The concrete by his head shattered. Steely eyes scanned the rooftops as he crept scanned the shadows looking for a perch to turn the tables on his enemy. The mission, a simple surveillance mission had gone completely south and now he was being hunted.

Clint Barton had never known what it was like to be free. Born into a slavery ring for vampire and raised to serve as food and whatever his masters desired, Clint had long ago resigned himself to the fact. Still, he preferred his current 'master' Fury. He was not as sadistic as some masters Clint's had and he gave him far more freedom than others.

A pinprick of pain told Clint that his enemy's next shot had hit his mark. It was only luck that Clint caught the flutter of long hair on a distant rooftop. He felt the pull of a drug, they intended to take him alive. Clint struggled to keep on his feet as a second shot was fired and a sharp pain exploded in his shoulder.

"Damn," Clint groaned out as his hand wrapped around the door leading into the building he was on. He needed to get down to the street, to catch the attention of a passerby. If he was taken and no one saw, the best he could hope for was death.

The stairs swayed and lurched as Clint inched his way down. The halls were mockingly quiet, even as the glare of the exposed florescent bulbs started to get brighter. All Clint wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a minute but he knew he was dead if he did that.

Footfalls sounded from below, and all Clint could do was head forward and hope that it was a bystander. The steps got closer, not heavy enough to be a man, but with intent. Sweat beaded on Clint's forehead as he caught a glimpse of the other person.

She was a beautiful woman with a pale blonde hair that seemed almost green that fell in waves to the small of her back. She wore faded olive pants that clung to her shapely legs, a tight teeshirt with a picture of a wolf howling at the moon and a plain jacket of olive denim across her back was slung a sniper rifle, Russian perhaps slung over her shoulder. Icy eyes watched as Clint's legs buckled and he crumpled to his knees causing her dark lips to curl into a self-satisfied smirk.

"I generally don't take my prey alive." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper with a hint of a middle eastern accent. "But that was before you chose to bring a war to us, did you expect us to simply lie and wait to be killed?" The last thing Clint saw was his attacker produce a roll of duct tape and a black bag from her coat.

Author's note:

Since it's been asked, Loki is human in this story and as of yet there are no superheroes but that may change in the future.