Chapter Text
She was in.
The monstrous golden doors creaked open before her, casting her in the ballroom lights that illuminated the hundreds of people below them. Through an inside source, she acquired a no-suspicion entry to a high class ball, the information she needed seeping through every base board.
Glasses clinked together as her heels clicked against the marble floors, a slightly raised portion where the majority of catering and drinks where. In the middle of the large ballroom laid a lowered portion of the floor, the red carpet giving a pop of colour to the otherwise shiny and gold atmosphere.
With grace and a disguised disgust she made her way through the room and around the drunk men's greedy advances, weaving a sense of beauty and elegance through the crowd. Yet, despite all her attempts at keeping distance, a man roughly slid an arm around her waist. Her lungs constricted in her chest, looking with disgust at the man's unflattering appearance. With every attempt at pushing away, the man's fingers sunk deeper into her waist, leaving bruises in it's wake. *"Focus!"* a small voice echoed in her throbbing head, the room spinning nauseatingly as she discreetly picked his pocket, finding a key card loosely tucked inside and slipped it into her purse. With all the force in her now weak legs, she stopped on the man's foot with her stiletto heel, and slipped away in his moment of agony. She beelined for the bathroom door, throwing away almost all elegance and remaining confidentiality she had left.
A sigh of relief left her once she stepped into a surprisingly empty washroom. Her index finger resting against the mirror with a heaving chest, the reflection having a gap between hers. With a smooth and semi-composed motion, she damped a cloth under the cool water and dabbed it on her forehead and back of her neck, her appearance returning to that of a high-classed noble. She reapplied her lipstick from where she had bitten her lip when the man so rudely grabbed her.
"Crude animals,"
The lipstick lid snapped to a close and she strutted out of the bathroom, making her way casually to the locked door hidden in the corner of the room, pausing in her path when a spoon gently rapped against a champagne glass. On the stage at the far end of the room stood the newfound president, eyes cold behind his trusted advisor speaking into the microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! We would like to bring your attention to the stage as we welcome the 95th president of Russia!"
His voice was annoying, his appearance ans stature that of a disheveled appearance shocking for a person of such high status. The president stepped forward, and Alaida fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. Another snobby, rich kid who now had the power to engage war. His voice was filled with hollow warmth, not even trying to make the effort to change his stoic and disheartening expression as he spoke his rehearsed speech. Despite this disappointing view of a President, the crowd erupted in drunkened and earnest cheers, celebrating the new dictator of their country. His gaze raked over the crowd, picking apart the unaware individuals more worried about the alcohol then their future leader, then his eyes landed on her. Xiphus, dangerous, trained to kill and betray when needed. That's what she was told and that was more then she cared for. To her, he was a random person to be forgotten about when she tried to sleep tonight. Instead of skipping over her like she had expected, his gaze lingered, eyes piercing hers with a built up stoicsm and ruthlessness. He stepped back from the stage, eyes fixed on hers.
The air screamed danger, hell, she almost screamed danger. This was her warning to start hurrying, to get the information and preferably get out of here with all ten fingers attached.
She had to run, fashionably of course.
Her heels clicked faster, matching the pace of her heartbeat. She was only a quarter across the room and the door was on the other side, cowering behind the stage their so called president was displayed on. With a brief glance at the stage she stopped in her tracks. He was no longer there. Not sitting at the back, not behind his advisor, gone. He was mingled with the crowd, not to visit, to search, to hunt.
Then her heart stops. The president ? No, worse, the dancing part of the ball. Ideally, she was supposed to be gone with a terabites worth of data and intel and sleeping. But instead she was now being taken into the hands of strangers, of *men*.
Her hair is pinned into intricate braids, curled into a bun. Her dress clinging to her body, coating her in a sparkling, scarlet sea. She flashes a pristine smile at the high level government workers, but she didn't come here to flirt. As she is brought into the arms of many, she twirls her fingers around different entry cards, slipping them from her pockets as she is whisked off once again.
His hair is slicked back, it's formality reflecting the environment of the ball. His suit is tight, showing whatever muscle they could. He is swarmed with women, however his eyes are on one. His eye catching the "scarlet dream", as he has heard men murmer, gliding across the room, knowing he had found the spy.
She knows she has one chance, one night, one minute, to get to her mission paycheck. Her movements are elegant, disguising her determination as she makes her way through the strings of people. He has less elegance, as he treks towards her, harshly ignoring any alluring lady. Their eyes are both fixed on their objective, but only one will make it.
The music is loud, the lights flash and hover around different couples, as the people around them seem to shift and change with every brief moment of darkness.
His hand reaches for her wrist, but quickly redirects to her waist, trying to keep a semblance of confidentiality. Amber eyes crash into gold ones. The moment freezes for the both of them as tension lingers in the air, caused by shock, or irritation, or maybe the one too many glasses of champagne he had.