Chapter 2
Clint wasn't sure if SHIELD would change anything now that he had a status. He wasn't sure if they'd change his missions, or if they'd change his handler, which he didn't really want because Coulson was a brilliant handler.
“Look we've had to change some things,” Coulson said, and Clint had called it, “Mostly which dorm you live in.”
Clint breathed in deeply, because if that was all, then he was fine.
“You'll be moving to the Sub Hall.” Coulson's face moved up into its trademark sly grin. Clint couldn't help but wonder what was making him smile.
Just as Clint was about to ask which dorm he would be staying in, something happened. Clint wasn't sure what, at all, but there were people rushing around everywhere, and Clint didn't want to admit it, but he thought that they were mostly submissives. A few dominants dotted about the place, but most of their stances were only right for a submissive.
“What's going on, sir?”
“I don't know, Barton. I guess we'll have to find out.” Coulson admitted, his mouth in a downturned position.
They joined the rush, but followed with quieter footsteps, and swift movements. They didn't need to look like fools to seek out the information. They just followed the storm of submissives. In various states of dress, from coming out of their dorms. He imagined that they were all getting ready for bed when they were called out to join the crowd.
They eventually got to the assembly hall. They didn't know why they were there. The huge room that echoed like nothing else. It was filled to the brim with people, and both Coulson and Clint were confused. They didn't understand why there were so many people being called to assembly, because that never happened, and there were a lot of people in the assembly room, more than normal, and strangely mostly submissives. They could tell by their body movements, mostly.
“Everyone calm down!” A deep roar came from the speakers. “Sit down on the floor. Now!”
Submisives dropped almost immediately at the dominant voice. Clint didn't though. He just tapped Coulson's arm as to ask whether he should or shouldn't. He still wondered how he got such a high score on the test, if he wasn't that submissive. If he was that submissive, then wouldn't he be dropping to the floor like all of the others?
Coulson gave a nod of approval, so that they could sit on the horrible SHIELD standard blue carpet. Clint felt weird. He hadn't sat with his legs crossed on a low level like he was for years, but he knew not to argue when he spotted Fury standing with a microphone at the front of the room. Eye as angry as ever, and Hill standing almost taller than anyone else in the room because of her fantastic posture.
“You may have heard,” Fury roared, “the news from the federal government.”
Whispers came from around the room.
“Congress has indeed been taking a lot of time deciding on their Submissive and Dominant rights bill, and we have all forgotten that it has been being debated for years, and we have forgotten that it ever really existed.”
More whispers, and heads turning.
“However, congress has now finished deliberating, and the president has addressed the nation with the new laws.”
Fury's frown sunk in even deeper, as the whispers loudened. Clint looked over to Coulson's face, who seemed to be sinking even further into thought.
“I thought that I would tell you myself. The rule that is the main section of the bill is this; Submissives must wear collars.”
Gasps filled the assembly room. Loud, arguing voices littered the crowd, and Clint sat in shock.
First, he'd never even had a status before the test that day, and second, they thought that they'd impose a rule that meant that he was basically a second class citizen. He couldn't believe that the country would do that. Submissive rights? More like submissive slavery. It was absolutely ridiculous.
“Each and every submissive that works for SHIELD, must fill in a form that will be given to them by their handler. On these forms, you will state whether you will be wearing a SHIELD collar, or a personal collar, such as one from a partner, or parent. If you quit SHIELD due to this ruling, the government will make you wear either a state or federal collar. You cannot flee the country. Also in the bill, it states that submissives always have to be escorted by a dominant. This includes overseas travel. All overseas passports from SHIELD agents will be frozen for the time being. I'm sorry.”
~*~
“Look Clint, you have to make your decision.” Coulson told him. Clint had told Coulson that he'd prefer to be an organisation's property than be a particular persons property, but then again, that also meant that anyone with higher clearance than him would technically 'own' him, and that wasn't what he wanted, either.
Clint made his decision sporadically. It was the only thing that he could think of. “Coulson. Will you collar me?” Clint shuddered at the words coming from his own mouth.
The question made Coulson gasp. He couldn't believe that Clint would ask him. They'd worked together for ages. Coulson had always been Clint's handler, and sure, he'd thought about Clint in that way, but that had been before Coulson had known about Clint's status, and there was just a lot of loose ends.
“You sure, Clint?”
“Absolutely.” The lie came easy to him. Inside, he was continuing to shudder. He reached up to his neck and touched it. Wearing a collar in public all the time? That would be a hell of a lot of weird. Clint wasn't sure that he could handle that, but he guessed that he would have to if he wanted to stay within SHIELD, and he did want to stay within SHIELD. There wasn't many other people that were good people that would be able to utilise his skill set. What would he do? Enter the Olympics? Would he be any good at shooting competitively? Probably not. Actually, he probably would, but he might actually be too good, and he didn't know how he'd go as a submissive out in the world with the new rules.
Basically, if he didn't take Coulson's collar, then he was fucked, and goodbye Hawkeye, hello Clint Barton that gets gang raped daily by some fucking douches that can't take no for an answer.