The lost Widow - Natasha Romanoff x Female

Chapter IV

Nina Egorov
Within seconds, she had picked the lock without any problems.
Once you understood the principle, it was a piece of cake. No one really seemed to have thought about giving the various facilities different safeguards.
Nina squeezed through the thin gap. In her hand, on her outstretched arm, she held the bow that wouldn't have fitted through the gap on her back.
She had made it into the dark hall absolutely noiselessly. Fortunately. About half a dozen men, maybe more, caught her eye, none of them had noticed her. As she was still undetected, she decided to maintain her cover for as long as possible. She gripped the handle of her black bow with her right hand. The quiver on her back, also black, did not hinder her movements. Fluidly, she pulled out an arrow. The tip was silver, like all the others, but just behind it was thicker than normal, as if a marble was part of it.
With the familiar and beloved sound, so faint that it reached only Nina's ears, she placed the arrow and tightened the bowstring. Right arm outstretched and holding the bow, Nina inhaled deeply, exhaled and then held her breath. 

Nina had taken up archery for the first time years ago, admittedly not by choice at the time. But today she was glad that she could do it and her bow had become her constant companion. Knives could be thrown well, but it was difficult to really kill someone with them, as Nina had learnt. Especially with several opponents at once, knives were mainly useful for buying time. She loved her throwing knives and had spent years perfecting them so that they now flew better and faster, meaning they inflicted more damage. And yet, if you wanted to kill someone effectively and safely at a distance, you shouldn't resort to knives.
Her fingers released the arrow and the string shot forwards, catapulting the arrow away from her. In a perfect arc, it approached the ceiling of the hall and then flew into a corridor just below it. It was the corridor that went from the top of the stairs leading upwards into the dark. '1, 2' Nina counted the seconds in her head, her lips moving silently. '3, 4, 5'
A bang shattered the silence of the dusty air. A thick white cloud pressed out of the darkness of the corridor towards the hall. As if on cue, everyone's heads snapped upwards and, as if on a silent signal, they rushed off at the same time.
  Her path was clear. 

Ninas shadow and she were inseparable, together they crept through the corridor on the lower floor. No one came towards her, they had all fallen for her trick.
It smelled a little less like iron down here. Less like blood. She felt her way along the walls, past locked doors, doors that didn't interest her. Nina knew the floor plan, which was also the same for all the facilities; recklessness. But luckily for her.
She reached a corner and her shadow stopped, waiting beside her against the wall until she had poked her head round the corner. There, right at the end of the corridor, was what she was looking for, guarded by two guards in their ugly uniforms. Nina pulled her head back, leaning against her shadow. The black's hand passed her the arrow. The turn was to the left. She hesitated briefly, it wasn't ideal. Then her right hand passed the bow to her left. So she could, pressing her left shoulder against the wall of the corner, draw the bow and aim round the corner.
The first arrow hit the man closest to her. The other had just enough time to turn in her direction before the second hit him too.

Nina had left the two dead bodies outside the door, who would find them? She had only removed her two arrows from the corpses, wiped off the blood and put them back in her quiver. Now she was at her destination. The key code on the door had not been an obstacle either. In front of her stretched what could most easily be described as a kind of command centre, a sea of keyboards, buttons and switches.
Just like last time, she had copied the files to the small data stick in a matter of moments. By now it had become a morbid routine that her body ran through almost by itself, while her brain ran in a kind of stand-by mode. The last file was copied and her finger pressed the small button on her wristband a second time; the timer stopped. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, a window opened and she typed a few lines at breakneck speed. With a diabolically self-satisfied glint in her eyes, she pressed 'Send'.