gala

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Clint Barton enters the decked outbuilding in apprehension. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he adjusts the tiny folded crossbow he was able to hide in his pant leg. 

Although trained in the art of subtly several of the attendants openly stare at the new arrival. Eyes greedy for the money pinned on his head. 

Acting nonchalant, Clint merges into the ballroom, swiping a glass of champagne from a nearby attendant to blend in better. 

Several meters behind him, Natalia Romanova enters the same building. With her red hair pulled back in an elaborate up-do, she surveys the room and mentally ticks off each of the targets in attendance. A form-fitting, ankle-length green dress covers the assassin. Red lips quirked up in her signature smirk. 

Katya watches this all from her perch on the upper level. Keen eyes trailing her two highest priced targets. She leans on her elbows, tongue darting over her dark painted lips hungrily. 

Behind her, a server approaches with a tray of champagne. Wordlessly, Katya accepts the alcohol, taking a sip as her eyes remain down below. 

As the last attendant on her hit list enters the gala, Katya pushes off from the railing and signals for the entrance to be closed and locked. 

Unaware of what they were really participating in, the workers follow her order and block the entrance. 

Not allowing anyone else to enter or to leave.  

Katya smirks as she descends the stairs leading to the ballroom floor. She merges into the crowd of assassins, smirk turning into a smile as Natalia and Clint bump into each other a few feet ahead of her. 

The two assassins startle but don't react negatively. Brushing off the interaction as an accident, Clint and Natalia are about to seperate when Katya slides next to them. 

Holding her champange up to her lips, she smiles behind the glass. 

"Hello old friends." 

And as the color drains from their faces, the timer on Katya's wrists continues to count down. 

00:20:00:00

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not edited 


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