THE SHADOW AND THE WIDOW

THE SHUDDERING BREEZE OF THE OUTSKIRT AIR had increased in shaky volume. Even the stacks of over layering coats were not enough to surpass the shivering temperature of the dirt-side living.

The skies were dim and dark— stars twinkling in scattered alignment as when the night hours would pass, another willing to appear. The waning crescent of the moonlight hovering above the pitch-grey fog that fluttered on its habituated atmosphere.

The cements roads taking form of a moist appearance from prior rains as the lamp posts had lit in unison. The littered streets now in clear sight as the brightness had overtaken the dark settings.

Newspapers scattered the sidewalks, damped and wet. The words were unreadable but with a closer look, they served purpose.

'THE GRIM BRAND OF JUSTICE ALLEGEDLY SIGHTED : HOAX?'

'DEVIL MYTHOLOGIES REAL?'

'THE JUDGE, JURY, AND EXECUTIONER NEW ATTACK!'

'THE SHADOW THAT LURKS FROM ABOVE: TO BE FEARED OR TO BE FOOLED?'

Somewhere not too far away, the large structure of the rail dependent warehouse had emitted in a bright yellow-ish light, overcoming the dim.

Boxes heard scraping the grounds as they slowly slid up the ramps, bridging over to several trucks that loaded with more. Mixed grunts, groans, and sounds of displeasure had echoed even from afar.

Meanwhile, a figure slowly stood above all— admiring his work as he dazed on the glass window.

A small huff of smoke escaping his lips as the nicotine-filled stick squeezed between his index and middle finger, occupying his office quarters— from the bookshelves that arranged from literary order to the paperwork segregating from each ancestor.

The high quality of oak hardwoods that seemed to be chosen from experienced taste. The accents of the room from the proper manifested lighting to even the most organized of furniture.

"You know... this place lacks security." He mused, looking over his shoulder. "You wouldn't want the 'devil' raiding our work, do you?"

"The 'reaper', you mean? That son of a bitch is the least of my worries!" The old man chuckles, slapping the newspaper on-top of the workbench. "They say you have a higher chance of winning the lottery than even coming close to him!"

"But, there's still a chance— isn't there?"

"Come on, you really believe this 'daily bugle' bullshit?" The old man weakly pushes himself off the red cushioned chair, steadily limping over before lightly patting the man's shoulder. "They can't even spell our cartel right. What makes you think they can point out the dangers?"

As the words roll out of his mouth, a small bulb that hovered above had slowly flickered— immediately catching their eye.

Another soon following in pursuit, constantly flashing in an inconsistent pace of on-off switches.

But from two— came three— came four— until, half had slowly taken into the overlapping pace of accessibility.

Both quirk a brow of simultaneous intrigue. Subconsciously straining their posture as early suspicious had aroused—deep lingering contemplations progressively evolving.

That was until everything turned dark...

The structure taking form of a caliginous state, to the point of being unable to envision their paths.

Heavy breaths were heard and had husked, everyone coming to a motion of halt.

They stood stiff, sweat trickling down from the scalps of their head to the bridges of their nose. Their hearts thumped harder and quicker.

But the silence was too overwhelming, just constantly waiting for a small sound of movement was all they needed to hear— for relief sake...

But the sound that would ring their ears were the complete opposite of what they hoped...

"AHHHHH!"

"HELP!"

"GAHHHHH!"

Rounds of echoing bullets had overlapped one another, filling the complete void of silence to an utter chaos of a mess.

The screams of horror had screeched as if they were yelling from the other side of the country. The ear-deafening sound had an unsatisfying and distasteful touch.

AS THE BULBS UNIFIED TO AN ONLINE STATUS, all that was left to see were the bodies that scattered the blood-stained floors. Shards of glass that laid peacefully on the ground or impaling a deep rest onto skins or eyes.

The gruesome scene in gist was something one with a sensitive stomach would tear weakly and vulnerably to.

The shards crunched as footsteps had landed on each piece. Black boots that took steady strolls before stopping dead in tracks.

The shadow-lingering figure hovered above the barely conscious body that laid on the soft, white-furred carpet. It released small winces, minimally at a volume of a whisper.

But the figure gave no sympathy, harshly flipping him to his back which caused a loud and sudden cry of grimace from the shots of pain that went across his body.

He lets out a small sob, the fuzzy effect of his vision not coming to his odds as he could barely make out the dark figure slowly crouch down to his level.

He whimpers when he feels his hair get grasped in a tight hold, as if it would tear away with just a small pull.

A shaky breath releases his mouth, the adrenaline coursing through in instinct as the fear had slowly radiated.

"W-Who are... you..."

The metal sound of The Shadow's sword whistles through the air, blood seeping through as a loud thud had boomed.

The victim's head separating from the rest as the polished blade had seeped with the dark tones of blood that slowly trickled down until the handle.

The Shadow stood over, sliding the sharp edge between his arms as he wiped the blood away from his beloved weapon.

(THANKS TO SEKRETONGMALUPYET FOR THE EDIT! GO GIVE HIM SOME LOVE!)

He slowly slides off his mask, tearing it away to see the merciless disdain of his E/C orbs. His jaw clenched, looking over to the glass window.

The horrifying and grisly sight caused him to suddenly soften his eyes, looking down as he relaxed his jaw— a small look of contemplation that was easily read, an exhausted look that plastered his face.

Y/N drowsily pushes back his H/C hair, placing a finger over his ear before he spoke. "Got them all.."

"Boss is still not happy though." Clint's voice replied over the comms. "Might have to get here sooner."

Y/N releases a groan, wiping the sweat away using his left backhand. "Alright, I'll meet you there."

--

AS Y/N STEPS DOWN THE QUINJET DOORS, a small smile creeps his lips as eyes land on a familiar face. He takes a few slow steps forward, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Coulson." Y/N greeted.

"L/N." Coulson replied as they both walked in. Y/N somehow noticed the odd look that was constantly sent over him— furrowing his eyebrows. To which, Coulson noticed. "Director isn't in his brightest moods."

Oh.

As they entered the main area, they were met by three figures. Agent Barton, Director Fury, and... Agent Romanoff

He grimaced at the name.

"L/N." He immediately tenses up hearing the Director's voice, "Care to explain what took so long?"

"Director, it was a busy night—"

"That's not an excuse" scowled Fury as he glared at Y/N with his.... eye. "You ordered for more time, I delivered. You ordered for a quinjet, I delivered. I ordered you to come back in time, you did not deliver."

"Sir, with all due respect— you told me I had to bust only two operations. That was until I found out I needed to bust seven—SEVEN!" Y/N interjects, pointing over at the eye-patched man. "So don't you every say 'I didn't deliver' cause I had to carry this whole operation over my back. Without me, this whole thing would've been—"

"I don't think that's a tone you're supposed to use in front of the dire—"

"Oh, fuck off, Nat." Y/N cuts off, whipping his head over at the redhead.

"Oh, don't you even dare talk to me like that!" Natasha glares—

"Okay, Okay... that's enough for the day." Clint walks over in between the two, flashing a small nervous smile as he turns to Y/N. "We got a task tomorrow, you should get some rest."

Y/N rolls his eyes before reluctantly nodding his head as he turns to his heels, giving a quick nod to Fury as he makes his way out— figure slowly getting smaller in size from each progressive step.

"Child. Such a child." Natasha mutters.

"No, both of you are." Clint interjects, turning to Natasha. "Honestly, you two need to grow up. I can't even get a nice second of peace without the two of you bickering like children."

"But, he- he..." She trails as she noticed the amused looks both men sent right at her, choosing not to finish her sentence as she rolls her eyes in frustration, angrily making her way to her quarters.

"Well, that was uneventful..."

--

(THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SO DONT JUDGE LMAO)