Ron's eyes fluttered open as the plane began its descent into Rome's Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport. He stretched his arms and yawned, feeling refreshed after the long flight.
As the plane touched down on the runway, Ron gathered his belongings and followed the other passengers off the plane. He made his way through customs and immigration, his first-class ticket earning him a speedy passage through the usual crowds.
Once he had collected his luggage, Ron stepped out into the bright Italian sunlight. He took a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his lungs, and gazed around at the bustling airport.
Ron had always loved Italy, and he felt a thrill of excitement at being back in the country. He had no particular plans for his trip, other than to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy some good food and wine.
As he made his way to the taxi stand, Ron's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen, but there were no messages or notifications.
Ron frowned, feeling a slight pang of unease. He had been so caught up in his decision to leave New York that he hadn't really thought about the potential consequences.
Was he being followed? Was someone trying to contact him?
Ron pushed the thoughts aside and hailed a taxi. He gave the driver the address of his hotel, a luxurious villa on the outskirts of Rome.
As the taxi wound its way through the city streets, Ron gazed out the window, taking in the sights and sounds of Italy. He felt a sense of freedom and release, knowing that he had left his worries behind in New York.
But as the taxi approached the hotel, Ron's instincts began to twitch once more. Something didn't feel right.
And then, as the taxi pulled up outside the hotel entrance, Ron saw a figure standing in the shadows.
A figure who looked uncannily like Natasha Romanoff.