sparrow // mcu

chapter 5 - to find an archer

The thing about small bases was that they tended to run on a cycle that wasn't unlike the regular, nine-to-five business hours, except that no one actually left the building at the end of the day. During the day, the halls were a hive of activity, people going in every direction. When night fell – well, you could almost mistake the place for deserted. Lights were dimmed, agents went to sleep, and guards took up their rotations. There were always a few people in mission control, of course, but they were only there to monitor any action, as very few high-level ops ran from here.

Imogen knew the cycle well. She'd lived on a base just a little bigger than this for a good two years now. No matter how many night ops people went on, they always fell back into the same routine of rising and retiring with the sun. So once the clock ticked over to two AM and the base was as quiet as it would ever be, Imogen left her room, closing the door softly and creeping away down the hall. The bow and quiver were an unfamiliar weight on her back, strapped across her shoulder; she'd prefer not to carry them openly, but there was no other way to take them with her. At least this way, her hands were free for fighting, if it came to that. Hopefully the shadows in the halls would hide them from immediate view if she came across anyone.

And if someone did notice them, there was a gun at her side, and she had a mean left hook.

The halls were deserted, letting her pass through the base like a ghost, unseen. Every room was dark, except for the empty mess hall and mission control, where a handful of people sat hunched over bright screens and mission files, their attention far away from the woman creeping past outside.

The staircase was the problem. As one of only two ways out of the bunker, there was always someone watching over it. During the day, they'd been placed above ground, in the small building that acted as a disguise for the operations below, but now there was a woman at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and looking bored. It was immediately clear that Imogen wouldn't be able to sneak past – the whole staircase was lit up like a Christmas tree – and there would be no bluffing her way out either, not with the bow and quiver.

For a moment her fingers touched the gun, like she would be brave enough to shoot someone from the shadows she was hiding in. Not that it was a very good plan anyway; the shot would echo in this big concrete prison, drawing her unwanted attention from who knows how many other people. Mission control wasn't very far away, and there would be other guards roaming the halls even if she'd managed to avoid them until now.

And that was before she even accounted for how her hands had shaken when she'd tried to shoot Clint. There was no time for mistakes like that in this sort of environment, where she was forced to face the woman at close quarters.

There was only one way to do this then.

She stepped out of the shadows. The other woman jerked upright, caught off guard by the sudden company. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, replacing surprise with anger, trying to cover up that she hadn't been paying any attention to her surroundings at all.

"Got some business upstairs," Imogen replied, gesturing at the stairs with one hand. The other played with her loose hair, trying to block the woman's view of the weapons she was carrying. She wondered how Barton even pulled off covert operations with this thing.

The agent's eyes narrowed. "What's that behind your back?" she asked.

Imogen frowned, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me, kid," the woman threatened, stepping within Imogen's reach. "That right-" Imogen cut her off, lunging forward in a tackle that drove the point of her shoulder into the guard's stomach, driving the air from her lungs. Both women went crashing to the ground, the guard struggling to push Imogen off her. One of her elbows caught the blonde in the face; growling at the sudden burst of pain in her jaw, Imogen pinned down her arms and wrapped her fingers around her throat, bearing down with all her weight.