“I can’t do this,” I said in disbelief.
“You have too,” Phil said sternly, “because you are one of the only people in the world that they trust. Especially Wanda,” Phil paused for a second, but then he pulled out another file; on the cover was the word THREAT. “I want you to eliminate a certain person; you WERE very close to him.”
I took the file from Phil’s hands and opened it up, and inside of it was a picture of Logan Howlett. Under that picture was a bunch of newspaper articles about him; the most recent one was about Silver’s murder and how Logan couldn’t go to prison because he was a mutant.
“How the hell can I eliminate the Wolverine? He’s the one mutant that is impossible to kill,” I asked doubtfully.
Phil just laughed, “How can you not kill him? You are the girl who was a mass murderer at age fourteen; you are a master assassin. There is nobody you can’t kill,” Phil spoke quietly, and he handed me the two files. His speech was uplifting, but I was worried that I would go on a mass killing spree again; murder is as addicting as meth.
I walked out of his office.
On my face was an expression of shock, because Logan used to be my best friend and I couldn’t believe that I was being ordered to murder him. One side of me was all for it—he killed my fiancé—but another side of me just couldn’t bring myself to even think about it.
I was just so torn.
When S.H.I.E.L.D. wants someone executed they will have it done within a couple hours, and trust me, some of the agents do not come back. My dad is lucky, he’s been trained so well and knows what to do in situations of panic—even though how much I may despise him, I will love him all my life.
I walked out to my locker in the basement, and a lot of female agents were down there getting ready for their missions that they may not have returned home from. My locker was at the very end of the long hall, because the order was in how long you’ve been working there—since I had just started working there I was at the very end.
Standing in front of my locker was Natasha Romanoff; she had a grim look on her face, and she was playing with her red, curly hair.
“Hey Natasha,” I said casually, “could you move please?”
“Kid, I’ve got to tell you something pretty important,” Natasha said nervously, she paced around me and grabbed my hands. We walked to a private corner of the locker room, and I was a bit frightened. “So, did your father ever tell you who your mom was?” I shook my head for a no, and then Natasha said something that I would never forget in my entire life, “Well . . . I’m your . . . mom.”
An expression of shock spread across my face; how could Natasha be my mom? We looked nothing like each other, and (for the most important part) HOW THE HELL COULD SHE NOT TELL ME?
“Are you serious?” I asked in a confused voice and Nat . . . I mean Mom nodded her head. “And you didn’t tell me, why?”
Mom scratched the back of her head nervously, and began to explain, “Well, um, when you were very little—still a baby—I had to go on a mission to Chernobyl, Russia and I had gotten radiation poisoning—I couldn’t be around you in fear that I would get you sick for a really long time.”
“Ok, but you could have told Dad to tell me,” I said slightly mad, and Mom looked at me confused.
“Wait; he never told you? OH, I AM SO GOING TO KICK HIS ASS,” Mom asked angrily, and as she was storming off she stopped and turned around, “By the way, Phil told me about your mission about Logan, and I don’t want you doing this alone. So, I want you to do this mission with two of my friends: Nick and Nathan. They are both highly trained assassins, and both good friends of mine—they are waiting up in the cafeteria.”
I nodded, but I really didn’t want help from anyone—my goal was to eliminate Logan my way, and that was the most brutal way possible.
“I don’t need any help,” I murmured as I opened up my locker, and I took out my uniform: a black tank-top, leather pants, leather vest, fingerless gloves, and combat boots. Surprisingly, it was very comfortable.
Quickly, I changed into it, and grabbed my bow out of my locker. I threw my quiver across my body, and began to walk down the long corridor back up to the main building. I closed the door behind me and walked out from the hidden door that was under the staircase.
I didn’t need any help.
I was determined not to get any help on this mission, because this was a mission of cold blooded revenge and brutal murder.
I walked down the hall to the cafeteria, and standing outside of the doors were two boys that looked to be about fifteen. One of them was very muscular; he had light brown hair, green eyes, was pretty pale, and he was staring at me. The other was sort of short; he had a brown buzz cut, he was rather muscular as well.
“Who the hell are you two?” I asked rudely.
The one with green eyes just laughed at me, and said, “I’m Nick, and this is Nathan—Black Widow wants us to help you.”
“Well, beat it; I don’t need any help,” I mumbled as I walked past them. The one named Nathan chuckled at me. My head whipped around and I ran up into Nathan’s face.
I took a fist full of his shirt and raised him up from the ground, and on his face was the same look of humor. “Listen here boy: I am in no need of any help for this mission and you two better stay far away from me and the Wolverine. Trust me, he will kill you and everyone you love,” I said through clenched teeth, and then I dropped Nathan to the ground.
Then, I proceeded to walk down the hallway to my dad’s private room where he sat and thought before missions. “Mara, wait!” Called Nick, but I kept walking down the hall.
A had firmly grabbed onto my shoulder, and I spun around then I punched Nick in the face. If he was one of the world’s greatest assassins he needed a hell of a lot better reflexes.
“Don’t you fucking touch me ever again!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, and Nick looked at me like I had just punched a puppy.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Nathan asked rudely.
“Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I’m doing,” I sneered at him, “And I don’t need two little kids tagging along with me.”
I began to walk down the hallway to my dad’s office, and the two files were gripped tightly in my hand. His office door was closed, so I knocked on it twice. “Come in,” Dad said much more chipper than usual.
The door opened and I stepped inside, and sitting at his desk was Dad. He was looking through some paperwork and casually sipping on some coffee.
“Hey, Mara,” He said as he looked up from his paperwork. I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, I closed the door with my mind, and I buried my face in my hands. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Dad asked.
I didn’t talk for a really long time, because I was stirring up a plan—a nasty plan.
“Mara, what’s wrong?” Dad asked solemnly, “I need to know.”
I looked up at him and took a big breath in, and flat out said it, “I’m going to go be with Silver, and I just wanted to let you know that I love you.” Then, I sprinted out of the room.
Dad began to scream, “Mara! Mara, don’t you dare! Mara Marie Barton get your ass back in here right now!” But, I just kept running as fast as I could, and I ran out of the building.
I ran all the way to the Empire State building, and I scaled the glass windows all the way to the very top. The wind blew in every direction, and I couldn’t keep still. With a big deep breath, I looked down at my surroundings.
Then, I took the leap of faith off of the building.
