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aa_natashaShe might do better than we hope. She has a head on her shoulders, anyway.
The job should be simple.
Should.
8/18/2012
Natasha has summoned Jan to a smallish secured meeting room, and she doesn't leave her waiting long. She appears with an envelope in hand and slides it across the table to the other woman with a smooth flick of her wrist. "Your documents," she says. "Passport, driver's license, credit cards, student ID, library card. All the good stuff." She swings around, sliding down into a chair near the head of the table while she waits for Janet to rifle through her new identity.
"Library card?" Janet repeats with arched amusement as she slides the envelop the rest of the way toward her thigh, which is, as usual, sitting on the table instead of under it. She must have a thing about confinement, though that supposition might be discounted by the sleek pencil skirt she also, somehow, manages to wear while seated thusly. She pulls the items out one by one, frowning and pursing her lips at the name on the paperwork. "Wallingford. Really?" Her nose wrinkles and she sets it down to devote her attention back to Natasha.
"The goal isn't just to get you past customs," Natasha reminds. "The goal is to build a whole new life." She tips her chin toward the packet and adds, "You're Erin Marie Wallingford, twenty-one, about to start your last year of study at NYU. You might want to brush up a bit on the school, just in case. Sports teams, building names, a professor or two. You can pick the major. You've been touring Europe -- you've been to Europe?"
"Art history. Half the society page are art history majors," Janet says airly, nodding at the Widow's question. "Done the continental tour, as well as the requisite summers in England, France, and Italy." Debutante requisites. Who ever knew they would actually come in useful.
Natasha's nod looks almost approving. "Good. Then you've been touring Europe for the summer, Latveria is your last stop. Do some reading on their art tonight so you know what you'd be interested in. Any questions?"
"I suppose there are tours available of the castle? I mean, that's where I assume I'm supposed to get into?" Janet leans back, her hands splayed behind her while she kicks a foot out over the edge of the table idly.
"That's where we'll start," Natasha answers before giving a short shake of her head. "There aren't tours available of much, in Latveria." Her lips twist slightly. "They're not know for their friendliness. If anyone asks, your friends chickened out and that's why you're there alone. Rich little girl who thinks she's invincible should be an easy enough play, da?" Natasha watches Janet, brows arched.
Janet crinkles her nose and smiles broadly at Natasha. "Agent Romanov. Was that a joke?"
Surely not. Natasha Romanov doesn't make jokes. She gives Janet an impressive poker face and continues, "We're going with this cover because it's easy. People expect college kids to be harmless and stupid, so if you get caught out and look stupid, the only part you have to remember is the harmless." She shifts, sliding her chair back a touch. "On top of that, you're female and you're cute. Flustered will work fine. Flustered with an edge of sex appeal is even better. Men will overlook almost anything when it comes from a pretty girl."
"I thought we were going with a cover?" Janet teases, not bothered by Natasha's poker face. "Ditzy and cute. Got it."
"As for getting into the castle-- you're small the entire time. The way in, the way out, there is /never a reason/ for you to be larger than your itty bittly little self." Natasha's gaze is firm on Janet. "Got it?"
Janet seems to take this bit of instruction more seriously. She lifts both her hands in a warding gesture and shakes her head. "Yeah, no. No way I wanna get caught out in there. I may be playing to type here, Widow, but I'm not /that/ dumb."
Natasha's expression softens a bare inch as she inclines her head in a nod. "Good. We'll have your wired up, of course, and Clint and I will be close in case you need to shout. But even if you're spotted, you're better off flitting your way into an air duct or some other location they'll have a hard time getting to and sitting tight."
"Will your mics work if shrunk? We should test that out before. My shrinky-dink field works to only about an inch off my skin, but I'd be concerned with the transmission capabilities," she rattles on, fingering the packet of paperwork.
Natasha presumes so because otherwise Janet's going to make a terrible spy. "We'll test it," she says with a brief nod. "We'll also want to record everything. I'm not fluent in Latverian." The last is said with a frustrated twist of her lips, as if she /should/ be.
Janet tilts ehr head and a smile quirks the corner of her mouth up. "From what I understand, you're not missing much. Want me to leave bugs behind? Might be a logistical difficulty, but we can probably work something out."
"Too risky, I think," Natasha answers with a shake of her head. "Given their recent technological advances-- even if they didn't find them, they'd likely kill them pretty fast."
"If I could manage Hank's trick, we wouldn't need electronic bugs." Janet sighs and shrugs, then scoots to the edge fo the table to drop one foot to the floor.
"We work with what we have," Natasha says with a sort of resigned acceptance. "We'll drill you on possible scenarios and reactions as much as possible before we go. But for now, I want you to become acquainted with your identity, build your cover, and do your research. Questions?"
"Not at the moment." Janet hesitates a visible moment, then inhales and plunges in with, "Thank you. I know that... I know you must think..." A pause and swallow and she stops herself. "I'm new, and I appreciate your help. I'm going to do my best to not let you down. Any of you."
"We were all new, once," Natasha says, spreading a palm in something like welcome. Nevermind that she can't actually remember a time when /she/ was. The Black Widow rises, chair sliding smoothly behind her. "Do your homework. I'll see you tomorrow."
Janet nods in reply, head already bending over the packet of information once again as Natasha exits.
The job should be simple.
Should.
8/18/2012
Natasha has summoned Jan to a smallish secured meeting room, and she doesn't leave her waiting long. She appears with an envelope in hand and slides it across the table to the other woman with a smooth flick of her wrist. "Your documents," she says. "Passport, driver's license, credit cards, student ID, library card. All the good stuff." She swings around, sliding down into a chair near the head of the table while she waits for Janet to rifle through her new identity.
"Library card?" Janet repeats with arched amusement as she slides the envelop the rest of the way toward her thigh, which is, as usual, sitting on the table instead of under it. She must have a thing about confinement, though that supposition might be discounted by the sleek pencil skirt she also, somehow, manages to wear while seated thusly. She pulls the items out one by one, frowning and pursing her lips at the name on the paperwork. "Wallingford. Really?" Her nose wrinkles and she sets it down to devote her attention back to Natasha.
"The goal isn't just to get you past customs," Natasha reminds. "The goal is to build a whole new life." She tips her chin toward the packet and adds, "You're Erin Marie Wallingford, twenty-one, about to start your last year of study at NYU. You might want to brush up a bit on the school, just in case. Sports teams, building names, a professor or two. You can pick the major. You've been touring Europe -- you've been to Europe?"
"Art history. Half the society page are art history majors," Janet says airly, nodding at the Widow's question. "Done the continental tour, as well as the requisite summers in England, France, and Italy." Debutante requisites. Who ever knew they would actually come in useful.
Natasha's nod looks almost approving. "Good. Then you've been touring Europe for the summer, Latveria is your last stop. Do some reading on their art tonight so you know what you'd be interested in. Any questions?"
"I suppose there are tours available of the castle? I mean, that's where I assume I'm supposed to get into?" Janet leans back, her hands splayed behind her while she kicks a foot out over the edge of the table idly.
"That's where we'll start," Natasha answers before giving a short shake of her head. "There aren't tours available of much, in Latveria." Her lips twist slightly. "They're not know for their friendliness. If anyone asks, your friends chickened out and that's why you're there alone. Rich little girl who thinks she's invincible should be an easy enough play, da?" Natasha watches Janet, brows arched.
Janet crinkles her nose and smiles broadly at Natasha. "Agent Romanov. Was that a joke?"
Surely not. Natasha Romanov doesn't make jokes. She gives Janet an impressive poker face and continues, "We're going with this cover because it's easy. People expect college kids to be harmless and stupid, so if you get caught out and look stupid, the only part you have to remember is the harmless." She shifts, sliding her chair back a touch. "On top of that, you're female and you're cute. Flustered will work fine. Flustered with an edge of sex appeal is even better. Men will overlook almost anything when it comes from a pretty girl."
"I thought we were going with a cover?" Janet teases, not bothered by Natasha's poker face. "Ditzy and cute. Got it."
"As for getting into the castle-- you're small the entire time. The way in, the way out, there is /never a reason/ for you to be larger than your itty bittly little self." Natasha's gaze is firm on Janet. "Got it?"
Janet seems to take this bit of instruction more seriously. She lifts both her hands in a warding gesture and shakes her head. "Yeah, no. No way I wanna get caught out in there. I may be playing to type here, Widow, but I'm not /that/ dumb."
Natasha's expression softens a bare inch as she inclines her head in a nod. "Good. We'll have your wired up, of course, and Clint and I will be close in case you need to shout. But even if you're spotted, you're better off flitting your way into an air duct or some other location they'll have a hard time getting to and sitting tight."
"Will your mics work if shrunk? We should test that out before. My shrinky-dink field works to only about an inch off my skin, but I'd be concerned with the transmission capabilities," she rattles on, fingering the packet of paperwork.
Natasha presumes so because otherwise Janet's going to make a terrible spy. "We'll test it," she says with a brief nod. "We'll also want to record everything. I'm not fluent in Latverian." The last is said with a frustrated twist of her lips, as if she /should/ be.
Janet tilts ehr head and a smile quirks the corner of her mouth up. "From what I understand, you're not missing much. Want me to leave bugs behind? Might be a logistical difficulty, but we can probably work something out."
"Too risky, I think," Natasha answers with a shake of her head. "Given their recent technological advances-- even if they didn't find them, they'd likely kill them pretty fast."
"If I could manage Hank's trick, we wouldn't need electronic bugs." Janet sighs and shrugs, then scoots to the edge fo the table to drop one foot to the floor.
"We work with what we have," Natasha says with a sort of resigned acceptance. "We'll drill you on possible scenarios and reactions as much as possible before we go. But for now, I want you to become acquainted with your identity, build your cover, and do your research. Questions?"
"Not at the moment." Janet hesitates a visible moment, then inhales and plunges in with, "Thank you. I know that... I know you must think..." A pause and swallow and she stops herself. "I'm new, and I appreciate your help. I'm going to do my best to not let you down. Any of you."
"We were all new, once," Natasha says, spreading a palm in something like welcome. Nevermind that she can't actually remember a time when /she/ was. The Black Widow rises, chair sliding smoothly behind her. "Do your homework. I'll see you tomorrow."
Janet nods in reply, head already bending over the packet of information once again as Natasha exits.