Okay, Thunderglaive21 did tell you that I'm adopting this story right? If not then that's fine too because I have probably worked more on it than her so I'm taking over. The prologue is shorter because I went through and edited it though hopefully this version is better.

Word of warning – it might be a while before I update this so please bear with me. I want to finish Twice In A Lifetime plus there are a couple other fics banging around inside my head that are demanding to be written.

Please R&R!

Disclaimer – I do not own Avengers or any of the characters. All I own is the plot and my own character. Can I make a petition for Hawkeye?

Shadowblade – It seems Fury is still recruiting for the Avengers. Yet what could his interest be in finding a female with a split personality and shoving her together with Hawkeye? Clint would probably never understand that man's ways...

Prologue – It Starts Again

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Blood dripped from two wickedly sharp knives. The blades gleamed bright red in the moonlight, droplets of the liquid running down the metal. The owner of the weapons glanced over her kill and raised a dark eyebrow. The four men lying dead on the ground all had several open wounds still oozing blood. Pools of the crimson liquid gathered underneath the bodies, slowly merging into one large spill.

The killer allowed herself one small grin at the sight of her handiwork. Expression turning cold once again, she bent down and wiped the stained blade of each knife across a black uniform to clear away the blood. The weapons were then sheathed back inside her clothes, hidden away from prying eyes. She cracked her knuckles, rolled her shoulders back and kicked the nearest dead body out of her way.

No remorse for murdering the men lingered. No pity surfaced. The killer swept her green eyes around the immediate area, taking in every insignificant detail. The last time she hadn't checked her surroundings after a kill had led to another fight – one that ended with four cooling bodies on the ground. She chuckled darkly, hands suddenly itching to whip out the knives and sink them into a warm chest. The way blood welled up around her silver blades and dripped down had never failed to fascinate her.

The killer stuffed her hands deep into the front pockets of the overly large sweatshirt her other personality insisted on always wearing. Now that the threat was gone, she was fairly certain she only had a limited time left. Her fingers found the hilts of her precious knives and began softly stroking the leather covering as she walked.

\/\/\/\/\/

Her body shot upright as she woke up with a gasp, heart pounding in fear. Cold sweat drenched her forehead and she scanned her surroundings with wide eyes.

The hotel's room was moderate in size. The bed faced the wall leading to the front door, a window beside it. The bathroom branched off the main room on her right and a table with one chair was to her left. A TV on a stand was placed in front of the queen sized bed and a nightstand with a lamp sat next to the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief when her hazel orbs landed on a black backpack resting over the back of the lone chair. Nothing seemed out of place.

Lowering her head into her palms, she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. The dreams were becoming more and more vivid, each more violent and bloody than the last. The latest one, however, terrified her the most. She didn't know which was just a dream or a memory anymore. The blurring of reality haunted her. Sometimes she honestly swore she was losing her sanity, piece by tiny piece.

Perhaps she was. Having her other personality made her question every memory and dream she could remember. It always made her sick to her stomach that some dreams were actually memories. She just hoped the latest dream was only that – a dream.

Now if only her feelings would listen. The gut-wrenching terror wouldn't fade.

Groaning, she opened her hazel eyes and dropped her hands. Worrying about it wouldn't change anything. All she could do was move on again and hope she hadn't caused too much damage already. This time though she guessed the damage was gonna bite her in the butt later.

\/\/\/\/\/

The file wasn't that informative. In fact all it said was the killer was female and very dangerous. No hint about whereabouts. No clue to the identity. Nothing useful at all.

Clint Barton closed the folder and rubbed his forehead. Director Fury had certainly given him an easy mission alright. All he had to do was find the potentially dangerous female, gather intelligence on the killer and then either bring her in or kill her himself. Simple, right?

Wrong.

He tossed the file back on top of the desk he stood in front of. Agent Coulson eyed him with an expressionless face. Clint dipped his head slightly in a sign of respect before turning around to walk out of Coulson's office. Right before he disappeared through the doorway, the older agent called out one last instruction.

"You will be on your own, and try not to get on the killer's radar."

A wary smile spread across the marksman's face. He didn't know if the last part was actual advice or Coulson's attempt at humor. Either way, he nodded to show he understood out of habit while continuing on his way. He only had a day to prepare before being deployed apparently and he needed to speak with the master spy. She might be able to finish the job he had been working on earlier.

His assassin brain was picking apart what little information he had as he searched first the practice arena then her quarters. For some reason the mission was starting to excite him. Fury's interest in the female killer was unusual to say the least and Clint was naturally curious. He began to grin at the prospect of uncovering the truth behind the troublemaker.

This was gonna be fun.

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Let me know what you think!

Lightning Mistress