Book 2 open now!
Just more Natasha Romanoff and Scarlett Johansson one-shots on this app:) I promise my writing improves after the first one. Bear with me.
‼️Under construction 🚧
OC's name is Callie Atwood (also known as Vertigo).
GxG
Fluff.
A...
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——————————————————————— Callie: "Go in in 3... 2... 1..." I instruct my team of agents outside of the suspect's small home around 10 PM.
I kick down the door and lead my team into the house with my gun drawn and held out in front of me. The members of my team separate into pairs and check the house.
"Clear!" An agent calls from the kitchen.
"Clear!" Another from the living room.
One by one, each of my agents calls that their room is clear and I meet my main crew in the foyer of the house. "We're missing something," Agent Brooks thinks out loud to us.
"Is there somewhere we didn't check?" Agent Caldwell asks.
I stay unusually silent during the discussion. My apprentice studies me.
"What is it?" He questions me.
"I have a bad feeling," I admit.
With my skills and experience, when I have a bad feeling, it's always right.
"Agent Atwood." I hear in my earpiece.
"Go," I respond.
"We found something. Behind the house."
"On my way." I maze through the house and groups of FBI agents, my apprentice following closely.
When I get behind the house, I'm shown an exterior metal basement door. It's small, easy to miss.
"Okay, we need to act fast. If he's down there and he has the kid, hearing us coming will be a stressor. He won't hesitate to make a move. Weapons stay drawn until I say otherwise," I instruct the team. "Follow me."
I rip the door open and follow the barrel of my gun into the dark basement of the house. My team spreads out, scanning every inch of the area.
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
I rip open a door to a closet and immediately freeze. Sitting in the dark, the missing child, his hands tied behind his back and tape over his mouth. I holster my gun and kneel down in front of the kid.
"I got the kid," I say into my earpiece. I turn my attention to the child, carefully taking the tape off of his mouth. "It's okay. I'm here to help. You're safe now," I tell the crying 5-year-old.
I untie him and he lets me pick him up. When I leave the closet, I hand the kid to an EMT that arrived on the scene. After a different team takes pictures of the scene, everyone files out of the basement. My team is the last to leave, me in the back of the group. We're just about to reach the narrow steps when I hear a muffled sound. I stop in my tracks and turn around to face the darkness, waiting and listening. Barely a minute goes by and a large dark figure steps up to me quickly, striking my upper chest, above my bulletproof vest, hard with something cold and metal. I stumble back.
