A Commando is Captured [Natasha x Eva]

Natasha Volkova tugged at her flimsy handcuffs, already very bored. Waiting was no fun when there wasn't a target to track or mission to build anticipation for. She looked at the young woman reviewing papers in the desk across from her.

Lieutenant Eva McKenna was the enemy officer's name; though, she didn't look like a fierce opponent. Appearances can be deceiving, but Natasha was a commando in the Soviet armed forces she'd trained to make snap decisions and trust her instincts, and right now they told her Eva was a clerk. She had a perpetually charming face, and delicate mannerisms to match. This was most unlike Natasha who had a strong jaw, black-widow lips and the eyes of a killer. The only thing possible threatening about this bookish Allied officer was the appearance twin Kirov Airships on her chest and straining against her uniform.

This woman would do much better in the British farmlands growing potatoes and beats, or becoming a caring doctor in a small hospital. That long golden hair would look dazzling blowing in the wind in some quant country village. What tricks had the Allied bourgeoisie played to get her here to fight in their war. It agitated Natasha.

"Steel shortage?" she asked in her thick Russian accent.

"Pardon me?" replied the blonde with a london lilt, looking up from her papers.

Natasha presented the handcuffs."These could not hold even bear," she complained. "Iz steel being used to make corrupt capitalist sport cars and hot tubs? Or is all Allied manufacturing inferior?"

"We did win the war."

"Da, but you have Commander Doe. He, how do you say, plays on easy mode?"

"Yes, he does seem to be rather lucky," agreed Eva with a smile that said she was only partial sure of what the commando was talking about.

"Where is brave commander now?" prodded Natasha, dreading the boredom that would return once the conversation was finished.

"In Soho," replied Eva curtly a frown tugging at her previously invincible smile.

"Jealous? Lieutenant, not all soldiers can go on vacation after war. There iz still work to do."

"Well one tart can scamper off whenever she likes," mumbled Eva to herself.

"She? iz not Commander Doe male?" Natash asked, but Eva just frowned again. "Look on bright side. By staying here, you meet me, famous Russian sniper," offered the commando with a sympathetic simile, before sitting up straight and striking a proud pose. The leather and kevlar uniform was very good at showing of the fine physique her rigorous training provided. It was tight and the jacket left her toned midrift exposed while her shorts displayed her athletic thighs.

The lieutenant gave a quiet giggle then sighed and returned to her paperwork. Natasha resolved to show her Russian patience. She sat motionless for an excruciatingly long time, then looked at the clock to see that two minutes had passed; sitting still was not her thing. "In Russia prizoners are treated very differently," the commando commented with a huff. "we take only minutes before they beg."

Eva's expression became very serious and stern. "I do not stoop to the barbarity of ****."

The seasoned commando scoffed dismissively. "I did not say prizoners beg to stop." A blush as red as the Soviet flag spread across the young lieutenant's face, and Natasha playfully pushed her advantage. "I am very good at getting lips to loosen and tongues to work." The leather creaked as she flexed her lithe body beneath. "Gently of course. We even play spoons after."

Retreating, Eva gave a nervous laugh and quickly buried her face in her work. Natasha left her prey alone for the moment, distracting herself with her handcuffs again.

"The trouble is," Eva finally explained still looking at her papers, "the Soviets surrendered three days before your incident at that future tech lab. That makes your infiltration criminal rather than an act of war" Sympathetic she looked up at the Russian commando. "What happened? The ceasefire order didn't make it to you on time?"

Natasha looked at her boots and shrugged. "A soldier would not make things difficult for her countrymen." The Russian woman felt uncomfortably warm, but she reminded herself that was normal because her uniform was designed for the Russian tundra, not this balmy Allied airforce base.

"Just a failure of communication then. Not to worry, well get it sorted and keep you comfortable until then." She stood and walk towards the door. "Come along now. I'll show you to your quarters."