WELCOME TO LEGACY CHAPTER 1!
Apologies for my French, I'm learning it at the moment but we haven't quite covered police station conversations.
I own nothing of Marvel, no characters, nothing from the films or comics or TV shows, I only own Lucia and the content I have created with her.
Anyways, on with it!
Chapter 1- Parisian Holding
2025
She had never been fond of the water, never took joy in swimming in the ocean that their home backed onto, never found a pool party irresistible. Still, her shoes were arranged neatly beside her as she let the water brush against her feet. There was a photograph somewhere of them all stood staring out at the lake at sunset, black silhouettes against the amber sky and although you couldn't see their faces, it was obvious that they were happy; finally settled after so many years of fighting. Amid a broken world, one single perfectly happy moment.
There were no knives strapped to her body anymore, there was no need. She had graduated to civilian. An overqualified civilian but a civilian nonetheless. It was all she had wanted for the best part of a decade but now it was before her, all she felt was fear of the unknown.
2009
A simple enough mission. All that had to be done was to plant a little evidence. In and out in under 24 hours. Why she ended up in a Parisian police station handcuffed to a table was a simple one. She had let her home and work life collide and when she might have been able to help her family, she was benched, so ething she was strugglin to forgive her senior officers for. Her early training had taught her how to escape handcuffs, police handcuffs being the easiest; still, the only way to break out of her confinement was to attract undesirable attention so things had to be seen as being played by the book.
Now, it's important that you know that she spoke near perfect French, so is well aware of everything they are saying about "the American bitch" while they stand in the interrogation room with her doing absolutely nothing except insult her in French and make lewd comments. She gratefully played the part of the clueless American who spoke only incredibly simple French with a horrifically fake accent attached for good measure.
It took several hours for her cover story to be put into action. She scrutinised her split ends that she had neglected and the balayage was beginning to turn brassy; the constant stream of recent missions and little downtime afterwards taking their toll. She wondered what else she had let slide, she couldn't remember the last time she was in the gym or practised at the range. Several hours of boredom occupied for the most point by annoying the various police officers that came through to look at the stupid American but eventually a new voice joined the conversation.
"Bonjour, mon client sera libéré immédiatement. Tous les documents pertinents sont avec votre sergent."
She suppressed a smile at the sight of him, keeping her demure expression until she was led, still in handcuffs, to the waiting car outside.
"Thanks, Clint."
"You're lucky I was close; Natasha would leave you. Third time this month, Lucie, you've got to be more careful."
He was right, Natasha would have left her to rot in a jail cell for a while for her own stupid mistakes in the hopes that it might teach the young agent a lesson. Clint preferred a softer approach.
"I know, I know."
"Why are you even here? This was a level four mission at most." His disapproval was obvious,
Lucie already had an excuse in the bank, expecting questions from whoever came to pick her up. What she didn't bank on was it being Clint "the human lie detector" Barton.
"Luce," Clint prompted only to be met with silence again. "Look, if you're not very careful then you're going to end up in the infirmary or the morgue." he kept his eyes on the road.
She sunk into her chair, hoping that if she kept quiet that he wouldn't ask any more questions.
"Either tell me you'll sort your shit out or I will personally make sure you're on desk duty."
"I'm fine, Clint."
"You know that if you were on a mission with me or Natasha then you could have got us killed with this kind of recklessness."
"It won't happen again," she said, desperate to get off the subject.
"Damn right it won't. You really think that I want to tell your Dad that you died in the field?" The agent took a breath. "Tell you what, we'll get back home and you can take it out on the range and if that doesn't work, my offer still stands."
"So are you going to let me out of these?" she asked, holding out her hands with a hopeful smile.
"Nope." There was an audible pop and the mischievous smile that was his trademark.
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