UNKNOWN GUEST

#26 First Assignment

A few weeks later, I found myself in a tense meeting with Director Fury, Uncle Clint, and Maria Hill. Fury was pacing back and forth in his chamber, his frustration palpable. The way he was stomping around, it felt like he was trying to wear a groove into the floor.

Maria Hill and I exchanged worried glances. We could tell that whatever Fury was about to decide wasn't going to be pretty. Fury finally stopped pacing and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Even Romanoff isn't here," he said, his voice dripping with annoyance. He turned to Hill, his gaze demanding an answer. "We have no choice but to go with a full-fledged attack."

Uncle Clint didn't hesitate to jump in. "Director, we can't do that. It'll backfire. We're risking too much."

Fury's eyes narrowed. "So, what do you suggest? Let this guy slip through our fingers? We've been waiting months for this opportunity. We can't afford any more delays. We don't have anyone else who can handle this assignment alone."

Clint shook his head slowly. "Actually, there is someone."

Fury's eyebrows shot up. "You're going to take the hit—"

Clint cut him off. "No, not me."

Maria Hill looked puzzled. "Then who?"

That's when Clint looked at me. My heart skipped a beat. Who was he referring to? I glanced around, trying to make sense of it. I had no idea who could handle this.

 He kept looking at me with an expression that said this was serious. I glanced around, trying to figure out what was going on. Was he really suggesting that I take this on?

Fury and Maria exclaimed in unison, "Him?!"

My stomach did a somersault. Oh great, I was in deep trouble now.

Uncle Clint nodded, confirming my worst fear. "Yeah, right now, we only have Jason, other than Natasha, who can finish this assignment."

I stood by the car, dressed in a shirt under a jacket and jeans, trying to calm my nerves. Uncle Clint gave me a once-over and nodded. "Okay, you look like a tough guy now."

I let out a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation. Maria Hill shot a skeptical look at Clint. "If he messes this up, you're in deep trouble, Barton."

Clint shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, Hill. You know I don't take losing bets. It'll go fine."

Hill sighed, clearly unconvinced, and walked away, leaving Clint and me alone. He placed both hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "You've got the plan down, right?"

I nodded, though my nerves were evident. I glanced at the lighter in my hand, feeling the irony of holding it when I didn't smoke. "I don't smoke, though."

Clint rolled his eyes, clearly used to my quirks. "Noted. But you're clear on what you need to do?"

I straightened up, trying to project confidence. "Understood. Knock out the main guy and bring him here."

Clint gave me a nod of approval, but his face grew serious. "Listen, kid. If things get too hairy—like if there are 10-15 guys—don't push it. Just send a message, and we'll come in as backup. You don't have to push beyond your limit."

I nodded, though the concept of limits felt almost alien. With a mother who was an unyielding assassin and a father who never backed down, pushing limits was practically in my DNA. I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, Uncle. I can do this all day."

Clint opened his mouth, probably to offer some final words of encouragement or wish me luck, but I cut him off. "Aah, don't! Don't wish me luck. It always feels like a threat for me to do better."