Author: this is based of a bit of an rp I'm doing with a friend. I don't own Clint, Laura or Fury

Dallas, Texas

2002

"Oh god... Laura is gonna kill me for this one. If Fury doesn't first." Clint groaned.

Something about the mission had smelled funny from the beginning but the handler assigned to him hadn't listened.

So here he was... In a warehouse with a bullet in his side... Hoping to hell the man who was supposed to have been his target didn't find him.

"I'm going to murder that filthy piece of shit when I get out of here." He said.

"Talk to yourself much?"

Clint jumped, looking around in shock for the source of the voice.

"Some asshole shot ya huh?" the same voice asked.

"Who are you?" He asked, pulling a knife from his boot.

A figure stepped out of the shadows nearby and circled him carefully.

She was just a kid, maybe thirteen at the most, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes.

"You're just a kid." He whispered.

"I'm fifteen. Plenty old enough to be on my own." She growled.

"How come you're out here on your own?" He asked.

"What's it matter to you?" She quipped. She was local... her accent told him that much.

Clint stared at her, taking in her jaded eyes... The cautious way she approached... Her unease... He knew all of that from experience.

"Somebody hurt you? Parents, siblings?" He asked gently.

She stared at him, looking ready to rip him a new one before she crouched down near him.

He noticed she stayed out of arms length... someone had definitely done something to make her leery of people.

"Who shot you?" She asked, nodding to the blood soaking through his vest.

"My target." He whispered.

"You an spy or assassin or something? Like in one of those Jame Bond movies?" She scoffed.

"Something like that." He chuckled.

She stared at his vest before sliding over to his side, watching him carefully.

"I'm pretty good at patching myself when... I got hurt. Could try to patch you up." She offered.

Up close he could see a jagged scar on her arm and a few smaller ones on her face.

She yelped when he grabbed her wrist to examine the scar then tried to jerk away but he didn't let her go. Instead he gently took her face on his hand, looking at the scars on her face.

They were barely noticeable but there none the less.

"Who did this to you?" He asked.

"Doesn't matter." She muttered.

"Who did this to you?" He growled.

She dropped her eyes and jerked her face from his hand. "My asshole parents... Ya happy now old man?" She hissed.

Rage flared up inside of him when she confirmed his suspensions.

He wanted to hunt down her parents and make sure they never put their hands on any child ever again.

"So this is where you ran off to. And you've got a little girlfriend." A voice cackled.

Clint swung his head towards the entrance to the warehouse as five men came into view.

Four were burly and vicious looking.

The fifth oozed charisma but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Who the hell are they?" the girl whispered.

"My target. And his bodyguards apparently." Clint whispered.

"You really are an assassin or something." She whimpered.

"Yeah I am." He admitted.