The sun is already dipping in the western sky, the cafes of Saint-Denis coming alive with evening customers, as a cool elegantly dressed blonde makes her way along the sidewalk, paper bag of groceries in the crook of her arm, stopping outside one of the distinctive Parisian doors to get out her keys.
To her neighbours Anne Darceneaux was just a typical businesswoman, one whose work frequently took her away for long periods of time. Indeed, none of them had seen her for several years, until one day she had turned up again out of the blue, much to the delight of Pierre Thompion in the apartment across from hers who'd lingered on the landing this evening so as to try and flirt with his beautiful neighbour.
Brushing him off gently in fluent French, Anne unlocked her apartment door, hefting the bag of groceries as she closes it behind her, her gaze briefly catching on the mirror by the entrance, a sigh escaping her as she studied the reflection of Anastasia Petrova, a twinge of remorse making her break eye contact with the reflection after only a moment.
Six weeks now, six weeks of living another's life, of waiting in hope that the widow that she'd nearly killed years before might show up. She'd give it another couple of months, maybe tip off some more underworld contacts if that didn't work, but failing that she would be at a dead end.
Finding the other Widows scattered across the globe to hit them with the Red Dust and cure them is… a harrowing job, but a necessary one. It makes her feel closer to her sister in a weird way she can’t quite explain. She doesn’t like thinking about it over much, so she just puts her head down and does her job.
Petrova has been more difficult to place than she had hoped. Yelena hopes it doesn’t mean she has been killed before she could be saved. She would not be the first, nor likely the last, who turned up that way, after all.
But finally, after what felt like forever, she’s tracking movement of her. This has always been the fun part of the job to her. Sure, she likes the fight as much as anyone, but this? It’s where she shines, she thinks.
As Anastasia enters the apartment, distracted by something in the mirror — for a moment, Yelena thinks she’s caught her, but whatever it was, it was brief and did not hold her attention. Nothing immediately seems off, things are still in the places they they are meant to be. Nothing looks particularly ransacked. But there is a heaviness that hangs in the air of the room.
Yelena still waits, hidden well in her spot, refusing to move a single muscle, waiting instead for her target to move closer.
With the door closed Anastasia tosses the keys into a bowl and makes her way across the apartment, paper bag crinkling in the night air, about to take off her shoes before something catches her ear.
Thump, thump, thump...
A heartbeat. One that Anastasia Petrova's ears could not pick up, but which is easily apparent to her own superior hearing. Anticipation instantly replaces boredom, the knowledge of who it must be causing a rising thrill mixed with worry about how this encounter will go down. Will she be forgiven? Was wearing this face a mistake? Questions she'd been asking herself for weeks bubbling up in her mind in a tsunami of anxiety. But there's absolutely no indication in Anastasia's body language that she's noticed anything, and she continues through the apartment into the kitchen, depositing the bag on the kitchen counter, still for a moment before she speaks.
"I know you are there, I do not wish to fight." She says, Anastasia's voice, her true Russian accent readily apparent, is entirely calm, as if discussing the weather over a coffee. Turning her head she looks right at where Yelena has concealed herself, not seeing her yet, but sure of her hiding spot.
"I have pain au chocolat, they are I think very good."
At the assurance of no fight, Yelena takes her at her word and steps from her hiding place, hands up and visible, not on any of the weapons very clearly on her person. She is who she is, she would never be caught unarmed. “Anna… do you know why I am here?”
She ignores the comment about the pain au chocolat for the moment. Maybe when this is over, though…
Yelena also doesn’t trust how calm she is being. It’s a stark difference from how the others before her reacted to Yelena’s sudden presence in their lives. She is still on guard, hackles raised, and ready to spring into action the second it’s necessary.
Anastasia Petrova would almost certainly have a gun in the paper bag. She also might have an idea about why Yelena Belova was on the trail of other widows. Gemini de Mille had no need for the first, and little about the second, the knowledge of Yelena's activities more important than the 'why' when she'd started looking for her.
"I'm sorry but Anna is dead, she has been for six years." She held up her hands to show she meant no harm, her expression sorrowful and apologetic. Perhaos it wasn't the best thing to lead with but she wanted to be honest, even at the cost of potentially getting attacked. It's not hard to miss the whipchord readiness in Yelena's posture, and keeps her own entirely relaxed and unthreatening,
She pulls a gun from a holster at her hip and aims it at the woman in front of her. "Who are you, if you are not Anastasia?" And how the fuck does she look exactly like how Yelena remembers her? She's not attacking, not yet, but she's definitely much more guarded suddenly.
The gun is not unexpected, but it barely gets a glance. Anastasia's attention is fixed entirely on Yelena and if the gun gives her a feeling of security then she's more than happy to ignore it being pointed at her.
At her question the likeness of the widow melts away, blonde hair turning black, skin and clothing twisting like putty and in the blink of an eye someone entirely different stands in front of Yelena, a dark haired young woman in casual jeans and a green sweater, the only thing that hasn't changed is her apologetic expression.
"My name's Gemini. I was tasked with killing a widow and after you escaped me in Bangkok I tracked down Anastasia." She sighs regretfully, both for the widow's fate and for the horror of what she put Yelena through. "Please do not run, I'm not here to hurt you." She repeats, hands still up, trying to convey in her tone that she's not lying.
She doesn't even get fully through her transformation before Yelena lets off a shot, then two more, into the- thing's head. And suddenly she is trapped in a horror movie, because it actually doesn't do anything to her at all. Her form seems to melt and bend before snapping back into place, the bullet casings clattering to the floor. "What the fuck?" she mutters darkly, staring in shock at the very different woman that now stands in front of her, whole and fine, despite three shots to the head.
Yelena's mind is moving a warp speed, but she does catch the two things that interest her most: taksed with killing a widow and-- "Bangkok?" It's been so long, but she remembers it in a sort of perfect clarity. "Suka," she swears, "And you think that I am going to believe any of this? That somehow it is okay? You are insane!"
But she doesn't know how to handle the situation now. She's still reeling from watching her melt into whoever is standing in front of her now. From watching her skin simply snap back from what would easily kill anyone else. So she's just standing in the middle of the kitchen, livid and terrified all at once, and a little rooted to the spot just now.
"Ow." She deadpans, smiling weakly at her joke, a feeble attempt to break the ice that falls entirely flat given the circumstances. She'd been expecting Yelena's reaction, but it doesn't make it any easier in trying to get through to her. So she stands by the kitchen counter, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and trying not to fall into the great chasm of guilt that opens up every time she looks at someone impacted by her past actions.
"My name is Gemini." She says soothingly, holding up her hands to try and pacify Yelena. "I used to work for HYDRA. They knew about the Red Room and ordered me to infiltrate his operation. That's why I attacked you." She spoke quickly, trying to get over what she needed to and prevent the fight or flight instinct from kicking in.
"I know it's not ok, I remember what I did to you and I want you to know how sorry I am." Her memories of the fight with Yelena were crystal clear, of ambushing her in the shape of something truly nightmarish, of deliberately drawing out the chase for her own sick enjoyment, drinking in Yelena's fear and desperation, as she failed to harm the creature hunting her, relishing every injury she inflicted and then taking Yelena's shape to .mock her before the final kill. The memory was so strong it made her physically flinch in disgust, the only relief being that she hadn't managed to add the widow to the long list of her victims.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Saying Sorry
To her neighbours Anne Darceneaux was just a typical businesswoman, one whose work frequently took her away for long periods of time. Indeed, none of them had seen her for several years, until one day she had turned up again out of the blue, much to the delight of Pierre Thompion in the apartment across from hers who'd lingered on the landing this evening so as to try and flirt with his beautiful neighbour.
Brushing him off gently in fluent French, Anne unlocked her apartment door, hefting the bag of groceries as she closes it behind her, her gaze briefly catching on the mirror by the entrance, a sigh escaping her as she studied the reflection of Anastasia Petrova, a twinge of remorse making her break eye contact with the reflection after only a moment.
Six weeks now, six weeks of living another's life, of waiting in hope that the widow that she'd nearly killed years before might show up. She'd give it another couple of months, maybe tip off some more underworld contacts if that didn't work, but failing that she would be at a dead end.
no subject
Petrova has been more difficult to place than she had hoped. Yelena hopes it doesn’t mean she has been killed before she could be saved. She would not be the first, nor likely the last, who turned up that way, after all.
But finally, after what felt like forever, she’s tracking movement of her. This has always been the fun part of the job to her. Sure, she likes the fight as much as anyone, but this? It’s where she shines, she thinks.
As Anastasia enters the apartment, distracted by something in the mirror — for a moment, Yelena thinks she’s caught her, but whatever it was, it was brief and did not hold her attention. Nothing immediately seems off, things are still in the places they they are meant to be. Nothing looks particularly ransacked. But there is a heaviness that hangs in the air of the room.
Yelena still waits, hidden well in her spot, refusing to move a single muscle, waiting instead for her target to move closer.
no subject
Thump, thump, thump...
A heartbeat. One that Anastasia Petrova's ears could not pick up, but which is easily apparent to her own superior hearing. Anticipation instantly replaces boredom, the knowledge of who it must be causing a rising thrill mixed with worry about how this encounter will go down. Will she be forgiven? Was wearing this face a mistake? Questions she'd been asking herself for weeks bubbling up in her mind in a tsunami of anxiety. But there's absolutely no indication in Anastasia's body language that she's noticed anything, and she continues through the apartment into the kitchen, depositing the bag on the kitchen counter, still for a moment before she speaks.
"I know you are there, I do not wish to fight." She says, Anastasia's voice, her true Russian accent readily apparent, is entirely calm, as if discussing the weather over a coffee. Turning her head she looks right at where Yelena has concealed herself, not seeing her yet, but sure of her hiding spot.
"I have pain au chocolat, they are I think very good."
no subject
She ignores the comment about the pain au chocolat for the moment. Maybe when this is over, though…
Yelena also doesn’t trust how calm she is being. It’s a stark difference from how the others before her reacted to Yelena’s sudden presence in their lives. She is still on guard, hackles raised, and ready to spring into action the second it’s necessary.
no subject
"I'm sorry but Anna is dead, she has been for six years." She held up her hands to show she meant no harm, her expression sorrowful and apologetic. Perhaos it wasn't the best thing to lead with but she wanted to be honest, even at the cost of potentially getting attacked. It's not hard to miss the whipchord readiness in Yelena's posture, and keeps her own entirely relaxed and unthreatening,
"Please, I'm just here to talk."
no subject
She pulls a gun from a holster at her hip and aims it at the woman in front of her. "Who are you, if you are not Anastasia?" And how the fuck does she look exactly like how Yelena remembers her? She's not attacking, not yet, but she's definitely much more guarded suddenly.
no subject
At her question the likeness of the widow melts away, blonde hair turning black, skin and clothing twisting like putty and in the blink of an eye someone entirely different stands in front of Yelena, a dark haired young woman in casual jeans and a green sweater, the only thing that hasn't changed is her apologetic expression.
"My name's Gemini. I was tasked with killing a widow and after you escaped me in Bangkok I tracked down Anastasia." She sighs regretfully, both for the widow's fate and for the horror of what she put Yelena through. "Please do not run, I'm not here to hurt you." She repeats, hands still up, trying to convey in her tone that she's not lying.
no subject
Yelena's mind is moving a warp speed, but she does catch the two things that interest her most: taksed with killing a widow and-- "Bangkok?" It's been so long, but she remembers it in a sort of perfect clarity. "Suka," she swears, "And you think that I am going to believe any of this? That somehow it is okay? You are insane!"
But she doesn't know how to handle the situation now. She's still reeling from watching her melt into whoever is standing in front of her now. From watching her skin simply snap back from what would easily kill anyone else. So she's just standing in the middle of the kitchen, livid and terrified all at once, and a little rooted to the spot just now.
no subject
"My name is Gemini." She says soothingly, holding up her hands to try and pacify Yelena. "I used to work for HYDRA. They knew about the Red Room and ordered me to infiltrate his operation. That's why I attacked you." She spoke quickly, trying to get over what she needed to and prevent the fight or flight instinct from kicking in.
"I know it's not ok, I remember what I did to you and I want you to know how sorry I am." Her memories of the fight with Yelena were crystal clear, of ambushing her in the shape of something truly nightmarish, of deliberately drawing out the chase for her own sick enjoyment, drinking in Yelena's fear and desperation, as she failed to harm the creature hunting her, relishing every injury she inflicted and then taking Yelena's shape to .mock her before the final kill. The memory was so strong it made her physically flinch in disgust, the only relief being that she hadn't managed to add the widow to the long list of her victims.