As If I Was Human
Clint Barton, S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, sighed loudly as he viewed the file in front of him. His new mission dossier had arrived, and as usual, he had been looking forward to analyzing his next target, assessing all their weaknesses and forming a plan of attack. As a trained assassin, Clint took pride in killing, and made sure each execution was, well, executed as gracefully as possible. Not that he didn't enjoy a good old fashioned brawl every now and then, but if there was a choice, Clint preferred sharp-shooting. One clean shot, and one more successful mission.
Clint Barton loved his job. And he was good at it. S.H.I.E.L.D. had plenty of agents working for them, but out of all of those, only a few were fully trained field operatives, trusted to work alone. Clint spent most of his time alone. His job required it. That was the beauty of a sharp-shooter. He could be in position, finger on the trigger, body coiled ready to sprung, for hours. Not moving, barely blinking, waiting for the mark to be in position. It's not something you could do whilst in company. To be that focused while another breathed beside you. No, Clint may have been part of an organization, but he was not part of a team. That was how he liked it. He was a killer, and he liked to kill alone.
Not this time, however.
Clint didn't understand, if he was honest. Covert operations were more Natasha's style. Getting in and out undetected, information in hand, that's what she was good at. A spy. Why didn't Fury send her? It didn't make sense. But, he supposed, it wasn't his job to speculate, it was his job to kill. Usually.
The screen, now placed on the table, showed the profile of a young woman. A woman who Clint was not being sent to kill. Running his fingers through his short brown hair, Clint sighed again, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. Women can be dangerous, he knew that well enough, but this Carter Thomas didn't show any signs of being some sort of threat.
Still, he reasoned, looking back down at the screen, she had disappeared from the grid at a young age, and had clearly spent most of her life hiding. Clint picked the tablet back up, his fingers tapping through the information. There wasn't a lot to read.
Carter Thomas, using the alias "Claire Bronson", had been spotted living in a small town in New Mexico. The agent sent on reconnaissance had screwed up, alerting "Claire", who then fled the country. She was now working in a small cafe in Brazil, under the name "Taylor Lithgow". Not much else was recorded.
Scrolling back through the information, Clint returned to the profile picture. The previous agent had managed to take a few covert snapshots before Carter had discovered him. Long black hair, blue eyes, 24 years old, about 5'4 in height, looked to weigh 120 lbs. Clint stored the info away in the back of his mind, looking closer through the photographs. Since fleeing, Carter would have altered her appearance some how. She was used to being on the run, after all.
Slim frame, Clint noted, thin hands and face. Small scar under her left eye. Searching for aspects of her appearance she wouldn't be able to change, Clint flicked through each photo set, taking in all the tiny details he would need.
An hour later, he felt he had all he needed for now. The plane would be landing soon and he needed to change clothes. Shrugging off his S.H.I.E.L.D. standard issue black jacket, Clint ran through his cover in his head. Although he would mostly be watching Carter from afar, his official story, should he need to approach her, was that of a struggling writer in search of new inspirations. S.H.I.E.L.D. had acquired him a small apartment overlooking the cafe "Taylor Lithgow" waitressed in, meaning he could work from the comfort of his own home.
A smirk spread across his face as he tugged on a pair of worn out jeans. He originally accepted this mission with some amount of trepidation, but now it seemed like the easy job would be something of a vacation for him. A few months in the sun, near the beach, sitting on the balcony watching an attractive young woman serve food. It actually didn't sound too bad, now that he thought it over. And Carter Thomas was certainly attractive enough. No typical jaw dropping beauty, but exactly Clint's type. Messy, not quite wavy, not quite straight hair, bright eyes, and a rough, wild demeanour that made Clint smile to himself.
Even if he didn't really see the point of this mission, he was damned sure going to enjoy it.