Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Clint didn’t really have a plan when he left the compound. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what he was going to do. The only thing he did know was he couldn’t go back. Sure his friends were there and would take him back and yeah, maybe he had left his bow there but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. There was, in his mind, nothing left for him there. Only reminders of the failures of recent events. It was written in everyone’s eyes, especially when they looked at him. They blamed themselves, which was fairly obvious, but Clint didn’t really blame them. How could he? They had tried to stop the titan.
No, he blamed himself.
While his friends had shown up to the call to face Thanos and attempted to stop him, what had Clint done? Prepared to eat hot dogs with the family? The family he couldn’t protect. The family he lost because of his inability to leave them once again for a mission. The last one had left him a fugitive in the Raft and even if it was a short stint, it really made him think. Tony had put the question in his head. You’re all grown up. You got a wife and kids. I don’t understand why you didn’t think about them before you chose the wrong side?
The funny thing was – once he got out of the Raft and made the deal to be on house arrest he thought he had chose the right side. He had spent years playing two different roles – the father and the Avenger. He had been trying to do both but with Lila and Cooper getting older and Nate growing up so fast, he knew what side he had to choose. He had to be there for his family.
But in doing so, he had failed to protect them. He had failed to do whatever it took to make sure they could live safely in a world free from threats like Thanos.
He had chose the wrong side yet again. He had failed and now he had to live with it gnawing at his conscious.
He didn’t know where he was going but he did know he was hungry. He had stopped in Hell’s Kitchen, deciding to get snacks or something before he decided in what direction he was going to go. It took a while but he found a place that looked to be stocked. Damn looters but he was hungry. He parked his bike on the street and casually stepped in. There may not have been anyone actually working the place but Clint figured he could leave some cash somewhere in case the owner was still around. He grabbed a couple sandwiches when he heard a voice.
“You’re Hawkeye.”
Shit. Clint sighed as he turned to see the individual who seemed to recognize him. It was a young woman, maybe mid-twenties to early thirties. “I’m just passing through.” He really didn’t want to be asked about the Avengers or about the Blip or anything. All he wanted was to get his snacks and be done with it. Clint was about to grab another round of snacks when he noticed that more and more people were starting to enter the shop. There were maybe seven of them.
And they were surrounding him.
He casually moved his hand to his pant leg, ready to grab the only thing he had brought with him before he left but someone had a cattle prod and dug it into his ribs. He fell the ground with a cry, feeling how the electricity shot through him as he convulsed. It ended but before he could get up someone kicked him in the head and everything went dark.
~~~
When Clint came to he was tied to a chair in a dark room. He couldn’t tell where he was but the room was large and smelled of must and sweat. Was….was he in a gym? His vision was blurry but after a few blinks and a groan he was finally able to see the dimly lit room that he was currently residing in. “Good morning, Agent Barton.”
He squinted as he made out the figure that was in front of him. It was a man, that was for sure, and there was something eerily similar in the man’s voice yet he had a hard time making it out. “The boss was pleased to hear that you were spotted in town.”
“Look, I’m tired, my head hurts and I’ve run out of any sense of patience. You mind stopping the ambiguous talk and getting to the point?” Clint was in no mood to play any games.
He could make out a smirk before the person stepped further into the light. The curly black hair and wide-set eyes immediately registered in his brain. “Oh, hey Kazi. I didn’t know you were in town.”
Kazi smirked as his hands dug into his trenchcoat pockets. “Yeah, well, my boss heard about what you did down on the docks with the Diamondbacks. Impressive work, but he wants to make sure you won’t be causing us any problems.”
“And which boss is it you’re talking about? I don’t really keep track of low-life amateurs nowadays.”
Kazi laughed haughtily under his breath. “No one you need to worry about. I’m just here to make sure the job gets done.”
Clint’s eyebrows narrowed until he heard a door open and various footsteps enter. Well this just got worse. “You know how many people were willing to take payments for your head? I would have done it myself but my boss didn’t want any connections. It was nice knowing you, Clint Barton.”
The grin on Kazi’s face was smug as he walked past Clint. He turned his head to watch him but only managed to see the room swarm with people in red suits. The Hand. He bowed his head as he let out a long, heavy sigh. Once again, why hadn’t Thanos snapped organizations like this out of existence? “I’m going to give you only one chance to leave,” Clint warned before looking up.
No one said a word and no one moved. Clint shrugged as he undid the last knot on his bonds. “Suit yourself.”
In a quick motion he was on his feet, launching himself at the first man in front of him. The room swarmed with the sea of red as the twelve members fought to kill Clint Barton. Clint knew that he was severely outmatched and outgunned. They had their katanas, their nun chucks and he was pretty sure a throwing star had narrowly missed his ear, but if he could get his hand on a weapon – any weapon, the fight would instantly swing in his favor.
The man he jumped hadn’t been ready, but Clint had and he swung his fist to bring him to the ground. Only Clint didn’t let him hit. He grabbed his arm holding the sword and twisted it up, feeling how his shoulder popped and split from the rest of his body as he took the sword and dove it into his neck. He didn’t dwell as he turned, holding the katana and parried the next two blows to him. It had been years since Clint ever had to use a sword. During his childhood he had been taught by one of the old carnies and during a few missions he had the opportunity to showcase those skills as an undercover op (he was pretty sure one of those ops was why the Hand was eager to take a bounty on him). But being a sniper he had always opted for long range.
It was time to put his old teachings to good use.
He pushed off the two and swung the sword, cutting through another who attacked from his left. In a quick movement he swung back, catching the nun chucks that swung around his blade and yanked them free to fly behind him before kicking the man back to create space. Clint noticed another three running towards him and he ran backwards, grabbing the throwing stars from one of the bodies and flinging them into the three assailants with deadly accuracy. He didn’t wait to see them fall before thrusting one his sword into another coming at him from behind.
Five of the remaining members of the Hand fell in quick succession before the room went still. Strange, he could have sworn….
The throwing star landed in his right arm and he yelled out before turning to block the next two thrown at him with his sword. “You fought well, Barton,” the man seemed to acknowledge as he appeared out of the shadows. “You would have been a valuable asset to the Hand if it weren’t for the bounty on your head.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” he grunted as he pulled the star from his arm.
“Perhaps…we can make an arrangement…”
Clint laughed shallowly as he held up the katana in his hand. “I don’t work for criminal organizations.”
“I would say the Avengers are the real criminals here. After all, they are the responsible for the destruction of half of the human population, no?”
“They tried to stop that from happening.”
“They? Are you not an Avenger, Clint Barton?”
Clint swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Not anymore.”
The man seemed amused almost by Clint’s answer. “A lone warrior then….a Ronin.”
Clint pondered his words, recalling during a mission in Japan about the legend of the masterless samurai. And something about it seemed to ring true to him. He was a man on his own. A fighter with no caste. As a Ronin he could go where he wanted, do what he wanted and fight the corrupted without weight of the title of Avenger on his head. “You sure you don’t wish to reconsider?”
Clint shook his head. “I think I’ve made up my mind.”
This time the man was clearly amused. “Goodbye, Clint Barton.”
Throwing stars flew back towards Clint’s face and he instantly blocked them with his katana. They weren’t fatal marks, though, which only could mean one thing. A diversion. And a good one as the man reached behind him and pulled out a hilt. With the press of a button a blade appeared and it swung towards Clint who dodged quickly to avoid getting slashed by the weapon in question. Blades swung in a fury of silver and crashed together with metallic cries. The man easily had more experience with a blade than Clint but Clint knew how to adapt. He knew how to read an opponent in the midst of a fight and look for his opening.
And he found it. It was only for a brief second but Clint made the perfect mark and plunged his sword deep into the fighter’s abdomen. The retractable sword fell to the ground with a loud clang followed by the corpse of it’s owner. The lone victor stood in the midst of his carnage and took a moment to catch his breath before picking up the retractable blade. As he held it, he thought about the legend of the Ronin once again.
I’m not Hawkeye anymore, he thought as he retracted the blade and left the gym. Hawkeye died with his family.
I’m the Ronin.
TBC…