His blood was the sweetest I've tasted. I still think that way and I almost always make it a point to taste the blood of my victims before I do them in. And Clint's well, let's just say his blood made me wish I was a vampire. It was sweet and tangy, it didn't taste much of copper like most blood usually did. It was like a rare fruit, or a piece of expensive chocolate. (Oh yeah... I really am sick... -facepalm- I'm sitting here writing this and all I can think is... how did Clint see enough good in me at all to think I was worth saving?)

Somehow Agent Barton still had enough strength to stand. The mere soldier was determined to be my end and in the back of my mind I knew that I was ready for it. My demise... I knew death would come for me eventually, Super Serum or not... skills or not, death was an unavoidable aspect in an Assassins life. We lie and we steal and we kill, to survive, to make money, or sometimes because it's the only thing we know. I knew that I could never go have a "normal" life, and that my job was the only thing I could count on in my life. It put food on my table, a roof over my head. I didn't really have much skills beyond it and if I started a "normal" life under a new name would feel like a lie. And, I didn't like lying unnecessarily.

"They never prepared me for how sick you were." He panted.

"Sick?" I laughed a dark sound that dripped with menace. "You have no idea what sick is." i slashed at him again his knife colliding with mine, sparks flew between the blades as we struggled to slice the throat of the other I realized something. I had been holding back. I was a Super Soldier. I could easily overpower this man before me, but I had not. Maybe it was my time. Or maybe fate had something else planned for me. I wasn't sure, but at the same time I was secretly hoping for my death. I was tired. So tired. Just about eighty years of killing and orders and lies and I just wanted it to stop, but at the same time I couldn't.

"Oh, I believe I do. We're very much alike you and I. We're both killers and liars. I've done my fair share of crimes. I've been there done that."

I could feel my expression cracking. "No..." I whisper. "You have not seen what I've seen, experienced what I did. You were not a killer by the age of eight! Or a seductress by twelve!" I was yelling before the sentence was over. Backing away from this man who was clearly shocked by my words. His face had paled and his eyes were as wide as my own. Though for very different and yet similar reasons. He was shocked because of what I just revealed to him and I was shocked that I had revealed anything like that to him at all.

I sat on the edge of the bed. "Do what you will, Agent Barton. I no longer have much will to fight you. Either I kill you because you now know too much, or you kill me lke your orders tell you."

I let the knife slide from my hands and clatter onto the floor as Agent Barton pressed his knife to my neck and pushed me back onto the bed. If someone were to walk in right then it would look as if we were two loves entangled in a rather violent and kinky embrace, not that the idea of being in that kind of situation with a man as beautiful as him. I counted it as a blessing that I could die by such steady hands. Quick or slow I was happy enough to die with such a lovely man as my Reaper.

I felt the cool metal of handcuffs click on one of my wrists as he dragged it over my head. I brought the other one up to make things easier for him. I watched as that now familiar smirk crossed his features again, "This change in you is unsettling." He whispered a few inches from my nose. I chose not to respond as I felt the other cuff click shut around my other wrist. "If you were to be given another chance, would you take it? Try and wipe your ledger clean? Make things right?"

I stared up at him and said, "I don't know. I don't know if I could even attempt to clean my ledger. It drips with hundreds of victims innocent or not."
The fact that I gave him any answer at all seemed to have been enough.

Barton placed a finger to his ear and said, "Coulson, we have a change of plans. I'm bringing this one in. Alive."

I could feel my eyes widen in shock. The first emotion I ever felt that wasn't dulled by the coldness I felt in my chest since my first kill. "Wh-" He placed a hand over my mouth to silence me and I resisted the urge to bite him. Hard.

"Coulson will you trust me with this?"

I could just barely make out the rather furious and loud argument of whoever this 'Coulson' was.

"I'll deal with Director Fury. He'll see, Miss Romanov will be a valuable asset to SHIELD."

No more than one tense and silent hour later and Agent Barton and I were on our way to SHIELD HQ in New York. Via a plane they called a "Quinjet". I even got to meet Agent Coulson who apparently was Barton's keeper. He glared at me from across the jet and insisted that I remained in the handcuffs though I knew I could slip free of them in under a heartbeat. That was Spy Training 101.

I did not object though, Barton did. Why he was doing all this for me I couldn't tell you (I still can't, that's something you'd have to ask Clint about. I never seem to have the courage to ask, I think I am more afraid of that answer than the time I asked him how Loki had ordered him to kill me...). But, I was thankful.

There had been a few hours of silence when out of nowhere Clint's head snapped up. His eyes stared holes into mine and he said, "Hundred's?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. "Closer to a thousand actually."

"You can't be any older than eighteen... early twenties at the most. How can someone so young have so many kills?"

A smirk pulls up the corner of my mouth and all I have to say in response is, "Eighty."

"Huh?"

"I'm eighty. That's why I have so many kills under my belt."

I watched as all the color drained from his face. "Oh." He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That hadn't been in your file."

"I imagine there wasn't a lot about me personally."

"No... no there wasn't..."Paste your document here...