THE DARK RAVEN

AN ASSASSIN'S LIFE

I slowly, silently edged my way through the half-open window of the apartment, landing as gracefully as a cat onto the beige carpeted floor of what appeared to be the master bedroom. My trained, curious, brown eyes scanned my surroundings.
Large double, brown quilted bed, plain, wooden dresser, a few items of scattered clothing...
The only threat in the room was the stench of mould that seeped through the air, telling me that the man I was about to kill had some serious housekeeping issues.

Yes, you heard me right. Kill.
Perhaps I should introduce myself...

My name is Adaline Elizabeth Nightrose, more commonly known and feared as The Dark Raven. Without my uniform which consists of a tight fitted yet comfortable black jumpsuit, a weapons belt which carried my personal blade 'Stormbreaker', a cropped leather jacket which hid various other weapons and emergency chocolate and my black combat boots, I look like your average 19 year-old girl. My
mid-length brown curls, dark irises and ivory skin means I look pretty average when I'm not working. But the truth is, I'm one of the world's deadliest assassins, working for HYDRA and permanently hiding from S.H.I.E.L.D., the enemy organization that's been trying to track me down for the past 5 years.
Right now, my victim is Joseph O'Connor, the man just two rooms down from me, and from the clattering sound of knife upon chopping board, he's cooking.
Not for long, though.

How did I get myself into this? Hydra, murderer, assassin?
Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out.

Taking my gun from the inside of my jacket, I crept out of the bedroom and took a left, down the hall where the noisy sound of chopping food guided me to the kitchen, where Joseph, a balding, short man who, from the photos my co-worker Jefferson showed me, looked to be in his mid 50's despite him being 41, stood with his back turned to me.
Damn, no wonder he was still single.

I leaned my left shoulder casually against the door frame where the white paint had chipped away to reveal stale, brown patches of old wood. Was it just me, or was everything in this place brown? Like seriously dude, would it kill to add some decor to this place?
"Whatcha cookin'?" I asked casually, flipping my gun between the fingers of my right hand nonchalantly.
Joseph turned rapidly, his knife slipping from his hand as his eyes widened first, at my chest revealing attire, and second, at the gun I was currently moving up to aim at him, and blade strapped to my waist.
"Wh-who are y-you? What do you w-want?" His voice shook in reply as he backed against the countertop clumsily, causing a few green peppers to fall to their deaths.
'Hmm... Just like him in about 32 seconds' I thought with a smirk.

"Oh honey. I'm The Dark Raven and I want nothing more than a well earned paycheck after I shoot you in the motherfucking head" I reply, smirk growing wider at the man's cowering state.
I had absolutely no idea why my boss wanted him dead. It wasn't my job to ask questions. But the mystery only made it more fun.

"P- please! Don't kill me, please! I'll do anything, j-jus-"

"Oh, cut the crap, shortass! I have no time for your whining. I just wanna go home, eat pizza and watch Netflix, alright?" I cut in, already tired of this guy. He didn't even try to fight me for Merlin's sake! I should get paid extra for boring ass jobs like this.

"Please" begged the man once more in a cracked whisper of desperation. I quickly averted my eyes from his torn expression, pushing any ounce of emotion down. This was my job. This was my life. Deal with it, Adaline.

"Nighty night" I say innocently, plastering a false, angelic smile onto my face before shooting a bullet through Joseph's head. His body fell to the grey tiled floor and blood began pooling around him.
Untucking my signature black raven's feather from my pocket, I gave myself three seconds to look down at the body in shame, wishing him better luck in what I hoped to be an existent next-life.

1 ...

The crumpled face of the man I just killed. His last expression. A realisation that he was about to die.

2...

The uncontrollable tug on my heartstrings as I pulled the trigger with a false smile. Somewhere deep inside, there was always a voice that sounded foreign, yet my own that urged me to stop.

3...

I placed the feather on Joseph's chest, hoping against hope that he had no family in this harsh world.

Then I turned away, back towards the bedroom where I would escape the way I came in and never looked back.

"Shit!" I cursed, ushering myself out of the window as the familiar sound of the police sirens began wailing in my ears. You'd think, with it being Manhattan, a gunshot would go unnoticed to the bustling crowds that were still active at 11:26pm at night.
It doesn't.
It wasn't the police that were the problem, it was the fact that I now has to go along the rooftops unnoticed, which would take me an extra 4 minutes to get to the car that my bestfriend Leo would be picking me up in, which means an extra 4 minutes until I get my pizza. I let an exaggerated sigh escape my lips.

Resting my butt on the window ledge, I let my eyes measure the distance between myself and the metal stairs on the opposite building which led up to a fire escape only two floors down from the roof. It was a long jump to risk, but I never signed up for safety when I became an assassin.
I push my right foot against the wall beneath me, opposite arm clinging to the edge of the window as I hold the other out in front of me, preparing myself to grab the metal bars of the stairwell.

The sirens are getting louder now.

"Okay" I breathe, putting all my focus into not dying. I push off from the wall, stretching my body out and almost whooping with self pride when my fingers clasp around the cool metal bars. I swing my leg over the railing, and balance on it for a second before my feet hit the stairs.

Then I'm off, kicking the fire escape open and wasting no time in finding my way towards the roof of the building, my black clothes blending in with the night so that even if the police which are now coming up to the crime scene, blue lights flashing, look up, it would still require someone who eats an awful lot of carrots to notice the black figure sprinting across the rooftops.

Leo, my bestfriend since we were six and training together was parked only two blocks away in a very conspicuous red Porsche which nameplate read 'BADA55' as if the convertible wasn't dramatic enough already. Why the flashy car? Simple, because it's not expected from someone who's running from a crime scene. Duh!

I leapt fearlessly across 4 roofs before taking a left and swinging myself down into the alleyway just by the road where Leo would be waiting. I turned towards the direction I was headed only to come face to face with two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

"Hello, Miss Nightrose. Fancy running into you when all we wanted was a pint".

My eyes locked onto the dark haired man who had spoken, accompanied by a blonde male who looked to be only a few years older than I was and I felt my body tense up with anticipation. About time I got a fight. My last one was a whole 10 hours ago when for some stupid reason a trainee thought it was okay to steal the last taco at lunch. Let's just say she won't be getting out of the infirmary for a while.

"I think it's about time you came with us" the blonde haired agent added and I felt a smug yet excited expression dominate my face.

Taking a silver dagger from my jacket, I replied in a steady voice " I don't think so. You can try to force me but I won't make it easy."

"Is that so, darling?" Replied the dark haired man, the faint glow of the street lamp above illuminating his slightly tanned skin and reflecting off a silver tipped arrow that he was placing in his bow, of which I had only just noticed.
"Because I think you overestimate yourself."

I placed my hand over my chest in mock offence, an exaggerated expression of hurt playing alongside the action.
"Ouch. I'm hurt. You should really be more polite. Manners maketh man after all" I said, quoting Kingsman. "Now are we going to stand around all day, or are we going to fight?"