Budapest

Chapter 1

This is my first fanfiction so please go easy on me but I do appreciate constructive criticism in the comments (constructive only please) I swear that this fanfiction does get better as I switch my writing style about chapter 16 to suit the story so please just keep reading- I promise it gets better. There will be very limited swearing in this fanfic with absolutely no smut- it's not that type of fanfiction. Anyways, love you all and enjoy Xx.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel

Agent Barton quietly exited the Director's room. His thoughts were piling up on each other. They were becoming dangerous. Director Fury had just finished assigning him on his next mission. He was to hunt and take out the infamous Black Widow, whom had snuck her way into first place of SHIELD's 'kill' list. The assassin was becoming a problem and she needed to be taken out. Barton was to make his way to Mexico in the next few hours to observe the Widow's tactics so he had an advantage over her. Agent Barton .AKA. Hawkeye, made his way to his dusty, unwelcoming apartment with the mission file tucked underarm. He hardly spent time in the supplied apartment, he was always on missions. He preferred it that way.
The door opened as he applied pressure to the hinges, it was so old and rusty and always got stuck, he didn't even bother locking it when he would leave.
'Cheap piece of crap.'
Hawkeye took silent steps through the dark, checking every possible hiding spot. If you said he was being paranoid or overreacting, you'd have an arrow in your eye socket before you took your next breath. He couldn't help his secret anxiety. He had enemies, it was a given with his job.
Finally sure no one was there to end his miserable life, Clint turned on the light and threw himself on the couch. Dust instantly filled the air after being disturbed from its temporary resting place.
'Dusty piece of crap.'
Opening the file, Barton took a deep breath. Turning through the pages of maps and data, he finally came to the information about her.
Name: Natalia .A. Romanova
Age: 17
Past Organization(s): Unknown
Current organization(s): KGB -Red Room Division-Black Widow Operative

Clint had heard of the Red Room before....they were all negative things. He began to recall the information as he continued reading.
Natalia was the only 'successful' outcome of the whole program. All the others either mysteriously died, had disabilities or were completely unstable. She soon received the title of 'The Black Widow' from her trainers.
Clint frowned as he came across new information.
They took young girls and put them 'under the knife' to medically stimulate their physical and mental condition. They called them enhancers. Romanova first began the training at the age of-
Clint looked up from the file with a sickening feeling. She was first 'enhanced' at the age of 6. A 6-year-old girl, forced to kill people, even torture them doing god-knows-what.
'Damn bastards. Taking away the childhoods of innocents.' He shook his head as he stood. Grabbing his pack, he made his way towards the small bedroom.
'May as well begin packing.' He thought.
With 2 hours until he's due in Mexico, Clint decides to get as much rest as he can on the jet. He'll have his work cut out for him trying not to be noticed by his target.
Clint shut his eyes and slowed his breathing. Anyone that walked past would undoubtedly believe he was asleep. How wrong they were. His mind was working in overdrive. To succeed in this mission, he had to have a damn good plan or he was dead.
12:30pm.
The SHIELD aircraft landed not far from the location of Romanova. He would only have to travel 4km on his own to reach his first destination. Clint began mentally preparing himself,
'The mission begins now. No distracti-'
"Welcome Agent." Said an odd looking man in the old (very old at that Clint thought) SHIELD uniform. The man had yellow, crooked teeth that were showing with his smile. Bits of food lay scattered in his beard.
Clint raised an eyebrow. He was not informed that he would be meeting anyone at the drop-off.
Hoping to get back to his mission, Clint pushed his sunglasses up the ridge of his nose a little.
The man's smile slightly faultered. Leaning on his one good leg, he pointed Agent Barton in the direction of the awaiting vehicle.
"Your vehicle is over there. Good luck."
'Thankyou for realizing that I don't have time to chat.' Clint thought as he nodded in acknowledgement. He had a tight schedule. Each minute he spent talking, the further away his target got.

Tonight, Romanova would be at a ball to murder her next target, a rich man from the city.
Tomorrow, she would be at a bar, killing a Japanese intern that disagreed with her supervisors.
And finally, after that, Agent Barton would advance to kill her.

It was a cycle. In this business, it was kill or be killed. No one had time to rest. You can rest when you're dead. Agent Barton had no intentions to die, but neither did his target.