Just over 24 hours later, Calina buckled the seatbelt across her lap and sank into the plush leather chair. "Can we afford this?" she asked, glancing around the small cabin of the luxurious private plane.

Yelena peered at her over the top of the trashy magazine she was reading. "We're flush right now, didn't you hear? Anya found another one of Dreykov's caches."

"The stupid svoloch didn't exactly hide his tracks," Anya explained without looking up from her laptop or pausing the clack of her fingers across the keyboard. "He must have been so sure we would never betray him."

"And his hubris, is our payday," Yelena finished. "We've got enough to fund the next few ops, plus more to keep us all in the lifestyle we've never been accustomed to. You'll be getting another bank deposit soon."

"Thank you," Calina replied. The money siphoned out of Dreykov's scattered fortune equated to freedom for Calina. It gave her a safety net to pay her bills and indulge her new habit of online shopping while she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Yes, the money was dirty as hell - obtained through blackmail, arms deals and all manner of other criminal deeds - but the Widows were owed it. They had bled and suffered and sacrificed to help create Dreykov's empire.

It was a lifetime of backpay, and she felt zero compunction spending it.

"Anya just needs to route it through a few dozen offshore accounts first. Then you can take your boring lawyer out for a boring meal to celebrate."

Calina rolled her eyes at Yelena. "For the last time. He is not boring. And he's not mine."

He wasn't hers. Not exactly. But he was...a friend.

Maybe.

He'd asked her out for drinks last night. To meet his own friends. That had to mean something, didn't it? His offer had sounded casual, but not insincere. He hadn't just been asking out of politeness. Not when he'd said it standing close to her, with that beautiful smile on his face and his thumb brushing against her arm over and over...

"Earth to Calina," Anya called, jerking her back to the present.

"Huh? What?"

"I said, who is the boring lawyer?" Anya asked.

"He's not boring!" Calina growled. The two women opposite her exchanged glances with each other before bursting out laughing.

"Wow, I've never seen you so worked up before," Anya remarked.

"Yes," agreed Yelena. "It was always so annoying when we were kids. Nothing would rattle you."

"But this lawyer does..." Anya said, fishing for details. She'd even closed her laptop - a rare occurrence. She hardly ever gave anyone her full attention.

It made Calina talk - not about her growing feelings for Matthew. She didn't fully understand those herself. But she shared everything she'd told Yelena in the coffee shop - all the subtle things she'd noticed about Matthew that didn't add up. And a few more clues that she'd noticed in the last week.

"He has scars. Quite a few of them." His suits had hidden them from view, but up on the rooftop the other night, his arms - his beautifully sculpted, strong arms - had been bared.

And they'd revealed another of his secrets.

Maybe he thought she wouldn't notice them in the dark of the rooftop. And to be fair, she hadn't spotted the subtle, well-healed marks, despite spending long furtive moments gazing admiringly at his muscles.

But when she'd run her fingers down his skin in the guise of stargazing, she'd felt the unmistakeable lines. "They felt like knife wounds. Deep slashes."

"Wait, they felt like knife wounds?" Yelena spluttered. "What were you doing feeling his wounds? Or any part of him, for that matter. I thought I told you to be careful."

"I was careful. It was completely innocent."

Lie

She could feel her fingertips tingling, as if her body was trying to force the truth to the surface.

But Yelena didn't need to know how much that intimate, exhilarating, wonderful moment had changed her. Despite her teasing about dates, if she suspected that Calina was truly attracted to Matthew there was no telling what she would do to keep her 'sister' safe.

And if she knew how un-careful she was being in other ways, she would want to yank her out of New York and relocate her somewhere else - with a new backstory.

One she would actually stick to this time.

Because Calina wasn't being careful with her past. Or, rather, her made-up past.

When she'd moved to New York, Anya had gifted her a new ID - and a new story. Calina Balashova, the Widow - the former spy, undercover operative and occasional assassin - became Calina Balashova, a small town girl who'd wasted her years at college partying, leaving her aimless and jobless, getting by on the inheritance left by her dearly departed uncle.

It had seemed like the perfect cover at the time. A reasonable explanation for why a nearly 27 year old woman was still trying to figure her life out. And compared to some of her previous covers, it was so easy.

No research required. No special skills. No disguises.

But she was finding it really hard to stick to.

Because she didn't want to.

She wanted to be herself. After all these years, she just wanted to be herself.

But she couldn't tell any of this to the other Widows. Being herself - telling the truth about herself - put them all at risk. And if they thought she was a danger to them, they would put a stop to her little attempt at a life.

Luckily, the Red Room had taught them all to lie very well. Even to each other.

"I am being careful," she reiterated to Yelena. "Don't worry."

Yelena nodded in acceptance.

But Anya had more questions. "Tell me more about the way this guy moves."

———

They arrived in Seoul the following day, having flown through the night on the chartered plane.

They headed to their hotel and settled into their suite. A very luxurious suite, which matched the luxurious plane. Apparently everything had been booked and organised under one of Yelena's new aliases - a fake oligarch's youngest daughter. Meaning that if anything went sideways, no one would find evidence of any Widows in South Korea.

It also meant they got to travel and sleep in the style befitting a flighty, spoiled heiress and her equally flighty, equally spoiled friends.

The three of them had changed on the plane into flashy designer gear and hitched a ride in a rented limo to the five star hotel. But not before sailing through the customs checks - Anya's skill with fake identities was legendary.

She really was magic with her laptop.

Right now, she was using said laptop to monitor the CCTV camera footage from the street outside the Ambassador's residence.

Yelena was checking inventory - the weapons they'd smuggled in, as well as the clothes and equipment needed for the Erin Brownly disguise.

Calina was rewatching all the available footage Anya had managed to collect on her target.

It was amazing the subconscious cues and signals that people could pick up about each other. The subtle mannerisms that defined a person, the subliminal messages that were transmitted, they all added up to a feeling of 'rightness' about a person.

When something was off - when a subliminal cue jarred with known reality - a feeling of 'wrongness' would start to sink in.

Which meant studying a person's gait, speech patterns, accent - their whole way of being - was a process that needed to be thorough and precise.

She rewound the video clip of Erin Brownly dancing at a fundraising gala last year to assess it again. Calina highly doubted she'd be called on to waltz during this mission, but every bit of information helped. How Erin held her shoulders; which foot she lead with, how evenly she distributed her weight to each leg, the way in which she tilted her head to laugh...it all built up a picture.

A picture that needed to be good enough to fool even Erin's own parents.

She had the sudden notion that she would never be able to fool Matthew. He related to the world not through sight, but through other - more intangible - methods. Scent, sound, feel...things that she was starting to appreciate a lot more since meeting him.

And things that were a lot harder to mimic.

If he was as sensitive to those aspects of a person as she suspected...yeah, he would be impossible to mislead. He would-

"Are you ready for a mask test?"

Yelena's question startled Calina out of her thoughts.

What was she doing?

She couldn't afford to be thinking about Matthew, not when a Widow's freedom was on the line. She shook her head, as if to fling off the distracting thoughts. She wasn't used to being so pre-occupied going into a mission.

It felt dangerous.

Reckless.

She needed to forget about the handsome lawyer back home, and get her head in the game.

Or she might just lose it.

———

The size 9 shoes pinched her feet as Calina walked up to the electronic gate.

But Erin Brownly was a size 9, so Calina had to be as well.

The towering stilettos were fitted with false heels, to shave an inch off Calina's true height. The padding around her hips and breasts changed her normally willowy shape into more of an hourglass. And the photostatic veil gave her Erin's face, right down to the summer tan and the freckles across her nose.

The veil was Red Room tech, given to S.H.I.E.L.D. by Natasha Romanoff on her defection. It was a thin mesh of programmable, nano-sized holographic cells that could perfectly mimic the appearance of someone's face. It also included a voice modifier that could precisely recreate a wide range of voices. It had been a game changer for Dreykov when it had been created - allowing for perfect infiltrations by more Widows across the world.

But the tech couldn't translate foreign languages. The engineers had tried to incorporate software to do just that, but it always resulted in the tiniest lag between mouth and voice. An infinitesimal delay...but enough to be detectable. So Widows like Calina - adept at multiple languages - were still in demand even after the tech was in use.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she said to the guard manning the entrance to the Ambassador's residence. She chose to use the standard Korean greeting, rather than the more formal 'Annyeonghasimnikka'. As a personal assistant, Erin Brownly 'outranked' the guards, so she wouldn't speak overly respectfully to them. When the guard didn't react in offence, she continued in the same speech form, "I'm here to get the Ambassador's signatures on some documents." She held up the leather file she carried and waited.

This was the first test of her disguise: fooling these guards. They would have seen Erin Brownly - and spoken to her - many times in the past.

As the guard radio-ed through to the main building, Calina stood at ease. She didn't fidget - that habit had long since been beaten out of her. She didn't hold her breath or bite her lip - Erin Brownly would have no reason to be anxious in this situation, so neither did Calina. She projected a relaxed, calm facade as she mentally recited the mantra that had gotten her through many a mission:

Trust your training.

Trust your research.

Trust your instincts.

She had prepared as well as she could for this mission. Yes, ideally, she would have liked more than just a few days, but this persona was relatively straight-forward. It was a quick in and out. Not a prolonged deep cover.

It would be fine.

Trust your training.

Trust your research.

Trust your instincts.

A few moments later, the guard nodded and hit the button to open the solid metal gate.

First test: passed.

As the gate retracted, the house came into view and Calina felt like she'd been transported back to the past. It was a Hanok - a traditional Korean home, made of stone and clay, with a distinctive sloped tiled roof. She half expected a girl in a Hanbok, bearing ink and parchment, to walk through the bamboo-paper doors.

Instead another guard emerged, dressed in a black suit, armed with a semi-automatic machine gun.

Calina nodded to him as she passed, keeping her eye subtly trained on the gun in his hands. If there was any hint of trouble inside the building he, and the rest of the well-trained private security firm, would come running. And they wouldn't hesitate to shoot.

She felt decidedly under-armed in the face of so much fire power - carrying nothing but a thin blade, and a 9mm pistol stashed at the bottom of her handbag.

Both of which were last resorts.

She needed to get through this with her wits, not her weapons.

She just didn't think she'd be needing those wits so soon. She'd taken a mere two steps into the main building when a figure appeared from behind a corner and called out an excited greeting, "Unnie!"

Calina quickly cycled through the roster of faces from Yelena's dossier, and recognised the girl as Park Eun-Bo, the house manager's youngest daughter. An impish schoolgirl of only 13 years who lived in the residence with her mother.

There hadn't been much more information on the Park family, but Catalina could guess one thing: from the affectionate term Eun-Bo had used in greeting - Older Sister - she and Erin were close. She would need to be careful not to give herself away - children could often sense when someone wasn't acting themselves.

"Eun-Bo-ah," Calina said, using the casual form of speech in reply. "How are you, today?," she continued in the girl's native language.

"I got an A on my chemistry test today."

"That's excellent. Your mother must be happy."

"She is. Unnie, did you get the tickets?"

Inside, Calina froze, her mind whirring as she decided on a suitable reply. But outwardly she remained calm, the same relaxed smile on her face. "Not yet, I'm afraid. Eun-bo I need to go see the Ambassador now - I'll talk to you later, okay?"

A disappointed look crossed Eun-bo's face, before she plastered on a smile. "Okay, Unnie," she sighed, before heading back the way she came.

Second test: passed.

Calina turned right, knowing from Yelena's blueprints that the Ambassador's study was down the corridor on in the next wing. Her heels clacked along the stone floor as she made her way to her destination. The sound was sure and steady - not a hint of hesitation in her steps. Her breathing was regular, her heart rate low, no sweat on her brow.

She was in control.

Calm.

She seemed to have gotten through that encounter with Eun-Bo with no problems - and if running into an innocent child was the worst of the hurdles today, this mission would be a cake-walk.

As she approached the study, there was no sign of Katya standing guard outside the door. Which meant the preferred plan A - in which she lured Katya away from the door to administer the antidote - was evidently off the table.

So not such a cake-walk.

Plan B also involved some luring, but first she'd have to interact with the Ambassador - and convince the shrewd old diplomat that she was Erin Brownly, a woman he'd worked closely with for three years.

Calina took a deep breath through her nose...

Trust your training.

Trust your research.

Trust your instincts.

...and tapped on the wooden panelling of the door.

———

Calina stood in front of the large oak desk, hands loosely clasped in front of her, and watched the Ambassador sign the phoney documents.

And she tried very hard to ignore the figure lurking in the corner of the room.

Katya.

She had noticed her as soon as she had entered, had flicked her eyes to her...but had seen no recognition on the other Widow's face.

Her disguise was holding.

The Ambassador didn't seem to notice anything amiss either. He had gruffly greeted her then held out his hand imperiously for the papers. He'd skimmed them briefly then reached for his pen to sign.

"Is the meeting arranged for tomorrow?" he asked in Japanese, head still bent over the papers.

Anya had hacked into Erin Brownly's computer, so Calina was ready with the answer. "Yes, sir," she replied in the same language. "The CEO of SK Holdings will see you at 3:30pm."

"Good," he replied, shuffling the pages together and handing them back. "I want the minutes of our last meeting for review, and find me the last five articles about the company published in the financial papers."

"I'll go see to that now." She bowed to her 'boss' then turned to leave.

As she passed Katya, she clutched the leather folder tightly in her hands, and dropped her gaze to the floor, almost scuttling out the door.

It was subtle - a two second hint of fear - but Widows were trained to spot the subtle. Katya would take the bait, she was sure of it. She would come out to investigate why 'Erin' was behaving oddly.

And Calina would be ready.

She ducked into the empty room two doors down and quickly slipped out of her heels. She grabbed the small gas canister from her handbag and stepped to the side of the door to wait. Two seconds later, Katya's footsteps could be heard as she strode down the corridor. Calina tracked the steps as they got closer...closer...then reached out and grabbed the Widow as she passed the open doorway, pulling her inside the room and raising the canister to her face.

But before she could depress the trigger, Katya yanked out of her grip and spun away, knocking the antidote out of Calina's hand and sending it flying across the room.

So much for quick and easy.

It was on to Plan C: a fight.

Calina didn't hesitate; she crouched and dove at Katya's midsection, propelling them both to the ground. She would usually have opted for a more elegant throw or a spin kick, but her movement was restricted by her pencil skirt.

As Katya landed on her back, Calina drove her elbow into her throat. The move made her vulnerable to a counter-attack, but she needed to stop Katya calling out and alerting the guards.

In response, Katya hammered her fist into Calina's flank and the force knocked Calina onto her side. Katya rolled on top of Calina and backhanded her across the jaw. Then she went for her throat this time, wrapping both hands around her neck and squeezing. Calina tried to buck her off but she couldn't get enough leverage in her tight skirt.

Damn Erin Brownly and her taste in clothes.

The hands squeezed tighter, but Calina kept her cool. She fumbled inside Katya's suit jacket until she found her holster, trying to go for her gun. Katya felt the movement and let go of Calina's neck. She reached for the gun herself, but Calina reared up and headbutted the other woman before she could unholster it.

Slightly dazed from the crack to the head, Katya stumbled to her feet. Calina drew both legs up and pushed off on her hands, kipping-up to her feet. The movement brought the two women close again - just as Calina wanted it. She couldn't allow Katya to get enough distance to grab her weapon.

They fought each other in a flurry of punches and blocks - but were too evenly matched, neither woman managing to get the upper hand, despite the punishing blows.

Until Katya got in a lucky kick to Calina's left thigh, the impact knocking her back a foot...enough room to allow Katya to draw her gun. She aimed the weapon at Calina and rasped out a command, her voice broken and hoarse from the blow to the throat, "Tell me who you are."

Calina raised her hands in the air, then slowly removed her wig and mask. "It's me, Katya. It's Calina."

There was recognition in Katya's eyes...but no emotion.

No confusion, as to why another Widow was suddenly on her turf.

No sign of remorse at trying to strangle her sister to death.

No hint of any humanity in her cold, cold gaze.

"Leave. Now," Katya replied, and even her voice was different - barren of any inflection or feeling.

So this is what it was like, Calina thought.

Calina had been freed when the Red Room had fallen - one of a group of Widow's all released from the mind control serum at once. So she had never seen it from the other side. Until now.

It was horrifying.

Katya just wasn't...there.

Only a weapon remained. An emotionless, dead-eyed robot who had been given a task and would complete it - no matter what.

Calina felt sick. And that roiling, vile sensation strengthened her resolve. She would free Katya from this, even if she died trying.

Calina shifted her grip on her wig slightly, palming the thin knife that was concealed as a hair pin. Before Katya could squeeze the trigger, Calina flicked her wrist and the blade flew across the room to embed itself in the other woman's hand. The gun clattered to the ground as Katya grasped the knife and pulled it free. Calina dove to the floor, reaching for the gun, but just as she wrapped her fingers around it, Katya stomped down on her hand, then rammed Calina's own blade into the top of her shoulder.

Calina gritted her teeth against the pain and clambered to her feet again, the gun still in her grip. "Stop, Katya," she hissed. She raised the gun, using both hands to steady her aim. "It's over."

Katya said nothing, just stared with those dispassionate eyes.

Keeping the gun trained on the other Widow, Calina slowly stepped to the side until she reached the fallen antidote. The gun wavered slightly in her grip as she reached down to retrieve it, the pull of the knife in her shoulder affecting her control. Katya took advantage, launching across the room and tackling Calina to the floor.

Calina grunted as the knife was driven further into her muscle and she swore she could feel it hit bone. Katya knocked the gun aside and drew her fist back ready to strike...but Calina got there first.

She brought the gas canister up and pushed the trigger, spraying the red mist directly into Katya's face.