You glared at Fury as you were escorted into the living room of Avengers Tower. As the daughter of an infamous African pirate, life was never going to be easy. You had worked for SHIELD, had been one of their top assassins, until you went into retirement. Your occupation seemed to be carrying on your father's legacy of death and destruction, and that was something you vowed not to do. So you called it quits, and had been leading a relatively normal life.
Until this.
Fury had called you out of retirement, because of plans made by your father's old ring that involved nuclear codes and WMDs. This wouldn't normally be a problem for the Avengers; however, the plans had been encrypted in a particularly complex form of the Wakanda language, spoken by less than five hundred people.
You just so happened to be one of them.
So, Fury proceeded not only to pull you back into working with SHIELD, but also plonked you on the front line. And then he wondered why you were planning to shish kebab him at the first opportunity. The Avengers were all sat down, awaiting your arrival, and, judging by the shocked looks you were receiving, expecting a bloke.
"This is who is leading us to the power hungry crazies? Well, humanity is screwed." Tony commented, semi inebriated.
"I was not expecting a woman to be leading us." Thor's voice boomed, the shocked tone ricochetting off the walls and multiplying in your head. You straighted your posture, and addressed the heroes in a clipped voice.
"I'm sorry you weren't expecting a woman, but my father just so happens to have been on Interpol's blacklist for being one of the 'power hungry crazies'. I'm the daughter of a pirate and an American citizen, mmkay? Don't like it, you're gonna have to lump it." You snapped, glowering at the Avengers
"You're her, aren't you?" Clint said, sounding awestruck.
"I'm who?"
"(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Deadly Nightshade?"
"In the flesh."
Clint whistled in astonishment, receiving sharp glares from Natasha and Steve as you turned your attention to the screen Bruce was pulling up. He felt the need to defend himself, or be killed by Black Widow or Patriotic. com himself.
"Come on surely you've heard of her. Deadly Nightshade is, like, only one of the most famous SHIELD assassins ever. She can do more damage with a Palaeolithic weapon than most people could do with a sniper rifle."
"Says the man with the bow." Tony slurred. "So, what's her weapon of choice, then, Barton. A club?"
A sharp tut brought everyone's attention to you. Sensing the confused looks from around the room, you turned to explain yourself.
"This is a hybrid language; Wakanda mixed with one of the Tswana languages, Zulu, most probably. I can speak it, but this is a southern from of the dialect. It'll take longer to decode." Your voice sounded unwelcoming and harsh, even to yourself. Just then, Fury walked in.
"Dial down the harshness, (Y/L/N)."
You let an acerbic laugh out, looking at him disbelievingly. The man had dragged you out of normality, slapped you on the front lines, and was, in effect, telling you to calm your tits? Unbelievable.
You stormed out of the room, unable to cope with the amount of idiocy.
*****
Three days.
That's how long you'd been sat, painstakingly decoding the information. You spent hours worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, until the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth. Grimacing at the taste, you finally decoded the message, and stood up to tell the others. The room was empty, save for one person.
Captain America.
Apparently, his hearing was pretty fine tuned: his head snapped around as soon as you entered the room. He stood, pacing towards you.
"(Y/N). Any luck?"
You moved past him, slapping the sheets of paper down on the glass coffee table. Sheets of nuclear codes, names, targets, black market arms dealers. Satisfied, you turned around to face him, folding your arms.
"Just a little bit."
He caught your arm as you attempted to leave, looking concernedly at you.
"Your lip is bleeding."
"Nervous habit of mine. I'll go sort it out. Where's the medical room?"
"Allow me." Steve took a gentle hold of your arm, steering you towards the infirmary, setting off a chain of internal firecrackers.
****
"You ready, Nightshade?" Steve's voice crackled over your earpiece.
"Eh," you shrugged, whipping your bow, inlaid with obsidian, and a series of honed arrows from your shoulder, "not really. Last time I messed with these dikgosi, they damn near cut my arm in half."
"OK, dick what?" Tony interrupted, sounding amused. You rolled your eyes, creating a mental note to break Tony's nose at some point.
"Dikgosi. It's the name given to a tribal king, or a feudal warlord. Get with it, Stark."
A series of gunshots alerted you, and you leapt from the tree you were in, taking out pirates left right and centre, Hawkeye watching you in grudging awe.
"Damn. She's better than me."
"Aay. Get wreck- shit!" Tony was in the thick of it, as per usual, and had gotten himself overwhelmed. You joined the 'party', and soon the majority of the pirates were dead, or severely injured. One of them evidently wasn't injured enough, because he fired a gun. You stabbed downwards with an arrow, impaling him through the heart.
"Surprise, motherfucker." You grunted, before sprinting to assist Black Widow. When she turned to you, her eyes widened.
"(Y/N)... You've been hit."
You glanced down at your abdomen, just as a supernova of intense pain crackled to life. Wincing and whimpering slightly, you stumbled backwards, right into the arms of Captain America.
"That doesn't look at all good."
"You think, Captain Obvious?" You gave a feeble laugh. Fishing out a panther's tooth on a necklace, you gestured for Natasha to come close enough for you to put it around her neck.
"It brings good luck, supposedly. A memento, if you will." You said, half of the Mona Lisa's imitable smirk about your lips. Turning to meet Steve's sea blue eyes, you managed a half shrug.
"Y'know, for a ninety something year old, you fight well. Keep it up, America."
Tony came over, paling at the sight of the plentiful scarlet river pouring from you. You directed a half glare at him.
"And you, Metallica... Not bad. Not bad at all."
"Hold on (Y/N). We can get you help; just... Hold on." Steve pleaded with you. You gave him an apologetic smile, your vision clouding.
"It was an honour to fight on your side, Captain."
And in amidst the pandemonium, the three Avengers were witness to the light fading from your eyes, and a last, shallow breath escaping your lips.