∆ {1¹} {A PHONE CALL} ∆
ROXI SNUCK AROUND the corner silently, one hand glued around the handle of a pistol, the other against the cream wall to help her keep her balance. The hard, varnished wooden floors of the villa in Spain she was currently in were waxed, which was only something someone very rich could enjoy. Also, that and the fact that there had been a Tesla parked outside on the gravel. Money meant uncertainty, and uncertainty meant security. Too bad the security this man had employed wouldn't be enough.
The man who lived here was an arms dealer specializing in black market trade, who said his name was James Davis. A lot of other people in the job that Roxi was in wouldn't bother to find out their target's names before carrying out their jobs, but she liked to. She liked to at least have something to remember the people who died at her hand with. Even though they were terrible people, she felt as if she owed them in some way for cutting their life short, and so, she learned their names, kept them written down in a black journal that always lay in the shadow of her lamp on her desk, where it would be harder to find.
She rounded the next corner, having edged her way down the corridor, and pressed her back flat against the wall as she heard the subtlest shift in weight moving down the hallway she'd just been down. The person was moving surprisingly quietly. Maybe taking out security would be slightly harder than she thought. Roxi poked her head back around the corner to try and get a read on her opponent. It was a large, hulking man, probably a highly-trained bodyguard judging by his quiet movement and the way that he kept walking with absolute surety that he could take down anything that came at him. She brought her head back down as she figured out her plan of action. He was confident, which meant she would probably be able to exploit that if she needed to.
She waited until the man had come past the corner she was hiding at, though he continued walking straight. She carefully moved up behind him and punched him hard at the back of his skull, where his optical lobe of the brain was. When he woke up from his current passed out state, there was a possibility that he would never be able to see again. She almost felt bad for him. She caught him before he got the ground, quickly shoving him into a nearby bathroom and locked the door from the outside.
Roxi glanced around one more time before continuing to her target. She wasn't surprised when she found him in the lounge of the villa as he looked out over the pool that was outside. Very quickly, a plan formed in her head. She slipped the pistol back into the holster on the inside of her coat, slipped a small black earphone inside her ear that could record in case she found out anything interesting that she could use to point to her next target. She slowly sauntered into the room, making her presence known as she spoke.
"You have a lovely villa, Mr. Davis." The man in question, who was wearing a charcoal grey coat turned his head and raised his eyebrow at her. Another thing he was notorious for was his interest in women, and Roxi had dealt with a lady in the villa earlier who was no doubt on her way to meet him.
"Thank you," he said, his black eyes gleaming as they roamed her body hungrily. All Roxi felt was disgust; who would ever like a man such as him. She reminded herself to stay professional, so her exterior didn't change in expression, a light smile, accompanied by a certain fake look in her eyes.
"Would you like a drink?" Davis asked, and she nodded, walking over to the expensive white loveseat he was sat on. She took a seat next to him, smiling as he poured her a glass of prosecco. She smiled, lifting it to her lips and taking a light sip, though her eyes never left his. He seemed to like that, as he copied her actions, moving slightly closer to her. She did the same after setting down her glass on the table, bringing her left hand down so it looked like she was going to pull off her leather jacket, but instead, she grabbed the pistol from inside, brought it up so that it was at Davis' chest. She watched his eyes widen as he opened his mouth to call out for guards, but before any sound could leave his lips, he was slumped against the white leather loveseat with a bullet in his chest.
Roxi hadn't had time to put a silencer on the pistol, which mean that all the guards were now probably aware of her presence. Even if, somehow, they didn't hear the shot, they would be growing suspicious of the growing silence from the guard she had previously knocked out. She quickly slipped off her jacket, tying it around her waist, holding her gun in one hand, a knife that had been strapped to her calf in the other.
She quickly made her way back down the hallway, the pistol in front of her face and the dagger held at her side. The first guard she met was around the first corner, and she shot, but before the bullet could reach him, he yelled out to someone who was obviously around the corner. She sighed and braced herself to get some exercise. She peeled away from the wall, jogging down the hallway until she reached the intersection. She sighed again as she glanced to her left and right to find a handful of guards on both sides. The first bullets they fired caused the cream-painted plaster next to her to erupt in splinters. She waited until the men aimed again as she stood directly in the middle of the hallway. The moment she saw the first trigger begin to pull, she dropped to the ground, watching as the good, old fashioned trick took out ¾ of the guards.
The two who had been smart enough to move out of the way (or dumb enough to get lucky) once again aimed as she sprung up from the cold, blood-stained floor. She didn't expect a bullet to slam into her shoulder as she fired her gun, which caused her to take a sharp intake of breath as her bullet found its target in between the eyes of the shooter. She turned just in time to avoid another bullet, and at that moment her phone began to ring. She groaned. Could there be a worse time? She picked it up by tapping her earphone, through which she would now talk to the caller. As she threw the dagger in her left hand, watched it sail through the air and land in the chest of her target with a sickening thunk she asked the caller the first question anyone should ever ask on the phone.
"Quien es esta?" (Who is this?). Roxi pressed her left hand to her right shoulder, drawing it away to reveal her hand soaked with blood.
"Este es el Agente Romanoff de S.H.I.E.L.D." (This is Agent Romanoff of S.H.I.E.L.D.). Roxi rolled her eyes as she carefully removed her hand from her shoulder and pulled the dagger out of the second man's head, muttering to herself.
"Por supuesto, es S.H.I.E.L.D, ¿a quién más llamaría en un moment como este?" (Of course, it's S.H.I.E.L.D, who else would call at a time like this?). She poked her head around the next corner, only to see three more guards coming at her.
"¿Y por qué siempre hay más seguridad saliendo que entrando?" (And why is it that there's always more security going out than coming in?). A bullet slammed into the ground next to her foot, splintering the hardwood floor. Roxi carefully aimed around the corner and shot another bullet, which hit one of the men. The recoil on the gun caused a spasm of pain to shoot down her arm and she dropped the gun with a clatter. As the next guard approached, she didn't have time to bend down and pick it up again.
"Derecha. Bueno, S.H.I.E.L.D necesita que entres. Hay un Quinjet esperándote afuera de tu casa." (Right. Well, S.H.I.E.L.D needs you to come in. There's a Quinjet waiting for you outside your house). Roxi ran forwards, straight at the man, dodging as he threw a panch and grabbing the back of his wrist, twisting it around so that it was at an uncomfortable angle behind his back and so that he was in front of her when the next shot came. The bullet embedded itself in the man's temple and he slumped to the ground in front of her. The last guard in the hallway let out a shout of anger and fired another shot at her. She stepped to the side, pressing her back against the wall as she watched it pass her. She quickly stooped down, snatching up the gun that the man in front of her had dropped and fired a shot at the man's thigh. He gave a yell and collapsed to the ground, but not before firing one more time.
Roxi wasn't quite quick enough to dodge that bullet, so it planted itself firmly only a few inches below the other one in her shoulder. She let out a hiss of pain, before firing another bullet into the man's chest. She turned around and walked back over to her own dropped pistol, picking it up and checking the ammo. 3 rounds left. She put the dagger back into its sheath and switched the pistol over to her left hand so that she would be able to shoot straight, as numbness and pain lanced down her right arm.
"Podría ser un momento," (I might be a moment), she told the Agent on the other side of the phone, making her way through the last hallway to the front door.
"Está bien, puedo aguantar," (That's alright, I can hold,) the woman replied as Roxi drew close to the front door. Her eyes found the small dish near the door where keys were kept and as she passed, she snatched up the keycard for the Tesla that sat out front, smirking slightly. She needed a quick way home. No, it wasn't very discreet, but she was a very conspicuous person when she wanted to be. She slammed open the sky blue door with her foot, gun straight out in front of her as she made her way towards the car. As she sprinted across the gravel drive towards the grey sports car, she shot the hinges of the gate, bringing it crashing down with two shots. One round left. She unlocked the car and slid into the leather seats, slammed the door and started the engine with a loud rev, before driving past the broken-down gates, the engine roaring, the whole car trembling with the force of it.
"Bueno, esto es ruidoso." (Well, this is loud,) she muttered quietly, before giving another cry of pain as yet another bullet landed in her, in the back of her left shoulder this time.
"¡¿Me estás tomando el pelo?! ¿Cuántas veces me van a disparar hoy?" (Are you kidding me?! How many times am I going to get shot today?!") She burst out, the car swerving as she ducked to avoid another bullet.
"¿Qué estás haciendo?" (What are you doing?) the agents asked through the line. Roxi rolled her eyes before retorting.
"Mi trabajo." (My job.) In the silence on the other end of the line, she could practically hear the calling agent rolling her eyes. After a few minutes and several detours to make sure no-one was tracking her (also ripping out the tracking beacon from its ill-disguised spot in the glove compartment), she opened up the throttle and informed the agent on the line
"Voy en camino. Dile al Director Fury que llegaré pronto." (I'm on my way. Tell Director Fury I'll arrive soon.) With that, she hung up the line, wincing as she moved her arm. She could feel her head growing faint from loss of blood and was well aware that she would pass out soon, but as long as she could make it onto that Quinjet, she figured they would take care of her. She ditched the Tesla a few houses away from where she lived, in front of one of her rich temporary neighbors' houses, where it wouldn't seem too out of place, and left the key on the ground underneath as a little gift. At this point, Roxi was glad that she'd tied her jacket around her waist and left it there because blood now soaked the grey t-shirt, which also had three holes from the entry of the bullets. She walked through the alleys behind the houses for a few minutes until she reached her garden gate. She presumed the Quinjet would be cloaked and waiting out front and entering through the back gate would decrease the likelihood that she would be seen and would allow her to gather a small bag of things before she was swept up in another mission with S.H.I.E.L.D.
She quickly entered her house, grabbing the rucksack she always had just in case of a situation like this, before heading up the stairs to her bedroom for a few last things. A photobook that was already half-full, the black notebook that contained every name of the people she'd killed and a small, carved, wooden wolf she'd been given when she was a girl by an old peddler out in the streets who just wanted to do something kind. She kept it on her as a reminder of how nice some people in the world could be. She tucked the three items into her bag, holding it by the straps so she wouldn't put weight on the wounds, before heading down the stairs and out through the front door, which she locked behind her before waiting for the hiss of the hydraulics for the Quinjet's ramp to fill the air. A moment later, she heard it, and she walked forwards quickly, up a half-invisible ramp into the jet. The moment she sat down in one of the seats that lined either side of the jet, her vision grew dark and she slumped backward, her head lolling. The last thing she remembered seeing was an agent rushing towards her and hearing radio static accompanied by another agent reporting to Director Fury through faulty comms.
{AN:} Well I started another Marvel FanFic -.-. Don't get mad at me please I'm very proud of this chapter. Let me know how I can improve and I'll see what I can to make it more interesting to read. Thanks for reading this!
JabberJay11
2515 Words
Written: 25 /05 /2020
Published: 26 /05 /2020