BAD BITCH
❝these were the women who knitted pain into glory❞

03. Undercover Mission

November 2016

The fluorescent lights of the hallway hummed above her head. Soft purple hues radiated onto her body, illuminating the pathway ahead of her, and curled around her figure. The hallway's long, concealed with no windows, and barren of any other inhabitants aside from the man stood at the end of it. The faint thrum of music penetrated past the door within view and was muffled only by the concrete walls blocking it. The sound echoed along the cold hall and the soft bass seemed to coil into submission before attacking into a loud chorus of singers.

Svetlana wasn't invited. She supposed she rarely was.
The thin sunglasses did very little to hide her face yet that was mostly the objective; pretty women very rarely got denied access to a party. The tight fitting dress, heightened by the push up bra she was wearing, was merely allowing her the chance to avoid suspicion.
Hydra were everywhere and they couldn't know about her personal missions.
They'd tried to find Svetlana before on one of her own missions, intrigued and frightened of what the woman could have been up to in her spare time, but, as she wasn't a prisoner of war like the Solider was, they couldn't follow her for long before she had attacked them with a savageness they wouldn't forget for a long while. She'd remember with disdain at how the blood had coated her nails.
The sharp sound of her heels clinking against the floored tiles warranted the attention of the bouncer at the door, immediately noticing his eyes go to her chest, and Svetlana made sure to lick her lips just for good measure. It only took a few steps to know that she was going to get in with very little resistance. She had had a back up plan, incase her original pacifist entrance hadn't been successful, but that one had involved a lot more violence rather than sweet smiles.
With natural confidence, Svetlana allowed her exposed legs to carry her closer to the door. The night's air couldn't seem to chill her anymore, nothing compared to Russia's winters, so the lack of clothing didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. The large brown fur coat wrapped around her waist, not hiding her breasts however, was merely because it had matched the skintight black dress. European's tended to observe fur coats with appreciation, Svetlana had observed many moons ago, and had made sure to have tailored it to her outfits whenever she could.
Within three steps from the door, it was opened with a sense of obedience. Svetlana barely concealed her smirk. For her, men were easy to manipulate. Especially unsuspecting ones. They'd allow any woman in as long as they knew how to turn them on. Svetlana felt a rush of satisfaction rush to her as the once muffled music became clear, hearing the perfect heat of the lyrics, and she pushed one side of her hair back to expose her neck to the bouncer. Offering the muscled man a sultry smile, her hand trailed along his chest as she walked through into her mission, and let her thick eyelashes flutter along her cheeks for a moment in feigned heat. The bouncer barely had any time to react, however, as Svetlana was gone within the crowd just as quickly as she'd arrived.

Natasha Romanoff hadn't wanted to be partnered up and shipped to a foreign party. She hadn't intended to become too invested in civilian life, preferring to stay as far away from domestic life as possible, yet Fury had assured her that it was the perfect setting for her to find their target.
She'd been given a fake alias, along with a whole new appearance, and was stranded at the bar trying to identify the man they had been looking for. She had been warned that it wasn't cemented on whether the man, who'd been selling vibranium in the black market for fourteen months, would attend the party or not but, for the safety of those invited to the event, her and her partner had been placed as added protection. Yet, the night had been particularly uneventful. She'd only slightly regretted leaving but the soft pink dye that had been saturated in her hair was becoming more and more of a regrettable action.
Sipping on her vodka and lemonade, carefully watching it being made more out of habit than actual concern of being drugged, she observed the people around her. Most of them were wealthy. In fact, a good portion of them were multi-billionaires from either inheritance or connections but none were a risk of national importance. She shouldn't but Natasha was beginning to get bored of the safety.
She supposed that was her down fall, in the end. Be careful what you wish for, a common phrase amongst the English native speakers and Natasha had never really understood it until that moment.
The dark lighting above her had been annoying, to say the least, but her eyes had quickly zeroed onto her partner and immediately wished she hadn't let him investigate on his own. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, opposite really, but she did know for a fact that he could be particularly blind in situations that involved a damsel in distress. It was engrained in him to always help a woman and, in a decade like this, it was dangerous to think that way.
See, the Russians had played their own game on them. That's one of the main reasons why the majority of their agents were female. It was in the 1980s when they'd decided to change from male agents to using younger females who were more likely than not pleasing to the eye.
So Natasha knew her partner was in danger the moment she saw him speaking with a dangerously pretty woman. It wasn't until she saw the tattoo on her neck that her suspicions were confirmed and she called out for his attention-

❝Steve, ma'am.❞
Svetlana had gotten bored. Her target wasn't anywhere in sight, she'd scanned all bathrooms and all locked rooms for any indication of his presence but had found nothing but empty space, and she was pleasantly annoyed to have found Natasha Romanoff at the bar as she'd initially walked into the crowd. It was purely luck for her to have found such a pretty specimen of a man. Yet, his type wasn't her. In fact, upon looking more closely, Svetlana was slightly disgruntled to find that his type wasn't 'hers' but rather 'hims'.
She'd still spoken to him. Call it humility, if you so wish, but Svetlana could visibly see how unused he was to large bodies of crowds and he was beginning to panic at being constantly hit on. It was sweet, watching him smile awkwardly at the strings of girls fighting to win his attention, but Svetlana didn't particularly like the focus being on other people so had moved from her position by the stage and strutted towards the man. After a while of glaring, the girls began to move away; only stopping to glare at Svetlana but all it took was a sharp gleam of her eye to send them all scattering away into the abyss of the crowds.

❝Natalie.❞
Svetlana smiled softly at him, the expression unfamiliar on her face, as the name escaped her mouth naturally. She extends her dainty hand slightly ahead of her, still smiling as comfortingly as possible, and smirked internally as a look of relief flooded the man's face and as he took her extended hand in his own and gave it one firm shake. Gay or straight, or any sexuality for that matter, men were so damn easy to play.

❝Svetlana.❞
That voice of poison and honey dripped from behind her and immediately she knew who had barked her name as though it were an order. Only one woman could get Svetlana so riled up without trying. It had merely been a month since she'd seen Natasha Romanoff, her trip to S.H.I.E.L.D had been as entertaining as it could have possibly been, and already she was aching to see her again. Svetlana Smirnov burned for Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff, however, was a different person in her eyes. The woman behind her was not the woman she'd learned to love and she doubted that woman would ever come back.
Still Svetlana smirked in her usual dark manner and watched as Steve's eyes widened in slight shock. She felt the woman breeze past her and stand by Steve's side, defensively standing slightly in front of him, but Svetlana wasn't bothered by the aggressive power struggle. Natalia's eyes never changed. They were still the soft hues that she'd ached to wake up to.

❝Always lovely to see such a pretty face, Natalia❞
Svetlana purred and Natasha merely arched a perfect eyebrows in disdain. Svetlana wouldn't admit it, not even to her certified therapist, but the look of pure hatred on the woman's face made the dark abyss in her chest grow ever darker. Not seeing Natalia was fine because, even late at night, Svetlana could pretend the woman still loved and cared for her deeply but, now staring Natalia in the eyes, she was simply met with pure disgust and it was proof enough that she, Svetlana Smirnov, was unlovable.
❝Could you please refrain from accosting Agent Rogers? If you are here for a social visit then turn around and leave because this is not the time nor place for your games.❞
Natasha ground out and, feeling a sharp pang of guilt, noticed the small flare of hurt blaze in the younger woman's eyes but it was drenched before anyone else would have noticed.
Svetlana's eyes widened slightly in interest but her smirk remained.
❝Steve Rogers?❞
With all of her attention on the blonde man, Steve began to shy away. He wasn't used to such an intense stare, even Natasha refrained from searching his face like Svetlana was doing, but it wasn't an aggressive gesture. It was more of a thoughtful, even curious, gaze.
Steve cleared his throat slightly and nodded with as much confidence as he could muster.
❝Take care of Barnes.❞
Svetlana drawled coldly.

Natasha and Steve were in a slight state of shock as the woman strutted, the closest to storming away as she could get, to the door and left the party all together. She hadn't even given Natasha a second look as she'd left, leaving the elder of the two feeling slightly guilty for her brashness, and Steve was more shocked that Svetlana was aware of the man's existence within their facility.
Svetlana had made Natasha feel guilty a lot over recent events. Natasha knew, rationally, that the woman was more likely than not manipulating her to reach out but the look of actual hurt that had shown on her facial features had been an indicator enough that Svetlana Smirnov did still care for Natasha. Even after threatening her friends and the organisation that she'd dedicated herself, Romanoff still felt her heart ache at the sight of the woman she once loved lash out from the pain of her words.

It was only until much later that the duo spoke of the conversation. After Svetlana had left, the pair had stayed in silence for a few minutes and had then left to report to Nick Fury. They'd decided to stay in a local B&B for the night as the trip back to America wouldn't be worth them being exhausted, and it was only when they were staring at the ceiling that they began to talk.
❝How did she know about Bucky?❞
Steve whispered in thought. He'd tried to sleep but, after sleeping for over seventy years, a good night's rest was hard for him to do.
❝She knew a lot of people in the business.❞
There was a slight hesitation.
❝-I knew him as well. The Solider, though. Svetlana got the closest to seeing Bucky Barnes than anyone else in the industry. They went on missions a lot. They got separated.❞
Steve didn't want to push any further. He could hear the tension in Natasha's voice as she remembered her past. She often became very suspicious whenever anyone wanted to know about her experiences in the Red Room so for her to willingly talk about it at all with him was a blessing.
❝Were you two, um, well...❞
❝Fucking? Yes.❞
Steve chokes and he can Natasha snort slightly to herself.
❝I meant together.❞
❝No.❞
She answers with a finality that once again makes Steve not want to push so he leaves it at that.
❝Was she always that, cold?❞
Natasha lets out a loud exhalation. Steve Rogers had always been curious so she should have expected him to question her about everything but, now answering them, it seemed harder to get the words out than she'd first believed.

❝No.❞
❝What happened?❞
❝She learned how to survive.❞