Avengers High School

Chapter 1: The Initiation Process

Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD looked across the table at the applicant whose file he held.

"Hello, Widow," he said, smiling fondly at the girl who'd become almost a daughter to him.

"Hi, Director Fury," she replied, smiling back. This was a huge change from the terrified, emotionless iceberg who had defected to SHIELD a bit over a year ago now.

"A few spots have opened up at the SHIELD Trainin' Academy, and I want you to go there." he told her.

"Why, sir?" she asked, confused. "I am already completely trained!"

"Almost," he pointed out, "you're almost completely trained. You still need to learn teamwork, Ms. Widow."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." he said. "You'll be rooming with 5 other trainees. Y'all will be a team, and you'll have one specific partner within that team. I'll tell the other members the same when I introduce them, and all y'all will be livin' together until you graduate. D'you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" The Black Widow replied, already wondering who her teammates would be...

...and whether they would hate her for being former KGB and Hydra or not.

Clint Barton glared at the man sitting across from him.

"I really don't care what you do about the problem with the acrobats, sir." he snapped. "All I really want is a good night's sleep!"

Jacques Duquesne, Clint's mentor, smirked at the angry teenager. "Well, if you would at least go talk to the ringmaster about it, I'm sure you would get what you really want..."

Clint was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it. On the one hand, he had to reason with angry acrobats about his archery routine. On the other, he had to ask the ringmaster if there was some other plan.

Seeing as the acrobats had tried to kill him the last time he had tried to talk to them, they both knew which option he would choose.

"Alright, fine, sir." he sighed. "I'll talk to the ringmaster."

A rather stupid move, on Clint's part.

Clint sat in the trailer, waiting for Mr. Black to return. Honestly, what was taking the man so long? Didn't he realize that Clint had more important things to do than sit and try to keep his thoughts away from black Chevies and Pokemon songs and certain seven year olds with long red hair and snapped necks?

...Shit.

Mr. Black stepped into the trailer.

"What..th' 'ell...er you doin' 'ere?" he slurred.

Great. He was drunk. Clint's day just kept getting better and better.

"W-well, sir, y-you said you would talk to me about the acrobats?" Clint stuttered. He hated drunk men.

"I'll...talk...t'you tomorra, kid," slurred Mr. Brown. "'S too late..."

Clint nodded and skedaddled out of there.

As he was walking back to his trailer, he heard a voice yell, "Stop! Thief!"