~Y/N's Pov~

Another day, another mission.

I just got done from my cover-up work as a bartender. I might be a spy, but I still need a cover up if somebody ask me what I do for a living, so I chose to be a bartender. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, a bartender. But in my second life, my name's Midnight, a spy. Its actually quite easy having two jobs as a bartender and a spy. For my first job as a bartender is in the early morning, 7:30 to 1 in the afternoon. I get off my bartender shift early, because I begged my boss to let me. Luckily, I made a good first impression six (6) months ago and I've grown to be his favorite worker, so now I go home at 1.

Actually, depending if I have a mission or not. If I have a mission, then I'll probably have to go directly at my next work as a spy. Everyone calls me Midnight, because nobody knows my real identity. I'm a mist that can't be seen through. Of course, the only people that know my true identity, is everyone at the headquarters. That is my chief, co-workers and partners. Only them.

Not even my parents know, either my brother. Like that even cares, I haven't seen them in two (2) years. I left my hometown in Russia when I was nineteen (19) to start university here in New York. Though, I dropped out when my chief, Steve Rogers hired me to be in their elite team of spies.

So, that's my story.

Whatever it takes to make the world a better place.

I'm currently leaning against an dark alleyway down the streets of my apartment. I'm with my partner in crime, Pietro Maximoff. He's also my closet friend and he can be quite dumb at times, but he's very trustworthy. He has a twin sister named Wanda. They're twenty-eight (28) , only two (2) years older than me. Pietro and Wanda are basically the only people near family to me. I think Wanda works at a vet?

I kick my foot back onto the solid brick wall. I'm wearing high rised black boots. A pair of blue jeans, a belt attached to it. I have a plain black shirt on with a long beige coat over it. Lastly, I have a brown fedora hat on.

I finally look up through the strands of hair in my face towards Pietro. He's leaning on the opposite wall from me, smoking a cigarette. He blows out the smoke around the corner before turning back to me. He places the cigarette in between his lips again and holds out the packet towards me.

"Want one?" He offers.

I shake my head no and cross my arms. He shrugs and mumbles,"More for me" I tilt my head down again, closing my eyes.

Smoking helps in losing weight,
one lung at a time.

But, I can't blame Pietro for smoking, more than half of the spies does it. I don't smoke, I actually care for my mental and physical health.

"Did you hear the rumors about our 'supposingly' upcoming mission?" Pietro questioned.

I tilt my head up, seeing him blow away the smoke. "Do enlighten me" I insist, slowly rising my chin. He looks away from me, out in the distance.

"Poeple in the organization rumored that you and I are going to the Grand Hotel to act as room service. Objective is to stop an assassination." He explained.

He used the word rumored, meaning that we might or might not be doing this mission. But stopping an assassination, it sounds intriguing. I like to test my limits so I'm up for the challenge if we're even going to do it. The chief, Steve Rogers, haven't mentioned any of this to Pietro and I yet. Steve knows Pietro and I are the best spies in the entire organization. He has to pick us to do this assignment. Plus, the Grand Hotel is only a few blocks away from my apartment. It'll be easy to get there.

"By who have you heard this from?" I ask sternly.
"James said he heard chief and the under chief talk about this. He came to me this morning and told me about what he heard" He replies.

James Buchanan Barnes. I've heard about him before, he's the one who fell off from a train during a mission. Yet, he broke no bones. I need to admit, James is a tough one. I'd catch him staring at me whenever I enter the headquarters.

"Oh, I see" I exclaim, nodding my head slightly. Pietro takes a big breath in before throwing his cigarette on the ground. "Yeah, so just be prepared if chief wants us on the job" Pietro sighs, stomping on the cigarette.

He turns to me and nods out the allyway, "It's getting dark, I'll walk you home" He says, putting his cigarette packet back inside his pants' pocket.

With that being said, Pietro and I walked along side each other to my apartment. I might be filfthy rich, but I won't buy a mansion or normal house. Only because enemies can track me down and break into my home. So, that's why I live in a Lodon type apartment with neighbours on the left -and right- side of me. I think this is my third apartment, the others got destroyed by the enemies who wanted revenge on me. In my six years of working with this secret organization, three house invasions of enemies isn't a lot. But, I still won't risk buying a fancy house for enemies to break in and get revenge. Only when I retire.

Rather, I'd buy myself fancy cars and motorcycles. And, that's what I did. I have a gray colored Rolls Royce car, but mostly I drive around with my black Sport Tourer motorcycle that the organization gifted to me for my excellent job.

"Thanks for walking me home" I thanked Pietro while stopping on the first step of the staircase. I turn around and look down towards him. "Anytime, Y/L/N" He smiles. I nod my head before turning around, continuing to walk up the stairs.
I grab my keys out of my coat as I hear Pietro's boots clicking on the cement pathwalk as he strolls away. I open my apartment door and sigh in relief.

What a day.