valkyrieinabottle - Tumblr blog

valkyrieinabottle · 4 years

Text

Parting Shot (Ch. 1) {Clint x OC}

SUMMARY ››› It started as a simple task: stop a potentially homicidal alien and recover the work it stole from SHIELD. But when a local baker finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Clint Barton may have more to protect than just a couple of pages.

PAIRING ››› Clint Barton x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››› 3,460

WARNINGS ››› I would say this whole story is T for Teen. So you’re pretty safe.

A/N ››› This isn’t typical Tumblr fare. It’s a multi-part series with an OC, but I’ve been perfecting this for 8 years so maybe give it a shot?

Near Cima, California

Agent Hill greeted Nick Fury as he climbed out of his helicopter.

"How much was lost on PIECES?" He didn't bother greeting her. One of the privileges of being the director of the world's central secret law-enforcement agency was that it was well within his rights to bypass the normal social formalities.

"He took the second half of the journal along with all of the translations," Hill informed. "All we have left is Dr. Selvig's memory." She eyed the manila folder in the director's hand as she fell into step with him, exiting the helicopter pad. His thumb covered the file name, only leaving the SHIELD logo exposed.

"And the agent providing the translations?" His voice commanded her attention back to him, and Agent Hill met his eyes briefly to deliver the news.

"Gone, sir."

Fury nodded once as if she affirmed his prediction. "Are there others?"

Hill shook her head as the pair descended further into the facility. "She's the only casualty so far, but at last check there are eleven agents in the MedFacility in varying conditions."

"What's Agent Barton's status?"

"Down in the lab helping Dr. Selvig assess the damage. He was one of the few to witness the Vanish and not have any scars to show for it."

"Anything else I should know about?" Fury probed, stopping before the lab's door.

"No, sir." Agent Hill shook her head.

"Good. Make sure someone notifies the deceased agent's family is notified. In person," Director Fury ordered. "And contact Agent Romanoff to debrief her on what's happened."

"Should we pull her from the field?" Agent Hill asked.

"That remains to be seen."

Hill nodded before taking off back the way they had come. Fury turned to the lab, pushing open the doors to see what was left of the Project.

Had he inspected the lab on a normal day, only the soft whirring sounds of machines would have greeted him into the streamlined, spacious room. Every object and agent would be in its place. And the agents would have been too absorbed in whatever research he or she was laboring over to notice the abnormally loud footsteps.

But today was not a normal day.

Agents dashed about, checking equipment, tinkering with equipment, dodging sparks flying off the equipment. Papers were scattered across the floor with agents scrambling to rescue them. The salvaged documents were passed quickly from agent to agent and delivered to different workstations around the room where others attempted to piece together and log what information they still had. Smoke hovered in the air around them, and towards the back of the room, someone set down a fire extinguisher to wipe his brow. In the midst of the chaos stood Dr. Selvig, shouting brief directives to each agent who scurried past him.

"How's it looking, Doctor?" Fury asked. The scientist whirled around to face the director, his hands full of photocopies. He was unusually pale and his hair was mussed. A small cut above his left eyebrow trickled blood.

"It's not good, Director; I can tell you that," he responded, guiding Fury to a table where Agent Barton hovered over a journal and several of its torn pages. "This is what we have left on the project," Selvig sighed as Agent Barton reordered the pages, shuffling two down to put another in its proper place. "He took Kendrick's journal and Kathryn's notebook with her translations. All of our electronic copies are lost since he fried the mainframe and corrupted our backup server. We're looking for any copies he might have missed, but it looks like it's all down to the few notes I've made along the way." Dr. Selvig looked around the room as if to fully survey the damage. "You know, it's getting dangerous working for you. You'd think I would have learned after Loki."

"Can you make any progress with what's here?" Nick Fury asked, ignoring the comment, or maybe failed joke. Dr. Selvig turned back to look at the director, watching as Fury turned a few of the pages around so he could get a better look at them.

"Very little. His theories are too progressive and without having the proper translations for the formulas…" Selvig trailed off, his attention captured by the chaos once more.

"And how long before you can retranslate?"

"We could start retranslation in a week at the earliest. We have to get all of this sorted and figure out exactly how far back this incident has put us. Once we have it all together, actually retranslating could take at least another three weeks, probably more without Kathryn." Dr. Selvig moved around to the other side of the table, his eyes darting between the papers before finally snatching one up and coming back over to Fury. "I've put together a list of the formulas and translations I remember, but it's not much to go on."

Fury took the list, setting it against his folder as Dr. Selvig peered over his shoulder, pointing to a name. "This, we discovered is connected to Dr. Wilhelm Alder. He's an expert on black holes—specifically their expansion and contraction. Actually," Dr. Selvig's eyes brightened with a moment of clarity. "He's giving a lecture this Saturday at the New York Hall of Science. There's a gala there—"

"What else is here?" Fury interrupted.

It took Dr. Selvig a second to collect himself before he returned to the list. "This," he pointed at the bottommost formula that was underlined and circled; from the formula, an arrow was drawn pointing at a name with a couple of question marks next to it. "Appeared the most often. It's not really apparent in the earlier work, but it became increasingly frequent throughout. We have no idea what Kendrick meant by this."

"I do," Fury commented, tearing off the last name before sliding the rest of the list inside of the manila folder. The gesture effectively ended the subject of names and translations.

"I was thinking, aside from seeking out Dr. Alder, perhaps it's time to call in Jane Foster or Dr. Banner. It's bad enough that we lost so much information, if we had them maybe—" Selvig swayed a little bit, and Fury furrowed his brow.

"Perhaps you should get that cut checked out Doctor," Fury suggested.

"It's fine, just a minor laceration. Anyway, as I was saying, Jane or—"

"I'm not bringing anybody else into Project PIECES. In fact, I'm taking you off of this as soon as you have everything sorted out," Fury said, flagging down an agent who was scurrying by.

"What?" Dr. Selvig sputtered. "For this little thing?" he gestured to his head.

"As you said, working here is getting dangerous for you. And the last thing I need is a repeat of the Chitauri Incident," Fury gave the scientist a significant look. Dr. Selvig nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Agent Heung, see Dr. Selvig to the MedFacility, and notify Agent Hill to begin preparations to move what we have to the Helicarrier." The agent nodded, wrapping an arm around Dr. Selvig's waist to escort him up to the MedFacility. The director watched them go for a minute before turning to the remaining agent. "Agent Barton?" For the first time since Director Fury entered the room, the agent looked up from the papers.

"Yes, sir?" Agent Barton asked coming alongside Fury as the director moved to leave the room.

"What's happened here?"

"The alien came through the door, and we immediately made an effort to restrain him. He released a device which emitted some kind of energy blast, knocking us backwards and temporarily paralyzing us. He made his way up to the journal, setting off more of these devices which did a number on the equipment and those around it including Dr. Selvig. Agent Blake managed to avoid the blasts and came at him with her gun, and he killed her. By that time the effect of the pulse had worn off, and we were able to surround him. I took my shot, but he just vanished." Agent Barton paused his report, as if unwilling to share the next bit. "Sir, if he was capable of causing this much destruction, he let us take him in. He wanted to be here so he could get to the journal. And now that he has those translations, I think he's going to start going after the people in Kendrick's journal."

"My thoughts exactly," Fury responded, handing the folder over to Agent Barton.

"Operation A.R.R.O.W." the agent read the cover of the folder. "Is this a joke?"

"The names on Selvig's list are going to need protection, and we need to know why Kendrick put these names in his journal," Fury ignored Clint's question. "Which starts with you going to the Meeting of Minds Gala this Saturday."

"Me, sir? I'm a soldier. Natasha would be better suited for this," Barton protested.

"Agent Romanoff is where I need her in the field. Besides, I need someone who will play well with Stark."

"Stark?" The disappointment seeped through his professionalism.

"Invitations are hard to come by, and he already has one. Yours is in the file along with everything else you need to know," Fury said, gesturing at the folder. The agent's forehead creased with a question that he knew better than to ask. "Be at Stark Tower by six," Nick Fury ordered before walking away, leaving the agent behind.

In Manhattan, New York City

Molly McKay rarely ate breakfast at home.

Food was never appealing at four in the morning, and since she had to be at Monarch Bakery by five to begin the day's baking, she was left with a choice: suffer through an early breakfast or push through to brunch. As with most people in her line of work, Molly respected food too much to simply eat for the sake of eating. So, Molly usually skipped breakfast, opting to break for brunch once Hilary came in to finish off the baking. If a 9:30 meal could even be called "brunch."

Regardless of labels, Molly often found herself walking down to Pershing Square Café on the days she worked to enjoy her first meal of the day there. Her actual enjoyment of it was a bit of a debatable subject, but to say so would be getting ahead of things. As it was, the food was good and the frequency of her visits along with the donation of pies to their bakery case afforded her a significant discount, so she continued to go more often than not.

The only significant thing to threaten her enjoyment came in the form of a young blonde waitress who decided that it was her goal in life to make Molly better. Beth. Somehow, Molly had been stuck at Beth's table a couple of times in a row, resulting in Beth's unshakable belief that they were now friend. Best friends, actually. The hostess, perhaps thinking she was doing Molly a favor, perhaps avoiding Beth's wrath, continued to seat Molly in Beth's section every day. And so, Molly started off every morning with Beth. Every morning. With Beth.

"Molly!" Beth exclaimed in her singsong voice, swooping over to the baker's table. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Molly responded calmly to the perky blonde, flipping to the next page of the menu. Molly had memorized the options a long time ago (one of the gifts of having a true photographic memory) so aside from checking the specials, perusing it was mainly for distraction value. A polite way to ignore Beth.

"Did you try the hair rinse I suggested? A little rosemary and apple cider vinegar will really bring the life back to your hair. Make it less…flat," Beth picked up strands of Molly's brunette hair with her free hand before letting them fall back into place.

"It's on the shopping list," Molly answered with a weak smile, resituating herself on the bench and subtly scooching a little further out of the waitress' reach.

Beth let out a dramatic gasp, and Molly's head jerked to the waitress, her eyes wide. The blonde's smile seemed to have grown. Which could only mean…"Did I tell you? O Captain! My Captain! Reached 1.5 million fans," Beth gushed, pouring Molly a cup of coffee.

"Really?" Molly asked, not bothering to put the usual tinge of interest in the tone. Instead, she reached to the small porcelain bowl at the center of the table and plucked out two creamers. Carefully, Molly peeled off the paper covering them before pouring them circularly into her coffee. She still had a good five minutes of Beht going on about Captain America and her great website – it was the leading fansite for Captain America in the world, did you know that? – and there was nothing Molly could do to stop her.

"To celebrate I reposted the story of how he saved my life," Beth said, her voice turning dreamy at the end of her sentence. Molly stacked the empty creamers together and reached for the sugar display. "It was the day of the Chitauri Invasion—" The baker had heard this story so many times that she could probably recite it in unison with Beth. I was being herded across the street along with everyone else by the police. There were gunshots and explosions all around. It was as if my life had suddenly turned into an action movie. People were screaming, and the police were barking orders trying to get the situation under control. I still remember the fear I felt in the pit of my stomach. Terror in its purest form. I hope you never know what it feels like to know that at any moment there could be a bullet with your name on it. One explosion close enough, and that was the end of your story. You turned into another number in the death toll. A name on a memorial wall.

She would pause there. Molly emptied two packets of Sweet-N-Low into her coffee.

And that's when I saw it coming for us. Did you know, there's a stage of fear when you just let it take over you? It seeps into every fiber of your being, seizing you in its cold, deathly grip, paralyzing you. I couldn't move. I couldn't even scream. Death was coming, and I couldn't even lift a hand to greet it.

A small smile played on Beth's face. She was proud of that line, but she had to keep the mood of the story up. Molly's spoon made gentle clinking sounds against the inside of her coffee cup.

And then he came. He stood right in front of me with his shield. That circular red white and blue disc is all that stood between me and my grave. But it was like the assault wasn't even there. I made it home that night because Captain America saved me. He protected me from certain death. I owe him my life. Beth stood there, carafe in hand, letting the story sink in. She still hadn't perfected the ending. Molly tapped her spoon against the edge of her mug before setting the piece of silverware down on her napkin.

"It's an incredible story," she remarked.

Beth smiled brightly. "And how's Monarch?" It was amazing how fast she could shift through moods.

"Good," Molly nodded. "We're signed on to cater a fundraising gala tonight, so that should be fun.

Beth gasped, delighted. "Ooh, a gala?" Her interest seemed to actually be piqued for once.

Molly straightened in her seat a little, letting a small smile curl at the edge of her lips. "Yeah, it's essentially for a bunch of the leading physicists of today to update their benefactors. You know, like a 'this is what we're working on and what we've discovered' and 'this is how you can use this knowledge and why it's worth your investment,' kind of thing," Molly paused, taking a sip out of her coffee.

"So a whole night of people talking about science?" Beth snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Well, it's being held at the new museum that just went up, so that should be cool to look at."

Beth simply nodded slowly.

"And I'm really hoping that this'll open the door to catering for some of the high society philanthropists."

"Great, so pancakes, right?" Beth responded, changing the topic. "Whole wheat? Low-fat syrup?"

"What? Oh, I don't want the low-fat, reg—" Molly stumbled over her words, recovering from the conversational whiplash.

"Molly," Beth sighed, already writing down the order. "Low-fat is way better for you. It's time to start caring about eating healthy. Especially if you want to attract a man. Need to keep in shape for that," Beth winked. The thing about Beth was that she was fairly certain she knew more about Molly than anybody else.

Including Molly.

"I'm not really worried about that sort of thing," Molly protested immediately. She hated when Beth got on this subject. When anyone got on this subject, really.

"Oh. Well, good for you," Beth said, too brightly. "I'd be a mess if I were your age and still single. I mean, think about it. Suppose I met a guy and fell in love a week into being thirty. It'd take a year and a half to make sure I was really in love, and then another year to plan the wedding, so already I'd be like what, thirty-two and a half? Then once we're married there's like the ten months or so of getting things in order and making sure he'll be a good father. Which means I'd be thirty-four by the time I had the first kid, and that's if I got pregnant right away. That's eight years behind schedule. Seriously, if I don't have a kid by twenty-six, I'm going to adopt."

"That's only two years away, Beth." Beth kept Molly up to date on her birthdays.

"I know," Beth moaned. "So, I really need to get a move on with this whole husband thing. I mean I can't be the fifty and still raising kids."

"Excuse me, miss?" An older man at a nearby table raised his hand. Beth spun, sticking on a radiant smile.

"Yes, sir? How can I help you?" The singsong voice was back. Molly breathed out, glad the attention was off of her and her love life.

"Can my wife get a little more coffee?"

"Of course she can," Beth swept away from Molly's table and over to them. Her voice still chirping over the other noises of the café. "I'm so sorry. I just got a little caught up helping my friend through something. You know how it is." The worst part was that Beth honestly believed she was doing just that.

With Beth gone, Molly was left sitting alone and in blissful peace. It was these moments, with her cup of coffee and the sun shining through the window and the pleasant noises of silverware and soft conversations that brought her back to this booth. The little things, the small details, were always the most precious. She'd learned it from her father, and as if to prove his point, this small lesson seemed to stick with her and eclipse everything else he'd ever taught her. It was what kept her grounded in this big city which otherwise would have swallowed her whole. It was what made her so good at her job. Well, that and her memory.

"Excuse me." A woman appeared at the end of Molly's table. The wife of the man who called Beth away. "I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I just wanted to let you know, that you can't let that girl bring youd own," the woman stated earnestly. Molly blinked in surprise; it took her a second to realize that the woman was referring to Beth. "I had my youngest son at thirty-four, and he and I are perfectly healthy and happy to this day. You have kids when you're ready with your Mr. Right. Don't worry about what some bitch waitress says. It's your life." The woman gestured with her hand as if she was a politician making some key point in her address. "And God bless the man and children who have to deal with that." She nodded at Beth who was animatedly talking to a businessman who very obviously just wanted breakfast and not to have to deal with the chattering blonde.

"Oh, um, thank you, ma'am," Molly smiled, a bit bewildered as the woman smiled back before walking away to join her husband back at their table.

Maybe she would have to skip breakfast tomorrow.

#clint barton x oc #hawkeye x oc #clint barton #clint barton fic #marvel fic #hawkeye fic #hawkeye #marvel #clint barton fanfiction #hawkeye fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #parting shot #clint barton imagine #hawkeye imagine

12 notes · View notes