Shades

The pictures were definitely not high on the list of the most gruesome sights Clint had seen in his lifetime, but they were close. While some small part of him felt repulsed by the numerous portraits of charred flesh, blackened jaw still agape in agony, he was mostly relieved— satisfied— that Gorman was dead. It served the bastard right. Clint pulled up a picture of Eden Turner, or who Coulson believed was she, and placed it next to the postmortem photos. Zoomed in on her face. Cleared up the image. Looked from one to the other.
Clint just couldn’t see this girl as Gorman’s killer. It wasn’t that she looked inexperienced or incapable, and it wasn’t that she did. She just looked too passive. Too casual. That could be a link to sociopathy, yes, but no matter how many times he played the scenario out in his head, he could not put her face into the equation.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t think there was something amiss. Whether or not she had a connection to Gorman or his death, there was something about the lack of information on her that lead Clint to believe she was, or was going to be, a problem. He moved the images of the corpse aside and brought up the most recent clip gathered on her. It was short, a few seconds, starting from the moment Thor was aware he had hit her and ended as soon as Thor looked away from her retreating figure. Before and after that was a mystery. Where did she come from? Where was she going?
Why, Clint asked himself, do the cameras only capture her when someone says they’ve seen her?
“Is that the new shot?” Coulson asked behind him.
“Yeah, just as Thor said. A couple blocks from the Starbucks he ran into her, helped her up, and she just walks away,” Clint tugged at his lip.
“That’s all we have?”
“That’s all the security cameras in the area caught,” Clint said. “It’s like she’s invisible until attention is directed her way.”
“Then we’re never going to catch her from here,” Coulson sighed, and rubbed his temples. He took a seat.
“Has Natasha checked in yet?” he asked Clint. The marksman shook his head.
“Didn’t know she was coming,” he frowned.
“I asked her to,” Coulson elaborated, “since SOMU seems to be doing fine on their own I don’t think she needs to be out supervising them when she’s of better use elsewhere.”
“You’re going to put her on this case?” Clint nodded to the screen.
“I was hoping you’d both take this case,” Coulson admitted. “SHIELD is lacking in manpower right now, and we can’t expend or risk lower-level agents going out on an undercover mission where there is little to no information and a high risks.”
“My favorite kind of work.”
Both men looked to the doorway, where Agent Romanoff stood with a stance of relaxed aggression. “When do we start?”
“We’ve reached a standstill in the Gorman case until we can bring someone in who has answers. Since she’s our only lead,” Coulson nodded to the screen, “we need to locate her as soon as possible.”
“We’re expecting anything from her, right?” Clint asked. “I mean, for all we know she could be a mutant, or an inhuman of some kind?”
Coulson seemed hesitant to answer that. “Anything’s a possibility at this point.”
“Including the possibility that what you’re seeing is one of those…demon-things taking the form of someone who looks like your niece?”
“I’m willing to accept the possibility that Denny is a mutant, or even inhuman,” Coulson firmly stated. “But until I have the chance to speak to her myself, I’m not counting her as one of the bad guys.”
Coulson excused himself, leaving the assassins standing adjacent to each other and an open door, the only sound coming from Coulson’s receding footsteps and the low hum of the holotable. Clint decided to break the silence first.
“How’s SOMU panning out?” he asked.
“Decently, for such a slap-work team of superstitious scientists,” Natasha affirmed.
“Seems a waste to organize a unit to go on-sight when Selvig and Foster are already researching the problem,” Clint said as he moved towards the door. Natasha exited ahead of him.
“As much trouble as this cloud—or whatever we’re calling it now— has given us, I’m not surprised Fury sent in other people to get their hands dirty. Those two are some of our better scientists; wouldn’t want to loose them to a few demons.”
“I don’t think she’d mind,” Clint chuckled, referring to Jane.
“Which is exactly why she doesn’t need to be doing field work in this situation,” Natasha returned with the faintest hint of a smile.
They opted out to take the stairs over the elevator.
“And how about you?”
“How about me what?” Clint deflected.
“How are things ‘panning out’ here at base?” Natasha humored.
“Fine. The cafeteria seems to be serving worse food than usual, but other than that…” Clint shrugged.
“I know that Fury asked you to be kept out of missions for a while. I don’t think he gave permission for you to be looking for the killer of a killer.”
“Coulson’s kind of taken this case into his own hands,” Clint said.
“He’s just trying to get your mind off the last one,” Natasha said. Clint opened his mouth to protest. “You and I both know Fury leaves a lot to ask for when it comes to grief counseling. I think Coulson’s right to let you out in the field.”
“I don’t know, I may be more likely to give the chick a hug and send her on her way if she did him in.” There was a lapse of silence.
“You know there wasn’t anything you could have done,” Natasha eased.
“But I should have known. I was supposed to keep those agents as safe as possible. I should have known better than to send them in there like that,” Clint said. “I’m just glad he got to go the same way they did.”
“Then I’ll at least let you thank her for a job well done before we take her in,” Natasha added, attempting to lighten the mood. There was more she’d like to have said, but it was clear Clint was not going to take any sympathy or advice. Better to focus on the mission and let himself cool back down, she thought. There were other times she could try to talk him out of his self-loathing.

Notes