He stared up at the skyscraper, the strange beak at the top almost reminding him of a bird and the glowing A that stood of the avengers bring back memories. He shied away from his reflection, the tall stranger in the brown jacket with the black hat and sunglasses. He looked normal for once. The bluetooth in his ear crackled, and he discreetly brushed his hair back, nudging it with his thumb.
"Noir, you have eyes on the location. Do you wish me to take photos?" The mechanical voice of his artificial assistant echoed in his ear. He frowned, taking a few photos with the glasses on his face.
"Yes, Karine." He answered back briskly, walking away before he could attract suspicion. Looking around, he almost smiled. New York was still the same, still as loud and dirty as before. A rat ran out of a trash bag on the side of the road next to a bus stop, victoriously squeaking over the noise.
But when was before? He didn't remember. Flashes of a long lost waltz, a flicker of a woman's laughter, and the smell of old books haunted his mind. All he could recall was a flicker of light and waking up in a nightmare full of blood and sharp teeth.
"Peyta, you must not be distracted." The AI chided him in Russian. Peyta rolled his eyes and grinned at a few girls walking by. He grabbed the fake cell phone that was in his pocket, pulling it up to his ear to disguise the fact that he was talking to himself.
"Of course. I am not an amateur" He replied, ducking into an alley where he stripped off the jacket. Pulling off the hat, he tucked it under his arm, resting the sunglasses on the neckline of his t-shirt. He then unbuttoned the cuffs to his long sleeved blue button-down and rolled them up, flinching at the scars that it exposed. Popping the collar, he then moved on, deftly plucking the pins out of his hair. Pulling off the blond wig, Peyta exposed his brown hair, messing it up to appear more natural. He picked up the jacket, pushing the hat into a secret pocket and taking out the discrete revolver and placing it into his waistband.
Peyta exited the damp space, ducking into the sidewalk, and melding into pedestrian traffic. He was invisible, a different person, a regular seventeen year old instead of the assassin and killer that he had been turned into.
"Peyta," The comms sparked. He winced at the feedback, pressing his ear. "The mission file suggests that you return to your location." He gave a non-commital grunt, turning sideways to brush past an old man. Turning off the communication, Peyta cursed to himself. He had felt a tingling on his spine that had always warned him about danger. Glancing over his shoulder, the assassin saw the old man he had walked past look up and make eye contact. The man's eyes were a bright blue and his face easily was recognizable to Peyta.
"Captain America." He breathed out, almost frozen in place. He gave the veteran a mimed tip of an invisible hat and a devilish grin before breaking into a light jog. Not daring to glance over his shoulder, he entered a small convenience store, hoping to alleviate any suspicion that had been thrown on him.
"Hello!" He greeted the owner with a smile, gathering up a few pieces of fruit and an energy bar before dumping them all on the counter. The darker man with a salt and pepper beard gave him a smile after giving him a scrutinising look, greeting him and asking questions.
"What's a nice kid like you doing here and not in school?" Peter grinned at him, his fingers nervously tapping on his jeans below the counter. Carefully avoiding any trace of an accent that could identify him, he responded, terse.
"Work." The store owner nodded absentmindedly, scanning the items. Finally, he was handed the light plastic bag with a smile. Checking to make sure all of his items were there, Peyta gave the man a disarming smile, calling for him to have a nice day. The bell over the door rang and then stopped, the small store quiet.
He quickly pressed a few buttons on the phone on the counter, picking it up and listening to it ring.
"C'mon, May! Pick up!" He groaned, listening to the dial tone.
"May Parker." A woman's exhausted voice came over the phone.
"Hey," The store owner replied, relieved. "It's Delmar. Say, how old would Peter be now?"
She gave a small 'hm' before responding. "He would be about seventeen." Her voice was choked, nostalgic. "Why?"
Delmar frowned, looking out the door. "Cause this kid came in who looks just like him."
It was night now, and Peyta was outside of the tower. He had hacked into the AI system in the building, inserting his name as a low level intern to gain access to the building. After he had been cleared, he would enter and gain access to the top of the tower through the ventilation system. There, he would administer a smelless knockout gas.
Peyta couldn't have chosen a better time. He had been tracking the avengers for weeks, tailing everyone to see who would be in the tower at certain times. At that moment, only Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner and his target were in the apartment. Of course, other avengers could be in the building, but he promised himself that he would be outside before that became a problem.
The trained killer entered the building inconspicuously, scanning a printed badge from the local library like he had been doing it for months, making sure to adjust the straps of his backpack as if they were riding uncomfortably on his back.
"Paul Stone." The AI announced his arrival. "Level one intern." He smiled up at the ceiling displaying the photo of him in a fitting red wig, a nervous look clearly shown on his face. It had been easy to get a photo at the local pharmaceutical walgreens, claiming it was for his passport. Then, he had quickly downloaded a copy onto a flashdrive behind the employee's back and used Karine to implant it into the system.
"Evening." The front desk receptionist's voice had a monotone and bored voice. He gave her a charming smile.
"Good evening." Making sure not to draw any attention, Peyta entered the elevator, the glass pane behind him showing the city still bustling as New York's streets were crowded with tourists and people trying to get home. He opened his phone, accessing Karine's software that would allow it to look as if F.R.I.D.A.Y had glitched and lost control over the security programs. Quickly typing a few things into the malware, Peyta set it running. The elevator doors made a dinging noise and he almost disembarked before realising that it wasn't his intended floor.
"Hey!" A cheery voice greeted him. He gave a tense smile to the boy who had just entered. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Ned. I intern under Sam. Are you one of Bruce's? What's your name?"
"Paul." Peyta nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. This boy looked about his age, and the assassin sized him up as Ned began to chatter away about projects, work, as well as these things called… laygoes and Star Wars. What were… laygoes? Peyta wondered to himself before mentally kicking himself for being distracted.
Ned was wearing a sweatshirt and loose tee. He didn't appear to be muscular, and he still retained baby fat on his face. Peyta didn't see him as a person to watch out for, but appearances could always betray their true deceit. The elevator dinged for floor three, and he disembarked, giving an apologetic smile to Ned, who gave him a pang of nostalgia.
With a face like stone, Peyta quickly pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket with a screwdriver and dismantled the vent. He grabbed the metal covering before it could fall and placed it to the side, picking it up and replacing it. The phone in his pocket buzzed, indicating the twenty minute blackout was done. He grinned, army crawling toward the penthouse.
Peyta reached the shaft that he could use to reach the 70th floor. From there, he could have to make his way to the south west quadrant where he could use another shaft to bring him up the other twenty three.
Giving a small smirk, he pulled out his favorite piece of tech: the wrist web shooters that he had kept secret. They were inspired by spiders and the chemical design of their webs. Spiders were small, useful, and many people overlooked them. They laid traps and then went for the kill.
Angling his wrists upward, he heard the familiar twang of the webs connecting and sticking to the top of the web. Pulling downward, he let the elasticity and momentum pull him up. His gloves allowed him to stick to the wall and slow down. Cutting the web, Peyta collected it back, careful not to leave even the tiniest bit of evidence he had ever been there.
Crawling forward even more, the trained boy mentally reviewed his plan, the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He began removing his wig once he was sure he was in a safe place, starting the tech that transformed his face into that of Clint Barton. He then meshed his outfit, making sure that it was different from the one he had worn as Paul. Peyta nodded to himself before releasing the webs that would bring him upwards. He repeated the same motions of sticking to the wall and catapulting himself into the other vent, tucking into a roll and then flattening his body.
Peyta then pulled out a small cylindrical device that looked like a bathbomb. When touched with potassium chloride, it would quickly dissolve, leaving only an odorless gas that would make everyone in the apartment fall asleep. Attaching the gas mask to his face so it covered his mouth and nose, he activated the device with a prick of his finger, dropping it into the room below where it landed with a small plop into the cushions.
Staying silent, Peyta waited until it was finished and made sure it was undiscovered before dropping down from a different vent. He removed the gas mask, careful to make sure he didn't remove his disguise. He touched his throat to make sure that the modulator wasn't disturbed, in case he did run into someone. He made his meticulous way to Tony's workroom, finding the billionaire undisturbed and snoring. An indignant beeping noise came from the corner, and he glanced over to see a faceless robot, who he then disabled in a few seconds.
Rolling Tony over to better access the arteries on his neck, Peyta felt a multitude of emotions. Nostalgia, sadness, and anger. It felt like a part of him had reawakened. He knew this man, he knew that he did. Maybe not personally, but his past self did. He felt the ghost of a light beam shoot past him, and all of a sudden, he was back at the Stark Expo.
He blinked a few times, unaware of what his feelings of weakness were coming from. Breathing heavily, he injected Tony with the syringe.
"Pardon me, Mr. Barton, but what are you doing?" A pleasant female voice spoke up. It was FRIDAY. Peyta smiled conspiratorially.
"Don't worry, Fri." He mock whispered, holding up the needle with the clear liquid. It was a special toxin of his own design, with almost the same chemical makeup as saline, so it would appear harmless. However, there was cyanide in there as well, which would help to slow down the mitochondria in the victim's cells and eventually stop his or her heart.
"It's saline. Bruce told me that it hurt like a bitch when injected directly into the muscle." Quiet laughter came from the speakers. "Don't tell him it was me, okay? It's my newest prank."
Friday agreed, and with a pop, she quieted down and vanished. Peyta gave a slow exhale, relaxing his muscles slightly. Once the solution was emptied, he put the needle back in his pocket and exited the apartment. Smiling wide, the talented villain put on a happy-go-lucky facade and entered the elevators. He was almost clear, until the doors opened and a red haired woman walked in.
It was Natalya Romanova, one of the most talented spies he had heard about since he was younger- since he could remember. She was his idol in almost every way. Peyta gave a small hint of a smile under his mask.
"Hey, Clint." She greeted him.
"What's up?" He responded, his heart beating wildly. If he could fool Black Widow, he would be worshipped by his instructors. If not, he was going to die.
"Tony has me on paperwork." She rolled her eyes. "Can you believe it?"
He gave an unbelieving scoff, praying that this would help him.
"I'm going to get food, you want any?" He found himself slipping back into a comfortable New York accent, but he didn't quite know where it came from. Natalya shook her head and he grinned back at her. The doors dinged, and he exited, calling over his shoulder.
"Well, text me if you want anything!"
Exiting the building, Peyta waited in an alley for a few minutes, letting the adrenaline pump away until his muscles were tired and sore. He removed his gloves, his mask and his jacket, flipping it inside out to become a plain winter one and put the red wig back on his head.
"Mission complete." He pressed a button on his comm. Thousands of miles away, a man gave a devilish smile before a computer.