“No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “I said no!” [b]BANG![/b] a blonde’s annoyed voice echoed as she blinked her blue eyes in irritation and turned to look at the flaming redhead standing next to her. “Just try it, this is a new gun they’re just coming out with. It’s powerful, functional and light weight.” The redhead said insistently holding the gun to the blonde who proceeded to push it away with her free hand that had released from the gun she was holding. “I’m an old fashion kind of girl, and that goes with old guns too. It may be a bit heavy but it packs a powerful punch.” She said with the same instance to the redhead as she had done to her. She watched Black Widow roll her blue eyes as the blonde returned with one of her own. If the men thought they were competitive at S.H.I.E.L.D., they obviously never saw women at the firing range. “Same time next week?” The blonde asked as she dropped the empty clip from the gun and tossed it into the refill bin and hung up the gun. “You know it.” Black Widow called back as she lined up her shot and began to firing, the blonde leaving the range with as much confidence as she had when she walked out. This was the story of Agent 13, or Shanon Carter and her crazy time at S.H.I.E.L.D. --- Agent 13 was a lot more important than people gave her credit for. Her hands were dipped into everything including close work with Bruce Banner and uncomfortably close with Tony Stark and not in a fun way; more in a way of ‘Mister Stark if you touch me again I’m going to introduce your face to the table, multiple times.’ There’s a certain line that shouldn’t be crossed and Tony loved to see just how much he could push Agent 13 before she’d threaten him and it’s gotten to the point that everyone’s rather used to hearing the threats. Though Bruce has voiced on numerous occasions that he hopes it happens in the lab so he can see it. The blonde ran her fingers through her down curly blonde hair as she flicked open the file that had been handed to her. She needed to retrieve a cylinder from a private source and bring it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. three days from today at 12:30pm in a certain section of New York City. Simple is as simple does. Shrugging to herself, she tucked the folder in against her hip as she walked into Nick Fury’s office and shut the door behind her. “You called for me?” “Yes come on in Sharon, I have a mission for you.” In private he’d call her by her secret identity name instead of her agent number. It was simple and easy. “What’s the mission sir?” But Agent 13 rarely called him Nick or even Furry to his face. When he finished explaining what he wanted her to do, trying to use a clever wording to dodge the truth of what the mission actually was. But the look on Agent 13’s face said that she wasn’t too happy of her actually assignment. “I’m a babysitter?” “You’re a neighbor to someone who needs looking after; he’s adapting to the area and all the things newly available for him now-a-days.” “I’m a babysitter.” She repeated, her voice still filled with annoyance. “You’re a guardian of someone very important to this world, your job is just to keep an eye on him. We’ll cover you’re apartment costs. You’re moving in now, here are your keys.” As he threw the keys at her, the blonde caught them and glared at him in annoyance. “I’m a babysitter… great. Thanks sir, I’ll be sure he eats his vegetables.” As she left, she caught the muttering about ‘thanking me later’ from her boss but chose to ignore it. She was living next door to someone to babysit them and make sure they don’t hurt themselves. If it’s Black Widow they’d more bullet holes in the apartment complex than normal. 8 is normal right? --- At least Nick Fury was nice enough to help her get a moving company but the company didn’t have enough people to help. Sharon had changed into an oversized comfortable tan sweat shirt that hung off her right shoulder; her blue eyes blinked behind a pair of oversized glasses with thin lenses and hair in a bun up on top of her head (why, because people tended to not recognize someone when they have glasses on and their hair up). Her body stressed carrying a box up the stairs ahead of the movers It’s not that the box was heavy it was that she lacked footing, not understanding the new apartment stairs and as she went to step up another one, her foot missed and she let out a small shriek, her feet fumbled behind her as she took a couple steps back trying to catch herself but to no luck, a few more steps and she felt the weight of the box she was carrying counteract her and cause her upper half to start to fall backwards as her feet slipped out from under her. Really? Really?! Any way this girl could die in her job, she is ended by a staircase and an unruly box! Another shriek left her as she felt herself starting to fall backwards.