Yelena nods her own readiness and takes the first step forward. She is reminded of three-legged races on sunny afternoons in suburban Ohio, among her few untainted childhood memories. She grips the umbrella tighter as a cello, a bicycle, and an anvil crash down from the sky in rapid succession.

"So, what's your name?" Might as well make conversation, Yelena figures. It seems like they're in this together now.