I Am Circuit

Chapter I - STRIKE Team Delta

A/N: While I despise Author's Notes with every fibre of my being, this one's kinda necessary. This chapter is painfully short, and took forever, and for that I sincerely apologize. I felt like it just needed a little introduction to the team dynamic rather than a full blown launch straight into it.

Nonetheless, enjoy!

While STRIKE Team Delta was the smallest STRIKE unit in SHEILD, it was the most specialised, and with by far the highest success rate. It consisted of only three agents: Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye; Electra Jones, AKA Circuit; and Natasha Romanoff AKA The Black Widow - The soldier, the scientist and the spy.

Normally, Electra ran point from the Field Ops Centre on base, but this time she was in the field, with her team. With her best friends.

As Clint took his spot on the rooftop across the street, from the Abu Dhabi high-rise in question, Electra took a leaf out of his book - Vents. She shuffled through the small metal confines expertly, as per Hawkeye's instruction, until she reached a grate in an intersection.

"Please let this be over quick," she muttered to herself, "This heat's not doin' my cybernetics any good..." She pulled the hood of her jacket over her long blonde hair - which was braided tightly on the left hand side, as to not get caught in her cybernetics - and waited.

Natasha, however, was poised, ready to knock on the front door to the 24th floor apartment suite. The redhead could bat her eyes and basically make anyone do anything.

"Hawkeye, Circuit," came the Black Widow's hushed tone, "You guys in position?"

"I am in position," Clint responded, bow in hand, "I have eyes on the south side. No, wait, east side."

"And I am currently pulling a Hawkeye," Electra gave a mute chuckle, as she slid a magazine of electrically-charged copper-tipped bullets into her Sig Sauer pistol, and racked the chamber back, "In position, holed up in the goddamn vent. Floor fully sealed off and civilians have been evac'd."

"On your mark, Widow." The two female agents heard the smirk in Clint's voice.

Over comms, they heard the distinctive sound of a knock on the front door, quickly followed by the familiar strangled gasps and breaking bones of Natasha's first target. Her fellow agents stifled their laughs, "The Black Widow, ladies and gentlemen." Electra's lowered voice laughed.

"أين صادق أنور؟"
«Where's Sadiq Anwar?» Natasha's nigh-flawless Arabic flowed easily, as she pinned the second man to the wall.

"More hostiles," Clint told them, "Circuit, go."

On cue, Electra kicked the grate out in front of her, and landed with all the skill and grace of a cat, on all fours, on the plush carpet below, "You get him to talk," she looked to Natasha, "I'll keep these goons busy."

As she took off, she heard Clint's voice again, "Circuit, you fried the elevator right?"

"Yeah, course," she confirmed, a sparking fist slamming into the neck of her first opponent, and she drove her knee into his solar plexus, "Why?"

"'Cause it's moving."

"How the f--? What?" she cried, as she shoved the second assailant into a wall, repeatedly ramming his head into it, now thoroughly annoyed, "Hawkeye, get your feathery ass in here. Now."

And, on cue, a small thunk sounded from the large window, as Clint fired an ultrasonic emitter arrow, the pulse shattering the glass. A second arrow created a zip line, and Clint propelled through the window, skillfully dropping to the floor safely, "You rang?"