You rub your (e/c) eyes as you awaken from another terribly short night of “sleep”- if you could even call it that. You hadn’t had a real night of sleep since you joined S.H.E.I.L.D. when you were just 15; they always had you training or doing some ridiculous mission.
You got up from the small mattress that lay on the floor of your tiny bedroom. You only lived here a few weeks out of the year, considering you were always on a mission somewhere foreign. Your room held the few pairs of clothes you owned, a pile of books in the corner and the old mattress that you never cared enough about to get a real bed frame.
That was your life in a nutshell- confined and barren. You had no family left and you were constantly kept in line by S.H.I.E.L.D.
You were brought up with a gun in your hand; to show no mercy, make no deep connections with people, trust no one and fight until your last breath. And you never strayed from those guidelines- ever. Unlike the most recent agents, the Avengers; if you could even consider them agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
The Avengers: a ragtag group of the superhero variety that consists of The Hulk, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, and two of the best agents codenamed Black Widow and Hawkeye. They were a completely non-compatible motley crew of powerful people that, surprisingly, were a force to be reckoned with.
The only reason they even came together was because of Thor’s psychotic brother Loki, the God of Mischief. Just the thought of him made you fume with anger; he killed and injured a lot people, many of whom were your good friends.
You were thankful to the Avenger everyday for teaching that horrible man…god….person a lesson. You hoped that whatever they were doing to him in Asgard was painful; he deserved every minute of it.
You were pulled out of your thoughts suddenly by your phone furiously buzzing. You scrambled to pick it up and held it to your ear.
“This is Agent Phoenix,” you say into the phone, using your alias.
“Agent, please report to headquarters immediately- you are needed in a highly important mission,” the voice of Nick Fury reached your ear.
Nick Fury, you thought, he never speaks with me, this must be really important.
“On my way,” you said and hang up the phone.
You jump out of bed, now fully awake and dress in tight black jeans and matching jacket that was typical for S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and slipped your feet into a pair of high-heeled black boots. Glancing in the mirror, you tied up your (h/c) hair into a loose ponytail.
You leave your apartment and walk swiftly down the three flights of stairs that lead to the parking lot beneath the building. You walk in the bright florescent light until you find your familiar black motorcycle and get on it. placing your helmet over your head, you start the bike.
You ride out of the lot and onto the slick black pavement that reflected the street lights on either side of you.
You drive fast on the almost empty road, wondering just what important mission awaits you at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. You should’ve been excited, but you could only think about how tired you were. You hoped that whatever you had to do, it wouldn’t be too difficult.
Which is a shame, because you were dead wrong.