Location: Somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness
Bitter wind whipped harshly against the restricting wool coat of a lone sniper perched carefully in an old pine tree derived of most of its needles from the insistent wind over its many years. Doing his best to ignore the harsh cold, the sniper huddled closer to the inner warmth of the coat while keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of movement below. A pack of wolves roamed beneath his tree on the scent of prey brought to them by the ever-present wind. The sun dipped below the horizon though it had only been up in its place for a few short hours. Blinking against the sudden glare brought from the sun bouncing off of the snow clothing all of nature, the sniper adjusted his scope accordingly with his changing scenery.
The lone building cutting off the wildness of the landscape sat a few hundred feet from the sniper's tree. Its grey siding did nothing but help it blend into the background. It was not a large compound: four buildings spaced evenly inside a twenty-five foot wall with a barbed-wire, electric fence surrounding the top, and alert armed guards every twenty feet for security purposes. Turrets stood ready with eager gunmen at their helms, just waiting for the sniper to make any movement to give his position away. Normally a place so heavily guarded would be home to a nuclear or biochemical weapon of some sort; ever since aliens had landed, however, that upped the stakes on what could be lurking in the depths of the compound. Partially dissected corpses, alien weapons as old as the earth hanging mockingly on the cold dungeon-like walls, gruesome experiments being performed on humans nailed down to a wooden slab, all these thoughts rushed through the sniper's mind causing him to shiver. If it had not been for his training and quick reflexes, the rifle would have dropped from his hands onto a head of a still lurking wolf.
Sighing, the sniper moved slightly in the tree once more as a branch had begun digging into his back. At least he wasn't being paid to infiltrate the place, all he had to do was keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Although, if you asked him, the entire compound was suspicious and should be blown off the face of the earth immediately. He would have called in and asked his commanding officers why they didn't just drop a nuke on the place but he was just a soldier, it wasn't his place to question orders, not that he hadn't tried before. The sniper considered himself a reasonable man and it didn't quite stand to reason that you should blow up an entire military facility based on a nervous feeling, but the Battle of New York had changed everything. Better just get the alien stuff out of the way and return to normal.
The Battle had been one hectic event after another with barely any time to think. Did you focus on killing the creepy giant whales with motorcycle-riding cyborg henchmen, or did you save the civilians? It was impossible to do both unless you were some sort of superhero, which the sniper knew he wasn't. And what was with all of the aliens just fizzing out and dying as soon as a nuclear bomb blew up in the universe? The fighting ought to have lasted for a few more days, not end suddenly while your heart was still pumping adrenaline, that was just taking kills right out of people's hardworking hands.
An unlucky raven landed on the electric fence, letting out an ear-piercing screech as volts of electricity rushed through its small body in an instant, frying the creature. Dropping with a dulled thud onto the ground below, the wolf pack quickly ran to the carcass, though it would not be enough to feed one of them. Watching the feeding frenzy below him in earnest as it was the only interesting thing to happen all day, the sniper remained forever clueless to the black arrow that punched right through the Kevlar jacket and plunged directly into his heart.
Soon, the wolves would be well-fed after all.
Perched high up in the eaves of the only tower of the compound, a lone agent quietly surveyed the still landscape. Men were moving slowly through their routines that never varied day-to-day though none of them ever seemed to mind. The ten guards posted along each wall of the compound stood lazily about, practically leaning on their rifles as they chatted idly with one another to pass the time until their shift ended. Shifting his gaze to the turrets along the front wall, the agent was again displeased to see the lax position of the gunmen who would never be ready to fire their weapons if the enemy were to appear suddenly. Holding in a deep sigh of frustration at the uselessness of the men he had been stuck with, the agent filed away a memo in his mind to once again discuss the irresponsibility of the soldiers with the commanding officer, though he expected it to end in a shouting match like last time. Weren't training facilities supposed to be training people?
Moving his eyes and his mind outward to the landscape of the Alaskan wilderness, nothing notable caught his eye. Nothing, that is, except for the one sniper trying his best to remain hidden: the agent had seen him days ago, however, and had yet to make a move as planning ways to catch the man off-guard had been the only thing to occupy his time this past week. The sniper obviously had some sort of training, though from the state of his "hiding" place, the agent guessed the man hadn't been trained in the military and was most likely just a hired gun who assumed he was good enough to hide in a tree for a few days and make a decent amount of money spying on a military base. The sniper's plan had been flawed from the moment he began climbing his current tree five days ago. Firstly, he never moved his position. Secondly, he was, from the agent's viewpoint, in direct view of the sun making it difficult for him to hit anything properly, and yet it made it all that easier to shoot him since the sun glistened off of his rifle's barrel. Finally, the idiot man continued fidgeting, shaking the tree whenever he became the least bit uncomfortable. To be fair, the poor man probably had not expected there to be a SHIELD agent watching his every move, just waiting for his day to become boring enough to warrant finally shooting the terrible spy.
A single raven decided to end its life by landing unknowingly upon the only working section of a ten-year old electric fence. Somehow, to the agent's slight amusement, the fence managed to produce enough shock to simply stun the bird into letting out a small shriek of surprise before fluttering down to the ground below, deciding that the wolves were a safer bet than a shocking fence. Obliviously, the guards continued staring out at the same patch of snow twenty-five feet below them, never knowing the plight of the raven.
"Barton," the gruff voice of a stern and weary commander drifted through on the agent's earpiece, "guess your service is up. A message came through for you to 'return to HQ', wherever that is." Annoyed that the mystery man who showed up only two months ago got to leave before him, the commander shut off the communications before the agent could even respond. Sighing in resignation at what waited back at base, the agent stowed his rifle back into its case. Standing swiftly, he pulled a bow out of its holster on his back, nocked an arrow, and sighted down at the sniper staring off at the wolves eating one raven.
There was no telling how long it would have taken the guards on the wall to notice the sniper in the trees if the sniper hadn't tumbled from his position with a single black arrow sticking out of him. The dark red of the blood contrasted nicely with the dull landscape.