Monster
Clint Barton was many things. Archer, orphan, killer-for-hire, murderer, monster. He had no illusions about what he was and what he did. He was, without a doubt, a monster.
If he wasn't, he wouldn't be here, negotiating for a child's life.
"You'll get the other half when it's done," came the gruff voice of his client's representative.
Or rather, a child's death.
"Agreed," Barton nodded. He took the duffel bag, knowing it had exactly the right amount, not a dollar less. Ever since the unfortunate incident with James Roman and his cheap tendencies, everybody knew better than to try to cheat Hawkeye.
He wasn't sure why this particular client was hiring him for this when he already had several world-class hitters of his own at his disposal, but who was he to say no to two hundred grand? And if the cost was a child's life⦠the kid was gonna die one way or another, so what if it happens by his hand? At least he would make it quick, unlike some others in his profession that he knew.
As he aimed his rifle, the thought passed through Hawkeye's mind that he really would've preferred his bow. But the client wanted discretion, so the use of a rifle was part of the contract.
It took less than ten seconds for Hawkeye to get a clear shot, aim, fire. The girl was dead before she hit the ground.
Barton didn't stick around to see her father's reaction, but he could hear his screams. The sound was unpleasant, but nothing he hadn't heard before.
Besides, he had another hundred grand In cash to pick up before heading to Vienna to blow off a few thousand dollars. It was easy to pretend that thought made up for the grimness of the situation.
It used to be, he felt a hint of pride at a job well done. Knowing that he'd made the shot, he'd completed the mission. Knowing that he was good at what he did, (even though he also knew that what he did was horrible, and being good at it was even worse). Now that spark was gone. He did this job for the money, because he had no other reason to do it, and he couldn't just not do it. It was all he knew. It was more than a job. It was who he was.
He was a monster, and this was what monsters did.
A/N:
This is set before Clint joined SHIELD. It's just a little headcanon of mine. He's obviously going through a very dark time in his life in this fic, as he's not a horrible guy in the MCU.
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