Ch73. Murphy's Law

It was late evening and Miss Balalaika, the leader of Hotel Moscow, one of the strongest 'groups' in Roanapur, and also the owner of the hotel where Kovalinskij, one of the bosses of the Russian mafia, was hiding, sluggishly walked towards her office, utterly fed up with today's events.

Just two hours earlier, she got an urgent call from her subordinates that their 'VIP' guest was found butchered in his room when he didn't respond to the regular check-up with his guards every three hours.

There was no need to look long and hard for the culprit. The slut who left their VIP's room just twenty minutes prior was clearly the one who did it.

How she managed to prevent the screams of Kovalinskij as she was cutting off parts of his body or skinning him alive was totally baffling for Balalaika. Pigs being butchered made a lot of noise and the fact her boys heard nothing...

If she didn't know that Igor, the more experienced of them, was a perfectionist who would never let even one detail escape him and he had never, not even once, failed so far, she would have thought they slept on their job!

'Just my luck for this to happen when I have so much paperwork to do.' Balalaika scrunched her nose in annoyance before slumping her shoulders with a defeated sigh. 'And one of my best hotel rooms is utterly ruined. Aa~ah, it will take days to scrub that filth's pieces out of the floor, ceiling, and furniture. What a mess. I knew I should have gifted him a new hole in his forehead the second he showed his face in front of me.'

The problem was... the very same bitch who was called by Kovalinskij was apparently admitted to the hospital after her co-workers found her passed out in the changing room, just a half-hour before 'she' left the room with the pig. And from what the doctors said about her state after a small bribe, she has been knocked out for a few hours already and would be unconscious for at least six hours more. Some kind of poison was at work there, apparently.

Meaning, she could in no way have done it.

"Miss Balalaika..." Martin, one of the guards of Kovalinskij, started and Balalaika could instantly recognize the uneasiness in his voice.

The guy was new so it was understandable. Igor, on the other hand, already knew what would happen and was just calmly following her.

"Don't worry, Martin. I take care of my own. I don't care if Kovalinskij was one of the bosses of the Russian Mafia. They can go fuck themselves." Balalaika grumpily answered.

Her words calmed Martin a bit but her irritated tone... that put him back on the edge.

Igor just rolled his eyes. The poor newbie clearly had no idea the boss meant what she said. 'Well, he will learn.' He inwardly chuckled.

"This is why you should have guards with you inside the room, you brainless monkey." Balalaika grumbled under her nose, chewing on the unlit cigar in her mouth.

Honestly? She loved smoking but after she witnessed how Kovalinskij was slaughtered... because there was no better term to describe his state... she was in no mood to lit her cigar.

Her boys did some nasty things under her orders throughout the years but that... was hardcore even for her.

'What sort of monster you provoked to end up like that, huh, piggy?' Balalaika inwardly wondered, already knowing she would not be trying to locate the killer.

It was easier to deal with whatever schmuck would be sent to question her about Kovalinskij's death than deal with whoever was capable of... that.

As she finally reached her office and put her hand on the handle of the door, she was thinking about how she was totally fine not meeting that person, ever.

Unfortunately for her, there existed something called the Murphy Law.

Balalaika opened her door and instantly froze when she saw an unknown woman sitting in her chair, calmly smiling at her while supporting her chin with her arms while her elbows were placed on top of Balalaika's table.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sofiya Pavlovna." The red-haired woman spoke and both Igor and Martin instantly reached for their guns.

Balalaika was impressed when the woman's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow at her as if she found the situation funny. Balalaika raised her hand and stopped her men before they could actually do something as foolish as opening gunfire on someone who could get through all of the security measures leading up to her office in her own hotel full of her own men at every corner, without even being noticed.

People that could do that would never put themselves in danger like this. It would be better to assume the entire room was rigged with explosives or something similarly asinine.

That didn't mean Balalaika didn't want to tear the woman to shreds for infiltrating her office. After all, who knew what she discovered during her alone time here. Things that would... inconvenience... Balalaika greatly if they got to the wrong hands.

But while Balalaika always prided herself on being a soldier first, the responsibility for her men drove her to get quite good at business. That's why she reacted like a businesswoman.

"Pavlovna... Now that's a name I haven't heard in a very long while." She chuckled and crossed her arms on her chest, "But you got me at disadvantage. I have no idea who you are."

Balalaika was aware that revealing her true name was a sort of powerplay and that's why she didn't rise at the provocation. Her cold blue eyes stared in the mirthless emerald gaze of the woman cheekily sitting in her chair... yet another power move... and she could recognize the eyes of a killer when she saw them.

How could she not recognize them when she saw a similar kind of eyes every morning in the mirror? It was just... the woman in front of her had a much more soulless stare than Balalaika had ever seen and it was making her nervous.

Before Balalaika could get further with her observation, the woman spoke.

"I am Natasha Romanoff." Natasha introduced herself. Of course, her face was altered with her illusionary magic so she wouldn't be recognized as Natalie Rushman. Thankfully, the real face of the Black Widow was not a well-known secret. "I hope my little personal vendetta didn't inconvenience you too much. Come, take a seat. We have so much to discuss."

When Balalaika heard the woman's name, her eyes slightly widened as she froze for a second and she could feel the cold sweat on her back. She knew that name. It instantly clicked in her brain why her instincts were warning her. No wonder the woman's eyes were unlike anything she had ever seen.

'Well, fuck...'

Balalaika's mind supplied while her lips twitched into a forced smile as she slowly walked towards the chair for guests in front of her table, her movements smooth and perfect picture of calmness, and sat down before lighting up her cigar.

This was simply too much to go without some nicotine.

But Balalaika lived her entire life on the edge of danger and that made her, as some would put it, have balls of steel. Looking at the red-haired woman that was clearly waiting for her to get comfortable, Balalaika spoke in an unamused tone, "Could you explain why is the biggest Russian boogeyman paying me a visit and most importantly, why is the bitch sitting in my chair?"