The tabby cat
12 Years ago
It’s almost too easy. That would worry Clint but he’s having a shit week, so he crams all those thoughts inside and even sings a little under his breath to distract himself.
Some Rick Astley tunes never hurt anyone.
The chair is bolted to the floor, but he can make the jump to the air vents just fine. They didn’t call him the amazing Hawkeye for nothing, and after all he’s a slimy dude that grew up in a circus, this shouldn’t be too hard.
And it isn’t.
He manages on the first jump, trying not to cough the spiderweb that gets in his mouth.
Jesus, these guys didn’t like cleaning. At all.
They were probably some kind of gang if the “who do you work for” gun to the face was any indicator, and Clint didn’t exactly got along with gangs. He never quite managed to get on their good side, not even as a circus kids surrounded by shady business.
It might amount to the fact Clint never liked it, even if it brought food to the table. But if Clint was really honest, it kinda scared him. It was far too easy to fall into it, that world sucked you right in like it did with Barney and so many others.
He gets to the end of the vent and jumps down in an inconspicuous office. Apparently, this place was really an office, but maybe that was the shit they pulled if they were from the FBI or something, still it didn’t make much sense to him. Why would the FBI want him, unless Barney was really in a pile on shit and talked.
You’re a burden Clint. Yeah, no fucking thank you.
He lands softly on a desk full of reports and winces when his boot messes up a stack of papers.
“Oh no”
Wait a damn minute. That’s him, his face right on the front page of a police report. And, yep they got his age wrong. Clint taps the paper with his finger.
Who the fuck are these guys? He probably shouldn’t steal it but fuck them, he packs it under his sweatpants anyways.
He is opening the latch of the window with a pair of scissors when a sound makes him jump about three feet in the air. Clint turns around scared shitless only to see a tabby cat mewing mournful at him.
“Aw no kitty. Where did you come from?”
Shit, he can’t steal the cat can he?. Don’t do it. His inner voice pleads you’re in so much shit already.
Clint shuts his eyes, muttering the entire time as he lowers himself to the fire escape.
“The cat is fine Clint” he says out loud. The cat looked healthy at least, healthy to be in some fucking gang where they would probably get shot or worse and Clint the fucking worse human in the entire world left them-
There’s no way.
“you gotta be fucking kidding me” Clint says stunned.
There it is.
The tabby cat, waiting for him at the end of the fire escape. And Clint is already picking them up. They are orange, soft and they purr as Clint scratches behind their ears. Shady dudes in suits be damned.
__
14 years ago.
He feels someone creep on his back, so he knocks an arrow and shoots without turning. The guy, one of the Hydra group falls screaming at his pierced kneecap.
“Yeah it hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it” Clint jams the alert with the back of his hand, flooding everything in red.
The guy glowers at him “the fuck-you-doing?”
Doing the right thing Clint thinks, and ain't that a revelation. "Just being the good guy" he says instead, checking for some keys. And by some miracle this guy has them.
He runs, managing to open the first cage and then the second one. He blinks as the people, children really as start to sound more awake now “come on guys, the door-“
Clint falls to his back in surprise as the kids push him back. Terrified eyes stare at him for a minute before running in the direction he had mentioned. Small mercies.
“Well fuck” He was so fucked. Even if they were arrested, the police would never believe him. Not someone as low value as Clint.
None of that mattered now.
He finally picks up the distinctive noise of boots coming towards him. The rest of the group he recalls. Shit, that can’t be good.
But lets face it, Clint had never had any future to begin with. So, he squares his shoulders and takes his bow.
Breathe in. He knocks an arrow.
Breathe out, the arrow pierces between the joints of armor.
Someone screams. Yeah, it hurts like a bitch to be evil.
Everything descends into chaos, but chaos is good for distraction. Hydra guys are yelling on their comms, their useless helmets don’t offer enough visibility to spot him shooting from afar.
The world tunnels into a constant draw and release pattern. And when they start to run towards the children.
Clint doesn’t let them.
It’s a little tricky, but the getaway car explodes behind them in a fume of gas when his arrows pierce the gasoline tank.
He breathes out as more sounds get to him. Fire squads, and probably the security of the factory. That’s enough to get the people out and stop whatever Trickshot and Barney deal is.
Oh shit, the deal.
Clint scurries next to the sector he was not supposed to know about. His pulse hammering on his chest as the lights suddenly flood the place.
But he’s light on his feet, passing through passed out Hydra guys and there it is.
“Ah, thank fuck” the vials are intact inside the marked suitcase.
Clint almost drops his bow when he hears a click behind him.
“drop it, Clint” he turns slowly, and somehow it doesn’t really register that Barney is pointing a gun at him.
You always fuck everything up, don’t you Clint his father snarls before slapping him in the face, his entire face is numb by the time he’s done. Barney face’s somber behind them, until one day Barney’s bloody face wakes him up and takes his hand.
“really Barney? a gun?” Clint asks “I thought you were going to be sentimental for once, an arrow for an arrow sort of thing”
Clint looks at the guy with the pierced knee “make it even”
“I should have known you would fuck this up for me, you always do” Barney grits out, snarling the almost exact way their father did ”but you can fix it this time”
But what if I don’t want to fix it? Clint wonders, maybe for the first time since he held onto Barney’s hand.
He lowers the suitcase “What are we doing here Barney?”
“I fucking told you-”
“you never told me shit and now there’s people there-” and Barney knew, he must have “do you even know why they want them for?”
“That’s not our problem” Barney says exasperated.
“It kinda is, Barney”
Barney sighs, a furious sound that never fail to remind him of bad times. Ah, his dear dad, he used to get furious with him too. Didn’t he?
“give me the fucking suitcase or I swear to go Clint-“
“Or you will what?” Clint retorts, watching as Barney considers. It’s not going great for him. He can already tell.
“But you know what” Clint says “Sure, I can give you the suitcase. Let me just-“ and then he’s smashing the vials on the floor, every piece of glass crushed beneath his boot with vengeance.
“There” he tosses the empty suitcase at Barney’s feet with a smirk that he doesn’t feel “hope it wasn’t too important”
Barney follows the trajectory of impact, his face blanks and then he’s right on his face. Punching him once, twice and even after everything he has seen Clint doesn’t expect it. He drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes while Barney kicks at his head.
Once.
Twice.
And his ears start ringing.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Trickshot appears in the periphery of his vision. And then someone hits him in the back of the head hard enough to wash everything in black.