A cold, snow-covered morning blanketed Moscow. Everything around was shrouded in icy silence. Through the dense fog and falling snow, Sofia ran at full speed. Her thick black hair whipped in the wind, and her golden eyes were sharp with traces of fear. Every exhale formed white clouds that immediately vanished into the freezing air.
Suddenly, she stopped. Almost invisible, she pressed herself against a thick pine tree. Her heart raced uncontrollably. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned ahead. Then she saw a horrifying sight.
Not far away, one of her colleagues—a crucial member of their team—was being grabbed by a group of men. Dressed in black, armed to the teeth, they moved with lethal precision. In a split second, the crack of a gunshot rang out. One shot, and her colleague fell onto the snow, which quickly became stained with red blood.
Sofia's body froze, as if she herself had become ice. Tiny droplets clung to her face—whether from fear or the cold, it was impossible to tell. She felt her time might be up. A faint scream wanted to escape her throat, but she forced herself to remain silent. Not a sound could be made.
After the gunfire, the men in black swiftly departed. Sofia held her breath until their sounds faded away. She tried to regain her composure, when a crunch beneath her feet startled her.
Her nerves went on high alert. Who was it? Had the assassins returned? Sofia quickly pressed herself deeper behind the tree. Through her cold leather gloves, she could feel her own sweat.
She listened intently, her breath barely audible. Footsteps drew closer, each strike against the snow echoing in her chest. Friend or foe? In this frozen forest, every step could be the last.
Through the silence, the faint beeping from Ricky's tactical jacket broke through:
"Beep… Beep… Beep…"
Sofia jumped. With trembling hands, she retrieved the encrypted walkie-talkie from Ricky's jacket pocket. A mechanical, solemn voice echoed, like an ominous signal in the snowy wilderness:
"Hello… 123… D-G-F-I… report. Black Falcon, are you online? Hello… 123…"
A chill ran down Sofia's spine. It was an urgent call from headquarters. Even though Ricky was gone, the mission was not over. Ricky's code name had been Black Falcon.
Wiping her tears, Sofia cleared her throat. At this moment, breaking down would mean the mission's failure. She pressed the device's button and responded in a low but steady voice:
"123… Agent Sofia here. Black Falcon is down. I repeat, Black Falcon is dead. The enemy has tracked our position."
A few seconds of silence followed. Then the voice spoke again:
"Sofia, time is short. The enemy is tracing Ricky's signal. Evacuate in five minutes. Your next destination: safe house 'Moscow Diary.' Ensure no one follows you."
Sofia turned off the device and placed her hand on Ricky's forehead one last time. No tears remained; only the fire of vengeance burned in her golden eyes. She whispered,
"Ricky, your blood will not be shed in vain. I will find them."
As she ran toward the safe house, memories of her last moments with Ricky haunted her. She remembered the previous night, as they prepared for the final mission. Snow had fallen outside Russia, and Ricky had drawn close. With his hands on her face, he had gently pressed his lips to hers.
After the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, he had whispered softly:
"Don't be afraid, Sofia. We're more than partners—we are life partners. After the mission tomorrow, we'll escape this dark world. I love you, Sofia."
She didn't know then that those words and that warmth would be the last she would feel.
Back in the present, Sofia touched her lips. Ricky was gone, yet his love had become her weapon. Her sobs echoed through the safe house walls, but her chest burned with determination. She looked out the window at the distant mansion—the lair of the blue-eyed mafia boss responsible for Ricky's fate.
Wiping her tears, she hardened her gaze. "Bangladesh will not know you, Dimitri… but today, a single agent from Bangladesh will be your destruction."
Flashback: Dhaka, Bangladesh
Inside the DGFI headquarters, under the harsh sunlight outside, Sofia sweated in the air-conditioned room. Today was her final interview. Wearing a fitted olive uniform, her face was determined. A senior officer placed a file before her.
"Sofia, your records show you are the top shooter of your batch. No one can surpass you in martial arts. But remember—wherever we send you, your identity must remain hidden. You will be a ghost."
Without hesitation, Sofia saluted.
"Sir, I am ready to give my life for my country. I will succeed in any mission assigned."
From that day on, Sofia's ordinary life ended. She became a covert weapon of the DGFI, trained in the depths of Russia's mafia underworld. It was there she met Ricky, her partner in missions and heart.
In Bangladesh, after missions, they had met secretly in parks or by lakes. Once, Ricky had given her a small red-and-green badge, saying:
"Sofia, keep this close to your heart. When you feel alone abroad, it will remind you why you fight."
Present: Moscow Safe House
Back in the safe house, Sofia touched the badge hidden in her jacket. Her training, love for her country, and Ricky's unfinished mission had now made her a lethal operative.
On her laptop, a photo appeared—Dimitri, the golden-haired mafia boss with piercing blue eyes.
Sofia looked at herself in the mirror. Her black hair fell neatly over her shoulders. Her golden eyes now burned with predator-like intensity. Whispering, she said,
"Bangladesh will not know you, Dimitri… but from today, one agent will be your reckoning."
Scene: Dimitri's Luxurious Club, Moscow
Moscow's night sky glittered with stars. A line of luxury cars blocked the club entrance. Security watched every detail, but no one could imagine the person about to enter.
A black limousine stopped at the main entrance. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a stunning woman.
She wore a dazzling red sheer dress, flowing perfectly with every curve. The upper part revealed just enough skin to mesmerize onlookers, while her lower half moved elegantly with each step. Her hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and her golden eyes held countless untold stories.
As she stepped out, every gaze followed her. Her presence alone transformed the club's atmosphere. She walked as if on a catwalk, exuding an unearthly elegance.
Inside, the thumping music and neon lights made the crowd oblivious to her true nature. Sofia's eyes searched for only one face—Dimitri. Her mission: revenge for Ricky, unfinished work.
Through the crowd, a drunken young Russian man blocked her path. Despite his expensive suit, his eyes were lewd.
"Hey beautiful! That dress is way too revealing. Alone? How about spending the night with me?"
He reached toward her waist. Sofia's inner DGFI agent roared. The grief for Ricky and the outrage of insult made her blood boil. Yet she knew that any trouble here would ruin the mission.
She leaned close, whispering in Bengali,
"It would take me two seconds to tear your tongue out."
Though he didn't understand, Sofia's golden stare froze him. She squeezed his wrist painfully, turning his face blue.
From the VIP balcony above, a deep voice commanded,
"Leave her."
Sofia lifted her head. Standing on the golden railing above was the person she sought: Dimitri. His golden hair fell on his forehead, his deep blue eyes locked on hers.
He gestured to the bouncers below: "Throw this drunk out. She doesn't know who she's talking to."
Then, looking at Sofia, he smiled mysteriously:
"In that red dress, you look like a Greek goddess. Will you come up? I don't let my special guests be insulted from below."
Sofia released her wrist and smiled subtly at Dimitri.