The rain was nothing he hadn't dealt with in the past. His most recent mark in the rain had been Thor, but that seemed a lifetime ago. Things were more or less back to normal, maybe too normal and quiet. Barton was definitely not one to rest on his laurels so, since S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't utilizing his talents at the moment, he decided to take up some private offers. It wasn't anything new- mercenary work- but this assignment was different. It was his first since Loki had been in his head. He needed to see if he could still be Hawkeye, without obsessing over putting an arrow through Loki's eye. He had skills, but he didn't think he could send an arrow from Earth to Asgard- if only!
With the patter of droplets almost hypnotizing him and the overcast sky adding a gray and dull pallor to the landscape below his perch atop the tallest building in town, his mind wandered. It may only have been a moment, but losing focus was uncharacteristic. He shook his head and wiped away the droplets from his brow before glancing down the street again. His mark had yet to leave the last shop he entered. It wouldn't be a good time to make his shot; the mark was with kids and a woman- though not his wife- that much Barton knew. He needed a better look at her face to use in the facial recognition program. With any luck he could take out two birds with one arrow, if they ditched the kids anytime soon. Scanning the street below, it was mostly empty due to the rain, he noticed a lone figure coming down a side alley and climbing up a fire escape. From the stature and movement, it had to be female though he wasn't positive. He looked in vain but could never get a glimpse of face, realizing they must be wearing a mask. This definitely caught his attention, and then he saw the long bag strapped to the figure's back- trouble. Perhaps competition for the mark, perhaps Barton was the mark. The figure swiftly entered the top window in the building attached to the fire escape and disappeared from view. Barton had to think fast, he certainly wasn't taking anyone out today with kids around, and he wanted to see if the female companion was clear or not. If the figure was another assassin as he presumed, he better get to the bottom of that situation.
Barton quickly packed his gear and headed back into the building he was staked out on. Once inside he instinctively pulled out his phone to dial S.H.I.E.L.D but realized this was a freelance mission- and then he heard it. A single gunshot cracked the air. At first, anyone could mistake it for a back firing engine, but he knew immediately where it originated, the building across the way. With great care to not be seen, he moved to the nearest window and took a quick look. It was all he needed to see that his job was lost. There in a pool of blood was the mark, surrounded by two wailing children and a hysterical, blood splattered woman. He would bet money she even had bits of brain on that white rain coat. He was immediately angry at losing a mark to another assassin but also disgusted that they took the shot in front of kids. Then again, he had done the same thing before, but he shook that memory out as soon as it entered. Did the other assassin see him? If so, they could be looking for him. His mind raced, try to make an exit, or stand his ground and see if they came to get him, self-preservation won out. Moving a pile of sheet rock that was leaning against the wall, he climbed through a hole and carefully allowed the rock to come to a quiet rest back in place. The best part about such old buildings was the fact that there was often enough space to move in between the walls and he smiled to himself while wrapping a cable around his gear.
No sooner had he made the climb a floor up, he heard the faintest sound and froze, straining his ears. Instantly, as if in response, the noise stopped; he held his breath. The definite sound of foot falls on the floor below didn't alarm him, in fact he carefully and quietly continued his ascent deciding along the way that he may have to leave his gear behind when he made it to the top- it would be too risky to take the time to drag it up quietly. As he neared his exit point and the relative safety of the connection to the next building, he broke into a cold sweat because below him he heard someone crawling into the space between the walls below. With a swift motion he swung himself into the next building and did a quick survey of his surroundings while listening to the approaching sound of climbing. They were not doing a great job of being quiet, but he was also straining to hear anything. Curious about who was pursuing him, and who would have so easily found his escape route, Barton decided to take to the rafters and risk a confrontation rather than simply hightail it out of there. There was a window about fifteen yards across from him and about twenty feet up with an old ventilation fan in it. It was most likely rusted in place but he would cross that bridge when he got there.
He had left most of his gear behind, but nothing too important, it wasn't even his best bow. He had an XD-40 in a thigh holster, a K-bar on the other thigh, and two gas arrow heads, two concussion arrowheads and one explosive arrowhead- all of which he could use like small grenades. Barton took stock of these things as he ran and jumped to grab the lowest rung on an old rusted access ladder below the ventilation fan. It was sheer luck that it held as rusty as it was and a testament to his circus days that he managed to jump high enough to get a firm grip. Luck aside, he was up high and moved to the shadows a bit away from the only exit- which may or may not be rusted shut. Most would feel like a treed animal waiting the dogs, but Barton felt right at home. He fingered the arrowheads in his vest and not the gun. He was just as good with firearms as with archery, but he definitely preferred the latter- even if he did not have a bow and proper arrows.
It was telling that his pursuer did not stop to assess Barton's gear before proceeding after him, either they knew who they were after or they were that confident in their abilities. He somewhat hoped it was simply another assassin he knew or had worked with that may not be seeking to end him; whatever the case, they were close now. His ears were met with the roar of silence; he had no read on where their location was. As time wore on, light grew dim inside this building. Relying mostly on peripheral vision, he stared off straight ahead to a blank wall. Any motion would immediately register to him this way, and as if right on queue the figure entered the same way he had.
The other person was smaller than he had first estimated their clothing was dark and close fitting for ease of motion; they were wearing a tight hood that obscured their identity from a distance. They were armed with a long gun slung across their back. He knew it would be an impractical weapon choice, should they engage each other. Holding firm in his position and at the ready, he merely observed from above, the weak light casting deep shadows that could be to either of their advantage.