WolfDarkFur – No, I wasn't planning on a pairing; Clint is a lot older than the main character. He's at least forty years old? Thirty/forty. My character is about seventeen. But thanks for asking. ^^
I could hear the man as he stepped up to the door and deposited the box on the doorstep. Hear his complaint and also heard the lighter. The man touched the box with his foot and left promptly.
My eyes flew open. The lights flooded them, white and brown swirling in my vision. The candle sitting in front of me blew out suddenly and I got up to open the door. I grabbed the package and hauled it inside. On the living room floor, I opened the box and peered at its contents. An envelope was sitting on top. I grabbed it and gently tore it open.
Dear Apprentice,
I never got to learn your name, but you knew mine. Answer this letter with it?
That isn't the only reason I sent this. A special agency is recruiting and I'm going to recommend you to them. They really need someone like you. In order to make it, you'll have to tone down your temper and remember everything I've shown you and everything you've shown yourself. I know you have grown and I wish to see the progress of your training. Good luck as always, and shoot straight.
Respectfully,
Clint
I chuckled. We hadn't made contact in years and he expects me to hand over my name that easily? I ripped a piece of paper out of a favorite notebook, paper he would be familiar with, and began to write in my favorite pen, specifically, so he would know it was me.
Dear Mentor,
Why should I give you my name? I don't even know where you possibly could be at this very moment. Maybe if we caught up on the times I'd consider.
I do not wish to be hired, but I am willing to give your agency a try. Obviously, your information is a tad outdated. The last time you tried to spy on me was four years ago. I have changed since then. We will discuss more of this later.
Meet me there at twelve-thirty tomorrow. If you are not there, then I assume you are dead.
- Apprentice
The letter would arrive at the address, which is most definitely not his, in a week, so I would have time to go to the destination. Of course, there was a catch: I had written the letter in Ancient Greek, so he would have some fun deciphering it, and it assured no one would read its contents.
Then I looked inside the box, remembering its presence. I pulled out few weapons, the ones we had practiced with. The staff, bow, with a sheath of at least a hundred arrows, and at least thirty knives, all recently sharpened.
I had taken a plane to the address to check it was still there. Confirming the building's presence, I proceeded to the location I had suggested in my letter.
It was a small coffee shop, which was like a joke between us, since I despise coffee.
I sat down at the usual table, which somehow was always open. As I sat down, I noticed a flash of red.
She had been walking towards my table, but when I sat down, she tried to leave.
Of course, I was suspicious, so I quickly walked to her. Tapping her on the shoulder would have been a death sentence, so I simply said "Ma'am?"
She whipped around, her slightly curled hair sent flying. "Who are you?"
"You looked a little familiar. My friend had a friend who looked a lot like you."
"I don't have friends. Who are you?"
It was her. The name escaped me, though. "I'm Azrelle, but…try not to use it. I'll be changing it as soon as I'm eighteen. And you…your name starts with an 'N' if I remember correctly."
"Interesting name."
"Here, let's sit down and talk. You definitely have something I want to know."
A small flash of nervousness flashed on her face. I would have doubted it had I not remembered something I had been taught about trusting instinct. Your brain will find things that your mind will not register. It doesn't always work, but when working with assassins and others trained to kill and hide their emotions, your life could depend on your attention to detail.
"I was just leaving."
"Because I just came. I know. Please, my friend wanted to see me and I had agreed. I had promised to meet him at twelve thirty, it's twelve and he's not here."
"Then he'll be here at twelve thirty."
"Not him. He'd be here before me. He always is."
Again, a flash through her eyes. He does the same thing to her.
"Please. I'll get you a coffee."
"Fine. But only for a while."
"Thank you."
We sat at the usual table. By the way she had sat, I knew this was her spot as well. Perhaps even with Clint accompanying? Of course they would, and very often at that.
"You want that coffee?"
A hint of a smile crossed her face. "No, I don't like coffee very much."
"Same here. All right, where is he? I know you know."
Pain burned in her eyes. "I don't know where he is, but I know what happened to him."
"Finally, direct information! Thank you. Now, what happened to him?"
She looked down. "He…he's…" She was silent.
"Dead?"
"Even worse." She sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"He's under a sort of spell, by an evil demigod from Asgard."
I didn't know how to reply to that, so I stayed silent.
"Are we done? Have I told you enough?" Her eyes were giving me everything.
"I…I'm sorry. I know you were friends. But I need to ask you one thing – is S.H.I.E.L.D hiring?"
"Yes, they are recruiting. You interested?"
"Clint would want me to join."
She nodded. Pulling out a folio, she set it gently on the table. "Come to the location tomorrow at seven in the morning." She stood up, nodded at me, and left, leaving me staring at the pile of papers.
I looked around to check if anyone was looking and slowly opened the folio. Inside were qualifications such as physical ability, mental ability, forms of martial arts, weapons, etc. They were ridiculously simple, such as being able to run several miles with only breaking a small sweat, knowing three martial art forms, and being able to easily use seven weapons. It should be easy to get in.
I got up and left for the gym nearby and began to work some of my slightly weak muscles, namely my triceps and quads. Three hours later, I left and looked around some clothing shops. In one of them, there was a beautiful faux leather jacket. Immediately, I bought it and brought it to the hotel for modifications. Using leather scraps from a deer hide I came across, I sewed on handles for my knives on the inside of the jacket. Sitting back satisfied, I smiled at my handiwork. I then got up and left for some sleep.
I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written! Please, complain about anything you don't like (Without overdoing it of course) and suggest things you may want to see in the future? Thanks for reading.
