Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. Only the plot and my OC.
Author's Note: Sorry about the deletion of the story! It was an accident. This is the EXACT same story as the first if you have read it already.
Beep! beep! beep! The shrill alarm clock woke me up promptly at 4:56. Slamming my hand on the clock I grudgingly got out of bed. If there was one thing I hated about my job it would be the "office" hours. I quickly dressed in a black jumpsuit and pulled my dark brown hair into a ponytail. This mission was just in and out. No time for style. Sleeping as late as possible also left no time for dressing up (though the black jumpsuit really complimented my green eyes and olive skin).
I walked quickly through the brisk fall air. New York city was quiet in the early hours of the morning. Before dawn was definitely the best time to see the beauty of my adopted hometown. When I arrived at my destination I stared at the bleak exterior. A small square building with two windows and one steel door greeted me. I began to case the joint. Reinforced walls, bulletproof windows, and no easily accessible air vents to my diminutive 5'1 self (why, oh why did genetics give me my mom's tiny frame?) . This was going to be interesting. I began running scenarios in my head. Climb through an open window? All the windows were closed, no dice. Pole vault to the roof? No pole and I don't even know how to vault. Where did that idea come from!? Break a window? There's an alarm system and that really isn't my style.
"Come on Lisha, there has to be a way in." I whispered to myself in frustration. I had run out of ideas. In a fit of desperation I tried the door. It swung open with ease. I cursed the stupid door under my breath. It should have told me it was open or given me a sign. Rude.
Once inside I was supposed to collect intel on the bank. Don't ask why. I make it a point not to know. (This was still one of my oddest jobs by far. I must admit that I was more than a little bit curious. Who needs intel on a BANK?) By this point I am sure any wayward traveler (or son) reading my book would assume that I am on the Avenger's side. You couldn't be more wrong (if you guessed right... good for you, but don't go expecting any prizes).
I'm not with HYDRA or SHIELD but I'm not with the Avengers either.I am a hired burglar (but I prefer expert treasure-hunter). Being a burglar such as myself I tend to be on the opposite side of the Avengers (you know...the bad side). Trained in the same school as Natasha Romanoff, I am a master of my art. I am hired by people all over the world to do their bidding. You could say I'm world-renowned in my sort of work. With that title comes fear of me. All my employers have heard tell that I will kill anyone who catches me at the scene of the crime. That little tidbit of information helps when it comes to being paid promptly and well.
When the door swung shut behind me the room was plunged into darkness. I groped around for a light switch and turned on the lights. With some light I discovered the entire building was deserted. There were no desks, no cubicles, no computers, nothing except for wall to wall bookshelves. At this point I was doubting my mission involved a bank. The floor sparkled and shone like nothing I had ever seen before. I was so busy trying to figure out what material the floor was made of (marble) I didn't notice a steaming cup of coffee on the floor. I tripped over it and stepped in the boiling liquid with my bare feet (it's easier to stay quiet with bare feet ok? Don't judge me).
I danced around the room in pain trying to not scream. I realized once I stepped in the coffee that I wasn't here alone. Someone had to just been here if the coffee was still this hot. Then it hit me... the Avengers, I had been involved in a rash of crimes across New York city. I was hired by the same person for all of them and the Avengers must have found a pattern in my locations. One of these great and mighty heroes was in the building that I was stealing from. Great. I may be well trained but any one of those heroes could take me down in a heartbeat.
Then I caught a whiff of the coffee. Cinnamon and nutmeg... two rather strange things to put in coffee. There was only one person I knew who put these spices in their coffee and that was Pietro Maximoff. My best friend when I lived in Sokovia (Yes, I lived in Sokovia. Yes, I have an accent. No, I will not say zebra for you). I used to tease him when he dumped a tablespoon of nutmeg and cinnamon into his coffee. Whenever I teased him he also always responded by telling me that at least his coffee didn't have sugar in it. He was being healthy. Of all the Avenger he had to be the one to catch me.
Pietro would not catch me if I could help it. I ran through the halls. All were as empty as the room I had started in. There was no blur in pursuit so I could safely assume that he was not aware I was in the building. After running through halls I ended up right back where I had started in. This time I studied the bookshelves carefully. If I was lucky there would be a secret room where I could gather intel and hide from the speedster. A large out of place book caught my eye as I was examining the shelves.
"Please be a secret door." I murmured under my breath as I pulled the book slowly. The shelf slid aside to reveal a long dark hall. I rushed in, pulling the shelf closed behind me. Breathing a sigh of relief I began walking down the mysterious hall. Suddenly I caught a whiff of cinnamon and nutmeg. Crap.
"Lisha?" Pietro's voice drifted out from farther down the hallway. In a blue flash my old friend was standing in front of me. He was fitter than I remembered him and did he bleach his hair? It was a mousey brown when we were little. His eyes are just the same. Good, I always loved those eyes. I stared at him. For once I was at a loss for words