Red. | marvel [1]

t h i r t y - t h r e e

The trees provide limited covers for the two girls. They crouch low, moving slowly and cautiously as they get closer to the men's base. Elana can see the shapes of weapons and some cases with God knows what in them. She's waiting for the shape of a person though. Natasha, on the other hand, is more concerned with the cases. They've got guns, what could they need in cases?

A beam of light hits the case and Natasha's mind whirrs more. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo is plastered on the front and side of each but Natasha hadn't heard of anything going missing- especially not in that kind of magnitude, too. Elana notices this too and her interest is spiked.

Elana makes eye contact with Natasha between the bushes, concern rising. When Natasha shrugs in response to her questioning glance, she realizes that this is bigger than the four of them. She doesn't back down, however, and signals for Natasha to hang back while she moves forward.

Natasha nods her head hesitantly, not wanting her to go alone but also not wanting to get in the way of what Elana needs to do for herself. As she makes her way forward, voices begin to become clearer.
"У вас есть пакет?" Do you have the package?
"Пока нег, но скоро!" Not yet, but soon!
"Они становятся нетерпеливыми..." the voice responds. They're getting impatient. "Мы не можем вернуться. Не без пакета и случаев." We cannot return. Not without the package and the cases.

Elana's brow creases in confusion. First the cases, now some kind of package? She hears footsteps coming out of the large tent and she tries to hide herself as best as she can, attaching the silencer to her gun hastily. If it's not one of the assholes she's looking for, it's an asshole she has to get rid of. The footsteps grow closer, but they move straight past her... and straight towards the position Elana last saw Natasha in.

She immediately panics. She'd lost track of Nat when she began listening. So Elana has to take a chance. She stands swiftly and takes aim. She pulls the trigger and the muffled sound is only heard by her. She makes her way over to the body quickly. She searches the man's body quickly and effectively and, with a slightly sharp pang in her heart, Natasha remember that she's definitely done this before. Elana finds a range of things, S.H.I.E.L.D. identification cards, money, a burner phone and a couple of rounds of ammunition (no sign of a gun though).

The name on the cards is what makes her stop for a second. Agent Emmett Anderson. She kicks the man over and studies his face in the lacking light. It's him. He was there for her birthday, they'd worked together closely when dismantling small HYDRA branches. She's scoffs slightly and makes her way towards Natasha quickly. A mole in S.H.I.E.L.D.. She wishes she could be surprised.

Making her way towards the red head, Elana twirls the burner phone between her fingers idly.
"Who was that guy?" Natasha asks immediately. She knows it can't have been one of the two people they're looking for or it would've been longer and infinitely more painful that a shot to the head.
"Emmett Anderson," Elana replies coolly. "This isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. issued, is it?"
Natasha shakes her head. "I don't think so. What was going on in the tent?"
"Either they're waiting for a delivery or trying to secure a package of some kind. I think it's the latter," she explains, her eyes darting across the screen of the burner, the small light illuminating some of her face. "Coded. I'll have to deal with it later. Right now, we need a plan to get inside."
"We can't exactly just go in all guns blazing, we don't even know how many people are in there," Natasha says. "Could you find out?"

Elana looks at Natasha strangely. "How am I supposed to do that?"
Natasha returns her incredulous look, seriously doubting everything she ever thought about Elana's intelligence.
"Are you enhanced or not?" Natasha asks.
Elana nods in understanding, hiding a small laugh at her own stupidity. She focuses and switches into her telepathy. She reads three... no, four people and recites the information to Natasha. "Two are definitely them."
"Right, so what now?"
Elana thinks for a moment before shrugging and beginning to walk to the front of the tent. She takes her hair down leisurely and shakes it around her head gently. She adds a little more seduction to her step as she calls out from the entrance.
"Hello?" She hears four guns cock and she smiles softly. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I heard there were some fellow Russians in the area and my friend and I wanted to see if they wanted to drink with us."
She knows they recognise her, but she also knows that they have no idea that she knows who they are. Natasha stands beside Elana, catching onto her plan quickly and shooting them a small, coy smile.
She watches as Ansilov puts away his gun, a twisted smirk finding his face. "They've fallen right in to our trap," his thoughts laugh.
"Of course. Any Russian is a friend," he sneers. Elana smiles and follows his gesture for them to come in. The tent is small and barely lit. Perfect for being barely noticed. Unfortunately for Elana, Popov seems to notice this flaw and he turns on a little lamp and smiles.
"Welcome, ladies," he greets, gesturing to two seats across from the four men. Elana's mind is on the destabilising agent and the trigger is oh-so-discreet. It wouldn't kill them and she'd be able to tie them up. Not yet, though. She wants to know about the package.

"I left the Motherland about a year ago," Elana recalls. "I wanted to experience the world, if you will."
"I can't imagine leaving, really," Ansilov replies. Unknown to him, Elana had been strengthening his drink slowly and he's more intoxicated than he knows. Both Elana and Natasha had been sipping at their weak drinks and although the former doesn't like her drinks like that, she has no choice. Popov is swaying unsteadily, ready to pass out any moment now and Ansilov has finished yet another drink.
"Let me get you another," Elana offers sweetly, leaning closer to him and holding her hand out daintily. He almost seems hesitant, all too aware of Elana's Widow charm but he gives in. "She doesn't know," he convinces himself mentally.
"Thank you, дорогой," he smiles. My dear.
She smiles, taking the glass and walking to the bar again, her own empty glass in her hand. Natasha joins her with a smile.
"He's not dropping," Elana hisses, clanking glasses and alcohol together purposefully. It's okay, they think she's drunk.
"Popov is practically dead. At this rate he'll need his stomach pumped," Natasha scoffs.
Elana's face darkens. "глупые мужчины," she mutters. Stupid men.
Natasha snorts slightly. Elana watches their minds, digging for any way to drug him. Until Ansilov has a passing thought. There's something behind the bar.
"Would you like ice?" Elana asks sweetly.
"Yes please," Ansilov replies absentmindedly, thinking of what he could do to get her back to Russia.

She slips behind the bar and grins at Natasha, grabbing the pills and dropping one in each drink. She adds ice to Ansilov's and to her own. She swans back over gently, dropping herself ever closer to the arm of his chair. She hands him his drink and leans towards him as she begins a conversation about the differences between America and Russia. He takes a large gulp of his drink before talking and Elana's smile brightens ever so slightly. Egotistical as always, he shoves what he must believe to be a charming smile at her and continues talking loudly. Natasha watches Popov down his entire drink and the two women nod ever so gently at each other. It's almost time.