shrugged in a "what can I say?" gesture. "Are you enjoying the artwork, Ms. Rondionovna?"

"Yes, though I haven't had the chance to see much of it."

"I would be honored to give you a personal tour of my collection." He extended a hand for her to take.

She accepted it with a smile. "I would like that."

They strolled around the room with her arm hooked around his as Miroslav drawled on about his display of works. Natalia didn't know much about art nor was she interested. The worth of the pieces were impressive though. While he talked, Natalia focused her attention on her surroundings, occasionally nodding and making remarks to seem interested. Miroslav seemed to catch on anyways, or maybe he had something else he'd rather do in mind.

"Shall I show you my personal favorites upstairs?"

Natalia smiled and leaned closer, resting a hand lightly on his chest. "Lead the way."

They climbed the gray marble steps of the dark, red wood staircase. The second floor was void of guests or staff. Miroslav led her down a hallway displaying paintings and tapestries. An arm snaked around her waist. She let him.

"This way," he murmured into her ear. His arm guided her into a luxurious bedroom. A king-sized bed with white and gold covers and six of the fluffiest pillows she had ever seen was pushed against the wall in the middle of the room. There were two tall windows with views of the garden. The only other exit was the door.

Miroslav closed the door behind them while Natalia dropped her handbag onto the floor. She removed her shoes, feeling the smooth red wood boards beneath her feet, and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. Her fingers tingled with anticipation, but she forced herself to wait. She had to play it slow. The fly was caught in her web and all she had to do was strike.

She let her target gently push her against the mattress to lead him to believe he was dominate. His brown eyes were hungry for the prospect he believed he had won. As he leaned down to kiss her, Natalia trapped him between her knees and rolled off the bed, throwing him onto the floor. Miroslav gasped as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, his wide eyes staring up at her in terror. In a blink of an eye, her gun was in her hand and aimed at his forehead.

"Pl-please," her target wheezed. "I'll-I'll give you anything."

Natalia sneered in disgust. "Begging? Pathetic."

Her finger tightened around the trigger as Miroslav whimpered louder, unable to scream out of terror and lack of breath.

Just as she was about to finish it, a quiet voice interrupted, "Put the gun down, Black Widow, and let's talk about this like grown ups."