The greatest perk of being a world-class thief was that amateur pickpockets were essentially just walking ATMs.
Felicia Hardy strolled through the sun-baked Roman plaza, adjusting her sunglasses. Two local grifters had bumped her shoulder near the Trevi Fountain an hour ago. She had not only kept her own wallet secure but had elegantly relieved them of their daily haul in the exact same motion. Finders keepers.
The downside to her profession, however, was the constant, suffocating surveillance.
Felicia paused at a street-side vendor, her manicured fingers trailing over a rack of cheap jewelry. She didn't look over her shoulder. "You're wearing a heavy overcoat over full tactical Kevlar in an eighty-degree Mediterranean summer. Are you incapable of sweating, or do you just enjoy the misery?"
Silvija stepped out of the shadow of a canvas awning.
"My strength comes from discipline, not a chemical cocktail," Silvija said, her voice a flat, unbothered line. "That is why I don't waste time playing tourist. When you recognize the power gap between yourself and the enemy, you train to close it. If you spent half as much time running combat drills as you do shopping, you wouldn't have been entirely useless against the Viper Gang on the freighter."
Ouch. Felicia offered a razor-sharp, entirely fake smile. She picked up a small, polished obsidian cat pendant from the display rack. "I'm a specialist, darling. Nobody hires the safecracker to act as a frontline meat shield."
"Then why did you inject yourself with the Super Soldier Serum?" Silvija asked.
Felicia's thumb stopped tracing the smooth surface of the cat pendant. Her pulse didn't spike. She kept her face an absolute void. Revenge for Walter Hardy. She wasn't going to share that with a Symkarian mercenary.
"I guess we all have our hobbies," Felicia deflected smoothly. "What about you? You dedicate your entire existence to the Wild Pack. No private life, no friends. What gets you out of bed? The paycheck?"
Silvija didn't blink. "Revenge."
Felicia genuinely hadn't expected that. She turned around.
"When I was fifteen, my mother was assassinated," Silvija stated, her tone chillingly detached. "My father was running European operations against superhuman syndicates. Human trafficking. Augmented bio-weapons. The Wild Pack wiped out their network. In retaliation, a hit squad breached our home. They targeted my mother and me. I barely survived."
Silvija reached up, twisting a strand of her striking silver hair around her gloved finger. "I was born blonde. It turned silver that night. It isn't dye."
"So you skipped prom and became a mercenary," Felicia murmured.
"I forced my father to train me," Silvija corrected. "As long as I couldn't protect myself, I was a liability. A liability gets him killed. I refused to let him divide his attention to keep me breathing."
Silvija stepped closer, her icy blue gaze locking onto Felicia. "That is why I became a soldier who specializes in hunting superhumans. And it is why I didn't inject myself with captured serums. I refuse to become the very monsters who murdered my mother. I don't care if you mask-wearers play hero for money, fame, or some twisted sense of altruism. But remember this: the Wild Pack exists for one reason. We are humanity's countermeasure against gods and freaks. I am always watching you."
Felicia exhaled a quiet breath, genuinely unsettled by the raw, unblinking intensity radiating off the girl. She forced a smirk, trying to lighten the crushing atmosphere. "So. Literally zero private life. What happens when the hit list is empty? What do you do when the vengeance is over?"
Silvija didn't even hesitate. "I plan to enroll in university."
Felicia actually choked on a laugh. The answer was so profoundly, boringly normal that it gave her whiplash. Before she could recover, Silvija pivoted.
"And you? What is your plan once your revenge is complete?"
"I never said I wanted revenge," Felicia lied smoothly.
"Then explain the serum," Silvija countered instantly.
Felicia turned away, dropping a few crumpled Euro notes onto the vendor's counter for the pendant. She walked down the cobblestone street. Silvija matched her pace, step for step.
"Why are you tailing me?" Felicia finally asked, keeping her eyes forward.
"To ensure you don't poke your nose into places S.H.I.E.L.D. wants kept dark. Nick Fury doesn't trust you. He ordered me to act as a localized babysitter."
Felicia rolled her eyes. Fury. The man thought he could micromanage the entire globe from a folding chair. She glanced sideways at Silvija, a dangerous, thrilling idea clicking into place.
"Does that not strike you as incredibly suspicious?" Felicia asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Fury is actively trying to blindfold us. Maybe we should go see exactly what his little Boy Scout strike teams are digging up."
"Do not underestimate the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Silvija warned, her hand resting near the concealed holster beneath her coat. "He is ruthless."
No kidding, Felicia thought. She stopped walking, turning fully to face the mercenary. She dropped the playful thief persona entirely.
"What if whatever Fury is hiding connects to your mother's assassination?" Felicia asked.
"You have zero evidence of that."
"Maybe I do," Felicia said, stepping into Silvija's personal space. "My father was murdered while tracking black-market super-soldier serums through Europe. I am here to find the people who ordered the hit. Coincidentally, I know exactly how to slip past S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance net. So... what if our targets overlap?"
Felicia casually tossed the little obsidian cat pendant through the air.
Silvija caught it effortlessly, her fist closing around the polished stone.
"Interested in going on an adventure?" Felicia grinned.