My apartment floors creaked as I crossed the living room, a mug of coffee in my hand. Trying not to spill the steaming hot liquid, I set it to the right of my laptop. My night so far had consisted of me taking advantage of my acquired access to high security level documents and records. The wobbly table in the kitchen was littered with charts and timelines, files and ledgers. I had been trying to dig up whatever I could about any Transparence agents or their missions. After working for 4 hours straight, taking a coffee break seemed very inviting. Setting aside the CIA mission reports I was reading, a knock sounded through my apartment: two raps that rang like gunshots through the otherwise silent room. Starting a little, I crossed the room to the door, placed my hand on the doorknob, and peeked through the peephole. It was Barton.
Swinging the door open, I noticed he wasn't smirking, even the ever present joking light in his eyes was gone as I stepped aside to let him in.
"Bad news?" I asked, and noticing how tired he looked, walked over to the kitchen counter and poured a mug of coffee for him.
"Thanks" he replied, wrapping one hand around the ceramic cup. "And yeah."
My stomach dropped a little; seeing as my research was bombing, I had been hoping he had something progressive.
"The lab geeks finally managed to disable the security systems and codes on the case. After they could open it without having their eardrums shattered by security alarms, we found files and tapes in it." He was now slouching against my kitchen counter, staring blankly at his coffee.
"Isn't that good?" By now, I was thoroughly confused, by his sudden personality change and his bad attitude at something that sounded substantial to the mission.
"They were all in code. And I mean, CODE code. Fury went nuts when the encryption agents couldn't even decipher them. So we are practically back to square one."
"I have slightly better news." I said. Looking up, he raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened slightly, egging me to go on. "I found a number of connections between old cold cases in different agencies. I've spent half the night filling in timelines, they all seem to lead back to this address, only there isn't any zip code. Anywhere. I searched back and front, but there isn't any mention of a state, city, country, NOTHING. Just this address. I was hoping S.H.I.E.L.D could pinpoint it." I handed him some of the charts I had made, and he walked up to the table, standing across from me, sifting through papers and looking through them.
"How did you even get access to these records?" His voice sounded impressed.
"I know a guy." I tried to sound as vague as possible, dropping the hint that I didn't want to talk about it. By the look of understanding in his eyes, I take it that it wasn't lost on him. Instead of asking more questions, he smiled for the first time that night.
"I'll call Fury." Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he stepped into the hall. I was clearing some of the papers off the desk when I heard a creaking noise. Spinning around, I saw a window open, a window I was sure I had closed. Someone was in my apartment.
Suddenly, a hand closed over my mouth and I could feel a knife on my throat. My heart skipped violently, but my combat reflexes soon arose. Jamming my elbow into my attackers stomach, they gasped and the blade flew backward out of their hand to the floor, landing with a sharp metallic sound on the hardwood floor. I spun around and threw a punch, but they blocked it. I could tell it was a woman, so she should be easier and lighter to knock down. Swinging out my leg and pushing down on her shoulders, she went down. Apparently unfazed, she grabbed at the edge of my table and pushed herself under it to the other side. I heard a clicking sound, and when she got back to her feet in the blink of eye, there was a gun in her hand. Wishing I hadn't left my own gun in my bag across the room, I prepared to make another move, when I heard a straining sound, and the attacker fell to the floor, an arrow in her chest. Looking to the door I saw Clint standing just through the doorway, his bow in his hand. Turning back to the woman bleeding on my kitchen floor, I reached down and pulled off her ski mask. Blonde hair spilled from the black cap and her face grimaced up at me. I recognized her features. It was the Transparence agent from the airplane, the one I had knocked out and stolen the case from. She wasn't dead, her body was spasming and she was sputtering for breath. I looked again at Barton, who had now saved my life twice, as he stared grimly at the woman. They had found me.