Unexpected

In the Club

"Okay, so your camera is working too, Copper." I heard one of the agents' voices coming from my earrings. The voice proceeded to laugh, "Nice hair, Tanaka! Looks great from this angle."

The fake Uber driver, Agent Tanaka, did indeed have some messy hair on one side of his head. He'd fallen asleep on the quinjet and no one had bothered to tell him to fix his hair. I giggled too, though I wasn't quite sure if I was laughing because I thought the bedhead was funny or if I was just nervous and I didn't know what else to do with myself as I watched the city street of St. Petersburg roll by as the club came into view.

"What's so funny?" Agent Tanaka asked, glancing at Nat and me through his rearview mirror.

"Oh, Agent Carmichael just said he thinks you have some sexy behead." Romanoff answered swiftly and nonchalantly.

"I did not!" the agent in our speakers roared.

This set both Nat and me into a small giggling fit as Tanaka finally pulled up to the front of the club, "Thanks Carmichael, but I just see us as friends." Tanaka joked back before his face became serious in his reflection as he looked back at the pair of us, "Be careful now."

We nodded as both of us opened our car doors and stepped out of the car. The freezing winter air of Russia ripped through us as soon as we were out of the warmth of the car. Even with the jackets we'd paired with our outfits we were already shivering as we rushed towards the door where a pair of bouncers stood.

"IDs please." The bigger one rumbled in Russian. Shivering, we complied, handing over our fake IDs that S.H.I.E.L.D. had manufactured for us. The club generally didn't have bouncers, but it was clear to Natasha and me that these guys were actually two of Anton's guards. We played it off, though, like we had fallen for their ruse. After a quick glance at the IDs and a few whined pleas for them to hurry from Natasha who was already in character, we were let in.

As soon as we were inside the building the muffled pounding sound of the beat of the music's base that we could dimly hear outside over the winter wind blasted at us at full force. In the face of the massive party being thrown in here, I started to freeze up almost like a deer in the headlights as flashing bolts of light in blue and hot pink and orange and yellow flickered and rotated over the scene. It was a huge, multi-leveled room that we'd stepped into.

There were small tables dotted here and there along the sidelines where people stood with tall, fruity drinks, and miscellaneous shots, large couches with skimpily dressed girls and men in business suits draped over them, a DJ stand along the furthermost wall, a long bar area to my left that was lit up a bright, gaudy green, and a huge dance floor that was absolutely swarming with jumping, gyrating bodies. Speckled here and there were tall, round platforms with poles where people could dance if they so chose and there were people leaning over the banisters to the higher level who were laughing and singing and chatting. High above all of us were hung the huge lights, long, streamer-like silver decorations, and a massive disco ball. All in all, the establishment was a bed of chaos and lights and noise, and I was so very far out of my depth!

The only thing familiar to me, strangely enough was the music as I heard "Shots, shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, shots! Everybody!" blaring over the speakers. American music. Why American music? We are in Russia! Then again, this bar is popular for American businessmen to 'let loose', so I suppose American music wouldn't be too crazy.

Natasha seemed to notice my hesitation, so she grabbed my hand and pulled me further into the club after we shrugged off our jackets and handed them to a club employee who put them away for safekeeping after getting our fake names. She dragged me straight over to the bar where she leaned back against the high countertop, nodding her head to the music as she waved for one of the barkeeper's attention. I shot her a confused, questioning look. We were on a mission! Why was she ordering a drink?