Agent Clint Barton of S.H.I.E.L.D was curious. Which, needless to say, usually wasn't good. That, coupled with the slight excitement that coursed through his veins, was usually very bad – well, for a few people. Usually, those few people ended up dead.
But, this wasn't the usual way he got his missions. Most of the time, Clint received a dossier in his assigned bunk on the Helicarrier, followed up by a briefing with Coulson.
Today though, he was going to be briefed by Nick Fury which meant this was an important, and more than likely highly dangerous mission, which was bound to be fun and a break from the dreary life in this particular S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Hence the curiosity.
"Agent Barton. You took your time," Director Fury said, a calm expression on his face as Clint entered a large room. The room was mostly bare, with only a glass table with a couple of chairs between them.
Clint surveyed the area quickly. A window looked out to the main control station of the Helicarrier. Clint stood in front of the only door. He couldn't help it. Looking out for himself first and foremost was a reflex. He sat down.
Clint played along, just wanting to find out what was in store for him. "My apologises sir. I'm not used to being briefed for missions like this."
"This is no ordinary mission agent. You're getting this mission because I have a hunch. Thing is, I also have a hunch that you won't be impressed," Fury continued.
Clint figured that translated to, Cut the crap. You're not going to like this mission but tough shit, you have to do it.
He became apprehensive.
Fury slid a file across the table. Clint raised an eyebrow, but pulled it towards him and flicked it open. It contained information on a woman who, judging from the picture was at least Natasha's age. She looked slightly familiar. He looked up at Fury.
"You want me to kill her?"
"Not exactly. That, Agent Barton, is Sarah Smith, also known as Leah Wayne, Amelia Smith and Sarah Walker. Or Ghost, the best thief in the world. And she wants to sign up to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Clint knew why she looked familiar now. He'd heard about her. If he was correct, which he usually was, Natasha had run into her before.
"What's she got to do with me?"
"We want you to train her -"
Clint became alarmed. Fury couldn't be serious, could he? He was an assassin, a spy, not a damn daycare. He was not going to look after some new agent. He had better things to do with his time.
"With all due respect sir, I'm a fighter, not a babysitter."
"See, the way you're acting now doesn't show too much respect. Let me finish," Fury said sternly. Clint reluctantly held his tongue.
"You've read the file on the island William Stryker ran, the one where he experimented on mutants. Hell, since Captain America, people haven't stopped experimenting on each other. You remember the explosion of Joseph Cane's facility in Canada," Fury stated, clearly building up to something.
"And?" Clint knew he should probably shut his trap, but right now, manners weren't top of his list. Not the best idea when dealing with Fury.
Fury let it pass however. "She was in that facility. If she's to be believed, she caused the explosion. Her story is that they experimented on her since she was born. She may also be a natural mutant."
Clint groaned. He now remembered what Natasha had told him about this woman specifically. "I know what she can do. So you want me to look after some moron scientist's mess?"
"Yes," Fury said straight out. "Apparently, she's not even completely sure of what happened, but you know how it goes. The experimentation left some side effects.."
"And if I recall correctly, she became an assassin and master thief for hire. A good one too if what Agent Romanoff said was accurate, and I've never known her to be anything but. So why does she need training?" Clint asked mockingly, his anger simmering.
"I believe she can be trusted, but the Council want verification. I've heard she finds taking orders difficult. Reminds me of you so, in theory, you should be able to sort her out. And we want to keep her contained, just in case, so that's why you're going to be the only agent training her," Fury surmised.
Clint figured this meant he was going to be grounded for a long while. Stuck on a base with no missions. "You know I see better from a distance. Why do we need her?"
"You said it yourself. You know what she does. She could be a huge asset to this organisation and she's volunteering," Fury continued. Clint found it hard to argue, because it was true. He probably would've supported the idea if he didn't have to be the one to babysit the newbie.
Clint realised he had no choice and his hands were tied. Fury had made his decision before Clint even walked into the room.
He was going to have to do it, but he was determined to make sure damn well everybody knew he wasn't happy as he leaned back in his chair.
"So you're planning on eventually replacing us with shinier, super-human models?" Fury rolled his eyes at Clint's snide remark.
"No. But she could be the first to help us officially."
Clint avoided Fury's gaze, still angry even though he knew he had no right to be. He should be emotionless. He quickly calmed himself.
"You have been given a mission agent. You will follow it through."
"… Yes sir," Clint gave in aloud, but a plan formed in his head. Fury's stern look evaporated as he smirked.
"And don't even think about saying she doesn't need training. You're to complete three missions with her before you say she's satisfactory."
Damn. Fury had read his mind. And had the gumption to look amused about it.
"I've known you long enough to work that one out Barton. This goes well and I have another mission lined up and ready," that's all Fury would say to him. It seemed his rudeness had been forgiven though.
Clint walked briskly out of the room, file in hand. He would accept the mission, though he wasn't sure how he felt about it.
Well, he knew he felt slightly incredulous, sceptical, disbelieving. Mostly because they avoided the big ass elephant that had been in the room.
That was Clint had no idea how he was supposed to control her. She could turn invisible. If that couldn't be considered an asset, he didn't know what could.
I don't own any characters or settings you recognise.