Dark, velvety brown hair perfectly groomed and pulled back with an elastic band at the nape of her slender neck, a white headband placed just perfectly on the top of her head matching the white clutch tucked under her arm. Her honey brown eyes scanned the window of a designer shop, a beautiful navy dress catching her attention. Turning her head slightly to the left, in the reflection of the shop window, she could see a man sitting alone on the driver side of a gunmetal gray car, his eyes studying what appeared to be a map in his hand. Despite the warm spring morning, he was dressed for cold weather in a black turtleneck with a brown suede jacket over it and a cap atop his head.

She watched as his sky blue eyes shifted from the paper in his hand to the side view mirror. Her only guess was that he was staring at the man seated by himself reading a newspaper outside the local cafe. His taste, no doubt, expensive since he was sporting a custom tailored suit and freshly polished shoes. He folded the paper neatly and looked up to take in his surrounding, his blue eyes landing on the brunette woman still standing outside the shop a few stores down.

The man at the cafe lifted up his cup, filled with coffee since it was still too early for liquor, and he flashed her a confident smile as he saluted her with his cup. In response, she nodded her head and then turned her attention back to the man in the car. His blue eyes rose from the mirror to her back.

Taking a step back, the brunette turned away from the shop and caught sight of a woman with long dark honeyed color hair that fell like waves past her slender shoulders. Like herself, the other woman was dressed nicely. She instantly recognized the dress the woman was wearing as the one she was staring at just moments ago in the shop window.

A pang of jealousy surged through Gabriella Teller as she watched the gorgeous woman strutting down the sidewalk as if she were a model on the runway. Although the dress had been gorgeous on both the girl and the mannequin, Gabby knew it would not look like that on her. She sighed softly and refocused on the mission at hand. There had been a purpose to her casually standing outside this particular shop gazing into the window and admiring that beautiful navy blue dress.

She had turned to look at Illya Kuryakin, the tall, blond haired Russian she had developed feelings for during the past year. That pang of jealousy she once felt before had returned again. She found Illya's blue eyes were no longer fixed on the two men they had been watching but the honey-haired woman. She knew there was no need to turn toward the man positioned outside the little cafe, he would have seen the woman coming a mile away. There wasn't a beautiful woman alive that could pass unnoticed by Napoleon Solo.

As she continued to observe her surroundings, Gabby realized the honey-haired woman had not only caught the attention of her partners but two other men as well. The very same men they had been staked out watching all morning long.

She no longer felt jealous as she watched the two men dressed in black suits whistle and call out to the woman. Instead, Gabby felt disgusted by the sight that played out before her. As a woman herself, she wanted nothing more than to cross the street and come to the other woman's defense but instead, she kept put and watched as the woman shook her head and turned to continue walking.

One of the two men, the much taller and burlier of the two, stepped forward. To Gabby, it appeared he would not take 'No' for an answer to whatever question he must have asked her. She could feel her blood boiling as she took a step forward. To her right, she could hear a metal chair scraping against concrete followed by the heavy footsteps of Napoleon Solo as he made his way to her side. He too would not stand idly by while a beautiful woman was in distress.

Gabby turned her head to look at Solo, his hand casually in the pocket of his trousers while his blue eyes were glued on the girl. He had abandoned the newspaper he had been pretending to read, and from what she could see, he had failed to pay for his coffee as well. But that had been of little importance to Gabby as Napoleon suddenly rushed to her side, his hand grabbing her elbow and pulling her toward the waiting gunmetal gray car that was being started.

Just as he opened the door and pushed her inside, she caught sight of the black car peeling out of its parking spot and hightailing it out of sight. Napoleon slid in behind Gabby, slamming the door shut and crying out, "Step on it!" just as Illya started to pull out of the parking lot.

It was all happening so fast, she had little time to process all that was going on, let alone hear as Napoleon mumbled a quick, "Excuse me," before he climbed over her to get to the passenger side of the car.

Napoleon started to squeeze his massive six foot one frame through the tiny space between the driver and passenger seat just as Illya decided to take a sharp left. Gabby slid right, she used her hand to stop her from slamming into the door, but the same could not be said for Napoleon. He had tumbled forward into the passenger seat, his head hitting the dashboard as he slammed his back against the door.

The massive dark-haired American readjusted himself into the seat, his hand massaging his sore head as he sent Illya a threatening look. Illya kept his eyes on the road but his response had been enough to tell Gabby he saw the look Napoleon gave him.

"You shouldn't switch seats in a moving vehicle," he said to Napoleon with his thick Russian accent.

Napoleon ignored his comment. Instead, he sat up, his hand reaching underneath him to pull out the map Illya had discarded just before the chase. He unfolded it carefully, his blue eyes flickering up to check the street signs to get a general idea of where they were and may be heading.

"Turn right up at this light," he instructed, his eyes glued to the map for a route that could lead them exactly to the men they were after.

"They went straight." Illya replied.

"I am telling you, turning right will lead us directly to them."

"And I am telling you-"

"Must you two always argue?" Gabby rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, she sat back against the seat and then added, "Illya, just do as Napoleon says. If we're not careful it's the girl's life at stake here."

Reluctantly, Illya agreed. His grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point his knuckles were glowing white. Gabby took a deep breath and closed her eyes, she wanted nothing more than for this to all be over.