Prologue
Nick's first impression of Clint Barton was that he had a feral creature in his office.
It was currently a polite feral creature, sitting still and obviously leashed in, but his eyes followed Nice across the office without moving his head.
“Coulson,” Nick said, sitting down behind his desk and staring at one of his best operatives, who refused to meet his eyes. “Do you want to explain to me exactly when this operation went pear shaped?”
The boy was younger than Nick had expected. For such a well trained thief his face was still round.
“Sir,” Coulson started and Nick stared at him until he changed his mind about what he was going to say. “Sir, I think he would make a good operative.”
The boy's eyes flickered to him without moving his head again.
“Excuse me?” Nick asked, voice calm.
“The current embezzlement is coming from a circus—”
“Coulson I did not send you after an embezzlement scam.”
“That's because they're doing more than that,” the boy spoke up and Nick wanted to know how old he even was. “The Swordsman—and,” he floundered for a second. “Trick Shot,” he finished. “Some of the others. They're bribing, embezzling and,” he swallowed again and when he finally shifted, the first time he had moved all night, the edge of his shirt revealed an ugly bruise above the edge of his pants. “Hurting people.”
“Kid, you're one of the main suspects in this case,” Nick deadpanned. There were photos, enough to be damning, of him standing behind Trick Shot and holding a bow, enough eye witness reports.
The boy flinched, but he licked his lips and met Nick's gaze straight on. “I don't agree with them,” he said, carefully, like he was talking around broken glass. “I don't want to be them.”
Nick turned to Phil Coulson, who looked so different from the boy in his scruffy tee-shirt and with his wild hair. Phil Coulson, as ever, sat ram-rod straight and with his tie and shirt carefully pressed. “I think it would be the right call,” he said.
“Do you have any idea what being a member of this organization even means?” Nick asked, finally looking at the boy again.
“I'm getting more of an idea,” he said.
“Coulson, you better be making the right call,” Nick said after a beat and he would extend this offer to no other agent. “Also, you're going to be tying your career to his. You get to be his handler, and if he fucks up that's going to be a mark on your perfect record.”
Coulson looked surprised and Nick had no idea if that had to do with the fact he had accepted his bid or because of the conditions. “Understood,” he said, quickly, and the boy's entire body sagged into shock.
“Welcome, Clint Barton,” Nick said, and watched his eyes widen more. “Try not to mess up.”