Power Within Her

Opportunity

It is midnight; the blackness surrounds me. Though it unsettles most people, it feels like home to me. The night air is freezing, sending shivers down my spine, but the cold feels nice when I take a deep breath, letting my lungs enjoy the fresh air—sitting on a rooftop across from the apartment where my target lives, I assemble the rifle and get into position. HYDRA needs him dead; I think his name is Kevin; who knows? HYDRA deems him dangerous and worries that he will reveal secrets to receive a better deal when he goes to prison. Therefore, they sent me to kill him.

Hacking into his phone and sending him a message, I can see his screen light up and hear the buzz. He stands up from the couch he is sitting on and walks over to the phone while keeping his eyes on the T.V. but unknowingly putting him in the perfect position to be shot.

The target pulls up his messages, and I can see him stiffen when he pulls up his texts. "Turn around," the message taunts him.

Slowly, Kevin turns. His face is pale as a piece of paper. His hands are shaking; he is starting to pant and sweat. That's when he caught my eyes, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. He tries to run; they always do; they may escape from someone else but not me. I always get my mark. Pulling the trigger and listening to the bullet fly through the air and smash through the window. The bullet hits the back, where his heart is located, and his body slumps to the ground, trying to desperately crawl away before the blood loss becomes too much and his breathing stops.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the slightest movement, moonlight reflecting off the metal on a gun and an arrow. Sighing, hoping for once that they will leave me alone but knowing they won't, I reach down and pick up my bag, acting as if I never saw them. Hawkeye releases his arrow; as it sails toward me, I realize something, I have food in my pocket.

My body jolts back, causing me to stumble for a second; looking down, an arrow is piercing my stomach; watching my blood drip down the wood, I grab ahold of it and pull it out like it was nothing. Looking at him with a bored expression on my face and slowly raising an eyebrow to taunt him a little bit, I grab the arrow with both hands and break it like a toothpick. Black Widow takes this as a sign and starts shooting, a whole magazine of bullets enters my body, and once the gun runs out of ammo, I begin to dig them out. The holes heal almost instantly thanks to my healing factor, and I can't die; I mean I can. It just takes a shit ton of effort.

To humor them, but mostly myself, I grab my bag and start jumping to another rooftop; the assassins follow after me, running at a slower pace. I can feel my blood pumping beneath my skin, the wind slapping my face, and my hair blowing in the wind. The only time that I feel free.

I can hear them approaching, their footsteps slamming against the ground as they try to catch up to me; it has been a while since I've been caught, so what the hell? I give up. Throwing my bag against the ledge of the building, I plop down and wait.

When they finally get to my roof, I'm sitting there, my bag next to me, and munching away at an apple. More specifically, a Honeycrisp apple.

Natasha and Clint look at each other in utter confusion and apprehension before shrugging and cautiously walking up to me, cuffs at the ready. I can hear them taking deep breaths to try and slow their breathing and try to make it look like they didn't have any difficulty keeping at my pace.

Standing up and keeping a firm grip on my fruit, "Cuff my hands in front of me," I tell them while taking a giant bite out of my apple.

"Why?" Clint questions while scoffing at me.

"Cause I wanna eat my apple; I'm hungry, dumb ass." Clint looks disgruntled while Natasha rolls her eyes but complies with my command, eyes still sharp, waiting for any sudden movements. Her uneasiness gives a deep sense of gratification as she tries to steady the slight tremor in her hands.