1) Forget to mention that Abby and Peter were in their junior year at high school and about 17 years old.
2) I told myself I should write something for Mark and Darcy, which I will... eventually.
But I couldn't get the thought of 'what if the the Red Room took Amelia by force and just wasted Clint and Natasha and didn't bother about Phillip' out of my head. So I wrote an AU to my AU.
Ugh, I'm a terrible person.
Amelia's 17 and Phillip's 19
Amelia didn't ask a single question when she was shipped out to the States. She hasn't questioned a mark in nearly four years. Questions were doubting superiors, doubting superiors was disobeying orders. Disobeying order got you killed in the Red Room. The only thing that she had known for the past twelve years, she barely remembered her time before it. She vaguely remembered to the men who showed up at a house, she's guessing it was hers, shot two people, possibly her parents, took her and left. At seventeen she was one of the best operatives the Red Room has ever had. She'd taken out more marks than any other Agent at her level.
So some random community college student in New York was nothing to Amelia. Another face the program wanted wiped out, who cares? From only a few days of observation, Phillip Barton seemed like just a waste of her time and skill. He lived in a small, old house on campus with two other boys. They might not have to die, if they get out of the girl's way.
Around three AM was when Amelia silently slipped through the window of the home. The counters of the kitchen were littered with empty take-out food and leftover trays, pop cans, beer cans, pizza boxes. 'Americans' Amelia thought to herself.
The assassin started to make her way towards the stairs, a small reflection of light zipping across the wall catching her eye. Amelia managed to spin around quickly, blocking her attacker and the knife in his right fist. The left came swinging around to plant a hit to her ribs, which she quickly slid into a splits to avoid. She swung her legs at her targets feet, to have him jump up and flip over Amelia.
The girl spun around and lifted herself into a standing position, unsheathing a knife from her belt to slash the man's throat. He ducked his head at the last second, the blade leaving a scratch in the wall. Phillip pinned Amelia's gloved right hand with the knife in it to the wall, he went to stand behind her, quickly taking her other arm and twisting it behind her back to pin the rest of her body to the wall.
"You're not as pathetic as I thought." Amelia hummed.
"I suppose your goal is to kill me?" He spat, tone dark.
"What gave me away?" She leaned her head back and shook her blonde hair out of her face.
Phillip huffed an unamused laugh. "You Red Room assassins are all the same. Kill because it's fun, but turn the gun on them and all the laughs are gone."
"Well," Amelia stated as matter of fact. "You should know that I am not, like the other agents." She pressed her index finger and her thumb together, activating an electrical charge in the cylinders on her wrist of her right glove. Her targets hand instinctually shot back. Amelia slammed her free elbow into his nose, freeing her other arm when the one pinning her against the wall shot to its owners face. Amelia planted a boot to his abdomen, making Phillip lean forward and Amelia elbow the back of his neck. Phillip lost all feeling below his neck in a matter of seconds and collapsed to the floor.
"Relax." She said, crouching down to his level. "It's not permanent, just a little shock to the nerves to make sure you don't go anywhere." She held up her hand with the blue cylinders on the wrist. "You like these? Red Room calls them the Widow's Bite, said only one other agent has ever had the privilege of wearing them as a weapon them as a weapon."
"So you're pretty high on Russia's assassin food chain?" The teen asked, random twitches going through his body.
"I guess you could say that." She rested her arms on her knees and looked down at him. "But the question I have is why are you such a high target on the food chain?"
"It's a vengeance thing."
"Ooh," the interest in Amelia's voice was almost chilling. She smirked and sat down with her legs crossed, resembling more of the child she was rather than the assassin. "Tell me about it."
Phillip shifted his head to face her more. The blonde hair flowing to her bicep, the faintly familiar glowing green eyes. "Why?"
"Call it general curiosity. Instructors don't tell us anything."
"Your, instructors," he spat. "came to my home in the middle of the night. They took my sister, and murdered my parents. I was seven, she was five."
"She's probably dead." Amelia shrugged nonchalantly, many of the girls die before they reach twelve.
"I don't think so."
Amelia eyed him wearily. "How do you figure?"
Phillip gave her a small smirk. "I'm staring right at her."
Oh come on, who wouldn't remember their little sister if the last you saw her was when she was screaming for help? Phillip would rember that for the rest of his life.