Author's Note: Wow, views have doubled since the second chapter went up. I'm still pretty new to this, so it took me some searching until I figured out how to check for reviews. My one review so far was basically a comment, but I'll reply anyway. Loki, Iron Man, and most of the other characters don't show up until a few chapters in. You'll just have to be patient, but don't fret, they're really coming! It's just that I hadn't quite gotten to the events in the Avengers yet. Again, the perspective changes... so you'll definitely see Loki and Tony's perspectives soon.
0o0o0o0
One year later.
The men waited impatiently for the SHIELD representative to arrive. They surrounded the neatly inconspicuous safe house, some perched in trees with sniper rifles, others crouching hidden in the bushes. There were only two men inside the shack- the President and his Secret Service Captain, the highest-ranking member who actually worked in the field. The men are getting antsy, the Captain groused silently. He kept one eye on the President, the other on the only exit, a concrete-and-metal reinforced door with a DNA-secure lock. The President sat in the solitary armchair, restlessly pretending to go over some paperwork. He was clearly just as nervous about the representative as the men. The Captain recalled the annoyingly persistent SHIELD agent's demands that one of their people be assigned to protect the President in this crisis. They had called in the middle of the night to order him- him, the President's own Secret Service Captain- to remove the President from his comfortable White House bed and get him to this safe house, where they were to await a SHIELD escort of exactly one operative, before they could hide away in a nuclear bunker.
If the situation hadn't been so amusing, the Captain was sure he wouldn't have agreed to SHIELD's demands. The only word he'd had was from them, but he'd decided to treat the whole thing as a drill (Because really, he wasn't stupid. Extraterrestrials, if they did exist, were much more likely to be microscopic bacteria than a magic-wielding God of Lies) and went ahead with the safety protocols. Now he and his men just had to wait for that stupid agent to waltz in, twenty minutes behind schedule, in order to get the President to the safest place they had prepared.
The President set his papers down with a grimace. "Where the hell is that agent, Captain? I want to get this drill over with, I have a charity benefit tonight."
The Captain rolled his eyes. "Sorry, sir, but this drill seems like it might take a lot longer than we thought. The agent should be here any minute."
As if on cue, the DNA-scanner lock beeped a confirmation tone and clicked open. Both men turned to stare as a young woman slid through the door and stood at attention in front of them. She was wearing what the Captain assumed to be SHIELD's battle gear, a black jumpsuit that was very form-fitting, with all kinds of clips and loops for weapons and ropes and grenades... that were all empty. This only reinforced his belief that this was all a drill. Her large yellow eyes (very weird, he thought, are those colored contacts?) flitted from him to the President and back.
"Agent Fell, at your service," she smirked. "You may now proceed to the bunker."
The Captain glowered at her disrespect- she couldn't be more than twenty years old, the punk- but complied. He hustled the President into the waiting Secret Service jeep. On the way, the Captain noticed that the agent's transport was already gone. For the entirety of the one hundred mile drive through dense forest with barely enough room between enormous trees for the jeep, Agent Fell patiently sat next to Mr. President in the back seat, staring out the window with a cool, professional air. She carried herself tightly, moved efficiently, like every motion required forethought. What a strange chick, the Captain mused. The President just eyed his guard warily.
They reached the bunker a few hours after dark. The President stiffly made his way into the safe house, but he paused at the door. The Captain almost ran into him. "Agent Fell?" he questioned. She was standing a few feet from the bunker's entrance, watching their surroundings.
The agent turned to him. "Yes, Mr. President?"
He seemed to shrink from her impassive yellow gaze. The Captain watched the scene with interest. I knew he was another cowardly politician type. "Ah... aren't you coming in?"
She shook her head, eyes hard. "No, sir. My orders are to stand guard right here."
SHIELD sure has strange training missions, the Captain mused as he locked the bunker door with a click. There was no real need to post anyone outside; the bunker had full surveillance feeds from every exterior and interior angle. He wasn't sure how long they were going to be on this drill; the rookie would get cold and bored out there by herself. The Captain couldn't feel much sympathy for her. She was impudent, and had probably been assigned to their drill as punishment for something.
0o0o0o0
They ended up staying in the bunker for almost a week. The Captain had his men take food and drink out for the girl, as well as a mat for the second night, but she refused all but the water.
Finally, the bunker received a call from SHIELD headquarters. The Captain answered.
"The threat is back on his home world, so the President can be returned to Washington. Advise him to start looking at rebuild efforts for New York City, as well as a diplomatic apology to the German government. Also-"
"Wait, what? What happened in New York?"
"... didn't you lot take the Director's warning seriously? We had an extraterrestrial threat, they ended up attacking in New York. A few thousand people died."
The Captain was at a loss for words. He hastily informed the President of the incredible news. He turned a pasty white and grabbed the phone. "You mean... this wasn't a drill?"
The agent on the line said stiffly, "No, Mr. President, I regret to inform you that it was not. Full disclosure of the Battle of New York will be given to you in time- at least as much as your clearance level warrants. Now, you may return home, but the Director has new orders for Agent Fell. May I speak with her?"
The Captain opened the bunker door and stuck his head out. "It's over, kid, and there's a call for you from SHIELD."
Agent Fell obediently took the phone and listened for a few minutes before saying, "Yes, sir, I understand," and hanging up. She turned to the Captain. "I have orders to remain with Mr. President until the Director sends a SHIELD agent to retrieve me." They didn't dare argue with her, as their minds were all spinning with the implications of the report.
0o0o0o0
With the President safely returned to the White House and his First Lady, the Captain found time to go through the news coverage of the Battle of New York. It was incredible- aliens, monsters, and superheroes were now matter-of-fact. My nephews are probably so excited right now, he thought, watching footage of Captain America battling alongside a hammer-wielding man and a red-haired woman wearing what he recognized as a SHIELD battle uniform. He wondered if Agent Fell was a part of all this somehow. Nah, she's just another rookie, I bet.
0o0o0o0
After seeing Loki and Thor off to Asgard, Natasha and Clint returned to SHIELD's New York base of operations. They reported straight to Fury for another debriefing. Instead, he had orders for them.
"A mission already?," Clint complained.
Fury scowled. "Barton, you're not cleared for duty yet, so calm the fuck down. It's just a retrieval."
"Of what, sir?" Natasha asked mildly. Fury shot a distrustful glance her way. Good, he's realized I'm not pleased about having Clint out and about so soon. He should be recuperating.
"An agent." Fury muttered shortly. "I'm still not sure it's time for you two to meet her yet, but since you'll be instrumental in her future training, I don't think I have a choice." Clint blinked, seemingly uninterested. The Director continued, "She's barely had enough training to go through with her last mission, and if it had lasted much longer things might not have turned out so well. You'll be taking commercial transportation to the retrieval site, and there's a quinjet available for the return trip. You'll be bringing the agent straight me at the Helicarrier." He handed them each identical files. "That's as much information as I can give you right now. Have fun, agents." Clint and Natasha nodded to Fury on their way out the door. They perused the files in silence on their brief ride to the airport in a SHIELD car.
Clint was the first to speak. "What the hell is this?" He gestured to the file, mindful of their driver. He continued in Portuguese, since he'd seen the driver's file and knew he didn't speak the language. "Por que razão foi este recruta enviado para proteger o presidente? (Why was this recruit sent to guard the president?)"
"Não há muito o que o seu registro oficial. (There's not much to her official record, either.)" Natasha murmured. Clint was interested in spite of himself, it seemed. Natasha poked his bicep with one manicured finger. "Se ela vai ser formação connosco, ela deve ser algo especial, certo? (If she's going to be training with us, she must be something special, right?)"
Clint huffed, amused. "Right." They were relatively quiet for the rest of their journey.
0o0o0o0
After arriving in D.C., the agents took a taxi to the White House. It was the middle of the day, but since the entire country was still reeling from the implications of recent events, the place was free of tourists. They were escorted through a side door by stern Secret Service agents. The President was waiting for them in the Oval Office.
"Thank you for coming, agents." He smiled brilliantly, a politician's charismatic grimace, full of charm and nervous confidence. He glanced at a corner of the room briefly; Natasha realized that there was someone there. Normally she would have noticed and cataloged the possible threat immediately.
She ignored the presence as best she could. "And thank you, Mr. President, for your cooperation. The Director sends his regards." The President looked to the corner again, swallowing nervously.
"Yes, well, I have a lot of work to do right now, so if you don't mind..." he looked at her expectantly. Natasha smiled inwardly. She liked this girl, if she had such an effect on the most (publicly) powerful politician in the world. Natasha finally turned to the presence in the corner. She raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. It had been too long, she reflected, since SHIELD had recruited someone so young. Not as young, of course, as Natasha had been when she entered the Red Room, but nonetheless.
The girl in the corner was dressed impeccably in the regulation SHIELD covert op uniform, the same one Natasha had worn during the Battle of New York; black, reinforced jumpsuit and combat boots. She wasn't carrying any visible weapons, and checking the common hiding spots in the familiar garment Natasha didn't spot any hidden ones. Curious. The recruit stood at attention, back ramrod straight, arms folded behind her back, chin high. Her short, uneven dirty-blond hair fell haphazardly across her face, in sharp contrast to her otherwise spotless appearance. The most striking thing about the girl was her impassive, watchful yellow eyes. They didn't seem quite natural; in the calming pale light of the Oval Office, they almost gleamed from the mild shadow the girl had made a sanctuary. Natasha realized, with a jolt, just how young the girl actually was. Her posture and steady gaze belied a youthful face. Her eyes met Natasha's unflinchingly, assessing the threat the assassin posed, ust as Natasha was doint to her.
The girl was silent as the other agents hastily bid farewell to the president. She followed them out to the waiting taxi. Natasha could feel those unnatural eyes on her back. It would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so unorthodox. This girl was sent to guard the president? Is Fury mad? Clearly she's a new agent; untested, without proper clearance, without any experience under her belt- but Natasha wondered if that was true. The girl reminded her of herself, in a way; the way her eyes silently traced the line of buildings out her window, and met Natasha's in her reflection through the glass. I don't know what to make of you, Natasha thought. Despite her training, the cues she was reading from Agent Fell were at odds with each other.
She trusted Natasha and Clint, that was clear from how easily she turned her back to them. She was something of a professional, said her posture and the way she held her limbs close to her body. She was impeccable within protocol in her actions and dress, except for her wild hair and how quickly she disregarded the president. The Secret Service had watched them anxiously as they left, as if they expected the girl to spring at them. Her file had only given them a surname, Fell- and it was sparse besides that. She was apparently only eighteen, but Natasha suspected that she was younger than that. And now that she was closer, Natasha could also see that Fell was wearing makeup; not much, but enough to make her features less youthful, and to conceal something on her right cheek. Her ears were not pierced, and her nails were cut ruthlessly short.
Agent Fell- young and professional, trusting and untrustworthy, regulation and wild, tense and seemingly at ease- was someone Natasha would have to watch carefully. The girl might trust them, but Natasha knew- and Clint probably did too- that there was something about her that screamed untrustworthiness.
The girl blinked when the taxi stopped at SHIELD's D.C. hangar. Clint explained, "We've got a private flight to New York, where the Helicarrier is being repaired. You'll report to Fury there." Agent Fell nodded and followed them onboard the quinjet. Their pilot was separated from the cabin by a soundproof wall in this model, Natasha noticed. Once they were in the air, Clint turned to the girl. "So why were you sent to protect the president, anyway?" She eyed him.
"As I do not know your clearance level, for now I am forced to assume that information is classified." She murmured. Her voice was dry, unused. Natasha wondered if she had spoken at all in the time she spent with the Secret Service.
"We have your file right here," Clint said, brandishing the folder. "It doesn't say much."
Fell was watching Natasha impassively. "Who are you?"
Natasha met her gaze. "Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff," she said dryly.
Recognition lit the girl's eyes. "I see," she said, half-smiling in a way that pulled strangely at the right side of her face. Her eyes were shadowed, accentuating the yellow gleam. "I have heard of you. The Director speaks highly of you." She paused. "However, I don't think he wants me to say anything to you yet."
"Alright," Clint muttered rebelliously. Natasha continued to watch the girl.
"Can you fill me in on what happened? All I know is that there was some kind of extraterrestrial threat, and my orders were to report to the president. I haven't heard anything since then."
Clint frowned, a line appearing between his eyebrows. "Wasn't the bunker sent updates?"
Fell smiled fully, exposing neatly arranged white teeth. Her eyes remained blank. "I wouldn't know, as my post was outside the building." That shocked Clint into silence. Natasha cocked her head. She wasn't inside the bunker for the entire week she was stationed there? She decided to wait to ask Fury about that once they arrived, and proceeded to fill the girl in on Loki and the battle. Fell seemed more and more agitated throughout the telling, but didn't ask any questions.
0o0o0o0
Clint and Natasha dropped the girl off with Fury. He nodded to them before saying, "Alright, sit, I've got to brief you." Clint groaned as he dropped into his chair. The three agents sat in the chairs around Fury's desk as the director paced restlessly behind it.
"Alright, here it is. Barton, Romanoff," he glowered at them impressively with his one eye. "Agent Fell here is a potential recruit for the Avengers Initiative." Clint gaped; Natasha merely blinked slowly. "She's still in training, but if things go our way she'll be doing a couple of trial missions with you two soon. Until then, you're on vacation. Two weeks, to let people cool off about you, Clint, and keep you out of sight until things are more stable around here. Go wherever the hell you want, apart, together, I don't care. Just be back here, in this office, in exactly two weeks. Got it?"
Natasha pulled Clint out of the room before he could protest. Well then. Our lives certainly are getting interesting. Two weeks, then, little girl. We'll see how you handle training with us. She did wonder, though, why she'd never heard of Fell as a candidate. She had done the Initiative recruit profiles herself; it was as if this girl had come out of nowhere.
Too late, Natasha realized that she had forgotten to ask Fury why the girl had been posted outside of the bunker.
0o0o0o0
Clint and Natasha still had two days left in their vacation. They had decided to spend it in one of Clint's many safe houses, in Lebanon. He loved the food in Lebanon, and there was a cute little restaurant with amazing hummus just down the street from his house. Clint had safe houses in almost every country he'd ever had a job in, back in the year he spent as a sniper for hire. They were the best thing he'd gotten from that year.
Their vacation had been great- two weeks to spend with Tasha, sparring, watching corny movies, eating out, and just basking in her presence. He wanted to forget all about Loki and his blue-washed memories from the time spent under his control. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Clint knew that with his skills, he could've done a lot more damage to the Helicarrier and its passengers than he had. He thanked the God of Mischief's oversight for that little break. Things were great in Lebanon, unlike back home, where the cleanup of New York continued.
So it was a shot from the blue when Natasha hastily pulled Clint behind a dumpster in a Lebanese alleyway and hissed, "Three o'clock!"
He craned his neck around the corner and cursed. "What the hell is she doing here?" Agent Fell was stalking down the narrow street, dressed in bright, touristy clothes and carrying a blue duffel bag. It was dusk, and she was difficult to see, but Clint would recognize those eyes anywhere. Fell glanced around warily before ducking into the alley directly across from them.
"She must be on a training mission- we're in the way. We should go back early." Natasha whispered. Clint squinted at the retreating figure. She suddenly dropped the bag and ducked low as a figure dressed in black lunged at her from the shadows.
"Shit!" Clint breathed. He wanted to go help the girl, but if he did, they'd be in so much trouble. They were already on shaky ground just being here. As he and Natasha watched incredulously, Fell grabbed her attacker by the throat and pulled obscenely. His neck burst in a flash of red, rivulets of blood running down the girl's arm. She scooped up the duffel bag one-handedly and pulled the man into the shadows. A moment later, she wrenched open a hidden door and dragged the corpse inside. They didn't come out. "Holy crap," Clint said.
"Well," Natasha smirked, "I guess we can see why she could be on the team." And yeah, that had been impressive, but Clint didn't like the look of the the large factory Agent Fell had just entered. They were in the worst part of town; most of Clint's safe houses were in places like this, out of necessity. And Clint knew for a fact that there was a large underground organization of some sort whose headquarters was in that building. He and Natasha had considered investigating it themselves, but hey, they were on vacation.
"Hey 'Tasha..." Clint began.
She sighed. "Clint. If we go in there, we'll be interrupting a covert operation. It's got nothing to do with us, we should just leave. Fury wouldn't send her out here if she couldn't take care of herself."
"Tasha. Did you see any weapons on her?"
She frowned, "No, but they're probably in the bag."
"Nope. That bag had nothing but clothes in it, I could tell by the way it swung." Natasha huffed in amusement at frankly awesome eyesight before biting her lower lip distractingly.
"She had to have weapons."
"I'm telling you, Tasha, I didn't see any. All she's got is that guy's gun, and it was just an old Viper JAWS. Nine rounds left, at most." Clint started to make his way towards the hidden door. Tasha followed him, jaw clenched. Clint knew he was breaking protocol, but he couldn't just do nothing.
"Look, we'll just be her trump card. If she doesn't need help after all, we can leave and Fury'll be none the wiser." Tasha didn't reply. She was eyeing the pool of blood on the ground as they neared the door.
When the opened the door, they stopped. The guy from the alley was just inside- his throat a red ruin, neck twisted at a painful angle. There was a hallway, with doors on either side, and all of them were open. There were three more bloodstained heaps in the room, and bullet holes in the walls. They still had all of their guns. It looked as though one of them had been bodily thrown against the furthest door; there was a large bloodstain there, and the body had been carelessly shoved aside to allow entrance. The agents crept down the hall. The factory was deathly silent. One door led to a surveillance room with several more broken corpses and dozens of static-filled screens. Most of the others led to offices, either empty or with deceased occupants.
The furthest door led to a large factory floor. As Clint neared it, he could hear shouts, screams, gunshots, and inhuman growling. It all cut off sharply once they ran into the factory. It was empty of machinery, seemingly repurposed for arms dealing. Many of the weapons were strewn about, along with their users. Blood pooled on the floor. Corpses, hundreds of them, were ringed in a circle around the center of the room. They were unrecognizable. Jesus fuck. The bodies were mangled, throats, abdomens, heads torn apart. Some of them were missing limbs. A few had apparently tried to run; their arms stretched imploringly to another exit, which was blocked by boxes. In the center of it all stood Agent Fell. Holy fucking shit, Clint thought as he and Natasha stumbled forward.
Fell watched them approach motionlessly. She was covered with blood; plastering her hair to her scalp, running down her face, on her lips, coating her arms up to the elbows, in a river down her clothes. In her eyes, too- or were those fast-fading flecks of red something else? Despite the carnage, the girl seemed uninjured. She met Clint's eyes, then Natasha's. Her lips quirked up, halfway, higher on the left, her right cheek spasming oddly. Slowly, she brought her red-soaked fingertips up to her mouth- and licked them clean with efficient, practiced flicks of her tongue. Her sharp white teeth glinted dully with blood.
"Fuck," Clint breathed. Natasha's fiery blue eyes took in the scene, and Clint heard her breath hitch. She took a step towards Fell. "NO, Natasha, what are you doing-"
"Shut up, Clint," she stage-whispered. She took a few more cautious steps forward. The blood-covered girl watched her approach, eyes shadowed. "Agent Fell," Natasha called. She was only twenty feet away now, Clint noticed nervously. She kept moving forward, movements exaggerated. "We didn't mean to come across you like this." Fell moved on from her fingers and started cleaning her arms. "Are you injured?"
Fell smirked. "Not at all, Agent Romanoff. Ah, I wouldn't come too close, if I were you." She said, as Natasha edged ever closer. "As I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not particularly safe to be around." That last statement wiped the smile from her face.
Natasha stopped, five feet from Fell now. "Neither are we. Or any of the Avengers, really."
Fell finished with her arms and pulled at her stained clothes disgustedly. "Probably not, no. Still, it would be better if you kept your distance."
"Where's your bag?" Natasha asked. "I'll bring it to you, so you can change."
"It's just over the-" a gunshot rang out, echoing off the metal walls and cutting Fell off mid-sentence. Clint pulled a handgun from its hidden holster under his waistband and shot blindly towards the source of the sound. He was rewarded with a wet gurgle and a smack as the survivor dropped dead. Fell was staring at the blood dripping from her side in shock. As Clint watched, she started to shake, and a rough, low warning growl reverberated from her chest.
"Stay back!" She snarled as Natasha tried to come closer. Fell curled in on herself, swaying on the spot. She bit her hand harshly, trying to stifle the growls. Clint couldn't see her face.
Natasha quick-stepped back to Clint and grabbed his arm. "We have to go." He didn't protest as they ran back the way they'd come. As they hastily slammed the alley door shut, he heard Fell's low growls taper off into a snarling howl that made his hair stand on end.
They waited in the alleyway for a few minutes. Eventually, Agent Fell opened the door. Her face was haggard, and her yellow eyes were flecked with red. She looked a lot like Dr. Banner did after he Hulked out, back in New York. Clint eyed her wound nervously. She hadn't done anything to really treat it. Natasha cautiously took her arm and led the girl back inside. Clint followed them. What. The. Fuck.
0o0o0o0
Natasha led the girl back into the factory proper. She noticed that the corpses had been disturbed- they were even more mutilated that before, and Fell's arms and face were coated with more blood to match. Her throat constricted painfully. I have no idea what this is, she thought.
The girl allowed Natasha to grab her duffel bag from its place in the shadows and take her to a grimy bathroom. She was silent and watchful as Natasha carefully cleaned her up, removed the bullet (that provoked a rumbling growl that seemed to be instinctual), and dressed her wound. It bled sluggishly, staining the pristine white bandage. Fell's whole head had to be drenched to remove the blood from her hair, and when she was toweled off (the duffel was full of wonders), Natasha's nostrils flared as she noticed that the girl's face was damaged. On her right cheekbone, four dark scars marred the smooth skin. They were jagged, and pulled at her flesh. Fell saw her looking.
"There's some nerve damage," she murmured. That explained the odd smiles, then.
Natasha redressed the girl in touristy clothing indistinguishable from the shirt and pants that were now ruined by blood. They returned to Clint, who was still staring at the corpses in the factory. He turned to them as they approached.
"All good?" he asked. Fell nodded tiredly. "Great. You're probably going to want to burn this place to the ground," he told her conspiratorially. The girl shot him a half-hearted glare before lowering her head slightly and taking off into the gloom. Natasha heard a brief shhhfft, then a bright flame illuminated the factory floor. Fell could be seen spreading gasoline from an open canister over the bodies. It didn't take her very long to cover everyone.
"Y'all should probably get going," she said, as she positioned some kind of detonation device. Natasha and Clint scurried out the door. Fell joined them a few moments later. They hurried across the street just in time to admire the bright, localized explosion that started an enormous fire. "Thank you for your assistance," Fell addressed Natasha. "I won't forget it." Before they could stop her, she ran off into the night. Her duffel bag was gone, lost in the flames.
"Holy shit." Clint said calmly. Natasha acquiesced.
0o0o0o0
Author's Note: You guys have no idea how long this took. I had a hectic last- what, month?- of school. We're technically not done yet, I've still got a week of finals. I just couldn't not work on this, and it was a great excuse not to study. Ahem, I mean, a great creative outlet to focus my attention on titrations and stoiciometric relationships. Yep, that's it alright. Seriously though, I'm sorry it took me so long, but school's almost over, so updates will really pick up soon, I hope! I've got another fic in the works, not sure if I'll post it yet. Similar stuff, really, but the execution is a bit different, and I at least want to post a one-shot of my favorite scene from the other one, even though it really has nothing to do with the Avengers at all. It could be like a teaser, I guess ;).