Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, only the character's I put in their world to play.

Authors Note: This is the sequel to 'Infiltration', you don't have to read the other first, but it might fill in some of the blanks. ;)

A HUGE thanks to my beta DevinBourdain, you help me out soooooo much!

It's just over a year since Clint had his mission in jail and a new assassin 'the Reaper' has been causing havoc for SHIELD. Three agents have been killed and Phil Coulson is feeling the stress of the situation. After a big fight with his young charge, Phil finds out Clint has taken off and must decide whether to go after the archer or stay and concentrate on finding the Reaper. He soon finds out that he won't have to look very far as the archer attracts trouble on his best day.

When the Reaper and the Hawk face against each other, it would be best to stay out of the way.

Hope you enjoy!

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

― Norman Cousins

"Clint!"

"Fuck you, Phil!" Clint snapped still walking away.

"Clint, don't you walk away from me!" The handler didn't raise his voice, but anyone passing by could tell he was pissed. Phil glared at any agent who even dared look in his direction as he followed the archer through the winding corridors of the SHIELD base.

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child," Clint shot back.

Phil grabbed the archer's arm and spun him around, thankful that for once his agent didn't throw a punch. "Stop acting like one then."

Barton glared daggers at the older agent before pulling his arm free. "You're a dick!"

Coulson raised his eyebrows in surprise at the anger behind his young charge's eyes. "I'm being your handler Clint, and your friend. We are not using you as bait for this guy. No chance in hell."

Clint looked like he was going to reply but clamped his mouth shut. The older agent glanced around and decided this conversation would be better off somewhere out of ear shot. He grabbed Clint's arm again and pulled him into the nearest empty office, closing the door behind him before leaning against it. The archer paced the small room while running his hand through his short hair.

"How else are we going to catch this guy, Phil? He is always two steps ahead of us; has taken out three of our agents and is showing no sign of stopping." Clint tried to reason with his handler but since the deaths and Fury deciding to send the Hawk to take care of business, Phil had been pretty highly strung.

"No." Phil's decision was final and only made the younger agent angrier.

"And that's it, is it? The final word? I don't get any fucking say in the matter?" Clint shouted at the older man as he stepped into his personal space. He should have known it wouldn't faze the older agent, Phil stood his ground.

"I won't send you into a situation when we have no idea what this guy really wants," Phil told him calmly, but inside he wanted to shake the archer and tell him to start thinking about himself for a change and stop throwing himself into danger.

Clint stepped out of his handler's space and leaned against the nearest table. "Phil, this guy needs to be stopped. You know he does and I can't just sit back and let more people die. Not if there's something I can do about it."

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Clint this guy isn't our usual assassin. We have virtually nothing on him, not even a description. He's a ghost, invisible until he strikes and it isn't one shot one kill like you do. He tortured those agents and then gutted them, so forgive me if I don't want to send you into a situation with this guy and not have more information to go on." Phil stared into the blue eyes of his charge. "I can't lose anyone else kid, I just…I can't." The handler felt exhausted, it really took it out of him when he and Clint fought.

Barton stood silently, watching the emotions flash across Phil's face before they were hidden again. He stepped forward and clapped his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Fine, but as soon as we have more information on this guy, I'm going in, Phil." The archer was adamant he would be the one to take this son of a bitch down. Coulson couldn't disagree, he just didn't want Clint ending up like the other agents after a run in with the deadly assassin. It was his instinct to protect the kid when he wouldn't think of himself, as he so often did.

Phil gave him a brief nod and together they walked out of the small office, the older agent knew they had to find more Intel on this assassin, because he was positive that a lot more people were going to die before they managed to find him. Then there would be no stopping the Hawk from throwing himself into the fire. If there was one thing Clint was consistent on, it was his need to eradicate evil; the Reaper was as evil as they came.

The shadow in the darkness stood slowly, wiping the blood from his blade and smirked down at his latest victim before sliding the knife back in its sheath. His eyes scanned the empty warehouse for any sign that his dirty little secret has been discovered early. After he'd killed the first agent, more had been sent after him. They'd failed, the SHIELD agents he'd tortured had told him as much. They also didn't seem to be aware of his first few kills which made him smile. He had gotten what information he could before he'd lost control again, all he remembered was blood; the red liquid was everywhere. His hands, arms, face and hair were covered.

The Reaper hoped he got the chance to practice his methods on more of the SHIELD agents. They were different from civilians, had more training in withstanding torture. He found it more enjoyable to bring out screams of pain from people who were apparently better prepared, the game lasted longer that way. It made him feel untouchable. He craved the feeling he got when cutting into someone, the way his knife would slice their skin like it was butter. Then he'd watch as the blood spilled out of their bodies onto the cold hard floor. Perhaps that's why surgeons sometimes had a god complex; they held someone's life in their hands. Just like him.

He had named himself the Reaper because he was death, and once he decided you were his next target, there was no escaping him. The assassin headed down the dark street towards his apartment, people he walked past didn't pay any attention to the man wearing a dark jacket and jeans, or think anything odd when he asked a young woman outside a club for a light. Smirking as he entered his building, he made his way to his door, pausing to glance both ways before pulling his keys out. He hesitated before putting the key in the lock, the blood soaked gears of his mind turning with fiendish delight. Maybe he could convince the young girl outside the club to come up to his for a party she'd never forget.

The decision was instantaneous, he dropped the keys into this pocket and walked back down the stairs. Time to feed his addiction again, he grinned and stepped back out into the night.

Dun,dun,dunnnnn...haha I know I'm evil.

Sorry it took a bit longer than expected to get this story posted, 'Sanctuary' is still in the works but you will be happy to hear that this story is complete and I will get the chapters up as quick as I can.

Hope you all enjoy!