"You wonder if your chance will ever come,
Or if you're stuck in square one."
-Coldplay, 'Square One'
Vibrations hit her, everywhere. Echoing reverberations painted a mental blueprint of the surrounding area, the aroma of the outdoor coffee stall lulling her in to a trance. People moved about. How many were at risk? There were… ten? No, more like thirteen. She picked through conversations, sipping down her iced latte. Nobody paid her a single bit of attention.
But then, she found what she was looking for. Pushing her Ray-Bans further up the bridge of her nose, she stood and followed an unsuspecting man down the street. His phone was pressed to his ear, engaging in the very chat that she was sent to listen in on. "Target acquired." She murmured in to a Bluetooth earpiece device.
The man walked with a slight limp, his trench coat billowing around him. She picked up on his voice and distinct walk, making sure she stayed at a safe distance. "Just blow 'er skull in, Marty." The man remarked, his voice deep and gruff. "She don't mean nothin' to me anymore."
The phone was of poor quality; the speakers were hard to key in on. It took her a while before she heard anything. "… Rick, man, I can't go down on these charges. I can't kill a Fed. I can't do this, man." He was panicked, it was clear. This Marty wasn't the one she had to focus on. It was obviously Rick.
"Kill her, er I'll kill you." He spat. "She hooked up with me to get shit on us. I ain't no fool, Marty."
Hell, whoever the poor agent was, she hoped they'd be able to get to her. Richard Rebrooke was in a world of trouble, and she'd make sure he got brought down, just like any other underground-
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Furrowing her brow, she clicked the button on the earpiece that allowed her to pick up the call, and before she could release a professional 'hello,' the panicked voice of Natasha Romanoff, a fellow agent, hit her like a freight train. "Agent Reynolds?" Natasha called out, only the slightest of tremors piercing the Russian's cold exterior.
"Uh, Nat?" She questioned, trying to keep her focus on the homicadal suspect, "what's up? I'm working a case right now, so-"
"Barton's been compromised."
The blonde agent let out a barely audible gasp, stopping in her tracks. Oh, oh God. There was no way… "Wh-how?"
"Project PEGASUS went wrong. Coulson's swinging by to get you, soon. He'll brief you. I can't talk much longer, I'm boarding a jet to Calcutta." She replied, her guard back up. Coulson? PEGASUS? Jeez, what was going on?
"Why are you… Natasha, please tell me what's happening." She nearly begged.
Natasha merely sighed in exasperation. "If only I knew, Paisley. If only I knew."
Hey guys! Thanks for reading. This will be my first full-length fic that I completely intend to complete. Before you ask, no, Clint Barton will not be the love interest; Tony will. This tiny prologue was just to set some stuff up. A lot more will be revealed later, so stay tuned! Drop me any comments you may have, I love to hear feedback :)