mission report
The hand blade rests snuggly in the holster looped around your waist. Stalking quickly into the room to your right, your soft yet sweaty hands reach for your knife, ready to attack at any moment. Although you had been on the team for an whole year, you were still jittery and nervous. No matter what, you were still considered a newcomer, still learning the ropes of what it takes to be an Avenger.
“Shadow, there should be a briefcase on the table. Retrieve it and come back. Watch your six.” Steve’s voice echoes through your earpiece. Shadow. A nickname coined by Sam when you first joined the team. Rather dramatic, you thought, but it fits what you were good at. Sneak in, do what needs to be done, and get out without a trace like there was never anyone there. And that was the exact mission at hand now. A new rebel group that idolized Hydra were conspiring to revive the organization, and their plans were in the briefcase you were tasked to take. You took a quick glance into the hallway you were just walking, then reached for the black leather briefcase sitting on a wooden table.
“Got it. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point, Cap,” you whispered into the comms. The air suddenly became heavy as you curled your hand around the handle of the briefcase. This seems too easy, you thought. There was usually more bloodshed, more fighting, and at least someone to punch you in the face. This mission was nothing like the ones you went on with your teammates. The uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach was something you couldn’t shake. Maybe this was a blessing in plain sight. You have been working your ass off to prove yourself to the team, and a simple in-and-out mission was the universe’s way of giving you a pat on the back. As you traversed the eerie halls of the abandoned hospital, you heard a creek. Barely audible. Coming from the left. You whipped your head around to see…nothing. Not a piece of debris out of place. Must be in my head, you reassured yourself. Your grip on the blade tightened, still on high alert. Then you heard it again. Your hand returned the blade to the holster and switched over to a .22 magnum.
Without a second thought, you strode to an equipment table perched against the wall, and with one swift movement, you kicked over the table and onto its side, revealing a man. He looked not even in his early 20s, but something was off about him. The look in his eyes told you everything you wanted to know about him. He was determined, brave, and ready to kill whoever stood in his way.
You pulled the trigger, pointing the barrel of the gun at his ribs. However, he rolled to the side, effectively dodging your attempt on his life, all the while kicking you in the back of the knees. You suddenly lose the firm footing you once had, falling forward into a somersault to face the assailant. His brown hair was messy and full of sweat and dust particles, his eyes crazed with a hint of black in his hazel eyes. He lunged at you with his barreling fist, all while you took a step to the left. Typical. Not even a blink later, you slipped the gun back into the holster and reached for the favored weapon, the knife. You sunk the blade deep into the side of his stomach, twisting it feverishly, then pulled it out immediately, eliciting a low groan from the mystery man. He dropped onto his knees, clutching the wound. That may have been the quickest fight ever with the dumbest combat strategy you’ve ever witnessed. The man below you looked up at you for the last time, his mouth opening slightly.
“What do you know?” you cocked your head to the side, a force of habit when you defeat someone in combat.
“This,” the man muttered out. “This is a small price to pay for the resurgence of a new world. A better world.” He gritted his teeth, then started chewing. Your hand went under his chin to forcibly open his mouth. A crushed pill disintegrated on his tongue, leaving a slight blue tint. Cyanide.
“Für immer Nova,” he whispered with life leaving his eyes. You clean your blade against his jacket, slipping it into your hip. With frantic hands, you open the briefcase only to see a singular piece of paper. Written in blood, the text reads, “Hi, Avengers.”
Well, crap.