Chapter Text
[Start song: Back in Your Own Backyard by William Galison & Madeleine Peyroux]
Eve Polastri is an ostracized, ex-agent who barely has any semblance of having her shit together. Contrary to the inferno of a life she has created for herself, Eve sits calmly by herself on a metal chair. She is enjoying a nice brunch at a café in Nice, France. A flute of mimosa and a croissant lay in front of her, untouched.
Eve surveys the walking tourists and natives, who laugh and saunter around. They all seem so happy and carefree. She would like that for herself. However, in her own twisted way, she is happy and carefree with her life. Well, of course, other than the fact that--
Eve is snapped out of her thoughts by a gorgeous young brunette who offers the check in perfect French. Without saying a word, Eve pulls out an envelope filled with a note and a small, leather-bound dagger.
The waitress stares nonchalantly at the dangerous items that have been dropped on her tray. She furrows her brows, studying the contents, and gazes at Eve. Eve simply takes a sip of her drink and smiles tightly at the woman, without breaking eye contact. The waitress scans the note and the weapon then nods and turns on her heel to go back into the busy cafe.
This is her life now. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Eve waits a few moments before gathering her things, tucking the wrapped croissant into her purse, and heading out on to Rue de Belgique, a side street. For good measure, she leaves with an unassuming group of millennials that stroll out of the cafe, lattes in tow. They laugh and giggle, wholly unaware of what’s about to happen behind them. Eve lags behind that group until they are meters away from the storefront. When she finally is able to leave the gaggle of annoyingly optimistic young people, Eve inhales the crisp air of Nice.
The sea breeze permeates the air and gives Eve a sense of calmness--something she hadn’t felt in quite a long time. She adjusts her khaki Burberry coat, a recent gift, and ensures she is on the right path to her destination. When she is approximately a block away from the cafe, she hears blood-curdling screaming and a ruckus of footsteps coming from her previous location.
It happened.
Eve takes out her phone and checks the time. 10:30. Right on time. She smiles and takes another deep breath. She crosses the street into an abandoned alleyway, tucked behind a boutique and another coffee shop. There lies the shiny, metallic motorbike. After checking that it hasn’t been bugged or damaged, Eve tucks her hair into a neat bun and secures the pastel blue helmet on her head. She checks her phone clock again. 10:34.
Eve feels the gun tucked in the back of her slacks as heavy footsteps approach the alley. She releases her tight hold on the gun when Eve realizes who the footsteps belong to. Getting rid of the brown wig and unbuttoning the white shirt, Villanelle takes a helmet and straps it on top of her blonde bun. She wipes the bloodied dagger with the white shirt and chucks the wig and shirt on to the cobblestone street. Villanelle confidently strides up to Eve and the bike and tucks a now-clean dagger into her combat boots and revs the engine.
Eve just shakes her head playfully through all of these dramatics. One minute late. She beams at Villanelle and takes her place behind the younger blonde. Eve snakes her arms around Villanelle’s torso and hugs her waist tightly. Villanelle looks over her shoulder and warmly grins at the woman with the amazing hair (remind Villanelle to tell Eve she should wear it down even under the helmet). Then, as the café patrons run around wildly and emergency sirens fill the air, the two drive off in the opposite direction, leaving no trace behind except a cloud of exhaust.
[cue KILLING EVE title card]