Who: Clint Barton & Lucky/Loki What: S.H.I.E.L.D. follows up on a familiar energy pattern When: Backdated, 2 weeks prior Where: New York City
Lucky wasn't sure how long he'd lived alone on the streets. Sometimes it seemed like only days, while others the few memories he was able to hang onto made it feel like months. Before the streets though, there was nothing, a thick fog that he hadn't been able to pierce beyond a name he could hear in his ears like a whisper. Lucky. He was Lucky. Which was, in his opinion, almost a cruel name for a child in his predicament.
He could steal like no other, his fingers and mind were swift and he didn't go without food, or any other toy that caught his eye. Satisfying those wants was almost too easy, he didn't understand why anyone would work for their money when it could be so easily stolen. At no point was he aware that he had a gift for these acts, it was as natural as breathing for him and he assumed the rest of the world could do it the same, they just stupidly chose not to.
However, when the night came, and Lucky was forced to find shelter, safe shelter being infinitely preferred, the boy found himself in a predicament he could not escape from. When his eyes closed, the boy was plunged into a world of such vivid terror that he did all he could to escape it. Energy drinks, pain, anything he could do to keep himself from sleep, he would inflict it upon himself, but in the end it would all fail, and he would find himself waking covered in tears and sweat, screaming for his life.
He needed his family, he knew that much, he needed to find them so they could help him. As easy as his life was during the day, he could not take another night on his own.