Mirage // Marvel Universe

ActiveCombat_Mis0967_Approved

January 2006

"Weapons and other equipment are for personnel use only. Any unauthorised usage will result in disciplinary measure for misuse of SHIELD property..." Blah, blah, blah. I let out a deep sigh. This manual is worse than every textbook I read in college combined and I do not make that claim lightly. It's a good thing I only spent nine months there or I'm pretty sure I would've been driven to madness. The food here may taste like a high school cafeteria and the agents can be unpalatable at times, but at least here I have a job to do in between memorising the SHIELD field manual. Training isn't bad either-- at least with Clint. Natasha is a whole other story, a story involving a concussion and at least twenty bruises.

It's late, almost midnight late. I rub my hand across my face and adjust myself on my bed. If I can just get through this then maybe Clint will get off my back about my field test.

There's a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I holler, not bothering to look up. It's probably Spencer wanting to borrow my laptop for about the sixteenth time this month. I'd figure he'd ask SHIELD for a replacement about now if he needs one as bad as he always seems to need it. Hell, I'd ask them for him if it'd mean he'd stop taking mine. "It's on my desk. Just give it back to me at training tomorrow."

"I'm not Agent Spencer," Natasha's voice says.

I snap the manual closed with a smile. "No, you're much, much better." I sit up, feet dangling over the side of my bed. She returns my smile. Her red hair is laid out in curls that fall over her mission suit. How she manages to look so good all the time, I don't know.

"You know, Spencer definitely has a thing for you, right? And he's cute too."

"Who Spencer?" I snort, "Not in a million years."

Natasha nods to the book next to me on my bed. "Clint?"

"Oh yeah. He wants me to be ready for my felid test next month," I sigh to myself, "I still can't believe you earned a level five clearance already. I've been in SHIELD for like three years. It's injustice."

"I've had years of training outside of SHIELD."

"It also helps that you turned twenty-one last year, grandma."

That's a major exaggeration. Nat is only a year older than me, but I take what I can get. Still, it sucks that an agent has to be twenty-one to get field certification and clearance above level five. For now, I'm stuck at level two.

She leans against my dresser. "This grandma can still kick your ass in training."

I scoff. "Talk to me when you hack the Pentagon."

She snorts. "You'll have to show me that someday."

"Not if Fury has anything to say about it," I yawn. God, it really is getting late.

"Listen, Harper, as much as I love our late-night talks," Natasha starts. Uh oh. "Clint needs us on for a mission... tonight."

"Like tonight, tonight?" I groan. Natasha nods, seemingly just as annoyed as I am. I roll my eyes, gesturing to her. "That explains the mission suit."

Natasha raises her eyebrows. "I'll bribe you with coffee."

My face immediately lights up. "Oh, you know me so well," I mumble, already making my way to my bathroom.

"We'll meet you at the hangar in twenty!" Natasha calls from my room, the sound of the door being closed following shortly after.

I splash wash my face, pulling back my lengthy black hair into a slick ponytail. Quickly changing into and zipping up my mission suit, I fumble with my boots. The whole mission suit idea has never made much sense to me. I can sit in front of a computer in the back of some van or quinjet in a hoodie just as well as I can in a tight-fitting, polyester suit. Too bad some idiot decided to make a mission dress-code part of SHIELD protocol. At least the boots are cool, and there is always the added bonus of feeling like a complete badass.