Agent of Change

John sat in the back of a nondescript black SUV as it sped down a dirt road. The New Mexico landscape stretched endlessly around him, dry and desolate. In the front seat, Clint Barton—Hawkeye, as the world would someday know him—was focused on the horizon, his sharp eyes scanning for threats.

"Alright, Miller," Clint said without turning his head. "You're here because someone in the office thinks you've got potential. This mission isn't complicated—stick to the plan, follow my lead, and don't get in my way."

"Understood," John said, keeping his tone steady.

The mission was straightforward on paper. A local farmer had reported strange activity near an old missile silo, with unmarked trucks coming and going at odd hours. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted answers, and Barton's team was tasked with finding them.

The SUV came to a halt a few miles from the site. Barton handed John a pair of binoculars and gestured toward a ridge overlooking the silo.

"We'll start with recon," Barton said. "You're with me. Agents Simmons and Lopez will cover our exit."

John nodded, following Barton up the rocky terrain. His body moved with a confidence he hadn't fully earned, guided by the instincts and memories of the agent he'd become.

When they reached the ridge, Barton crouched low, pulling out a compact spotting scope. John mimicked him, scanning the area through the binoculars.

The missile silo looked abandoned at first glance—weathered concrete, rusted fences, and no visible guards. But as John focused on the entrance, he noticed the subtle signs of activity: tire tracks in the dirt, faint light spilling from a cracked doorway, and a camera mounted discreetly above the gate.

"They're definitely hiding something," John murmured.

"No kidding," Barton said. "Question is, what? Let's move in."

Inside the Silo

The entrance was unlocked, but Barton approached it cautiously, signaling for John to stay close. They slipped inside, their footsteps silent against the concrete floor.

The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal. Stacks of crates lined the walls, marked with numbers but no logos. Barton knelt beside one and pried it open with a crowbar he'd brought along.

Inside were components John didn't recognize—sleek, high-tech parts that seemed out of place in the dusty old facility. Barton pulled out a small scanner and waved it over the parts.

"Energy signatures," Barton muttered. "Nothing on the books, though. This isn't standard military hardware."

John's mind raced. Could this be Stark tech? No, it was too early for that. Maybe it was black-market tech or a rogue contractor's project.

Before they could investigate further, a faint noise echoed through the silo. Barton's head snapped up, and he motioned for John to take cover.

Two men appeared from a side hallway, both armed with rifles. They were dressed in nondescript black tactical gear, their faces partially obscured by masks.

Barton reached for his bow, which he'd carried collapsed on his back. In one fluid motion, he assembled it and notched an arrow.

"Stay quiet," he whispered.

John nodded, his heart pounding as he gripped his sidearm. He wasn't sure if it was the body's instincts or his own nerves keeping him alert, but he stayed low and out of sight.

Barton took out one of the men with a precise, silent shot, the arrow striking the target's shoulder and sending him to the ground. The second man spun around, but John reacted instinctively, raising his pistol and firing a single shot that hit the man in the leg.

"Nice shot," Barton said, already moving to secure the area.

The two intruders were subdued quickly, and Barton wasted no time interrogating them.

"Who do you work for?" he demanded, his voice cold.

The injured man glared at him but stayed silent. Barton pulled another arrow from his quiver and held it just inches from the man's face.

"Not feeling chatty? I can fix that."

"They'll kill me," the man finally said, his voice shaking.

"Who will?" Barton pressed.

The man hesitated, then muttered, "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Barton said, standing and signaling for John to follow. "Let's wrap this up."

Debriefing

Back at the Triskelion, John sat across from Barton in the mission debrief. Fury hadn't shown up in person, but a video screen displayed his image as he listened intently.

"The site was abandoned by the time cleanup arrived," Barton reported. "But we recovered some advanced tech components and captured one hostile for questioning. No ID on the group yet."

"Keep digging," Fury ordered. His gaze shifted to John. "Miller. You handled yourself well out there. Keep it up."

John nodded, the weight of the compliment sinking in. He'd passed his first test, but he knew there were bigger challenges ahead.