But you weren't punished or held back when you made the choice to finish off the criminals, the ones who've murdered so many or planned to. If anything, you were given more free range as time went on, working solo seemed to be most successful, and Fury called you into his office a month after you asked for a deal. In that time, you led eight missions and got him more wins with you than he had all year. He was using you, it wasn't a secret, because you were expendable and not like the rest. At first, you were offended, but then you realized it gave you more freedoms and if you were him, you would've done the same.
You weren't his friend or his colleague or one of his agents.
You were a weapon.
After one specifically bloody mission on both ends, he called you in and you knew this was about the deal, so you skipped the med bay to go to his office as is. You were cut up, dirty, bruised, and limping, but the anticipation drove you there instead of getting help first.
"Move, move, move." You grumbled, pushing by some agents as you went down the hall in a hurry.
Recently, he made it so instead of four or five guards always following you, there was one, maybe two who had to chase you down the hall just to keep up even with a limp.
"Sorry, sorry I'm late." You apologized breathlessly, barging in, and he didn't even look up when he pointed to the chair.
You sat down and immediately noticed you probably broke your wrist, so you kept it by your middle.
"You couldn't clean up first?" He cringed and you went to fake offense, but he put his hand up to stop you, "The board reviewed your proposal."
"Am I going to Hollywood?" You gasped sarcastically, "Or! Or do I have the X factor?"
"Would you shut the hell up?" He scowled and you nodded, slumping in your chair before he continued, "With all you've been doing for SHIELD, they've decided to grant you a deal."
"Wait, seriously?" You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking it was a long shot at best.
"Two years," He raised two fingers to cement it, "You serve out two years for SHIELD, bring me wins on missions, and they'll release you."
"Two years?" You gaped, "That's it?"
"Would you like it to be longer?" He snapped.
"No, no, no!" You rushed, "Thank you, sir!"
You got out of there fast and practically skipped down the hall, your smile hurting your cheeks. You were basically dancing down the empty hallway, deciding against the elevator, and turning the corner. You were shaking your shoulders excitedly as you went, your eyes shut as you bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from smiling to big, and you crashed into somebody.
Just your luck.
"Shit, my bad," You muttered, and then glanced up, "Oh. It's you."
"I wasn't watching where I was going," He gave you a tight smile, moving out of your way, and walking by, "Have a good day."
You shrugged it off and kept subtly dancing down the hall until you got to the stairs, deciding to run up the ten flights to burn some of your energy and piss off the guard. By the time you reached the med bay, needing some stitches and probably a wrap for your wrist, you found out about your next mission. Except this time, you weren't going alone.
Nope.
The boy in blue was going with you.
It's almost as if someone's trying to put you guys in a situation where you'd have to converse or something.
