Fly, little ballerina

1. The Mission

Friday 25th August 1995 - 11 years later: Northern Ireland, UK

(Mila is 15)

A young woman, dressed in a long, black satin dress walked into the casino, swiftly making her way over to the bar, a white shawl covering her snake tattoo. Luckily, her 5'8" stature and full-glam face allowed her to get in inconspicuously. A young bartender approached her, "Can I help you?"

"One strawberry daiquiri, please," Mila replied.

"Right away miss."

As she looked around the room, she found her target playing a game of poker on one of the side tables. He was a middle aged man with a long white beard, his hair greying slightly. It must be from the drugs, she thought. He looked identical to the photo in the file she had been given earlier that day. She received a small file with all the necessary assignment details before missions. They were normally smaller but the file for this man, Diego Dorcan, had been abnormally large. Although, he had been a former red room spy who seemed to think that betraying the K.G.B. for an organisation in magical Britain, would have no consequences. Just as stupid as his name, she mused.

Mila had never met the man, seeing as he was a lower class spy trusted only with insensitive information but his partner, Dmitri Karkaroff, had. Now Dmitri she had met. He was one of the upper class spies, not as high as her, but still high enough to access the sensitive information that required sending a couple of his organs home after his betrayal.

"Here's your drink miss," he said as she turned to face the bartender once again.

"Thank you," she stated with a calm, controlled smile, slowly sliding her credit card across the counter.

The bartender walked away to serve another customer after handing her her card back, just in time to see her target walking towards the bar. Straight towards her. She leaned back against the bar, calling another bartender over to explain her chips to her. Her target stopped a couple metres away from her.

"Do you think you could explain these chips to me?" She asked the bartender innocently, wanting to get her target's attention. She knew exactly how the chips worked and how much they were worth, men just loved helpless women. She made it a point to fiddle with the grey chips, seeing as they were worth £100,000.

"Of course, miss. The light blue and grey chips are worth £100,000 while the black ones are £100. The purple ones are worth £500." This seemed to get Diego's attention as he turned his head around, trying to act subtle, although it was definitely not his forte. She wondered how he had even made it as a spy.

The bartender walked off, giving Diego the perfect opportunity to walk over. "Hello there," he started.

"Hi there..."

"Diego. My name's Diego."

"I'm Alina." She was using a fake name so as not to reveal her identity too soon.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you here before."

"Yeah actually. How'd you know?"

"I could never miss a pretty face like yours."

She looked down, trying to hide her 'blush', biting her lip as she made herself seem flustered. In all honesty, he was disgusting. His breath smelled awful and he was far too old to ever be hitting on her. It didn't matter that she looked like she was 18.

"You flatter me." She sipped her drink, bringing his attention back to her lips.

"It's the truth, love." He continued, "I heard you ask the barman how the chips worked. Would you like someone to help you in some of the games?"