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NIGHT HAD FALLEN over the streets of London. The city lights twinkled in the darkness. The stillness of the night was only broken by the sound of an odd car engine, drunken screams and yells, and the panting of a young girl who was sprinting through the streets.
Her hair flew wildly behind her as she ran, the soles of her worn-out trainers slapping against the concrete. Breathing heavily, she rounded the corner of an alleyway and pressed her back against the wall. Cautiously, she peaked around the corner, sighing with relief when her pursuer was nowhere to be seen. She rested her head against the cool brick wall, closing her eyes and revelling in the soothing feeling it brought her.
"You aren't looking so hot."
The woman's eyes snapped open. A figure walked slowly out of the shadows, his footsteps echoing in her ears, and she watched in shock, feeling frustration rise in her chest.
"I was doing just fine before you decided to show up, Barton," she spat, standing up straight to face him.
"Really?" Clint asked, head tilted to one side. He looked her up and down, eyebrow raised. "You don't look fine to me."
She shifted slightly, glancing down at her old, tattered jeans and jumper. Then, her top lip curled into a snarl, and she threw her shoulders back defensively. God, she was tired.
It seemed like every fibre of her being was aching, in one way or another, and she craved the comfort of her bed, which is where she'd been heading back to, until she spotted her old teammate attempting to scale her apartment building, and enter through her window.
"Why are you here? What do you want?"
Clint shifted where he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. The ghost of a smile played on his lips at her defensiveness.
"We're getting the band back together. S.H.I.E.L.D fell, I'm sure you heard about that. Now HYDRA has Loki's sceptre. We need to retrieve it."
"'We'?" she echoed, the amusement evident in her London accent. "I was never a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. I'm not a part of this."
"Sure you're not. That's why you ran, right? Straight after New York. Always moving, like you can't stay still." Clint crossed his arms over his chest, observing her.
"So you've been watching me. What's your point?" she questioned him, mimicking his stance.
"That you don't belong. No friends, no family, no place to call your own. Don't it get lonely?"
"Is that any of your business?"
"What name are you using now? You have so many, I get confused," Clint continued.
"If you want me to join the Avengers again, you're doing a pretty bad job convincing me," she rolled her eyes. She took a couple of steps back, longing to walk out of the alley, away from him and the team of superheroes once and for all.
"Admit it."
"Admit what?" She was growing tired of Clint's probing.
"With the Avengers was the only time you've ever felt like you belonged."
Her jaw clenched as she narrowed her eyes and sneered at him. He'd hit her weak spot, and he knew it. She shook her head and let out a shaky breath, her nails pressing into her palms and leaving behind tiny, crescent-shaped marks.
"Alright, sure. We're a bunch of freaks who saved the world one time. You don't need me to join you again, do it yourselves."
"You think I would fly all the way to London if we don't need you?" Clint asked.
"Seems like the kind of stupid shit you would do," she shrugged.
"Oh, c'mon."
She shook her head, turning to walk out of the alley.
"Ayana," Clint said. He didn't say it in the mocking voice he'd been using all night, but in an almost pleading way.
Ayana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been three years since she'd used that name.
