DECIPHER II MARVEL

~PROLOGUE~

January 26, 1996. It was pitch black and a crisp 27 degrees outside of the supposedly abandoned weapons facility in Moscow. Clint Barton, now known to the world as Hawkeye, but back then, he was just the newest SHIELD recruit, was assigned the task of examining an abandoned weapons base for any information on where the dealers might have gone, and the kind of ammunition they were selling.

Clint didn't know exactly what to expect. He did as he was told, examined the area, and found nothing. These guys were good, had to have been doing this for a while, but there always something they forget about. He climbs the latter up to the second floor loft, looking over the railing scouting the ground from above him. When he notices something. Tire tracks.

"You got anything, Barton?" asked the SHIELD leader Nick Fury, who had been monitoring the whole mission from his office back in the States.

"I think I got something," he hops down from the loft, walking towards the tracks, examining everything from the size to the color. "Tire tracks. Based on the marks, it's safe to assume their from a 1961 Ferrari 250 gt California."

"A what now?"

"A pretty rare type of car, only 36 were produced, can sell for almost 20 million." Clint explains. "Should be pretty easy to track down."

"Nice work Barton, take one last look around, and then you can head on back."

"Copy that." Clint disconnects his earpiece and follows the order. As he is about to exit the building, he hears a faint sound. Clint pulls his gun from his side, holding it out in front of him, hands on the trigger as he follows the sound. He follows it up to the loft, where hidden in a corner is a little girl no more than a few days old, with nothing but a green blanket wrapped around her. Sewn into it is a name, Anja.

Clint walked over to the child, grabbing her in his arms. She was freezing from the temperature and lack of clothes. Clint rocks her back and forth in his arms until she stops crying, her big brown eyes opened wide, staring right into his blue ones. "Anja," he looks at the name stitched in, "That must be your name, huh?" The babies eyes slowly close as she falls asleep in Clint's arms.

He puts his earpiece back in. "Hey Fury, I think I might've found something."

"What is it, Barton?"

"It's a baby, a little girl, her blanket says Anja, she can't be more than a few days old." Clint explains.

"Take her back with you. We'll check her out. Find her a place to live." Fury offers.

Clint looks a sleeping girl in his arms. "What if we kept her, me and Laura?" Clint asks. "I mean, we've never really talked about kids, but both of us want some, and I don't know, she seems, right."

"Are you sure about this, Barton? Kids are a big responsibility,"

"I don't think I've been more sure of anything in my entire life."