Два
It’s dark by the time Lidiya reaches Bucharest. She’s been driving for the past 23 hours, not stopping once until she arrived in Romania. She slowed to a stop outside an old apartment block, parking her motorcycle and removing the number plate, replacing it with a local Romanian one. It blended in effortlessly, and she turned to walk to the entrance.
She knew that the Avengers would be after her, especially after that encounter with Romanoff. As she made it to the entrance, she leant her shoulder against the door, allowing it to open. Fishing out the key from her pocket, she jogged up the stairs to the apartment door.
After locking the door, she instantly made her way to the bed, collapsing onto the plain sheets. The flat was completely empty, no personal belongings, or interesting information about her to be seen. A few posters of sports stars, or bands were taped to the walls. That was it; nothing else. Kicking off her shoes, she lay back on the bed, closing her eyes as her head hit the flat pillow. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into the mattress beneath her, feeling her conscious slip away.
Suddenly, she awoke, the vibrations from her phone waking her from sleep. The room is bright, the day already in mid flow as she searches for her mobile in the bag beside her bed. The caller is a private number, and she pauses before picking it up.
“Agent Markova,” the voice says. Lidiya instantly recognises it as her boss.
“Yes?” she says, picking up her bag and rummaging through it to find the notebook, full of research and scientific information.
“Congratulations on completing your mission,” the voice is gruff and cold, and she rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Did you find the book?”
“Yes, I did. There was nothing else of value on him,” she sighs, leaning her elbows onto her knees. Her head aches, the bright light seeping through the windows not doing much to help the pain.
“Bring it to me. You have 48 hours, Moscow, usual place. You understand?” they said, impatience clear in their voice. Squirming uncomfortably, she ran a hand through her tangled locks.
Standing up, she nodded before saying, “Yes. Moscow, 48 hours.”
There was a sound of acknowledgment, before the line went dead. She stopped the call, dropping the phone on the bed. It bounced slightly, the lit screen shutting off as she turned to take off her old clothes. They fell in a heap on the floor, and she rushed to the bathroom, starting up the shower. The cold water sent a buzz of adrenaline through her body, hands running through her wild mane of hair. As the temperature settled, she relaxed into the water, letting out a deep sigh she didn’t know she was holding. Missions were just a part of life now, to which she had grown accustomed to, no matter how gruelling or horrific they were.
But what she was doing was right; this was the good thing to do.
Shutting off the water, Lidiya stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body. She dried quickly, turning towards bedroom again. Finding out some clothes, she dressed and brushed her hair, combing it back into a slick bun, whilst it was still manageable. She grabbed her phone, as well as the bag containing the book and her helmet; whatever protection she had could never do any harm.
47 hours and 39 minutes now. She mentally rolled her eyes at her own thoughts; as if she was this paranoid.
As Lidiya left the apartment, she grabbed her keys, locking the door behind her. Jogging down the stairs, she sees her neighbour entering the building, and almost runs into her in the process.
“Careful, watch where you’re going!” she said, accent strong. Lidiya understands Romanian though, and laughs in reply.
“Sorry, I was just in a rush,” she shouts back, before running out of the door and to her motorbike. She still has one last stop before Moscow.
~~~~~~~~
They spend just over a day searching the street cameras in Romania, as well as neighbouring countries. Nothing matches to her image though – that is until Natasha recognises a motorbike. They look back a few hours to find a motorbike parked up outside of an apartment building, and the lady who owns it also has a wild mane of hair. Tony pauses the footage, just as she turns around. She’s a match. They’ve found her.
“We need to get over there immediately,” Steve said, but Tony stops him in his tracks. He fast forwards the tape a few hours.
“Looks like we’ve got her now,” he said, smirking and grabbing a handful of blueberries. He munched on them happily, and Clint rolls his eyes.
A lady carrying a helmet leaves the building, making her way towards the vehicle. Natasha stands up, arms crossed and expression furious.
“That’s her alright. We need to go and track her, who knows where she’s going now,” she said, voice assertive.
Steve nods. He turns towards the team, “We have found Agent Markova, so myself, Natasha and Clint will go over on the Quinjet. Tony and Bruce, you monitor the cameras and keep track of her. We can’t let her get away, so suit up.”
The team nod, no one arguing with Steve as he leaves the room – they all know he’s serious about this mission. Tony manages to get up the cameras in the Quinjet, and so they can now track her on the move. The three of them leave the compound, along with a pilot almost moments after Steve dismisses them. Time is precious, and they can’t let her get away this time.