DAYWALKER | n.romanoff ✔

THREE

CHAPTER THREE
' COOL. '

Oswin sat on a bench outside the Avengers Compound, her mask sitting under her chin and a cigarette between her lips. She took in a long drag before blowing it out in a thin stream. The surrounding area was silent, the wind gently pushing the trees about. The tranquillity of the surroundings meant she heard the footsteps more obviously than the owner intended and so she threw the cigarette onto the ground and pulled her mask over her features. They stopped beside her, staring out over the scenery before Oswin's eyes flickered up.

"Didn't know you started smoking again." Tony looked down at her with a small smirk on his lips.

Oswin looked away. "Well, there's a lot of things you don't know."

Tony hummed before lowering onto the bench by her. "Well, that I guarantee, the mystery of you, Blade, is very intriguing."

"I'm the granddaughter of a Greek immigrant who was shipped off to an institution to try and fix her schizophrenia who, instead of treating it, turned her into an assassin and used her to destroy things and kill people they didn't like, still intriguing?"

A noise like a small scoff escaped him and he relaxed into the bench, arm moving to sit on the back behind Oswin. "I think that there is more to you than that which I find intriguing." His words caused her to look at him fully.

"Stop using the word intriguing."

"No."

Oswin retrieved a dagger from her sleeve.

"I'll think about it. Either way, what I'm trying to get at here is... you paint yourself as a bad guy but..."

She raised an eyebrow. "But..."

"Morgan really likes you." He continued when she didn't reply, "She thinks you're the coolest person in the world, even cooler than me."

"Cool?" Oswin repeated.

"Yeah, I know right? What I'm trying to say is, you're not as bad as you think you are."

"And what prompted you to explain this revelation to me?"

Tony sighed and shifted to face her fully. "I just know that sometimes... people need to hear that."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Can I ask you something?" Oswin looked up at him but remained quiet and Tony sighed. "I wasn't lying when Morgan thinks you're cool. I don't know why I'm asking you this but... can you just keep an eye out for her?"

"What?"

"I- just..."

"Just in case." Oswin finished quietly. "Just in case you don't come back."

"Uh, yeah, yeah, something like that."

"I'll keep my eye out," she confirmed.

"Oswin!"

She jumped and stood quickly, meeting Natasha halfway by grabbing her elbows. "What? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Clint," she managed out, hands finding Oswin's biceps before letting out a gasp to catch her breath. "We've found him."

Oswin's hand moved to touch her cheek, before pushing some of her hair out of her face. "Okay, I'll get the jet sorted," she confirmed.

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Oswin watched as a figure pinned another on the ground, a sword held in his grip. Her mask covered her face with her hands pushed into her pocket. The coat hood hung over her head and concealed her features. She stood in plain sight, directly in front of Clint as he looked down at his target.

"What I want, you can't give me," he snarled before driving his sword into his stomach and dumping his body onto the floor. He spotted her standing in front of him and he wiped the blood from the blade onto his glove. Oswin began her way towards him, steps slow and deliberate. Clint pulled his mask off. "You shouldn't be here."

"Well, I can say the same about you," she replied, pushing down her hood.

"I've got a job to do. You should know what it's like."

Oswin let a small smile appear on her face. "No. Killing people won't change that Estella and the kids died."

Natasha stepped out of the shadows to stop beside Oswin. "We found something. A chance, maybe..."

Clint let out a sob as he bowed his head. "Don't..."

"Don't what?"

"Don't give me hope."

Natasha glanced at Oswin. "I'm sorry we couldn't give it to you sooner."

Oswin moved towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder causing him to look at her. "Come on, Clint." She pulled the sword out of his grip with a small struggle. "You've done this to me in the past, let me return the favour."