Chapter one:
The marsh stretched out all around her. The starless sky all above her. Sirens blared in the distance. Swampy land tried to suck the small child down to its depths. She just raced through it. It was all grey, the land changed into shadows that emerged at the last second. They promised a false hiding spot from the dogs that howled and the men that hunted. The little girls arms pounded, as did her heart.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
She continued to run. A mistake would cost her her life. The water slapped and taunted the need for quiet. The mud lay sunken where her feet had landed, a beacon for those that followed. Stormy grey eyes widened as the men and dogs sounded closer. She had to go faster. The little girls arms pounded faster, as did her heart.
Badump. Badump. Badump. Badump.
A misstep. A mistake. The semi-solid land that the child raced across vanished. She pitched forward. The cold Ricknitz greeted her. All the mud was washed away. The little girl was washed away. The cold seeped in. It was merciless. The river grabbed hold of her will, of her fight, and rushed through it. The little girls arms started to flail, and then still. As did her heart.
Ba, dump. Ba, dump. Ba, dump.
The dim light from the one lamppost that sometimes flicked off and then on outside illuminated a young girl of 13 as she bolted upright. Long strands of messy blond hair clung to her forehead, the free strands seemed to drift as the lithe body heaved. One hand was under the pillow, clasped to the handle of a knife, while the other pressed against her chest as if to make sure the heart that pounded in it wasn't going to leap out.
The blond glanced down at her hand, a luminous white in the pale light, and sighed. She unclenched the hand clutched around the knife and stood, her arms angled upwards as she stretched and looked around her tiny apartment. Eyes widened as if everything was too close, the girl fumbled blindly around herself until her hands knocked against a pair of thick glasses. She pulled them on and took another look, alerted for anything out of the ordinary.
In one corner, lay a single, well used mattress on an old and worn bedpost. There was a dresser that was missing one of its legs in one corner, angled so that it faced the bed. Closest to the door was the stove, fridge, bench and pantry. A door led to a small bathroom, with a toilet and shower that functioned well enough. The bathroom sink didn't work.
After the girl made sure that her apartment was all in order, she headed through the door into a space that wouldn't make a claustrophobic person feel happy. She turned on the shower, not caring what setting it was put on as it always ran cold, and spread a thumb across the tattoo on her inner right wrist. She read it for the umpteenth time and silently said her name in her head. RICCA. SUBJECT 57.
Ricca jerked herself from her thoughts by stepping into the bone chilling water. She gasped and then got to work, hands skimmed over the scarred body to rub off the horror sweat from the nightmare. Under the cold blast of water was the only place where Ricca didn't have to think. Being chilled prevented that.
After her needs had been taken care of, the blond headed back into the main room and laid down onto her bed. She pulled a slightly bulky suitcase out from under her bed, surprisingly muscular arms tensed to lift the heavy weight. The case was old, black and nondescript. A perfect carry-case for all things important to the girl.
With a dull click the top popped up and was swung around until it hit the mattress. A slender finger with a roughened pad lightly traced over the small curve of the compound bow that nestled there. Those very fingers tightened on the grip of the bow and lifted it out. Ricca gingerly ran her spare hand over the strings of the twin cam and drew it back smoothly. She placed it down and turned her attention to the other contents of the suitcase, pleased at the smoothness of the draw.
There was a USB device nestled in the dark, spongy material, as well as a small black device with a glistening screen. Both were picked up and a small latch on the device was unhooked, revealing a USB port. Once the USB was inserted, the stone like surface lit up and projected an image of a face.
Ricca gazed into eyes the same shape and shade as her own, her face smoothed out to erase every emotion from it. Tidy black print labelled the man, the words "Clinton Francis Barton, HAWKEYE" taunted the girl, so she clicked the black arrow to go to the page she was previously on. The face with the same eyes and overall serious look that was echoed on the Ricca's face disappeared and revealed the detailed plans of a building. Included beside the building were other plans, less detailed than the first, of another building. On both plans all of the exits, entrances and windows were highlighted, just in case a quick escape was needed.
Ricca zoomed into the more detailed plan and clicked around. She formed several paths up to the roof and back down, in case of emergency. The easiest were highlighted in green and avoided all forms of security. The few that she planned for an emergency were highlighted in red. The young girl set those routes into her mind, memorized and ready to use for tonight.
Tonight. That one word bounced around in her head as she turned off the home-made device and took out the USB so that they could be set in their foam for safety. Ricca's hands were sure and steady as she grasped the bow, doing one last once over to make sure that everything about her weapon was perfect.
No better time to make my move than tonight, Ricca thought. Her grey eyes glinted coldly behind their frames as they studied the perfect curve of the bow. She placed the bow into its case and stood, her catlike body silent as it moved, and reached the kitchen. She grabbed a quick breakfast that consisted of an apple and a "one square meal" bar and made sure to include a bottle of water.
Her meagre meal for the day in a backpack shrugged over a shoulder and briefcase carrying her weapon in another hand, Ricca left the tiny, but tidy, apartment. Tonight someone would die, and it wasn't going to be her.
The party was a controlled affair from what Ricca saw from her vantage point on the roof of the other building. She amused herself as she watched this upper-class gathering start to disintegrate when Tony Stark and his entourage, two unfamiliar men and one very familiar one.
The archer positioned herself so she had a clear view of one of the large windows, but was still hidden by the shadows, so that no one from the party would see her. As Clint Barton walked into her view, she picked up her bow and an arrow. Her fingers slipped along its length until a small compartment opened with a dull click. A rolled piece of paper when inside and it was closed again, the metal shaft smooth and flawless. Ricca's glasses were gently placed on the case beside her, her far sighted eyes needed now more than in daily life.
Her bow notched and drawn, Ricca slowed her breathing and listened to her heart beat. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Clint's back was to her's, his shoulders drawn and posture awkward under the tuxedo. He was talking to a man and all of his tells said that he would rather be anywhere but there.
Her target acquired and arrow positioned to take him out, Ricca stilled and focused her mind. A good sniper always shot between heartbeats, and that was exactly what she planned to do. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba- Twang.
Her target fell, the arrow protruded from his forehead. Ricca quickly packed up as screams from the party rung out and alerted everyone within hearing distance that something bad had just happened.
Glasses on, bow packed away and no evidence of her ever being there, the blond left quickly. Her mission for the night was done. That man would no longer kill another, just because his boss didn't like them.
Hello all~!
Please don't get too attached to this story, as updates will most likely be months between each other. I love criticism, so don't hesitate to leave me a message!