Falling for the Enemy || Captain America || Book 1

Chapter 1: Bingo Was His Namo

          "GODDAMN MOTHER- where did you learn to drive? LA?"

          "Hey pal, why don't you just slow down next time?"

          "That's what your mum said to me last night!"

          Oh yeah, they are definitely New Yorkers.

          My eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, checking all my gear is in the back. Well, at least I didn't leave anything behin-

          "HEY LADY! THIS AIN'T MARIO KARTS! LEARN TO DRIVE!"

          I click my tongue in a dry amusement, reeling down the window and yelling "Why don't you try driving when you have a secret government agency on your ass Dickwad!"

         "Convey this to your 'secret government agency' !" He flips me the bird, and all I can do not to throw a grenade back at him is to smirk darkly at him. "Hey pal!" I exclaim, laughing as I give him the middle finger back "I have one too! What a coincidence!"

          Our bantering is rudely interrupted when the whirring blades of a helicopter rings in my ears, and I gaze to the other side of the bridge to see a SHIELD helicopter pulling up into view.

          I sigh tiredly, drawing my head back into the car. "They just cannot give me a break, honestly."

          Stamping down on the breaks and almost colliding into the car behind me, I reach behind for my duffel bag, rummaging through until I come upon my sniper rifle. Assembling the parts together, I lean the sniper on the opened window of the car, narrowing my right eye through the eyepiece. "Annnnddd," I drag out, aiming at the base of one of the helicopter blades "bingo was his namo."

          The shot resonates through the air, meeting its target just as the helicopter opens fire. The rain of bullet and missiles avoid me as the blade rips off, the copter swaying side to side before it dives like a fighter jet and deposits itself within the Golden Gate strait below.

          Smirking, I begin driving once more, deciding to revel in the cliche, and crank up 'Highway to Hell' by ACDC on the radio as San Francisco falls further and further behind me.

                     ******

3rd Person's POV (aka the Air)

          "I'm not your little lap dog One Eyed Wonder, I can't always be attending band practice with the rest of the kids," Tony Stark feels the need to announce himself as he enters, clothed in his typical ironed suit, immaculately brushed hair and useless sunglasses. Of course Tony Stark would wear sunglasses indoors.

          "This is of high importance Stark, of that I can assure you," Director Fury responds, keeping his irritation at bay.

          Natasha Romanoff continues to brood at the corner of the table, her partner Clint Barton rubbing small reassuring circles on her back. She doesn't react to the touch, but continues to bitterly glare at her hands resting in her lap.

          Tony scoffs. "Well obviously it is if I'm here."

          "You were saying, Director?" Bruce Banner kindly directs the conversation back on track, regarding Tony with a small nod of recognition before attentively listening to the Director again.

          Fury acknowledges the scientist stoically. "We've come to a stage where we can't seem to apprehend a rogue assassin by the name of-"

          "-the Nightingale?" Stark finishes, earning a glare from Natasha, Fury and Steve Rogers who has quietly been observing the entire time.

          He shrugs. "What? She's been all over the news."

          Nicholas Fury sighs sharply. "She has been far more elusive than we granted her. We have pursued her over 24 times, yet she still manages to sidestep us. I've sent my two best agents - Romanoff and Barton. I've sent companies of over 30 agents. I've sent helicopters. I've even sent a tank at one stage."

          "And you just happen to have tanks on hand?" Tony flippantly inquires, yet again to be ignored.

          Fury's one eye glares down on Stark. "The point is, we have reached a stage where we need more. Which is why I have called you in."

          "Any luck contacting Thor?" Dr Banner asks, Tony glancing around perplexed then realising "I was wondering why it was so quiet. Green Machine has a point, any luck with Asgardian Fabio?"

          "None so far. We don't seem to possess a direct contact to Thor so until we do, getting in touch with him will prove to be harder than we desire," Fury answers, hands clasped behind his back.

          "Does the Nightingale have any friends? Companions? Family members? Weak spots?" Steve Rogers chimes in at last, guiding the conversation back onto the primary task.

           When Fury shakes his head, he reaches onto the large table within the Hellicarrier, seizing a remote and pressing a button on it, enabling a holographic screen to light up in the centre of the table with a photo of the target as well as a dossier.

          The Director points at the image. "Lillian Nightshade aka Nightingale. Age 23. Her dossier was wiped clean when we first found it, nothing but a name and age on it. Now, while we haven't gathered anything about her past, we know a large amount about her present."

          Romanoff's eyes flicker to the hologram of the dossier, scowling but listening with Agent Barton.

          Fury flicks through her dossier. "Extremely skilled in all combat, from the majority of weapons she can get her hands on to hand to hand combat. While she has the ability to manipulate and create the four elements that ability can be taxing on her should she attempt something of a larger scale. It drains her energy, slowly but surely, which is why she made it her goal to not solely rely on them and trained herself in combat. She appears to be self-taught, yet quite intelligent. Her IQ slightly higher than average, and while she is somewhat adept with hacking and the arts of computers, she seems to have a more skilled behind the scenes person doing the majority of that for her. Her intelligence isn't the kind that you find in scientific, mathematical and other logic-based educational subjects, but rather the kind of creative, sensible problem solving and sharp forethought that offers her one of the most dangerous battle and espionage perceptions and tactics an assassin can possess."

          They all eye the olive sun-kissed skinned brunette before them, her wavy hair tasselled but not unattractively messy, ending halfway down to her elbow. To them, she seems harmless, but Agent Barton and Romanoff have had their fair share of her. More than they wish.

          "She refrains from leaving any trace behind her. No security footage, no finger prints, no shoe marks, none of her own blood, absolutely nothing. The only thing she leaves behind is her trademark black rose and an 'N' for Nightingale carved onto the left wrist of the victim. She is not to be underestimated, or approached alone. Don't mistake her for a common assassin, she's more than that, otherwise I wouldn't have called all of you in. We have yet to find out the story behind the face, but we will, with your help. So, with all this in mind, I ask; what are you prepared to do about her?"

          The question leaves the 5 out of the 6 Avengers present in a silent stupor as the gears in their head turn and grind to figure out the enigma that Lillian Nightshade persists to be.

          Steve Rogers eyes shoot up to Fury, straightening his back and clearing his throat. "Whatever is required to bring her in."

Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx