Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.

A/N

I've done it at last! I'm finally ready to publish this story. I want to thank everyone who's helped me get this far, especially my beta readers, Midnight Star26 and jaguarspot. You two have been absolutely awesome and your input has been invaluable to me, thank you so much!

This story is complete, there are ten chapters all together and and I will be publishing one chapter per week, probably on the weekend. This is my first story and as I am still new to all this I would love feedback to know what people think but if you don't like the story please don't leave a nasty review, I don't mind suggestions on how I could improve things but pure nastiness is completely unnecessary. This story is the first one in a universe I'm creating called the Choices and Second Chances Universe and I have lots more stories set in this world which I plan to write one day.

This story takes place in the late nineties. However going with the advanced technology that is present in the Marvel Cinematic Universe the technology they use is more advanced than it was in our world in the nineties. I'm going with the idea that they discovered and invented things much earlier. At this point in time they have laptops, fairly sophisticated computer programs, cell phones, wireless coms, high-tech methods of transport and the internet is readily available to the characters. It makes my job so much easier.

So without further ado I present you with Chapter 1 of Shades of Red and Black!


Often you think when you're rejected that you are not good enough but the truth is they weren't ready for all you have to offer. Melchor Lim


Chapter 1: Then

Afghanistan: January, 1997

Clint Barton sat handcuffed to a chair in front of his commanding officer.

"In conclusion Corporal Barton, I have had just about all that I can take of your bullshit."

First Lieutenant Samuel Hunt sat across from him, levelling his icy gaze directly at the sniper as he continued his rant.

"Your too-smart attitude, your utter disregard for rules, your blatant disdain and disrespect for anyone in a position of authority, it's all gone too far. A soldier must show obedience and respect to his superiors at all times which you have constantly failed to do from day one. The only reason we kept you around for this long is because of your shooting abilities but now we have no other choice than to let you go. Disobeying a direct order from your commander in such a delicate situation as we have here, no matter what you say happened out there, is taking things too far."

Barton knew that, he knew it had only been a matter of time before he was kicked out of the army for some reason or another. If it wasn't for his amazing skills as a long-distance sniper he knew he'd already be gone, but he certainly hadn't expected to leave quite like this; escorted out under armed guard with a prison sentence, possibly even a death sentence depending on how pissed his superiors were at him, on his head. He'd really managed to mess this up royally; even with his personal track record this hole he'd dug himself into was a mighty impressive one. The Lieutenant continued his ranting without a pause.

"You are hereby dishonourably discharged and will be shipped back to the United States to face court charges first thing in the morning."

Given it was already about 1 am, Afghanistan local time, Clint thought with slight amusement that technically it was already first thing in the morning. However he didn't say that out loud, deciding it was probably best to keep his mouth shut, about that point anyway. Unfortunately for him, keeping his mouth shut permanently on anything he should keep his mouth shut about had never really been his strong point as that would be just too easy. Rather, he had a gift for getting himself into trouble; that much he was sure of. Clint looked straight ahead and sat up as straight as he could whilst still being handcuffed to the chair.

"SIR, yes SIR." He said, emphasizing the 'sir' part so it sounded like an insult of authority instead of an honorification. That had taken a lot of practice but it was worth every second of it to see the reaction when people realised that as he'd technically addressed them right there wasn't a lot they could do about the implied meaning. First Lieutenant Hunt was no different to the others, his eyes narrowed and the look he sent back made Clint suspect if he hadn't just been discharged from the army for disobeying orders the Lieutenant would find a way to have him discharged for that insult alone. Bit late for that now as technically he wasn't a part of the army anymore. Hunt glared at him for a moment longer before he turned and addressed the two soldiers who were standing at attention just inside the tent opening with a sharp tone of voice.

"Take Barton to the brig, this meeting is over." He snapped out before turning back to Clint and nodding at the soldier standing behind the chair to un-cuff him. As Clint had his hands cuffed behind his back instead the Lieutenant gave him a glare that Clint swore to himself could have cut through metal if the man had wanted it to, he returned it with an arrogant smirk that only served to make his superior's eyes blaze even more than they already did. Hunt kept that look in place as he spoke in a clipped tone, radiating anger.

"Be ready to leave at 0700 hours tomorrow. You're dismissed; now get him out of my sight."

With that he marched out of the tent in a way that reminded Clint of a bantam rooster leaving the soldiers to take Clint back to the prison cell block where he'd be held until they were ready to move him when it was light. Clint was amused at the Lieutenants last words to him, like he had a choice what time he left the camp.

6 hours earlier.

"Barton, you are clear, take the shot."

Clint frowned as he took in the hazy scene before him through the scope of his sniper rifle, damn the cursed wind and sand, all the shadows and movement interfered with his hawk-like eyesight. This was the reason he preferred to work from a distance, so he could see the whole picture. That was also why he didn't work with a spotter, he preferred to trust his own eyes and not rely on someone else's to tell him what was happening.

Something definitely wasn't right about this picture, and he didn't think the natural elements and growing darkness were the problem. Sure, the person standing there in his sights looked like their target, the leader of this rebel band of terrorists who were causing the army way to many casualties to be left alone, but his gut told him something just wasn't right and it had never let him down yet. Clint hesitated, trying to sort out what he was seeing in his mind. Just what didn't he like about all this?

"Barton, I said TAKE THE SHOT!" Still Clint hesitated, he had almost figured out what was wrong here. Just another couple of seconds...

"BARTON!" The anger in his Generals voice was lost on Clint as he finally registered what he was seeing, something that he would have been able to do a hell of a lot quicker if the General hadn't been swearing very creatively in three different languages in his ear. At least, that's what Clint thought he was saying.

"Sir, listen to me! That isn't our target. Our target was slightly taller and thinner, I studied the photos really hard so I'd know. That's a decoy, the real target..."

"Barton, I don't care! For the last time shut the %!* up and do what I tell you to, and I say TAKE THAT **** SHOT! If you don't you'll be facing court charges tomorrow for disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. I..."

"Sir, I'm sorry but I cannot take the shot."

Clint's voice was cool and professional, despite the churning in his stomach from the General's words as he lowered the rifle. No matter what they did to him he couldn't do this. He just knew that man wasn't the correct target, and he refused to kill someone just for the sake of it, or just because somebody else told him to.

Even though that man was more than likely another terrorist, just not the one they were targeting, he could be an innocent and for that reason Clint couldn't make the shot. He never missed, and he didn't want to kill an innocent by mistake. He killed enough as it was and he wasn't a murderer. Clint's heart was heavy as he spoke into his comm unit, knowing his next words would seal his fate.

"That man is not who we were sent to kill. He's a de..."

He never got any further.

"That's IT!"

The anger in the General's voice was evident over the comms unit in his ear; Clint swore he could also hear just how red-faced and bristled his superior was at Clint's outright defiance and disobedience. "I've had enough. Wilson and Lewis, bring Corporal Barton back to me. Corporal, you are under arrest for disobeying a direct order and forinsubordination. I've no doubt that after Lieutenant Hunt hears my report you'll be out of the army for good. Any resistance on your part to these orders will be treated with extreme prejudice by me when you arrive."

Of that, Clint didn't doubt.

Clint signed inwardly as the two soldiers with him leapt to do the Generals bidding. Great, this was just great. But he still wasn't going to take the shot, and they couldn't make him. He wasn't going to just be the bullet in the gun with someone else pulling the trigger. That wasn't what he'd signed up to the army for.

He'd signed up to make the world a better place, he'd told himself at the time, to do some good for a change, to try something different. His real reasons for wanting to join the army and get out of the country were somewhat more complicated but he never spoke of them. He'd figured at the time the army was his best bet at a fresh start seeing as he could hit any target he was pointed at from any distance with pretty much any weapon. His aim was basically the only skill he possessed that was actually worth something to other people.

With his past the army was also pretty much the only thing he could get into, though he'd had to resort to some creativity they weren't aware of. However he hadn't counted on having to contend with incompetent generalswho had inflated opinions of themselves giving him shit orders and not even listening to his reasoning. Plus, Ross had taken a real disliking to Clint from day one; he'd managed to get on his superior's nerves from their first meeting without even trying. Clint knew the General had been waiting for an opportunity to have him chucked out of the army and he'd just given him one, in fact he'd just handed him a reason gift-wrapped on a silver platter.

When he'd signed up Clint also hadn't counted on the general ideas a lot of normal soldiers held about snipers being insane or crazy or even both, especially when he refused to work with a spotter and still beat all the other snipers easily in shooting competitions. Also he wasn't a social sort of person, and the army was very keen on that sort of thing, teambuilding and all the rest of it. Brothers-in-arms or whatever they like to call it, not that any of that helped Clint right now. Right now he was in very deep, very hot water with no way out that he could see. He had no allies or friends and was looking at a future behind bars as his best option at this point.

Sadly, it wasn't the worst situation he'd ever found himself in.

Present.

Clint was taken to the army cell block, un-cuffed, and then left in a cell. It was pretty bare, one narrow hard bunk covered with a single blanket that took up pretty much all the space there was, and a pot in the corner. No windows, one locked and barred door with a single light bulb just outside in the corridor giving a vague illusion of light. It smelt musty and damp, and was stuffy. None of this mattered much to Clint as he didn't intend to be here for long.

Unnoticed by his jailers Clint had managed to pick-pocket the key to his cell as they were taking the cuffs off. (Clint had discovered early on that many soldiers, at least those who were the favourites of the higher-ups, tended to not have a lot of brains or be very observant and would easily miss things happening right under their noses. Clint suspected they were the favourites of the higher-ups for the very reason that they didn't have enough brains for creative thinking and would just dumbly follow orders. Superiors liked that.)

He could now leave the cell at his leisure; the only problem was he wasn't fully sure how he was going to get out of the camp undetected. Getting caught trying to escape after what had just happened would certainly land him a death sentence, and Clint wasn't quite ready to die, either by a court martial for deserting or by being shot in the head by the army. He hadn't survived what he had just to be shot down like a dog now.

What he needed was a distraction. Just as he was wondering how to provide one (he had no doubt that he could, hey, trouble was almost his middle name, actually scratch that, it was his first name) he heard a commotion happening outside the cell block. Listening closely he caught some of what was being said thanks to his sharp ears.

"...oldiers! Report to duty immediately. Possible hostiles reported on approach! Repeat, all soldiers report to duty immediately, possible hostiles are on approach!"

OK, maybe this wasn't quite the distraction he'd wanted but he could make it work, providing he didn't get shot that is.

Clint swiftly let himself out of the cell and slipped out of the building while the guards were looking the other way, they were very sloppy and Clint excelled at moving quietly. Slipping behind a truck parked nearby like a shadow, he paused for a moment to get an idea of what was happening and where he was. This part of the camp was relatively quiet; it was where most of the vehicles were parked. Luckily for him, it was also deserted. Everyone seemed to be on the other side of the camp.

Clint moved silently, sticking to the shadows cast by the vehicles around him and trying to match his movements to the grass and wind so as not to attract attention. He had made it about 200 yards from the prison block when, without warning, the building suddenly exploded with a BOOOOOM that shook the ground.

Clint dove behind the nearest cover, which happened to be a jeep, and watched dumbstruck as the place he'd been imprisoned in not 10 minutes ago went up in a giant ball of orange, yellow and white flames. The explosion was so big that Clint felt the heat wash over him from where he was crouching and bits of debris from the destroyed building floated down.

Clint watched dry-mouthed and felt a rush of adrenaline and fear as the horror of what could have happened to him sunk in. He didn't bother to wonder how it had happened, and to be honest he really didn't care. Right now all he cared about was getting as far away from the camp and the army as quickly as possible before anyone saw him. It was probably best for everyone involved to think he was dead.


At 10 am local time the next day a few items of clothing went missing in the town located approximately 20 miles from the army base. At 12:58 pm a wallet containing a rather large sum of cash went missing from the pocket of a wealthy American business man in Kandahar. The wallet was later recovered abandoned in an alley, minus the cash. That evening at 6:27 pm precisely a plane left from Kandahar International Airport bound for Orly Airport in Paris. No one considered these three things were in any way related.


So what do you think of chapter 1? Review and let me know please!