Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Fitting In

"Aquila, is it?" the man with the eyepatch asked me.

The man who'd spoken French to me earlier said, "She speaks French, Director. And yes, Aquila is the name our preliminary research came up with."

"French?" the eyepatch man repeated skeptically.

The archer nodded.

"It's true, sir," the woman- Natasha- added.

The man harrumphed and faced me again. "You might speak French but you understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

I smirked. "Of course I understand you," I said to him. "Your underlings were simply too thick to realize I was playing dumb."

The Director man laughed himself silly while the other two stood there, numb. "But she only answered in French," the man scoffed. "I thought you were a spy, Romanoff? You should have noticed. Either she's good at hiding it, or you're losing your touch." He shook his head and regained control of his laughter. "Or maybe we've found the next team member."

Natasha looked outraged. "Her? She's a kid! What could she possibly do for us?"

"She out-interrogated our professionals and nearly got away from my assassins while still keeping a cool head, and put up a hard enough fight that even you found notable, Romanoff. Do I need a better reason?"

"No, sir," the woman admitted.

"So why's your name Aquila?" the man asked me. I didn't answer him. Instead, he led me to an observation deck that overlooked a network of computers and a set of instruments that would be any geek's heaven on earth.

"I never said it was my name," I answered at length.

"Then what is your name?" he retorted quietly.

"Pyrrha Duquesne Barton," I answered.

"Barton, you say?" I nodded. He smiled as if this were amusing and pushed off from the spot where he'd been leaning on the rail seconds before. "Barton? And you've already met Clint? Oh, there's little chance this is a coincidence..." he muttered.

"And what might you be referring to?" I asked him, annoyed that he was confusing me.

"That man you just met?" he began. I nodded. "His name is Clint Barton. Related?"

"I don't know whether we are related or not but he did not recognize me."

He nodded to say he'd heard me and pushed a button on his earpiece. "Hill? Yeah, can you do a background on Barton?.......yeah, I need a new one. Try for childhood to--" He paused. "How old are you?" he asked me.

"Almost nineteen," I replied.

He nodded. "Try for childhood to about mid twenties or so. Look for relations, family, special relationships he's had in the past and might still have now or not......Don't bother cross checking Romanoff, no.....yeah, specifics....thanks, Hill. And the new girl will need a room and clothing." He released the button and faced me again.

Soon, a woman in a tight grey catsuit and brunette ponytail came into the room and nodded respectfully to Director Fury before leading me to a bunk room with seven beds that folded out of the walls around the room. Two of the beds were portioned off from the other five with retractable curtains of an opaque dark blue material. One of the bunks was layered in gears and little bits of wire and gadgets and a plate of hotrod red metal. One was unmade and the pillow was on the floor. Yet another had a helmet sitting on top painted gaudy blue with a white capital 'A' on the front.

The woman showed me which bed would be mine, pointing out that these two were for the women, and the other five were for the men. "Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Thor. Then of course yourself and Natasha Romanoff."