A/N: Happy Birthday to Me!

Welcome to my one-shot. Set four years before "The Avengers" and is OC centered. Clint/OC friendship at the end.

Not beta'd, but proofread – any and all mistakes are mine. And the cover art is mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers, only my OC who's name you will know by the end of this story.

Firestorm

Four Years Ago

I walked down the wet New York streets as the rain slowly soaked my clothes, a steady drizzle fell on my body as I made my way to my destination. A black hood was pulled loosely over my head, covering my jet black hair and my boots sent out a padding sound in the water beneath me. My hands were shoved deep in my jacket pockets and I kept gaze low avoiding any contact with whoever was out this late.

My name is Spencer Wright and I'm seventeen. And yes, I'm a girl.

The rain began to fall down on me harder now and I quickened my pace. A run down building on my left appeared and I made my way towards it, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. Once I was inside, I removed my hood and walked to the back of the large area where a man in a navy blue suit was waiting for me.

"What's a young, pretty face like you doing a job like this?" he asked cutting to the chase. He already knew who I was so there was no need for me to introduce myself. And I could care less about who he was; it was of no importance to me.

"It pays well." I replied with a steady voice. After only a couple years of doing this job, I learned to put my emotions aside along with anything else that might hinder me from doing it right the first time.

"How do I know you can fulfill my needs?" the man asked in a deep accented voice. I'm sure I could tell you where he was from, but I don't think that's relevant at this time.

"You clearly have seen my work," I said smoothly. "Or else you wouldn't have contacted me in the first place."

"Yes, I have. Very impressive I must say for someone of your age." the man stood up and began to circle me, like a shark stalking its prey. He was so close, I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I kept my eyes forward and narrowed, not letting him think that he was intimidating me. "Are all my problems solved?"

"Your problems are solved-" I paused and looked him straight in the eye. "when I succeed. And I never miss."

"You have something in you, Miss. Wright. A fire of sorts."

"This fires been lit for a long time."

"So it has." the man returned to his seat and snapped his fingers. Not even a second later, a man in sunglasses and a suit walked over to me with a black briefcase. He opened it and reviled stacks of money – only 20 and 50 dollar bills and one sheet of paper that held the directions to my assignment.

"Half now, half later when the job is complete." said the man with the accent. "you have three hours."

"I won't be that long," I said taking the now closed case in my hands. I turned around without another word and exited the building. The rain was falling harder now and I was drenched to the skin once I was outside. Walking back the way I came, I made my way back to my black and silver Chevy Camaro. Popping the trunk, I place the briefcase inside before removing a medium sized backpack. Closing the door once I was finished, I got inside the car and started the engine, setting the case on the passenger seat beside me.

The clock inside my car read 2:03am. I had plenty of time to complete my job. I knew it wouldn't take me that long.

I pulled out of the back alley and drove off towards my next destination, only the sounds of the rain tapping on my windshield and flowing beneath my tires accompanied me down the road.

Not even ten minutes later, I pulled up to a house. With a tall gated fence. Guarded by men who were heavily armed. A smile crept across my face.

This would be fun.

After parking my car three blocks away, I stepped out and pulled my hood over my head and began my short journey to the home I saw before. I gave another glance to the sheet of paper that was included in my briefcase, before placing it in the back pocket of my jeans.

The backyard of the house came into my sight, the outside dimly lit by lights in the lawn. Making my way over, I ducked behind a shrub across the street before climbing a tree. Once I found to be at a right height, I removed the items from my bag and laid down on a branch that would hold my weight and was long enough for me to lay on my stomach.

Screwing a silencer onto my weapon, I looked through my scope until I found my target.

I spotted him on the second floor of his home, hunched over his laptop, his back towards me, typing away in the early morning hours. The office he occupied was lit by only a desk lamp and the window was fully opened. Taking my eyes off of him for only a second, I noticed that the guards that rounded into the back talking to each other through the comms on their shoulders. Making up my mind I looked back through the scope and took a deep breath – right before I pulled the trigger.

The bullet ripped through the air before striking the man. He fell forward, dead, before he hit the desk.

I was breathing deeply, but quietly as I watched the men below me finish their conversation. Either they just didn't hear the shot from my weapon (yes, I know I had a silencer on. But it does not mute the thing.) or they weren't paying attention. Whatever the case, it took them two minutes before realized something was wrong. Must be the type of guards who are always in touch with whom they protect.

Four, no five armed men rushed into the house weapons at the ready. I took this as my chance to make my exit. Dismantling my own weapon, I secured them in my bag, before slinging it onto my back. I glanced down to the ground from my spot in the tree to make sure that it was clear before jumping down, landing expertly on the balls of my feet in a crouched position.

Standing up, I made my way back to my car, listening to the distance voices of the guards. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 2:43 am. I had plenty of time to spare.

Once at my Camaro, I dumped my things into the passenger seat and took off for the building at was at not all that long ago. The adrenalin was coursing through my veins like it always did.

When I reached the old area, I took off my hood and went to enter the building when all of the sudden I got this feeling like someone watching me. I looked over my shoulder and squinted through the still pouring rain, but the dark skies and lack of street lights prevented me from seeing anything that wasn't two feet away from my face. Sighing and shaking my head, I ignored my feelings for the time being and went inside.

"Are you sure this is the person we're after?" Agent Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, asked as he looked through the inferred binoculars on the edge of a building across the street. The rain had long since matted his hair against his head and his clothes were drenched as well. "She seems," he paused trying to find the right word. "..young."

"Director Fury was specific with this one, Barton." Agent Phil Coulson replied. "SHIELD has no want or need of her and she needs to be charged for her crimes by the FBI. No matter her age."

Clint put the binoculars away and looked at Coulson. "When are we going to make our move?"

"You need to find out who her next target is, stop her, and hand her over to the feds."

"Just like that?" Agent Barton went to his backpack and removed a small device that would allow him to listen in on the conversation going on the street below, ignoring the fact that Coulson was leaving him to do this job alone. "Seems a bit easy. Even for something SHIELD wants done."

"Just because that's the plan, doesn't mean it'll be a cake walk. It never is." Phil said. "Once you get the needed info, meet me back at the base. We'll go on from there." with that, Agent Coulson was gone. Leaving Clint to complete the first step of the mission to himself.

"I must say, I underestimated your abilities upon first glance." the man with the accent said as I walked up to him. "Might I ask where you came to possess such skills?"

I narrowed my blue eyes and straightened my back. It was clear what my answer was.

"No matter, you've done what I've needed." he walked towards me and smiled. "But only halfway,"

"Halfway?" I questioned with a slight tilt of my head. "I got your man just like you wanted. Now I want the rest of my payment."

"You don't understood, Miss. Tonight was only part of what I wanted done. I only need your services for one more event."

I took a deep breath and looked the man in the eyes. "What else do you need?"

"There's a Gala tomorrow night in honor of a man who's family has given me problems over the years." the man said slowly. "They took something of mine that I'd very much like back. And I know he just won't hand it over, so you'll have to persuade him."

I smiled. Surely accepting this won't be that bad. "Just tell me where I'm going."

The next day went by fast - mostly because I slept until well after three in the afternoon. (For some reason, I'd been sleeping longer than normal. I used to be fine with six or seven hours and now I was working off of at least ten.) Pushing the thought to the back of my head, I got out of my bed in the hotel I was staying at and went to get a hot shower.

Once I was done, I went to the closet and removed a garment bag with my dress for tonight in it. The clock on my bedside nightstand read a quarter after five. The Gala was at seven o'clock, invite only. That was no problem.

I took my time on my hair that reached the middle of my back, curling it loosely before letting it fall around my head. I'm not one for makeup, but to play the part I chose a neutral color lipstick and silver eye liner. I walked over to my bed and took out my dress, (or gown if you prefer to call it) – a floor length, strapless, forest green a-line. I topped it off with a silver leather jacket, a black shoulder bag and finally slipped on a pair of silver heels.

(Now, before I go any further, have you noticed how much I love the color silver? No? Well, I do. Just wanted to point that out.)

I hate wearing dresses and heels – they hinder your movements so much and I personally don't like how much skin the sleeveless ones show. (I've never worn a short dress before, so I can't speak on that matter.) But hey, I can't complain about it. I have a job to do. And after tonight I'm heading out of the country.

I made it to the Gala in no time, easily getting past the guards and security with a legitimately borrowed ID. My eyes now a green (Thank you colored contacts!) that stood out with my dress helping sell the fact that I was now pretending to be someone named Claire Mills. Apparently she works real close with the man I'm after, if you know what I mean. Don't worry, I'll be long gone by the time she wakes up.

I love a good challenge, but this seemed a bit too easy. So far.

I recalled the information I was given last night over in my head. The man I was after was going around the room, where he'd be personally thanking the people for coming. After that, he'd would have the meal served, give a speech and a toast, before revealing some lost artifact. That's what I was after.

The night went on accordingly. I made small take with people I didn't know as I protected my cover and I slowly began to make my way to the back room where I'd make my move, but not until I dumped a mild, harmless paralyzing power into the man of the hours wine.

"Claire?" a voice asked. Stopping what I was doing, I put forth my best smile and turned around to face a man who couldn't have been 25 years old. He had black hair and a freshly shaven face, with brown eyes as well. I replied, "Mr. Maxwell. You sure know how to throw a Gala."

"Now, now, we aren't in the office. Call me Jason while we're here."

"Very well, Jason." I replied. We continued on our way, giving interviews to many of the News Channels that were there to cover the night. I'd crammed in a bit of research over the night so I wasn't completely lost out there, but since Jason was doing most of the talking, all I had to do was smile and nod. Over and over and over again for what have to been 30 minutes straight.

Finally, I managed to pull him away as I noticed that dinner would soon be served. We found our way to our table and took our seats. The meal consisted of New York strip, Russian potatoes, green beans and wine. This being the first real meal I've come near in a few weeks, I savored every bit because I knew it wouldn't last long. Jason Maxwell finished his plate and washed the last bit of food down with some water

"Are you ready for your big moment, Jason?" I questioned smoothly, allowing a waiter to pour him a glass of wine before he went up on stage. I could hear a person introducing him on stage as we spoke, so I had to move fast.

"You know I've been looking forward to this night for over a year, Claire." Jason answered.

"Well then go knock 'em dead, Tiger." I said, referring to a nickname the real Claire Mills uses. Slowly I leaned towards him and kissed his lips, at the same time I poured a white power into his wine, knowing it would dissolve before he took notice. A light shone on us and a loud applause broke out, I backed out of our kiss and gently pushed him towards the stage after handing over his drink.

I cleared my throat and waited for the right time to make my move. Jason started off with some childhood story and continued on with how he graduated college at seventeen years of age. No, I wasn't really listening to him; I did my research. I waited and waited. Scanning the room for anything and everything, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when the moment presented itself, or laughing at whatever jokes he made.

Then Jason raised his glass and spoke his closing remarks. The room followed his lead and raised their own glasses before everyone took their own sips. That was all I needed.

Taking a drink of my water, I watched as Jason Maxwell swayed behind the podium while his half full glass of wine tipped out of his hand and shattered to the ground. There were audible gasps and murmurs around me as the man of the hour fell to the stage floor. Camera flashes lit up the room and security guards ran to get control of the situation before it got out of hand. A woman in a sleek red dress ran up to the stage and stopped when she reached Jason's side. She called out directions to a few men in tuxes and one of them pulled out a cell phone, most likely calling an ambulance.

This was my chance.

I faded into the back of the crowd that slowly gathered around the stage before slipping through a rear door. There was a major ruckus going on outside but I paid them no mind. I was making good time and if I kept with my plan, I'd be out of the country before midnight.

I followed a rather long hallway with many turns until I reached the back room. I tried the handle only to find it locked. Really? I mean for once, they couldn't just 'forget' to succor a fairly important room which was suppose to prevent people - like me - from stealing (or repossessing) a priceless artifact? Nope. That seemed to be too much to ask. I removed a lock-picking set from a holder on my leg and was inside the room in no time. The door opened with a creak and I sighed with happiness.

(And for those of you who are worrywarts, Mr. Maxwell will more than likely be alright. Like I said, that stuff is harmless.. unless someone gives him a shot of, say, adrenaline for whatever reason. But they wouldn't do that. Right?)

Anyway, there, right in front of me, stood a statute made of diamonds. It was kinda shaped like a wand; but at the same time it looked like a small, tall gauntlet. I'll admit, the sight of it was amazing and for a split second I wondered where it originated and how much I could get for it. Oh, well. I didn't care where it was from, all I cared was getting the rest of my payment and getting to London. I smiled and carefully grabbed the artifact before placing it in my shoulder bag. The night had gone smoother that I imagined, that was until I turned around and bumped into a man.

I looked up and met his eyes.

"Spencer Wright?" he asked. I kept my face emotionless and replied. "I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong person." I attempted to slide by him, but he held out his left arm and prevented me from doing so. With a quick glance I noticed he had a weapon holstered on his left hip.

"I'm sure I don't." he said calmly.

I stepped back and took the sight of him in. He was about my height, had brown hair and eyes to match. He wore some kind of uniform. One I've never seen before. "Well I-" I started.

"Your coming with me," he interrupted me. I attempted to walk by him as he spoke but he swiftly grabbed my arm with a gloved hand. In a flash I twisted my body away from him, effectively knocking him off balance. I tried to make a run for it through the open door of the room, but he pushed over a glass table to trip me as I wasn't expecting it. I stumbled to the floor in a heap and watched as my bag and the artifact escaped my grasp.

I rolled to the side, avoiding another strike from the man. For a split second I felt shards of glass bite into my skin, but I ignored the pain and jumped to my feet and grabbed a couple pieces of glass in my hands to use as a weapon.

The man had drawn a weapon of his own now as well; a bow and arrow. Seriously? Who uses those nowadays? He notched an arrow on the string and fired. I bent backwards just in time and watched it sail inches over my head. Not having time to admire my quick reflexes, I ducked behind a desk as soon as another arrow flew my way. This time, I wasn't quick enough as I felt the head cut deep across my bicep. I held back a cry of pain, not letting the man know that he hit me. Taking this time to steady my breathing, I used a shard of glass to cut my dress to be at my mid thigh so that I could move around easier. I took my heels off as well and slowly began to move around my hiding spot in a crouched position.

I peaked over the desk and saw the man walking to the other side of the room where I just was, an arrow notched on the string and ready to fire. Coming out from where I was, I slowly crept up behind him and reached for his weapon that was holstered on his person. At the same time of my grabbing his weapon, he sensed my presence and threw his right elbow back into my head. The blow dazed me for sure, therefore causing me to release the weapon, as I fell to the ground. He continued to land blow after blow on me; mostly my midsection before pinning my arms above my head.

My eyes started to regain focus and I saw a some kind of symbol on his chest, just above his heart. I'd never seen it before, and believe me when I say that's something because I've come in contact with nearly every form of Agency on the planet while doing this job one way or another. Whoever this guy is working for, I've never heard of them.

It looked like this man was about to read me my rights or something when suddenly a bright flash, followed by an echoing boom filled the room. The blast knocked the man off of me and I heard him groan a few feet to my right. Rolling onto my stomach, I took a few shaky breathes before standing to my feet. The images I saw when my sight fully returned was not what I was expecting.

"Ah, Miss. Wright." the man with the accent greeted me. Behind him, ten maybe fifteen, armed guards stood opposite of me; their weapons pointed right at my chest. "I honestly didn't think you'd make it as far as you did."

Still slightly dazed from the blow to my head earlier, I didn't reply. "No matter. You no longer are of any use to me anymore." he said while gesturing with his hand. It took me awhile to dissect what he had said and did and what he meant when a force knock me over just as a spray of bullets tore through the air where I was just standing. I shook my head before turning to the man on my side. I questioned "What is your problem? First you try to kill me now you save me?" I pushed him away and looked out from where we lay.

The man answered me saying, "I wasn't sent to kill you, Miss. Wright."

"Then why are you coming after me?" More bullets soared over our heads before he got a chance to answer. He jumped up and returned fire, then came back down.

"I was sent to turn you over to the Feds." he said bluntly. Hm. Can't say I was expecting that reply – really I wasn't expecting him to reply at all. Figured he'd give me the cold shoulder or something. The man unloaded another mag towards my attackers and I heard a few thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Discarding the empty mag onto the ground, the slammed a fresh one in its place and cocked it before handing it to me. "I trust you know how to use this?" I nodded and took the weapon from his hand without a word. I heard something snap into place and I turned around briefly and saw the man notching an arrow onto his bow. Where it came from, I don't know. Now was not the time to ask.

Taking a deep breath, I came out from my spot on the floor and fired at the group in front of me, at the same time, arrows wizzed by me, both striking the men in the chest. I ducked behind a bookshelf and checked to see how many rounds I had left. The man with the accent called out to me saying, "Did you really think I couldn't get what I needed myself, Miss. Wright?"

"I never cared what you thought," I called out. "but I now know that you don't like getting your hands dirty with as many goons you showed up with tonight. All for me? You really shouldn't have."

"I'd say that is where you are wrong," there was a pause and I could only wonder what that man was up to. I held my weapon low and ready when without a warning of any kind the bookshelf I was resting behind tipped over. I recognized this right away and jumped out of the way in the nick of time. But in doing so, I exposed myself in the open; and that was what the man with the accent wanted.

The sound of a shot being fired brought me to my senses. At first I wasn't sure what had happened, but then I felt a burning sensation engulf my right side. The gun felt heavy in my hand and I let it crash to the floor just as another burst of pain consumed me. At the same time, I looked up and saw my attacker slump to the floor, with an arrow in his back. The pain intensified and my hand went to cover my wounds, I could feel myself falling to my knees while the taste of copper filled my mouth. Black spots danced in front of my eyes and the whole room swayed. I felt someone catch my body and gently laid me on the floor, propping my head in the crook of their arm.

My breathing was rapid and my heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to go to sleep badly, but a persistent slapping against my face prevented me from getting there.

"C'mon Miss. Wright. I need you to stay awake." a voice said. I strained to open my eyes from their closed state and saw the man from earlier leaning closer to me. Would now be a bad time to ask his name?

I wasn't sure how long I laid there, fighting to stay conscious, but all of the sudden the room was swarmed with men in suits.

"Mays is dead," the man holding me said. Mays? So that's what his name was. He was holding a conversation with one of the suited men, but I was too tired to listen any further.

Pressure on my side caused me to gasp and I tried my best to move away from the pain, but the person had a firm grip (or I was just that weak from blood loss.) and my motions only caused more agony.

The edges around my vision began to blur and I welcomed the darkness as it overcame me.

Agent Clint Barton stood in the hallway of a secret SHIELD base, peering into a room. His arms were folded across his chest and the blinking of his eyes was the only indication of his being alive.

Three days had passed since the incident in NYC. Three days of debriefing and explaining to Director Nick Fury why a seventeen year old was now fighting for her life in the SHIELD med ward, instead of paying for her crimes in a federal penitentiary. Three days of wondering if the call he made was the right one.

"You need to get some fresh air, Clint." a voice said behind the archer. His eyes didn't move from the bed on the other side of the glass but he replied, "Did you talk to Fury about my proposition?" he asked ignoring the statement from Agent Coulson.

The other agent sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I did. He had just finished a meeting with the council and they made it very clear that they want her terminated right away. Fury-"

Clint interrupted him and faced Phil saying, "I don't care what the council thinks, Coulson. This girl needs another chance; and we can give it to her. Let me talk to-"

Phil held up his hand signaling the other man to stop ranting. "Fury hardly agrees with the council, but thinks they might be right. He still believes that SHIELD has no use of her skill set, but is willing to give her a chance. Under one condition,"

"What's that?"

"Fury wants you to be the one to train her." Phil said. "I haven't heard anything from the doctors, but if she survives this, it'll take a lot to take bring her around to SHIELD standards. I've done some digging since she first appeared on our radar over this last year and from what I could access, her past isn't something she'd be proud of."

Clint removed his gaze from the girl and answered. "What about the council? If we keep her alive they'll know about it."

"You leave that to me." Phil gave Clint a smile and left the archer to his own thoughts.

An annoying beeping sound brought me from my empty dreams. I tried to reach out to hit the off button, but my arms weren't responding. A groan reached my ears and for a what felt like a really long minute I wondered who it came from – then I realized it came from me. Struggling with what little energy I possessed, I forced my led heavy eyes to open.

The first thing I noticed was white – as in white walls. White floors. In a corner stood a small restroom. There was one window and one door stood to the right of me, and other than the machines I was hooked up to, that was it. No pictures or anything. Talk about bland.

I clinched my teeth and used my arms to push myself up more on the bed, wincing when I felt a tug on my arm. I looked down and saw a white bandage tight wrapped around my bicep. Flashes from that night flew across my vision and I remembered an arrow. . .

I ripped the wires off of my chest and IV out of my wrist and oxygen out of my nose before swinging my legs off the bed. A dull pain was still evident on me, but I pushed it aside and stood on my feet. The room swayed and twisted at first, but after a few shaky breathes it settled enough for me to press on. I took in what I wore - black scrub pants and a white tank top before heading for the restroom. Once there, I lifted my shirt so that my torso was exposed.

Gauze was wrapped thickly around my torso and I slowly began to undo it. When I was finished, I took in the sight of what was covered up.

Small cuts and many bruises littered my arms, shoulders and torso. A three inch wound on the right side of my stomach, right below my ribs was stitched up. It was a little red around the edges, but other that that, seemed to be healing nicely. Another wound, only a few inches higher, was stitched up as well. Though it was a little bit smaller, it looked a lot worse. I turned around and used the mirror so that I could see my back and saw a third wound in the same condition and height as the second one. I didn't have time to think about that one because someone broke the silence.

"You really shouldn't be out of bed yet," I jumped and turned around at the same time which was a bad idea. Black spots danced happily in front of my eyes and I gripped the closest thing to me so tight I was sure my knuckles were turning white. I felt a hand grab my shoulder before leading me out of the restroom and into a chair. I wrapped my left arm around my right side and waited a few seconds to pass before my vision cleared.

"Here, drink this." the voice said. I took the offered glass of water and drank slowly, savoring every drop until the cup was empty. The person took my cup and sat it down on a table nearby, when he turned around, I recognized him as the man with the bow and arrow. He was even wearing the same uniform I didn't recognize. My guard went up.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said. I narrowed my eyes and wondered how he knew what I was thinking. He spoke again before I could question him. "Your facial expressions changed when you saw me. Your breathing hitched and if you were still hooked up to that heart monitor, I'm sure it would show an accelerated rate as well."

Not expecting any straight answers - or answers at all - I asked, "Where am I?"

"That's not important right now," the nameless man replied.

"How long was I out?" I tried again.

"Eight days." he pulled up another chair and sat down in front of me before continuing. "You were shot twice; the first bullet missed your kidney by a centimeter and nicked an artery. The doctors fixed it up without any problems. The second bullet was a through and through, cracking two ribs which then punctured your lung."

On the outside, my expression held nothing. My face didn't change and my breathing was pretty even. But on the inside, I had so many questions racing through my mind. Wanting answers I knew these people wouldn't give me.

"So what now?" I finally said hanging my head so my chin was near my chest. "turn me over to the Feds like you said you would?" Sure for all I knew, these people were the Feds. I could be in a med ward for hardened criminals already and not even know it.

"No. I'm here with an offer." I almost laughed. Almost.

"What could you possibly have to offer me?"

"A new life."

My head shot up and this and I waited for him to go on. "Look, I'm not going to lie. There are people who want you dead. Not just the people you did hits for, but the people who... oversee the people I work for. You don't really have any options here."

I sighed and questioned after a minute, "What about this new life your offering me?"

"You come work for us. Your name will be changed along with your appearance and your skill set will be put to the test."

I'm going to say this right now: what he was telling me, was a lot to take in at once. People want me dead? That, I could believe. Work for someone I know nothing about? A new life? Really, it all sounded just too good to be true. But my question is: was it?

"Can I think about it?"

"No. We need your answer right away so we can move forward." Talk about blunt.

My mouth must've been moving faster than my brain, because before I knew what I was doing, I heard myself say "I'll do it."

The nameless man stood up and actually smiled. "A doctor will be in here to check your vials and re-bandage your wounds. Another agent will be in after them and they'll go over everything that we need." he went for the door when I suddenly spoke up.

"What's your name?"

"Barton. Agent Clint Barton." I returned a smile and watched him leave. As soon as he had left, a swarm of doctors filed into the room. Everything that they did became a blur as I allowed myself to be lost in my own thoughts. I might've felt a pinch of a needle, but come to think of it, I'm not sure.

Days passed and I was to remain in that bed. While I'll admit that it was real comfortable, I could not stand sitting in one spot for very long. Every now and then I'd get up and stretch my legs but as soon as I did that, a doctor or nurse would rush in and force me back into bed. I was slightly creeped out when I figured that they had cameras watching my every move.

Two more days went by before the doctors stopped coming. I'd made a good recovery and now they were moving to announcing my 'death' to a group of people call the 'council'. I wasn't sure what they're job was and frankly I could care less since they really wanted me dead. These people were also giving me a new identity.

Soon my hair was cut to my shoulders and dyed a dirty blond and as far as my appearance, that was the only thing they changed. I watched in awe as Spencer Wright was erased from this world. Any trace of my- her existence was wiped away. Photos, records of any kind, and everything else you can think of was gone without a trace in a few short hours.

I paced back and forth in the hallway as I waited for someone, an agent probably, to come and take me too see the director for the first time. I wore a black two piece body suit that, in another agents words fit me 'perfectly', with combat boots that almost reached my knees. I hadn't had time to look in a mirror so I kept running my hands over the outfit in an effort to get rid of the wrinkles I hadn't even seen. That was something I did when I was nervous and boy, was I nervous. Actually, nervous doesn't cover what I was feeling at this moment.

Footfalls behind me brought me from my thoughts and I turned around to see Agent Barton walking towards me. His face held a very small smile, but other than that it was emotionless. I halted my movements and watched as the man took in my appearance. I, not having worn anything that showed off my slender figure as much as this uniform did, let my eyes fall to the floor. I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly and waited for him to say something. Anything that would break the silence that hung thickly in the hall.

"Miss Wright?" he finally said. It came out more as a question than a statement.

"Not anymore," I said in a low voice. Spencer Wright didn't exist anymore. Its like she was never here to begin with. "As far as anyone outside of a very small group on this base, she's dead."

Agent Barton didn't say a word. We just stood there in silence, which I enjoyed. Maybe it was the look on my face at the time, but I was still having trouble accepting everything. Images flashed across my vision of me as a little girl. It was a night that I would never forget; one that would always be burned into my memory.

The sound of a door opening caused the both of us to turn around, where we were met by the sight of a woman who wore her hair in a bun. She wore a fitted uniform and boots with heels. The hard look she gave me didn't go unnoticed and she spoke in an unreadable tone. "Director Fury will see you two now." she said stepping to the side. I looked over to Agent Barton who gave me a slight nod, before I went into the room.

Once inside, I was met by the sight of a man with an eye patch, dressed in black. He was sitting behind a desk and had his hands clasped together. Making a motion with his head, Agent Barton and I sat down opposite of the director.

"Thank you, Agent Hill." he said before turning to me. "Its a pleasure to finally to meet you, Miss." I smiled in return, not really knowing how to answer that statement. I wasn't sure it the feeling was mutual at this point to be honest with you.

"Agent Barton has spoken highly of you,"

I looked over to the mentioned agent, then back to the director and questioned, "And why is that?"

"He sees something in you that no one else has." the Director pulled a folder from his desk and stood up from his seat. "You had been on our radar for some time now and it wasn't in a good way." I hung my head at this because I knew what he was talking about.

"We're here to give you a second chance. As far as everyone knows, Spencer Wright is dead." Director Fury opened the folder and handed it to me and said, "And as of today, Taylor Michaels is the newest SHIELD recruit."

I took the folder from the director and read the file that was therein. It held my picture, one that was taken a few hours ago, my real birth date, November 10th, which I was glad of, and some other miscellaneous notes. I handed the item back and waited for the man in charge to continue.

"Agent Barton will be your handler. He'll train you, show you everything you need to know, as well as help you get you accustom to your new life." Fury said. "I wouldn't normally do this, but there is one other thing,"

I asked, "And what would that be?"

"Not that is of much importance, but you may decide on a middle name. Agent Barton chose your first and last, but wanted you to pick your own middle name. I agreed, but you'll have to ask him why."

Part of me understood what was said, but part the other part didn't. Regardless, and without a moments hesitation, I spoke up. "My mother's name was 'Raelynn', but everyone called her 'Rae' and I'd like to use that."

Fury nodded his head, seemingly understanding the reason to why I chose my mother's name. I watched as he wrote something down in my file, before he slid it over to me. My name was written in bold black letters, and I smiled.

"I just need your and Barton's signature at the bottom and we'll be all set." I took an offered pin and signed my new name and then watched as Agent Barton signed as well. Director Fury glanced over the two signatures before signing his own. Why thy needed so many, I may never know. He and smiled and held out a hand. I stood up and took his in my own and listened as he said "Welcome to SHIELD, Taylor Michaels."

I returned the smile before following Agent Barton out to the hallway. On our way, we passed Agent Hill who sent daggers with her eyes my way. I acted as if I didn't notice it, and went to catch up with my 'handler'.

"So what now, Agent Barton?" I questioned as I walked in stride with my fellow agent.

"Now, I'm going to show you around. Its Friday and there's a lot you need to be caught up on before we start training." he said. "And call me Clint."

"Okay, Clint," I said testing the name on my lips. "And you'll call me Taylor?" he nodded in confirmation. I nodded back as we continued down the hallway. We walked in silence the rest of the way and I allowed myself to become lost in my thoughts.

It seemed like only yesterday, I was roaming the streets of New York doing hit jobs for pay. Lost was the good little girl raised by loving parents parents. Lost was the young orphan, who drew pictures underneath her bed. Lost was the quite person who was forced to grow up too fast. Lost was the woman my parents wanted me to be.

This was a big step for me. But I was glad of one thing; I wouldn't be alone.

My name is Taylor Rae Michaels, and I am a SHIELD Agent.

A/N: Wow. Thirteen pages later and "Firestorm" is complete! * takes deep breath * If you made it this far, I'd love to hear what you thought in the review box!