Hello, Jay here. I was audibly shocked that the prologue actually got reviews, so thank you so much! This chapter was half written when I read them, and I just thought "Crap, quick, hurry and finish it!" So I did. I hope you enjoy the story, and like the character of Clint. He wasn't in the movie as much as the rest of The Avengers, so I'm a little worried about getting his personality right, but he seems fairly calm and collected, with a quick witted streak. I adore him. Can't help it. Curse you, Barton!
Anyway, here is Chapter One, and thanks again for your lovely words.
As If I Was Human
Chapter One - Target Acquired
"Curt's in again," Zandra whispered, startling Carter out of her stupor. Leaning against the counter in the break room, she had been daydreaming when her co-worker surprised her.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Worlds away here."
"Curt," Zandra repeated. "The writer." A smile splayed across her face, Zandra wiggled her eyebrows. "I think he likes you, you know. Always watching you, trying to be so secretive." This time Carter shook her head rather vigorously.
"Are you kidding me," she laughed. She refused to believe the ruggedly handsome man would be interested in her. He was such a mystery; a writer that never quite seemed to write anything. But he did seem to watch her, she had to admit. At first she was worried she had been found again, but he never did or said anything, just drank his coffee, ate his sandwich and left.
He had come in at 1pm on the dot every other day for nearly three weeks now.
"He's got better things to do than check out his waitress," Carter then said, smiling at Zandra.
"Come on, Taylor," Zandra sighed. "Just embrace it for once." And with that, she swanned out of the break down, closing the door behind her. Carter glanced up at the clock. Five more minutes. Closing her eyes, she tried to embrace what was left of her lunch break.
It had been a hectic few months, finding a new haven since being discovered in New Mexico, but heading to Brazil had been a pretty good idea. Working on the tourist stretch, serving in a little café, where people spoke English, it was pretty easy going. But when "Curt the Writer" started showing up, she became nervous. She had never been found twice so quickly, but Curt seemed so…intense. He didn't just watch her, he took in everything around him. It was the first thing Carter had noticed about him. His eyes darted around the entire café before he was even completely through the door.
Three weeks later, however, he was just another part of her routine. Carter tried not to pay too much attention to him. He was definitely more than he pretended to be, but then again, so was she. Deciding she was being a hypocrite, Carter had swore to just turn a blind eye and let him be. If he was looking for her, he couldn't have realised he'd found her, otherwise he'd had shipped her off to God knows where.
Carter shuddered, shaking the thoughts off. The past was in the past, Curt didn't seem to be a threat to her, and Carter had bigger things to worry about. She still wasn't used to answering to "Taylor" yet, and her fake driver's license hadn't been delivered when it should have been. She could only last so long with out it.
Pushing her body away from the counter she had been leaning against, Carter swept her fingers though her hair and dusted herself down. Lunch break over, she returned to the gentle bustle of the café.
Clint glanced at his watch. His simple, civilian watch. His boring, black Timex that didn't have GPS, or a laser beam, or a small explosive core that could provide a handy distraction in a pinch. God, it was so archaic. It told the time. Nothing else. Didn't even have one of those little dials with the date. Couldn't glow in the dark, or be submerged an interesting number of metres under water. Clint hated it. It was just a watch, but he hated it.
1:07pm it read. Where was Carter? She always served his lunch at 1pm. That other waitress, Zandra, was standing idly at the counter, examining her nails whilst she waited for an order to be prepared. She must've sensed his eyes on her, because she caught his gaze with a smile, quickly trotting over to him.
"Heya Curt," she greeted him, raising her pen and pad. "The usual, I presume."
"That'd be great, yeah," Clint replied, stretching his arms out in front of him, smirking as Zandra tried not to stare. God, he loved it when women checked out his arms. As an archer, they were smooth and refined, taut with muscle. Women couldn't help themselves when he flexed. "Taylor not in today?" He asked, sounding purposely casual. Zandra grinned.
"She's having her break," she explained. "It was a busy morning, so she wanted it early." Clint nodded as Zandra then regaled him with the tale of the tourist group that spoke English, but were determined to order in Spanish. Not quite listening, Clint let her words drift over him until she leaned in close. "You know," he realised she was saying. "If you'd rather Taylor served you, you could just go hungry for another five minutes. Her break is almost over."
"Thanks, Zandra," he replied, taking care not to show his true feeling. "But I don't mind who serves me, I was just wondering where she was."
"Right," Zandra rolled her eyes, jotting down his usual order. "Well, she'll be out soon anyway." Clint sighed as she returned to the counter, ripping his order from her notepad and pinning it on the board with the rest.
He was not a very good spy, he had discovered. Since his arrival at the café, known officially as Karem's Café, he had been caught watching Carter more times than he could be bothered counting. As a result, Zandra had engaged him in conversation, believing his interest to be of a romantic nature. Unsure of how else to explain, he simply kept his answers noncommittal, letting her believe what she liked. Whether Zandra had told Carter or not, he didn't know, but she had never acted any differently to him since then.
As for the mystery of Carter Thomas herself, Clint remained sceptical. She still didn't appear to be any sort of danger to anyone, let alone the entire country. Sure, he had noticed a bit of a temper, but working a full shift with obnoxious tourists will fray anyone's nerves after enough time. The only thing he had discovered of note was that she had catlike reflexes. Even that wasn't particularly special. Plenty of people in the world react quicker than others, but it was all he had. He had also sent some feelers out, looking into what contact she had with any…shady characters. So far he had received no information back though, leaving his conclusion unchanged.
Carter Thomas was hiding, but he could not figure out why. Of course, Fury had his reasons for wanting her under surveillance, but none of these had been shared with Clint himself. All he could do, was just what he had been doing. Stay close, and stay aware.
It was with that thought that the back room door slammed shut, and Clint glanced over to see the mystery herself emerge.
In the dossier, Carter had long black hair, down to her elbows, but since going back on the run she had hacked most of it off, the length now barely gracing her shoulders. Apart from half an inch of roots, the colour was now dirty blonde, and her pale skin had tanned slightly. Clint had preferred her previous styling, but she still looked good. She dressed differently too now. The photoset had contained images of her mostly in jeans and baggy t-shirts, obviously dressed not to draw attention to herself, but now she was currently dressed in a bright orange wispy skirt that fell just past her legs, and her torso was wrapped in a pale brown vest, decorated with beads along the hemline. Her arms jangled with bracelets and bangles, and a long necklace hung down to her navel, where a shimmering silver piercing peaked out from the gap between vest and skirt. A little less his type now, Clint admitted, but he could still appreciate a pretty lady.
She looked over to him, acknowledging him with a small nod. He gave her one back, and finally turned his attention to the newspaper he had brought in with him.
Target acquired.
