"DESYAT' CHASOV. Segodnya noch'yu. Skaybar v Kiyeve. On budet tam." The lifeless words fell from Juno's bubblegum-colored, chapped lips, with her dark eyes glaring ahead at the brunet man and blonde woman that stood in front of her. With a huff, the woman pushed herself onto the deep red marble counter that wrapped around a portion of the vacant apartment they were stationed in. Her two slightly older companions nodded along to her words, absorbing the information just as they had done dozens of times before. They had no reason to believe this mission would be any different. Their handlers counted on them, and they would dedicate every ounce of themselves to comply. It was better than the alternative. (Ten o'clock. Tonight. Skybar in Kiev. He'll be there.)

As for the relationship between the trio, it was nothing short of complicated, and often fluctuated between a spectrum of friendliness and 'If-you-so-much-as-look-at-me-I-will-skin-you-and-make-sushi-out-of-it.' 

It usually depended on their moods. 

"Skaybar populyaren sredi mestnykh zhiteley. Vy uvereny, chto smozhete voyti i vyyti nezamechennym?" The blonde, whom Juno came to know as Katja - or Kit - asked, with words acting as the shell to a hollow cavern. The blonde was highly intelligent, with perceptivity that rivaled most people Juno had ever known, but getting any sort of normal emotion from her was like drawing blood from a stone. (The Skybar is popular with the locals. Are you sure you'll get in and out without being noticed?)

Juno rolled her eyes with a slow nod of her head. "Da, Katya, ya sdelal domashneye zadaniye," the woman drawled sarcastically, taunting her with the use of her full name. It was a never-ending cycle of back and forth between the two female assassins, the gist of which was that 'Kit' was the blonde's 'fun' personality, and 'Katja' was the boring one. Unsurprisingly, it never went over too well, not that Juno cared much. (Yes, Katja, I did my homework.)

"Vashe chuvstvo yumora umen'shayetsya s kazhdym dnem," Kit replied, her expression evidently unamused. (Your sense of humor decreases every day.)

Juno threw her hands up, unfazed by the insult. "Togda khorosho, chto mne ne nuzhen chelovek, chtoby ubivat' lyudey." (Then it's a good thing I don't need one to kill people.)

On the opposite end of the room, the brooding brunet man with locks that fell just below his jawline, made no indication of even remotely listening to the two women's playful bickering. It wasn't uncommon for him, however, as his partaking in 'outside' missions was rare. His loyalties fell with Hydra, and whenever his time was up, he would return. 

The effects of his absences were always the same. His head would be a graveyard, and Kit would drop everything to be with him. From the moment Juno met them, the two assassins were interminably close.

Apparently their handlers were greedy, twisting and turning Winter's mind until it was a blank slate of compliance. It was how he and Kit met - through the mutual torture that Hydra enjoyed manipulating them with. They never dared to pry into Kit's mind though, no, as her powers relied on her gift of consistent awareness and aforementioned perceptivity. The puppeteers knew just what strings to pull on their precious dolls.

Juno never learned much about their lives through firsthand accounts. Her espionage skills were more than pristine when it came to digging.

El Insolente made sure of that.

Winter's almost translucent blue eyes peered up from beneath his dark hair. "U nas net sliv." (We're out of plums.)

Again, Juno slouched against the cabinets that rested against her back, a low chuckle falling from her lips. "YA uveren, chto Kit boleye chem gotova poyti i kupit' tebe slivy." (I'm sure Kit is more than willing to go and buy you some plums.)

The blonde rolled her eyes with perfect indifference, sliding 130 hryvnia and a Tokarev pistol off the table. "Pravil'no. YA luchshe prygnu v svoyu mogilu, chem ostanus' v etoy kvartire yeshche na sekundu." (That's correct. I'd rather jump into my own grave than stay in this apartment for another second.)

Once the door slammed shut with finality, Juno hopped off of the counter and twisted her hips so that an audible crack echoed from her poor spine. 

"YA ne znayu, kak ty eto delayesh'. Klyanus', ya v dvukh sekundakh ot yeye ubiystva," Juno stated, her eyebrows narrowing as the man emitted a dry, amused chuckle - or, rather, a huff of air. It was the most emotion she had elicited from him in days. (I don't know how you do it. I swear I'm two seconds away from murdering her.) "YA mog by deystvitel'no sdelat' eto. YA mog ubit' yeye, i nikto by dazhe ne uznal, chto ona ushla." (I could really do it. I could kill her, and no one would even know that she was gone.)

"Yesli vy tak govorite, razdrazhennyye glaza." (If you say so, angry eyes.)

"Tak derzhat', zima, ty sleduyushchiy. YA pokhoronyu vashi tela ryadom drug s drugom. YA ne polnyy monstr." (Keep it up, Winter, you're next. I'll bury your bodies next to each other, though. I'm not a complete monster.)

-•-•-

The evening was especially frigid that night, with gusts of arctic wind reaching well below -10˚C and eating away at Juno's exposed skin. Out of every less-than-human act that her life required of her, this was the part that she hated the most.

Seducing her targets - making them feel comfortable and vulnerable and warm. From experience, Juno learned that it was better to just shut it all off, or else the self-loathing and regret and utter disgust will eat you alive. It had already taken most of her humanity and grated it down until all that remained was a pitiful pile of it's useless scraps. 

Juno had almost lost count of how many people she had slept with to either extract information, or inject their carotid artery with potassium chloride until respiratory failure took them out within a few hours. It was efficient; the signs mimicked a heart attack, and no questions were ever asked. 

Tonight, her target was Leonid Chernovetskyi: one of the first bankers of Ukraine and the newly re-elected mayor of Kiev. Juno had been tracking him for weeks - logging his home address, office hours, methods of transportation during normal and inclement weather, and everything about his personal life that one could even begin to imagine. It was the same process that she had used on her first mission at age sixteen, and continued to use after she was deemed an extraordinary asset.

After one target was eliminated, there was no time for rest, no time to eat an extra meal, no time to sit on the roof of a building and watch the planes fly overhead. The next mission was sent to her, and she would start the process once more. 

Since El Insolente was an underground Brazilian subgroup of Hydra, she quickly became introduced to Kit and Winter, who, after dozens of successful missions, she often coordinated with, and who were currently stationed on the roof of the Skybar with sniper rifles. They were the only two people in the world who knew her real name instead of Agente Um, and even came close to trusting.

Clenching her fists to prevent the rigid muscle spams that the freezing cold would otherwise weaken her with, Juno sauntered inside the nightclub, her tousled dark brown hair falling just atop her shoulders, and a tempting gloss coating her lips. Her eyes scanned the raging crowd until they fell upon one man whose thinning black hair was peppered with streaks of grey. 

Leonid Chernovetskyi. 

Juno pulled down the neckline of her silk slip-dress so that the valley of her chest was just barely exposed. She walked over to the bar, placing herself right beside the man whose life she hoped to end by the time the sun was up. She slid her arms onto the slick hardwood counter, chin tilting ever so slightly downwards with youth and faux innocence. Their elbows touched, and the middle-aged man turned his head toward her with an apologetic grin.

"Izvinite, eto moya oshibka," he drawled, voice thick and reeking of vodka. "YA ne obrashchal vnimaniya." (Sorry, my bad. I wasn't paying attention.)

The side of Juno's mouth tugged upward into a demure half-grin as she shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly. "Vse v poryadke, ser. YA tozhe nemnogo otvleksya." (That's okay, sir. I was a bit distracted too.)

A small chuckle fell from his curved lips, his eyes momentarily drifting downwards, connecting with her breasts before he tore them away as her voice spoke up again. "Chto takoy chelovek, kak ty, delayet v takom meste, kak eto?" (What's a man like you doing in a place like this?)

"Glyadya, chtoby sdut' nemnogo para posle dolgogo dnya na rabote," he drawled, pausing for a moment to take in her delicate yet striking features. "A vy? Chto privelo tebya syuda?" (Just looking to blow off a little steam after a long day at work. And you? What brings you here?)

"YA mog by skazat' to zhe samoye," Juno replied, her words teasing and irresistibly slow. "YA vsegda khochu vypustit' nemnogo para." (I could say the same. I'm always looking to blow off a little steam.)

Leonid's pupils were blown - so dilated that one could almost think they weren't ice blue at all. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, fingers extending outwards to touch the woman's arm; and his hand was hot against her own, like molten Hawaiian lava dripping into the Pacific ocean. "YA mog by pomoch' vam s etim . . . yesli vy pozvolite mne, konechno." (I could help you with that... if you'll let me of, course.)

However, a steady set of footsteps approached the bar, contrasting with the loud music that reverberated off of the walls and vibrated against Juno's eardrums. She paid it no mind, as there were hundreds of people in the nightclub and all of them had been cycling through the bar, ordering drinks as if it was a bottomless well.

But, as soon as she felt sharp prick on her waist, Juno knew that had been a big fucking mistake. Rage coursed through her veins, but the tranquilizer overpowered it and soon all she felt was exhaustion. Juno gritted her teeth, not wanting to alarm her target and scare him off, but her eyelids were sinking faster than she could swim and soon her legs were scrambling to keep her afloat.

Whatever Juno had been injected with was too much, even for her. 

Suddenly, an unknown arm was wrapping around Juno's waist just as her muscles were about to give out and send her toppling to the floor. Words were coming out as small groans as her body fell limp against the feminine figure behind her, deep red locks and the scent of roses overpowering all else. Juno could feel the woman holding her up, hand gently grazing her ribcage and sending a chill up her spine. The assassin's senses were fleeting as darkness clouded her vision, but she heard one last thing before her world went black. 

"Izvinite, moya devushka, dolzhno byt', slishkom mnogo vypila. Prostite nas." (I'm sorry, my girlfriend must have had too much to drink. Excuse us."

Juno's heart pounded against her chest, and then her lights were out. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE :
kit & bucky = chaotic lovebirds
nat & juno = chaotic, murderous
love-sharks (more vicious...)

idk i'll ever publish my bucky
fic since my mcu fics seem to 
flop - but hey, who knows