Budapest » [Clintasha]

Chapter Fifty-Four: Incriminating

"I don't think I understand..." I murmured in response, shifting in the cuffs that restricted me at both ankle and wrist, making them clink quietly as the links in the chain rustled.

What had felt like an arrest, was turning out to be something else completely.

"Of course you don't," the man replied blithely, chucking the notepad down on the table with a clap; it slid across the frictionless metal surface into reading view.

Though the handwriting was scruffy, I could at last read it. Nick had listed off everything of value.

The man with his savage eyes and stormy demeanour lowered his long legs and leant forwards on the table. "My name is Nick Fury, and I'm the Director of an agency called S.H.I.E.L.D., we here at S.H.I.E.L.D. are in dire need of plucky young talent such as yourself to join our roster of agents. And I've never seen talent with a bow and arrow like yours before. I want to offer you a job," he said seriously.

I looked about, left and right and at the one way mirror behind him. "This is some kind of hoax right? There's a TV crew behind that one way mirror and I'm going to feature on national television in some brand new prank show..." I laughed up the notion.

"Can we please defrost the one way mirror?" Nick Fury - or so he claimed - said.

The mirrored glass became transparent at his command; it seemed like nothing short of science fiction. Behind it, Agent Coulson was being rebuked by another agent: A man with a squared jawline, sandy blond hair that curled neatly over his face in a greased curve with freckles dusting his face. The senior agent's two deep blue eyes, winged by laughter lines, were locked on an apologetic looking Phil Coulson.

"Coulson, Alexander, could you give us a wave and prove to little Clint here that we're not kidding?" Fury requested in his daunting voice.

Alexander - the older of the two - gave a small wave, and prompted by Alexander, Phil did too; sheepishly. Then Alexander turned to speak into a small microphone situated in the office-like booth behind the one-way mirror. "Tell ... .... ... medical exam," he spoke - but unable to see his lips, and the quality of the sound system, poor, I missed most of the sentence.

"Alright, alright," Fury chuckled, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. "We're getting to it."

"I'm lost," I uttered. "If you're offering me a job: why the arrest? Why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Why the handcuffs?" I jiggled them to make them jangle; demonstrating my point.

"Because you're a very dangerous, or should I say, capable individual, Clint. We've been watching you for some time now, right from the moment you pulled off the Robin Hood shot at the carnival in Iowa. And I have to say; we lost track of you for a while, but you were easy enough to track down once again - especially with the peak in crime rates wherever that damn carnival went - and once that blurry picture of you was splashed across tabloid covers nationwide, we tracked you consistently. You even made the six o'clock news! Then after the wedding rescue there was the incident with the muggers and petty thieves, then there was the stunt at the archery shop and-"

"Woah! Woah!" I shifted in the manacles and waved his monologue to a swift conclusion. "Have you been spying on me?"

"We are spies. That's what we do. And it's our job as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division to keep tabs on gifted people like you. In the wrong hands, you're a threat, Clint. In our hands, and in our eyes, you're an asset." He smiled at me; borderline pleasantly. "That's why we're offering you a job."

I was gobsmacked, I sat there with my mouth agape, fumbling for a retort. Nothing came out. "What would the job entail; I can't just accept it on a whim. I have things to consider, I'll have you know! I don't even know who you are!" I said stubbornly.