The music blasted around her as the bouncer led her into the club.

Dark, loud and loaded with Russia's richest, hottest and drunkest party goers.

In 6-inch stiletto's she walked across the room searching for him. Her red silk dress tightly fitted her hitting just above her upper thigh. On the hip, was embroidered a black phoenix. It was one of the pieces she'd had custom made in China by one of Wong's regular customers who she'd met.

The music dropped and lights continues to blink as Nikita made her way through crowds of people- carefully rejecting the men who tried dancing with her.

She passed into the back, a section reserved for the highest class. Walking through rows of whores and their sponsors and then she saw him.

Grinding his way around five or so ridiculously beautiful girls was the man she'd been looking for all along. She saw him hand a bottle of champagne he had in order to put both hands on the brunette with whom he was dancing. He inched his way down to her hips and they continued.

Nikita fixed her perfectly straightened hair and ran a hand through the center as she made her way to where the handsome man was dancing. He didn't notice her until he felt her hand slide on his shoulder. He looked her over, winked and motioned for the leggy brunette he'd been with to leave.

Nikita took the other girls place in front of him- it was a good things she'd worn her highest heals, she'd forgotten how tall he was, a good 2 or so inches on Michael at least.

The music continued with an even more riotous approach then when she'd first entered. After a while, he leaned in as in to whisper something in her ear when she turned to face front and approached him with an even smaller space gap then there had been before. All this to the rhythm of the trance music that surrounded them- her grace surprised her.

"I've missed you," he said.

"The feeling's mutual." She smirked then brought her leg up high as he caught it and picked her up for a brief moment to adjust their position before they continued.

"So, what do you need me for?" he asked cocking an eyebrow.

"Besides the company of one of the most handsome men in Russia? Your brainpower, I need access to Volkov and all his subordinates." He spun Nikita to face away from him. Leaning down he whispered into her ear.

"Done and done." A smile lit up on her face and she placed her hands on top of his, which already rested on her hips. They would stay there for another hour.

An hour later he led her out and grabbed a taxi. Running a hand through his sandy blonde hair he leaned back and studied her.

"It really has been a while, hasn't it?" Nikita glanced over and gave him a sharp look.

"Why? Do I look older?"

"Nope, more beautiful then ever. I like the dress by the way."

"I thought you'd appreciate it. Thanks for agreeing to help." She shifted in her seat and rested her head on his shoulders.

"What are old friends for? Speaking of which- where are you staying?"

"At your place." His face scrunched up. "Well… where's your stuff?"

"I already said. It's at your place."

"But my place has maximum security- no one gets in or out."

Honey, please.

She gave him a look, which was graciously returned. He then sighed and brought her in closer.

"Impudent and beautiful."

"That's me." With a cheecky grin she closed her eyes and muttered quietly "I've missed you, Dima."

Nikita fell asleep in his arms and when the taxi arrived at his home, he picked her up and brought her back to his place. Laying her on his bed he walked away towards the door and replied to the sleeping woman quoting her comment from before.

"The feelings mutual."

He smirked and walked over to his couch where he made himself comfortable and shut his eyes.

Moscow, Russia


Nikita awoke and found herself in Dimitry's room. She checked the watched to find that she'd overslept- at least by her stndards where 5 was the latest she woke. She walked over to where she had put her clothing and pulled over an oversized indigo colored sweater.

She entered the bathroom to find that a guest set had already been placed for her.

Looks like Dima's already up. I should probably freshen up so I wont have to worry later on in the day.

She went into the bathroom and came out 15 minutes later showered and with a breath that smelled of the freshest mint. The smell of coffee filled the flat and when she entered the kitchen she saw Dimitry with breakfast already set up skimming through his mail. He looked up, smiled and went to the coffee pot and put a mug in front of her. She quickly finished her breakfast that consisted of oatmeal with a dollop of fruit conserve and turned to him waiting for the perfect moment to ask.



"Remember what we talked about yesterday? You know, about me needing to speak with Volkov? When do you think that you can arrange it?"

He stretched his arms over his neck and tiled his head from left to right walked behind Nikita and softly placed his chin on her shoulder.

"Done and done."

"You did it?!"

"I said it was done and done, didn't I? Anyway tomorrow you're meeting with Volkov posing as Anna Aleksandrovskaya. She's supposed to interview him but she called me yesterday and cancelled ergo the position goes to you."

"Thank you." She turned and threw her hands around him and stayed there for a moment.

"Anything my favorite Nikita."

"Anything for the only female Nikita you know, you mean."

"I can't help it that you Americans took a traditional male name and began passing it over to girls." She chuckled as she refilled their coffee mugs.

"It must be good be the mafia's right hand man. I can't thank you enough."

"Your welcome. And stop it, you make me sound like some criminal, I work as everyone's right hand man from mafia to local police to our government. Except Gogol- I tend to stay away from getting in bed with them."

"Well considering how many times they've tried to kill you I suppose they don't like you either. Now who was that person who saved you about two years ago this time? I heard she was stunning."

"You give yourself too much credit- I could have easily gotten myself out of that one."

"And the bomb inside your jacket?"

"Well, maybe not that part."

"Seriously, Dima, what do you plan to do with your life? You're mixed up with the worst crowds imaginable."


"What?" She tilted her head over to the side and studied him. "What do you mean quit? This isn't something that someone can quit everyone knows you!"

"It's simple. I'm going to disappear. Into the life I've always wanted away from all of this. Didn't you notice most of the apartments empty?"

Nikita scanned the flat. He was right; she'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't even noticed the bareness of the rooms.

"So what's your plan? Will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sure you will. The plan's simple, like I said before. I've mentioned a few times that each year I like to disappear and travel around the America's, right?"

She nodded.

"That's actually a lie I've been feeding to people over the years. Every year for two months, I disappear to a small cottage on the outskirts of Ireland. For years I've been doing so. The cottage was a small thing I inherited from a relative."

She gave him a puzzled look.

"You're not Russian?"

"Not exactly. My mother was an Irishwoman who studied in England with my Russian father. Thus my living in Russia and being part of the culture whilst at the same time, speaking proper English."

"So you're a Celt! Ha! I should've known. So what from there? What else will you do?"

"I met someone who lives in the town… we get along well. And yeah- I have money, enough to never work again. But I want to continue working- I've been working on books so I'll probably do that." He continued to trail of and Nikita just watched him in silence.

"You really do have a plan. A girl, a job what else a kid?"

"Not yet but maybe" he laughed and poured himself another cup.

"So if you have a girlfriend- why the clubbing?"

"First, she's not my girlfriend yet- I'm working on it. Second, I need to maintain my personality. No one can no anything different is going on with me so when I disappear I'll have no problems. You of all people should know this."

"You knew?"

"I'd have to be deaf not to hear about your fancy escape from Division- it's probably on of the things on my list that made me realize I wanted out too."

"So its all because of me!" She stuck her tongue out and gave him a wink.

"Like I said- partially. And don't do that face again the level of unattractiveness is too much to bear."

"That's rude."

"That's the truth."

"So when are you going?" She stood up to fix her hair but continued watching him.


She let out a sharp breath then went and put her arms around him.

"I don't know why I'm worrying so much-its just such a tricky life we're mixed up in."

"I know but Nikita getting out is worth it. I can't die here- by the hand of people who … well you know what kind of people are in our mafia and government."

"Yeah. Dima- where did this all start. It's too well planed to be after my escape. What prompted this?

"Oleg. He-he found out that some people from the government had ordered the mafia to wipe out Gogol and vice versa- there was a huge bloodbath that was covered up. People automatically assumed that he told one side and that's why there was retaliation and they killed him off."

She quickly blinked away her tears.

They killed Oleg. Dimitry's best friend. One of the only decent people who worked for the government. What the hell was the world coming to?


"Less then a year ago. All I want to do is get out. I know I should take revenge but in a way- it's our fault for getting involved. But I'm leaving a farewell gift for the man who ordered his death."

"What's that?"

"The man who ordered the hit was the top economist in Russia. When I sell all of my stocks tomorrow, I'm selling them to a buyer who's main goal is to by them all and let them drop so low that only his product get high ratings- ergo the economist will be screwed over with low funds on everything except one."

"Stock's don't really make sense to me but I think I see where you're going."

"Yeah," He checked his watch. "When you get back from the interview tomorrow- I wont be here."

"I thought as much…"

"But, in exchange for that I've finished all of my work and I have a free day to spend- care to join me?"

"Always!" She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders "Thank you for doing all of this."

"You've saved my life a hundred times over."

"That feeling is more then mutual."

They spent the rest of the day like conjoined twins. From the busy streets of Russia, to cathedrals, to malls and Dima's dacha which was Russian for summerhouse. They passed the club they'd been in the other day and saw it was open for over an hour now.

"What time is it?" Dimitry asked.

"11- it's dark, we should be getting home."

"Or- we could go to the club one last time. Who knows if we'll ever see each other again."

"Interview tomorrow, remember? Escape tomorrow, remember? It's not the time to go clubbing!"

"And yet, let's do it."

She quickly checked over their attire. He- as always was dressed relatively sharply. A rolled up dress shirt with dark jeans. She on the other hand was in a pair of leggings and a tank top.

"My attire isn't really right…"

"It's fine. You have your heels in the trunk and you're with me- everyone get's in."

"Okay…" she walked over and exchanged her flats for the stilettos' she'd worn to the club the other day.

"To the club!" he said doing a strange jump.

"You're embarrassing me."

"Whatever, let's go!"

They cut around 80 people and walked up to the bouncer who greeted Dima and let him in.

2 hours and a handful of drinks later they walked out of the club and hopped into Dima's car. The driver proceeded to take them back and Dima- albeit drunk- tipped him one last time with a sum that the driver refused but eventually took home with him after he saw that his boss wasn't playing around.

Nikita woke up at around 9- this week had been filled with sleeping in. Her interview was at 2:30 so she had time. She rolled over to her right only to face a sleeping Dima.

Oops. No wonder I woke up in such a good mood.

She walked around the barren flat. It was bound to happen eventually. Last night's event was- she didn't really know how to explain it. She shrugged it off, relatively drunk fun between two close friends- it really didn't matter.

Oh, well.

Grabbing some money from her wallet, she left the flat to go to the bakery that was located downstairs.

She quickly greeted the owner and picked a few items up- rolls and pastries of sorts before she headed back to the flat.

4 hours and a relatively emotional goodbye later, Nikita sat in the back seat of a cab waiting to meet Volkov for her interview. She was anxious- but assured herself that confidence was the key.

The click of her heels echoed as she made her way into the office. A brief greeting to the secretary, she pulled out her fake identification. But when the secretary checked it, she just shook her head.

"I'm sorry, he had to cancel."

Nikita was thrown back for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"About ten minutes ago he ran out of here angrily telling me to cancel all appointments I don't really know much else. He left everything he was working on… his case, computer everything. Apparently one of his contacts just disappeared."

So he managed to go off the grid. Good luck, babe.

"You don't say." Nikita tilted her head in amusement. "Must be stressful- keeping tabs on the whole country's problems…"

"Oh yeah" the woman's mind went elsewhere and she soon forgot about Nikita who had gone back and sat onto the sofa lost on what to do next.

His computer was there. All the information she needed was there less then 10 meters away.

And then, after all these years- the mission turned her way when she needed it.

She had been sitting in the corner behind the secretary's office gazing into the office that she had no chance of entering when all of a sudden the secretary got a call, out the phone down, scanned the room thinking it was empty and ran out.

With out wasting her time, Nikita ran over to the desk and overruled the security system on Volkov's door. Glancing around nervously she searched the parameter until she found his computer inside his desk. She opened it- quickly covering the camera part and hoped for the best. Typing in the name Vladimir Ivanov produced no result when she spotlighted it. It was only then, however when it occurred to her to use his email.

The idiot had left it open and she quickly typed the name in once again but this time it produced good results. Vladimir Ivanov.

6 emails.


She downloaded them all onto the flash drive she carried around with her for good measure and ran of the building- she was close.