"On my face, you can't see a trace of my mother's shadow, can't see the brown lips, can't see the dimples on the cheeks, can't see the golden hair, nor the smile lines at the corners of the eyes... Of course, we will never have smile lines."
A woman is whispering to the person behind her, exhaling puffs of white steam, while the snow under their feet makes a crunching sound, like juicy vegetables being squeezed.
Two silhouettes are advancing in a lightless forest. Maybe it's because the weather is too cold, or perhaps the solitude in the wilderness, they choose to talk about things at each other's homes.
Despite having little memory of that home or so-called family, only some vague outlines and perhaps real or fake fragments.
Their memories can't confirm whether such a home ever existed or say, whether those scenes were implanted by brainwashing devices.
But this is just small talk, indistinguishable memories, paired perfectly with an seemingly endless forest.
The girl with two braids glances at the figure two steps ahead. As she moves, she wraps white cloth around the submachine gun: "That's a good thing, the Leech Potion has frozen us at age 18, so we never have to worry about wrinkles for the rest of our lives."
"We all know nothing comes without a cost. We accepted the gift and are now tied to him." The woman in front has a cold, beautiful face, her brown hair tucked under a furry white hat.
The woman behind touches her back: "But it's precisely because of this that we feel more at ease. One-sided contributions will not last, being useful to him is the only way to keep things going."
"Yes, but he seems uninterested in us, more interested in those like Natasha who are younger, maybe thinking they're easier to control."
"Hmm, being overlooked is never a good sign. I've been deemed useless once, haha." The woman behind laughs, some snowflakes stick to her lips, and she gently smears it with her mouth.
The snow keeps rustling underfoot, their pace seemingly constant.
Dotti raises a white scarf to cover her face, frost forming a sheet on the other side: "Good luck doesn't come twice, Anya, this mission must succeed, this gentle graduation exam."
"I understand, anyone who doesn't want us to survive, we'll make sure to kill first." Anya screws a silencer onto the submachine gun, taking this matter even more seriously than Dotti, as this is their first mission in the true sense.
Dotti leans her head in to bump against Anya's, and they pat each other's back: "We'll succeed, now let's review the mission one last time."
"Search for a person in the Vinnytsia Region of Ukraine, possibly named Max Eisenhardt, a Jew, possibly also known as Eric Lansheer, might have an Italian wife named Magda, possibly escaped Auschwitz Concentration Camp in 1944, might be living hidden in the forest, find them and bring them back to the United States if possible."
Anya recites the mission content seriously, word for word as Lady Gin instructed them.
But every time she recalls saying "possibly," Lady Gin would touch her nose, which Anya found amusing. She never knew Lady Gin had a granddaughter around their age, and a real beauty at that.
Dotti silently continues on, observing the sky through bare treetops, judging direction by the constellations: "Seems just as I remember, but no matter how many times I hear it, the numerous 'possibly' in the intel make it confusing. Is it reliable to send people out based on such intel?"
Anya tugs at the scarf on her face, hers embroidered with a little rabbit for identification: "Mr. Slade found us through 'possibilities,' nothing but a bit more effort."
"I know, but Lady Gin has warned us to be prepared for encounters with Hydra or Leviathan." Anya, after preparing her weapon, watches as Dotti adjusts hers, changing the disguise color and style before entering the forest: "What exactly are we looking for?"
"Maybe a scientist, or perhaps a mage, who knows." Dotti responds calmly, observing in different directions, listening for the rustle in the wind.
As they're talking, they come across a rare clearing in the forest, more precisely, an exposed area of black shattered rocks.
It seems like an abandoned mine shaft, impossible to trace its exact time, now appearing long abandoned, an ideal shelter from the wind.
"We've advanced 100 kilometers today, time to rest, right here." Dotti points to a cave in the snow.
"I'll handle the residents here."
Anya sniffs, detecting a stench, the smell of blood and intestines, indicating that a large beast may reside inside the cave.
Dotti nods, as one enters the cave, the other stands watch outside, a standard two-person protocol.
But not long after Anya enters, she calls Dotti in. They find a bear inside.
"Is it... asleep?" Anya nudges the bear's head with her gun, but it stays still, only its slow breathing indicating it's alive.
"Is this... hibernation?" Dotti recalls what she's learned, though seeing it in person for the first time.
"Seems so, Dotti surely deserves the title of Black Widow." Anya smiles, sitting on the bear, though stinky, it's surprisingly soft, isn't it?
"I'm not sure if I can still call myself a Black Widow now..." Dotti rubs her head, somewhat nostalgically looking out the cave entrance: "In the Legends of Red House, only the last survivor is the Black Widow, while at Zhongsi Academy it's through written exams..."
"That's fine too, at least everyone's alive now and we can choose our own titles based on exam grades." Anya nonchalantly pulls out a small flask from her pocket.
A military-green flask, with a painted pink flower on it, and of course, filled with vodka.
"But that's beside the point, in the past fifteen seconds, its breathing has sped up by 60%, and the stone floor is showing moisture, indicating its body temperature is rising, it's waking up."
Dotti points at the large bear under Anya, its size more than double the two of them combined.
"Ah... after all, a beast is still a beast, so cute even when asleep, but I don't want to see it awake."
Anya shrugs helplessly, pressing the submachine gun against the bear's forehead, running her other hand through its fur, she sighs regrettably and squeezes the trigger to the end.
When eyes shouldn't open, it's better not to. In this world, whether people or bears, knowing too much can be deadly.
A series of buzzing sounds echo in the cave.