Hello everyone! As promised, finally Natasha steps into the scene. Hope you like it:
Chapter 3:
7:00am. The alarm goes off three times before Clint finally shuts it down. He had been awake for over an hour though. He always had shitty nights before important meetings. He had woken at 5:26 convinced he was already late. After that, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. What could that big mission be all about? Last night his boss sounded a little agitated on the phone or maybe it was just his imagination. Either way, Barton was about to find out in a couple of hours.
Making the bed, taking a shower and getting dressed would normally take him less than 30 minutes and that day was no exception. In the kitchen, the agent prepared his breakfast: two fried eggs, a toast and a glass of orange juice. Clint was a truly Spartan when it came to food- six small meals a day. He finished his toast quietly and headed to the door. Before leaving, he glanced at the living room one more time: that place could really use a woman's touch.
"I just don't think he's ready yet, ok. I think he…"
"With all due respect General Sullivan…" the voice on the other side cuts him off " your opinion about whether he's ready or not doesn't concern me."
" He is one of my best agents, godamn it!." General Sullivan, head of the NSA, explodes.
" And I'm aware of that, General. But, as you know, the SHIELD only gets interested in the best."
" So what is the play, exactly?" Sullivan asks raising his tone as he continues " steal one of my best men and then force him to work for you?"
"Not at all." the voice states in a calm tone. "My Agency has no intention in stealing your agents, let alone, force them to do anything."
" So what's SHIELD's intentions with Barton then?" Sullivan asks still a little irritated.
" For now, agent Barton is just…an option. We have to test him first."
"Test him?" The director of the NSA can't hide his sarcasm:
"Don't tell me you wanna put him in a white room with a pencil and a questionary full of psychological and ethics crap!"
" General Sullivan…" the voice says almost laughing " it really surprises me that a man like you still believes that psychology and ethics could possibly mean anything to any test. The SHIELD doesn't care if your guy is mentally well-adjusted or morally righteous! As I said before: my Agency is only interested in the best guys. The ones who save the day, who keep our country safe." the voice continues " so Barton can be a suicidal adrenaline junkie for all I care!"
General Sullivan who was used to give orders and have the last word remained quiet. That voice scared him.
" A mission." the voice speaks again, breaking the silence. "The test is a mission. A real mission with real risks."
The General sighed heavily. There was nothing he could do.
"I will give you every piece of information about it." the voice states and before hanging up says " and Sullivan, I hope you're wrong about him not being ready."
James Alexander Sullivan falls into the chair. What did this SHIELD want with his best agent and what the hell was this mission about? His mental questions were however interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Sir? Agent Barton is here to see you." Sullivan's PA announces.
"Let him in." the general says.
Two seconds later, it's Clint who is knocking.
" General?" the agent is standing at the door.
"Come in." Sullivan allows.
"Sir, I believe you wanted to talk to me urgently. Last night you sounded a little…agitated. Or maybe I just misinterpreted."
"You have a mission." Sullivan simply said without minding the other man's embarrassment. He continued:
"Call Ryan, Williams and Castro. They're going with you. Meet me at the briefing room in 30 minutes."
The briefing room was basically consisted by a rounded table, eight chairs around it and a white screen connected to a large computer. That was the room where the missions were normally presented to the agents. Clint liked that place because, well, he liked missions. As usual, he was the first one in. He settled himself in one of the chairs and waited for the others. Ryan came next, followed by Williams and Castro. After five more minutes, Sullivan finally entered the room and turned off the lights. The image of a man in his 70s popped up on the screen.
"Jonathan Harris." The general began. "Founder and CEO of one of the biggest and most powerful weaponry industries in the world. He became well known and respected in the business in the 60s when he developed, in a partnership with German engineer Alberich Eichelberger, the technology behind the guided missiles."
The image had been replaced. Now the screen was showing a man with a pair of sad blue eyes covered by enormous glasses. He didn't look like a physicist, Clint thought, without really knowing what a physicist should look like.
"About two years ago, however, Harris industries started to present inconsistent higher profits. The government then started to suspect that something was up. We believe that Harris has been selling his technology also in the black market. There hasn't been anything concrete that could be used as proof to frame Harris so far."
Sullivan stopped to see if his men were keeping up before continuing:
"Well, until now. The Intel has information about Harris' desires in buying uranium for his next big thing. The amount he intends to buy, though, looks suspicious enough. If we get to intercept the purchase, we could easily frame him as a suspect of manufacturing non-authorized nuclear weapons."
The General hesitated.
"Problem is we don't know who the seller is. Intel doesn't know anything about him. The only information we do have is that Harris and our mysterious guy have been talking on the phone but never met face to face. In one of those conversations, the only one the CIA had access to, he referred to himself as Mr. Riley."
"So, what's the plan?" Clint asked curiously.
His boss looked at the three men and explained:
"This weekend, the Clean Technology Conference will take place in Brazil. The event intends to gather the major industrialists in the world to discuss ecological alternatives to the capitalist production system. Jonathan Harris already confirmed his presence. Now, just guess who else is on the list."
"Riley!" all three agents answered in unisson.
"Intel thinks so. The CIA managed to have access to the attendees list and the name of some John S. Riley caught their attention. The Agency believes that Harris is planning on using the Convention as a diversion to meet up with Riley and then buy the uranium."
The room was in complete silence. The men looked at each other before Ryan decided to speak:
"So, this John S. Riley is really our guy? It could be just a coincidence."
"Intel believes it's not just a coincidence, they have a …" Sullivan started only to be interrupted by a very angry Ryan:
"Fuck the Intel! They spend all day sitting on their asses drinking coffee in a highly secured building making assumptions about who's the next bad guy! For all I know, Jonathan Harris didn't do anything wrong yet and John S. Riley is just a nice industrialist who's willing to profit a little less for the planet's sake."
The general didn't have time to reply because Clint did it first:
"This might be our only chance. The NSA has been on this guy's tail for ages. So I'd rather trust the guys from the Intel instead of doing nothing while Harris continues to make a ridiculous amount of illegal money and developing weapons of mass destruction! And for all I know, any industrialist is ever willing to profit less."
Ryan didn't say anything so Sullivan added:
"Barton's right. This can be our only chance. Maybe the Intelligence is wrong. But I really hope they're not because I'm about to send my best four men in a highly risky operation in a foreign country without any guarantee of backup.
The four agents remained in silence for a few moments. Clint decided to break it:
"So, what's the mission?"
What would John S. Riley wear in a convention? Clint mentally questioned as he looked inside of his closet. The four agents had been dismissed right after their meeting with Sullivan. They were supposed to get ready and pack because they were leaving that afternoon. Barton grabbed a black suit he only wore in special occasions. "This is something Riley would definitely wear!"He said out loud and tossed it in his suitcase.
The mission was simple. Clint was supposed to get into the conference where he would double Riley. Once as Riley, he would meet up with Harris and arrest him. As far as the real Riley was concerned, the NSA would do whatever it took to ensure that he would never get to the convention in the first place. Simple and risky. That was Clint's favorite type of mission. A couple of T-shirts and one more pair of pants and there you go! He zipped up his bag. Tomorrow he would be John S. Riley and in a few more days the NSA would finally have Jonathan Harris.
"Jonathan Harris? Seriously?" a female voice echoes through a dark room at the back of a small house located in Tokyo's suburb area.
"Why? You're scared? I thought the great Natasha Romanoff wasn't afraid of anything." The man mocks her.
"She isn't." she answers. "But that might cost more money than your boss might have anticipated."
"Don't worry." the man speaks again "you will receive what you judge it is fair. My boss believes you're worth every penny."
"And he can bet on that." the assassin simply states.
The man finally hands her the mission files and Natasha makes her last question:
"So, where am I heading?"
This one was definitely longer! So what do you guys think so far? I know, I know…I decided to use Brazil because I'm already familiar with the country, its language and so on…I know Natasha only appears in the very end but now she'll be around all the time! The next chapter is already written but I'll hold it until I have more reviews! So please review!It's always a pleasure to hear (in this case to read) from you guys! See ya!
