Outmatched

Meetings

"Is that them?" The owner of the heavy accent asked, peering past the brim of her wide brimmed hat. The microphone in her ear answered, sending her into action. She briskly walked towards the woman she had been told about. The street they were on was busy, a side street in Venice. Café patios were packed, people chatting in all different languages.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Young?" The Russian woman asked when close enough. Her hair under the hat was shaved short and black, the sun glasses she wore a dark green, like a jungle undergrowth. The other woman, Mrs young, was stark contrast to this darkly covered and rough sounding professional. Her hair was bright strawberry blonde and long, almost impractically so. Her eyes, perfectly rimmed in eyeliner, were a gentle blue. Lips full and red, she frowned to the woman, narrowing her eyes. It was an unnatural look to her face, seemingly to always be smiling.
"I don't go by that anymore." She stated, harsh and quiet. The other woman didn't react, but continued on.
"You're needed. Either you come freely or we take you by force."
"By who, you?" Mrs. Young scoffed, wrinkling her nose. "You're so small you could be blown away by a breeze."
"I assume that is a negative to making this quick and easy."
"I'm not going."
"Then I'll make this quick and easy." She stated cooly, before pulling something out from under her coat, twirling it in her fingers before gripping a hanging lock of Mrs. Young's long hair to pull her head closer to her, as she was quite short compared to the tall woman. Driving the needle in her hand into the flesh at the base of the blonde's neck, she kept a tight hold on the woman's hair, ignoring the expert hits to her abdomen. People scattered away from the pair, pulling out phones and running into shops and down the street.
Finally, Mrs. Young slumped against the dark skinned woman. Without any signs of struggle, the spy pulled her onto her shoulder, walking down the street to the channel, where a boat was waiting to take them both to base.