I do not own Avengers or any of the characters.
Persisting
He walked through the crowded street silently, hands in his pockets. He didn't need to worry about being seen on this one. No one would remember his face in this crowd. He was too average for that. He had brown hair about the same style as Barton's, except the top of his had only a little bit of pomade and nothing else in it, allowing it to be smooth and soft, rather than waxy, then was combed to the right, with a part on the left side. His hair was still loose, since he hated having it too neat, and his bangs just barely covered the top right of his forehead. He had a cowlick in the back that was usually a pain, but that he had gotten good at dealing with. Aside from his hair, he had an average face with an average-sized nose, average-sized brown eyes, though they did have some green around the outside of the irises if anyone got close enough to be kissed in order to see it, and he had a bit of baby fat left in his face, giving it an average shape somewhere between round and slim. If anyone pictured a generic, stereotypical brunette white guy in their early twenties, they'd probably be pretty close to him.
He hated being so painfully average. Even outside of his face he was nothing special. He was slim, and had muscle from his master's training, but he wasn't defined, or bulk, giving him an average build and muscle tone. He was an average height, standing at five foot eight, and his preference in clothing, in part because of his profession, was plain black or dark grey with no patterns. Once in a while he might wear jeans, and he wore a pair of basic, black and white Converse.
Of course, as much as he hated being painfully average, it helped him at his job. He had a face that was easy to overlook and forget, and it allowed him to do public assassinations easily. Case and point, he spotted his target and bumped into him, a dozen spikes of white energy flashing out of his skin into the target, then fading, all in the time it took to blink, and he continued past his target, even as his target collapsed. Thanks to the entire crowd being on their phones and taking a moment to notice, he was a half-block away when the first screams rang out, and he waited until the crowd began to flee to make his escape. Except, as he was running, he spotted Barton searching for him through the crowd ahead of him, Romanoff at his side. He kept his head down, fleeing past them with the regular civilians, then cut into an alleyway, pulling his hood and mask up just in time for a bullet to skip off the brick ahead of him.
He slowed to a stop, turning toward the two SHIELD agents, both of whom were aiming at him. He smirked, raising his hands.
"Why'd you kill that man?" Natasha asked.
"I was told to," William said.
"By who?" Barton demanded.
"God," William said sarcastically. "My boss, dickhead. Who else?"
"Why him?" Natasha asked.
"I don't know," William said. "I get payed to kill someone and I do it. Better question, how'd you know I'd be here."
"Where's your friend?" Natasha asked.
"Friend?" William asked, then snorted. "What, that psychotic bitch with the machine gun from the other day? No. She's not my friend. I can't stand that cunt. I'm just waiting for the day one of us gets the other's name on a little black card. It'll be like Christmas, but with more screaming cunt."
"You two seemed to work together pretty well," Natasha said. "You separated our forces so we couldn't focus on one of you."
"Focusing on one of us wouldn't have changed anything," William snorted. "And no, we were actually supposed to get away before you showed up. Just like today."
"Well, it looks like you're shit out of luck, today," Barton said. "You're not getting away from me again."
"I don't know," William smirked, eyes rising to the walls above the two agents. "The day's not over just yet."
Both agents looked up, seeing glowing white arrows stabbed into the walls of the buildings, the arrows all the same as he fired, three-inch wide arrow heads then a long, inch-wide spike of energy about two feet long with no feathers. Just as they saw them, William snapped his fingers, the arrows all exploding and causing a massive section of the walls to break free and fall at them. Both swore, diving out into the street and avoiding the rubble, only to cause a car accident in the drivers' attempt to not run them over. When they both looked up, William was gone. They both swore, getting up and leaving, reporting his escape again.
William smirked as he walked calmly down the next street over, calmly making his way back to their organization's base.
Olivia sighted in and stopped. Her argument with William returned to her. She rolled her eyes. She didn't care what he thought. She had a useful way of doing things. And since she had wiped out a quarter of the police in the city in one gunfight, she didn't have to worry about them interfering as quickly as before. She sighted her machine gun in on her target, then groaned, resting her forehead on the floor.
"Fuck you William," Olivia growled. "Fine. I'll prove to you that I don't need to massacre an entire street to kill a target." She slid to the side, then pulled her sniper rifle off her back, then sighted in.
After a moment of adjusting the zoom on her scope, she squeezed off a round. The bullet punched through a power line, which sparked and snapped instantly, the cable swinging down and slamming into her target's neck, electrocuting his body and damn-near taking his head off. Then, it began to jump around, hissing and spitting, hitting several other people before the rest were able to escape.
"Nice shooting," a voice said from behind Olivia, who twisted and looked back, seeing Natasha aiming at her. "Get up slowly."
Olivia sighed, standing and reaching into her sweatshirt pockets, pulling out six knives, these ones all flat kunai, specifically designed for throwing. Natasha raised an eyebrow.
"You really want to fight me with throwing knives while I've already got two pistols aimed at you?" Natasha asked.
"You can run away now if you're scared.," Olivia offered.
Natasha narrowed her eyes, then opened fire, only for Olivia to already be moving, narrowly avoiding the shots. She jumped and spun, hurling all six knives, all of them aimed perfectly, only for Natasha to spin aside and realize that Olivia was still holding all six knives when she landed, the knives still pinned by the blade between her fingers, as they had been before. She risked a glance back and saw the knives the girl had thrown were still there. When she turned back, however, six knives stabbed into her thighs, three per leg. She shouted in pain, collapsing, and Olivia smirked, holding up one hand, both of which were once again holding three knives each.
"You're a clever one, Agent Romanoff," Olivia said. "You probably just figured out my trick, didn't you?"
"Duplication," Natasha said. "You can duplicate the bullets in a gun as you shoot, or you can duplicate the knives in your hand as you throw them."
"Impressive," Olivia grinned. "You're right. Which means you can't be allowed to live."
"That's too bad," Natasha said. "I didn't come alone this time."
Olivia spun, hurling her six knives into the air in front of herself, blocking an arrow before she flipped backward, collecting the first six knives she'd thrown and retreating into the stairwell. As she did, SHIELD agents swarmed into the building on the ground floor, only to clear the entire building without finding her.
"How the hell did she escape?" Barton asked over the radio.
"I have no idea," Natasha said. "She can't have gone far. See if you can find her."
As Barton began to struggle to find Olivia walking away from the building, Olivia smiled pleasantly, typing away at her computer on the third floor. She was perfect for her job. She was too pretty to be accused of being an assassin, even if Natasha Romanoff was an exception to the rule. Olivia's dirty blonde hair reached the middle of her back in gentle waves, but she kept it over her left shoulder, she had hazel eyes somewhere between green and brown, a gentle, slim face that she was usually told looked a lot like Nina Agdal's, and perky, C-cup breasts coupled with a tight, firm ass to give her a slim hourglass figure.
Under her usual dark clothes, she wore an outfit that would allow her to blend in after it as needed. In this case, it was a short, dark blue mini skirt, a white blouse, unbuttoned to show off her cleavage, and a light blue vest, the uniform of the building, which she had taken from the person whose desk she was sitting at, and who she had killed to get the uniform. She smirked as the SHIELD troops all left the building, beginning to search around it for her.
"This is getting annoying," William said. "Including Olivia's job, that's three in a row that SHIELD was ready for."
"I agree," his master nodded, looking between the two. "I'm giving the order. Kill Nick Fury."
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