Yelena wasn’t sure to expect.

It was late. Shitty motel somewhere in New York, paid for by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine while she temporarily visited the city for her next mission.

“Criminal overlord running rampant in the lower streets of New York,” Valentina had said over the phone, while Yelena had been stirring herself some box max ‘n cheese, as one does. “Causing some.. problems, for my business.”

That was code for “the target is stealing my illegal stuff.”

Nonetheless, she had a job, needed money, and didn’t ask questions. Just went and killed who she had to kill. Blew up what had to be blown up. Steal what had to be stolen. That’s what she’d been doing since Nat died, after all.

So, she’d tracked the target down. Found the underground fighting ring, the organisation, the literal ant colony under the streets of downtown and forced her way through with stealth and guns.

Everything looked old. Run down. But it’s not like they were making brand new tunnels underneath downtown New York, not when there were people living up there.

But the place, despite being ancient, was big. Like, really big. She had to use a map to find the hallway that led to your office. Some noticeable things she had to get through were:

-Very large illegal fighting ring -Some kind of drug lab? -Dormitories -Lots of random water systems (she ignored the multitude of bodies floating in the water) -HUGE surveillance room -A weapons room (nice) -A nuke. She really hoped it was fake. -Lots of stolen vehicles -Ladders that led up to the streets -Ladders that led down to the sewers -A lot of food bowls-?

She’d slipped past security, reached the office you apparently resided in with a confident façade, and… had immediately been smacked over the head with a blunt object.

The last thing she really processed before she passed out were your shoes.

———————————————

The office was dim when she woke up, disoriented and dizzy. Her head ached, vision blurry. But, like the determined idiot she was, had already started trying to move.

Too bad she was tied to your office chair, hands covered by an endurable bag to prevent her from using her fingers. Her weapons were gone, too. Discarded on the desk in front of her.

She could already see who was probably her captor, standing next to the desk with one of her guns in your hand.

The kingpin.

“Oh, of course you’re one of those villains. Tying me up to a chair instead of just killing me off and saving yourself the eff-

She’s cut off by a very ominous chuckle, to which she rolls her eyes and scoffs at you quietly. Her tongue is sharp when she speaks, obviously aggravated.

“Get your hands off of that, will you? That isn’t yours to touch.” She grits her teeth, brow furrowing slightly. She’s always been defensive of her weapons, mainly because who just grabs another person’s weapon? It ticks her off.

The assassin’s eyes dart around, searching for any way out while you stare at her like a creep. Well, not a creep. You’re just keeping an eye on her, really. She does that for her captors, too.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.” You suddenly mumble, tilting your head at her. You look… scarily fascinated.

Yelena looks back over at you, before rolling her eyes and raising an eyebrow. “What, you thought that book you smacked me with was gonna kill me?”

You just hum.

She stares.

“…That’s it? No answer?” She asks, watching you start to wander around the desk, approaching her. She watches you place the gun back down on the desk, raising an eyebrow at how gentle you are with it.

You simply shrug at her, sitting down on the edge of the desk and taking in her bound form carefully. “Do I owe you one?”

“Touché.” She huffs, glancing away. Her eyes linger on your form, the way you hold yourself, the way you’re dressed. She feels.. a little bit intimidated.

Who wouldn’t? You’re behind multiple missing persons cases, drug deals, illegal weapon smugglings across the border. You robbed Valentina, stole some of her own very important (and illegal) weapons, stored them god knows where.

…And the nuke.

She swallows.