Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, than Clintasha would totally be canon. And they would be in every movie and have their own tv series. #Clintashaforever.

Thankyou forsakenfoxshadow, for your review of chapter one. It means a lot to me.

More notes at the end. Please read them, they are important.

Chapter 2:

Clint knocked on the door of the trailer belonging to Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's assistant. When he received no answer, he knocked again.

"Hallo, anyone in? I've got your iPod. I thought..."

Clint never got to finish that thought.

The door suddenly flew open, almost sending him flying off the step. Clint just had time to register the tall, dark-haired figure standing there before a white-hot pain encompassed his whole body. Clint immediately dropped to the ground like a stone, and lay there groaning.

That damn girl had tased him! That thought caused Clint to glare up at her, even if he wasn't capable of speech just yet. Darcy Lewis was standing over him with her arms crossed and a glare firmly in place. Clint made a note that she was still holding her taser.

"What do you know about my iPod, Government Goon?"

The SHIELD shrinks would definitely be even more concerned for his sanity then they already were if Clint ever told them that the insult offended him worse than being tased had. Clint had, rather unfortunately, built up a tolerance to been tased. He had not built up a tolerance to insults. Yes, he did work for the government. No, he was not a goon. Far from it. He was the best marksman in SHIELD, not to mention the world, and Strike Team Delta was the top strike team.

At least, it had been until recently.

"I'm not a goon."

Clint was please when he found that he could speak again. The girl just continued to glower down at him. Clint suddenly got the feeling that her and Natasha would get along like a house on fire, and made a mental note to never introduce them. He liked the world the way it was.

"Prove it."

Clint tried to move his limbs, and found to his relief that they were starting to work. Clint slowly sat up, and put on a glare of his own, as he looked at Lewis.

"I'm here to return your iPod. It's in my jacket pocket. I just hope that it still works after being zapped with electricity."

Darcy immediately stalked towards where Clint was sitting on the ground.

"Give it to me. Quickly. Or I'll tase you again."

Clint put his hand into his pocket and removed the small device. He held it out to Darcy, who snatched it from his hand and turned it on. She didn't say anything, and Clint just sat there, recovering. The voltage had been set pretty high.

"Why would you return this to me?"

Clint looked up at Darcy.

"Because what SHIELD did wasn't fair. I know that, you know that, and Coulson knows that to."

Darcy frowned.

"Who is Coulson?"

Clint slowly stood up.

"Coulson is the guy who spoke to Foster yesterday morning. He is also my boss and handler, and has been for a long time. He hated having to take your research, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and he needed all your research to try and figure that out. The security of the planet is potentially at risk here. We need all the information on what is happening that we can get."

Darcy was still frowning as she glanced at the iPod, and then back at Clint.

"Okayyyyy, but still, why would you return my iPod?"

"Because I don't agree with a lot of what SHIELD does, and taking someone's music isn't right. I guard my own iPod like a dragon guards its treasure. If someone took that without so much as a please, I would probably shoot them full of arrows."

Darcy cocked her head.

"Are you an archer?"

Clint nodded with a grin as he gave a mock bow.

"I am. Agent Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye, the World's Greatest Marksman, at your service ma'am."

Darcy giggled.

"You are nuts. Or possibly just purely insane. I haven't decided yet."

Clint shrugged.

"Yeh well, some people have known me for a good ten years and still can't decide which one I am. I like to think that I am the best of both."

Darcy looked between the iPod, her taser, and Clint, and frowned.

"How come this didn't knock you out? I used it on Thor, and he was out like a light."

Clint's eyebrows come together.

"That's his name? Thor? But Selvig called him Donald Blake."

Darcy waved her hand dismissively.

"Yeh, that was my doing. But seriously, that guy claims to be a god. How come this didn't knock you out?"

Clint lent against the side of her trailer. He was still feeling a bit shaky.

"It didn't knock me out because I have a very high pain tolerance, and have been tased more times in my life than is probably healthy. Heck, even Coulson has tased me on occasion. Believe me, I've had worse."

Darcy was still looking at him wide-eyed.

"Do I want to know?"

Clint shook his head.

"No. Better that you don't ask. It's not pretty."

Darcy looked away.

"Sorry for tasing you. It's my default response. I heard the word 'iPod' and lost my reason. Thank you. For bringing it back. I highly doubt you are doing it with the boss's compliments."

Clint winced as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um, yeh, about that. Don't mention it to anyone, ok? It'll be better for both of us that way. It'll be better if you don't mention anything to your companions either. Deal?"

Darcy looked a bit guilty as she hugged her iPod.

"Deal. I won't say anything to anyone. Will that make up for tasing you?"

Clint looked thoughtful.

"Almost. What about you tell me more about this 'Thor' and we call it even?"

Darcy shrugged her shoulders.

"There's not much more to tell. He arrived here early yesterday morning, like super early, and I hit him with the car. By the way, it was totally Jane's fault. He didn't appear to be hurt, but started acting weird, so I tased him. He was freaking me out. We put him in the car and took him to the hospital. Things have only gotten crazier from there on. He says his name is Thor, and that he comes from a place called Asgard, in another realm. He seems to think that he is a god. And he was looking for something called Mewl-Mewl. Coincidently, Thor is the name of a deity in Norse mythology, and Asgard is where he lives. Mewl-Mewl is a hammer that the mythical Thor owns."

Clint was staring at her, open-mouthed.

"Shit. Did you just say Thor owns a hammer?"

Darcy shrugged.

"According to a children's book of myths Selvig found in the local library, yes. The Viking god Thor uses a magical hammer to 'smite his foes'. Why?"

Clint looked dazed.

"Hell, I have to talk to Coulson. We thought that we were dealing with aliens, not gods!"

"Why can't they be both? An alien is someone not from earth, right? So, a god from another planet could technically be classed as both."

Clint looked at her in admiration.

"I like you."

Darcy held up her taser, and Clint backed away slowly.

"Not like that, Nat would kill me. I like the way that you think."

Darcy lowered the taser. Clint sighed in relief. She looked extremely pleased.

"Really?"

Clint nodded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. They were getting a bit chilly.

"Yeh. Anything else you can tell me?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Yes, but I'm not going to. You still work for the people who took all our stuff. Returning my iPod has scored you some brownie points, which is why I've told you as much as I have. But that's all you're getting. And you can let all your friends know that if anyone comes looking, my taser is always charged and within easy reach. I have no qualms about tasing creepy government agents. You've been warned."

Clint glared at her.

"It's a bit late for that."

Darcy looked unrepentant.

"I've said that I am sorry, and gave you some information as an apology. What more do you want?"

Clint sighed.

"I just want to know what this all means. What the hell is happening here?"

Darcy rolled her eyes.

"Believe me; I think that we all would like to know the answer to that."

Clint sighed wearily. It had been a long night after all.

"No shit. I'd better be going."

Darcy shut her trailer door as Clint slipped off into the shadows, making his way back to where he'd parked his bike.

It had certainly been an interesting evening out.

Coulson had told him that he wanted a de-brief; but when Clint got back to camp, his handler didn't have time to do it straight away. In fact, Clint couldn't actually find Coulson, and no one seemed to know where he was.

When he'd realised that, Clint went to their trailer and collapsing on the lower bunk. Normally he liked the top, but climbing the ladder sounded like a lot of work right now. And he really was too comfortable to move. He didn't even bother to take off his boots, instead performing a face-plant into the pillow fully clothed. He was obviously more tired than he'd thought, because he was out like a light.

He was brought out of pleasant oblivion sometime later by someone banging on his trailer door.

"Agent Barton, are you in there? Open up, damnit!"

Clint groaned as he rolled out of bed and opened the door. The door wasn't even fully opened before the agent on the other side started talking.

"There's activity in town. Coulson wants you there. He's already on his way. He sent orders that you are to meet him there."

Clint rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed that the sun was already up, and wondered vaguely what time it was.

"What's happening?"

The other agent shook his head.

"We don't know. There was a massive energy reading came through on our equipment not very long ago. Commander Coulson and several others went to check it out. Less than a minute ago, another energy reading came through in the same place. I don't know what happened, but they've just requested a medical team be sent over to that location. Coulson requested that you meet him in town."

Clint was immediately on alert as he followed the young agent towards the motor pool.

"Who's hurt?"

"We don't know. The call came in less than two minutes ago. Our agents in town have gone quiet. We're effectively blind. Here, you'll need these."

The young agent held out Clint's compound bow and his quiver of arrows. Clint nodded his thanks as he strapped the quiver on his back and placed the bow on the special hook he'd had installed on his bike for that very purpose.

Clint didn't waste any more time, jumping onto his bike and skidding away in a cloud of dust. The agents guarding the gate saw him coming and waved him on. They'd obviously received the same message.

As Clint drew closer to town, he noticed a weird cloud that seemed to be hanging over the place. It wasn't until he was less than ten miles out that he realised that it was smoke.

The town was quite literally on fire!

Clint put his foot on the accelerator, and the bike increased its speed without effort. As Clint skidded to a halt on the outskirts of town, the smoke and debris was so thick that even he couldn't see anything. Clint wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want to just rush in without knowing what he was rushing into. Despite what people said, he did have some self-preservation instincts.

Just then the smoke cleared for a few seconds, but that was all the time that Clint needed to see what was happening.

Holy shit. What the hell was THAT?

It looked like a giant Iron Man suit, only emphasis on the word 'giant'. Clint sat there on the bike and watched, his mouth hanging open, as people dressed in clothes that looked like they'd come out of the Middle Ages fought the giant metal monster. It didn't seem to be doing any good. The only thing it seemed to do was make the thing madder.

After seeing what the monster could do, it was obvious to Clint that his arrows would be useless against it. If these people were truly gods as Thor claimed he was (and it seemed more and more likely), what hope did Clint have of taking it down if they couldn't?

Clint hid the bike and ran down the street, dodging falling bits of debris and jumping over small fires. When he reached the corner near the 7-Eleven where Selvig and Thor had done their drunken dance last night, Clint judged that he'd gotten close enough.

He had no wish to be seen by that thing.

Clint peered carefully around the corner, prepared to duck around and run if the thing looked like it was coming after him. He wasn't a coward, but it wasn't smart to pick a fight that you had a below zero chance of winning.

Thankfully, the metal monolith had its back facing Clint. It was currently walked very purposefully towards Thor, who was walking forward to meet it. Clint watched, frozen in place, as Thor spoke to it. He didn't know what the other man said, but whatever it was mustn't have pleased the thing. It went to turn away, before suddenly turning back and punching Thor with all its might.

Thor went flying, and landed on the concrete a good twenty metres away with enough impact to shatter every bone in the human body. Foster screamed and run towards him, even as the monster turned away from the downed man. Clint quickly ducked behind cover as the monster turned in his direction. He was now more sure than ever that he did not want to be seen by that thing.

Clint made it onto the roof of the nearest building in record time, and looked down at the scene below with a lump in his throat. He knew the guy was dead. There was no way any person could survive that. Clint didn't even know if a god, as this man claimed to be, could survive that.

Death was nothing new to Clint. He was an assassin for pete's sakes. However, that didn't mean that he enjoyed death. He didn't. And Clint had been starting to genuinely like Thor, or Donald, or whatever he chose to call himself. The other man probably didn't know that he existed, but Clint couldn't help but wish that they'd had time to meet properly. Well, it was too late now.

Clint wasn't so focussed on the scene below him that he forgot to watch his back, and a flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Clint turned around and watched as something came barrelling out of the sky towards the town at a breakneck speed. It was going so fast that Clint couldn't even tell what it was. However, as it flew past the roof he was crouched on, Clint realised with a start that it was the hammer from the crash site.

Just when he thought that his day couldn't get any weirder, Clint was proved wrong. The street below him suddenly disappeared in a blinding white flash. Clint was momentarily blinded and stumbled backwards, almost falling off the roof before his vision recovered enough for him to see.

Holy shit. Was that armour? And a cape? What the hell? As Thor/Donald Blake started swinging the hammer and creating a hurricane, Clint decided he had to move.

Now, before he got caught up in the storm that Thor was quite literally cooking up.

He managed to make it off the roof and run into an alley out of range of the wind created by the hurricane just in time. From his new hiding place, Clint watched open-mouthed as Thor literally hammered into the metal goliath, and defeated it. In the process the god (there was no doubts in Clint's mind now that this man wasn't superhuman in some way, and by this point Clint was more than prepared to accept the fact that he was likely from another planet altogether) creating a shockwave that Clint was sure would have been felt for miles.

And then the cloud dissipated, and Thor walked out of it without a scratch on him. Clint was still trying to process what he'd just seen, and so was taken by surprise when he heard Coulson's voice.

"Excuse me."

Clint quickly came out into the open in case it was him his handler was talking to. It wasn't. He was directing his words at Thor, who looked every inch a god.

"Donald. I don't think that you've been completely honest with me."

Coulson actually sounded hurt. That's right, he didn't know about the whole claiming to be a god thing. Clint had meant to tell him, but hadn't been able to find him last night before he'd collapsed on his bunk.

Clint walked towards the group as Thor started speaking.

"Know this, Son of Coul. You and I, we fight for the same cause, the protection of this world. From this day forward, you can count me as your alley. If," Thor walked over to Foster and rested his hand protectively on her back, "You return the items that you have taken from Jane."

Heck. When did they get to a first name basis?

"Stolen."

"Borrowed."

Clint couldn't help the snort of laugher that escaped. He just hoped that Coulson hadn't heard. The man already looked like every word he said physically pained him.

"Of course, you can have your equipment back. You're going to need it to continue your research."

Clint had almost reached them by this point, and so was close enough to hear that Thor said to Jane.

"Would you like to see the bridge we spoke off?"

Foster shrugged.

"Sure?"

It sounded more like a question to Clint, but Thor seemed to take it as a yes. Before anyone in the circle had fully registered what was happening, Thor had pulled Jane closer to him and taken off. Literally. They went straight up into the sky.

"Wait! I need to debrief you!"

Clint chuckled at the look on Coulson's face as they disappeared.

"I don't think they're listening to you, boss."

Coulson turned around, and glared at Clint.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Clint eyed Coulson's dusty and crinkled suit, and slightly dusty and disarrayed hair, and raised an eyebrow.

"I could ask you the same question."

Coulson's didn't have time to reply before Sitwell joined them. His suit was dustier than Coulson's, and more creased. Clint wondered how much their dry-cleaning bill would be this time around.

"Do you want us to follow them, boss?"

Coulson sighed. Clint noticed that, while they'd been talking, the other four gods, Selvig, and Darcy had disappeared.

"No, I don't know that it will do us any good. Just leave them. We have bigger problems to deal with. Like cleaning up this town, and trying to pass this whole event off as a freak of nature."

Sitwell nodded.

"I'm on it boss."

Sitwell wandered off, issuing orders and instructions into his walky-talky. Clint and Coulson were left standing there in the middle of the street, staring at the wreckage around them.

"By the way, his name is Thor. Not Donald. He's an Asgardian. Which means that he is an alien-god, seeing as he doesn't come from this planet but is also a god."

Coulson rubbed his forehead. It was a gesture that was very familiar to Clint.

"You're not making a lot of sense, Barton."

Clint shrugged as they headed down the street towards the thing.

"I guess I'm not. It's a lot to take in. I'm still trying to sort it out."

By this point, they'd arrived at the place where Thor had brought the metal contraption down. It was still lying there, unmoved and smoking from being struck by lightning who knows how many times. Clint couldn't resist kicking it with the toe of his boot, causing it to clang loudly. Coulson actually jumped and swung around as he reached for his gun, which was evidence of just how exhausted he was. When he saw Clint's innocent look, the skin around his eyes tightened.

"What the hell do you think that you are doing, Barton?"

Clint shrugged.

"Seeing if this one will budge. Maybe you could try picking this 'extra-terrestrial object' up? It might be easier than the last one, seeing that it isn't set into the ground. But if that doesn't work, you could just glare at it."

Coulson's eyes widened, and Clint tried not to laugh. His handler obviously thought that no one had seen him trying to lift the hammer, but Clint saw everything. It had been hilarious, especially when Coulson had given the hammer his best death-glare when it wouldn't budge. Clint had almost died from trying not to laugh out loud.

"If you ever breath a word to anyone about that Barton, I will ground you for the rest of your life."

"Whatever you say, Son of Coul."

Coulson suddenly stopped walking around the thing and turned around to glare at Clint with his arms crossed. Clint cowered slightly. The glare that his handler was currently sporting could seriously give Fury's one a run for its money.

"No, just no. That is not on. If you call me that again, I will send you on every single boring surveillance mission that comes up for the next year, as well as grounding you for the rest of your life. You'll be so bored out of your mind that your brain won't work enough to think up ways to annoy me, indefinitely. Consider this the only warning that you will get."

Clint knew that Coulson was at least eighty-percent serious, so he wisely shut up. Surveillance missions were akin to torture. Clint hated them, and Coulson knew it. Plus, he did feel sorry for Coulson. He was currently suffering from a very bad case of Stressed-Handler Syndrome.

Before you ask, yes. Such a thing did exist. At least Clint could truthfully say he wasn't the sole cause if it this time.

Actually, this was probably the first time since starting to work with Coulson that he could say that. That must be some kind of record.

Late that night, less than twenty-four hours since it all began.

Clint sighed in relief as the SHIELD Airbase in Roswell finally came into view below them. There were just him and Coulson in the car, and they hadn't even properly left the outskirts of Puerto Antiguo before his handler had fallen fast asleep in the passenger seat. Clint had just had his music for company. He'd turned it right down so as not to disturb Coulson, and tried to drive as smoothly as possible.

He needn't have worried. Coulson hadn't so much as twitched during the whole drive. Clint was glad about that. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours, and as far as he was aware his handler hadn't slept that whole time. Clint knew that Phil could go without sleep for days if the situation called for it. Him and Natasha could as well; they had to on multiple occasions after all. But there came a point where they did crash. Clint had been known to sleep for two days straight, and Natasha's record was almost three. That was excluding the multiple times they'd both been drugged by medical for various reasons. When that happened, they could be out for days.

Coulson had wanted to make sure that everything was left exactly how they'd found it out in the desert. They'd hung around the crash site until after the last truck had trundled off and Coulson was satisfied. Then they'd gone and delivered all the equipment back to the scientists.

That had taken several hours. Coulson had insisted on a thorough inventory being taken of every single little thing to ensure it was all there, and he wanted it all checked against the list they'd made before. He wouldn't let any person leave until that was done, in case someone tried to take something back that they shouldn't. Clint had had a silent panic attack when he'd heard that was happening, as the iPod and notebook would not be among the items that were officially returned. The notebook he could claim ignorance over, the iPod he could not.

Fortunately, nothing had been said about it. Clint had wondered why that was the case, until Lewis had spotted him hanging around, and pointed to her ears before winking at him. Clint wasn't sure how she'd done it, but he was extremely grateful that Coulson was apparently none the wiser about what Clint had done.

Eventually, both Coulson and the scientists were satisfied, and they left the town behind. Clint had climbed into the driver's seat of their SUV without saying anything, and Coulson hadn't argued. He was sleep before they'd even passed the city limits. That had been hours ago, and he hadn't stirred since.

It wasn't until they'd entered the compound, and Clint had turned off the car's engine, that he finally stirred. Clint shook him gently.

"Phil, time to wake up. We're here."

His handler opened bleary eyes.

"Clint? Have we arrived?"

Clint rolled his eyes as Coulson sat up rather abruptly, and began straightening imaginary wrinkles in his suit before he was even fully conscious. He'd managed to find time to change into a fresh suit after this morning's fiasco, and so already looked impeccable. But it was such a Coulson thing to do that Clint felt his lips twitch in fond amusement.

"Yeh, we're here. I think they are waiting for you to load that thing. I'll see you on the plane. You can sleep as much as you want on the flight back, so don't fall asleep out there, okay?"

Phil smiled at Clint as he opened the car door.

"I won't. That would ruin my reputation."

Clint grinned.

"The one that says you are a robot; or the one that says you run on batteries?"

"Both. It keeps the newbies on their toes. See you on the jet. Don't forget our bags."

Clint gave a mock salute.

"Sir, no, sir."

Coulson disappeared, and Clint slowly got out of the car. Immediately his senses were assaulted by the hustle and bustle that was atypical of a busy SHIELD Base. Clint let the noise wash over him as he collected his and Coulson's bags from the trunk, and headed towards the huge jet. After almost thirteen years with SHIELD, he was used to it. He heard Coulson's voice quite easily as he passed a little way away from their activities, as the man was using a megaphone to ensure that you did hear him.

"Slow and easy, we don't want to disturb this thing. I said take it easy! What do you think you are doing?!"

Cling winced at the tone of Coulson's voice, even though it wasn't being directed at him. Still, his handler was right. They did not want that thing to come back to life. Especially as Thor wasn't here to defeat it this time.

Clint hummed to himself as he carried their things into the jet. He'd actually seen a real-life god! Just wait until he told Natasha. While she'd been stuck babysitting Stark (who only thought he was a god) Clint had been meeting an actual god, and hadn't even been able to tell her about it. Despite SHIELD's phones being supposed to pick up anywhere, they didn't. And the radio interference that hammer had given off hadn't helped.

Consequently, Clint hadn't had any contact with Tash since he'd come out here.

Doing solo missions seriously sucked. It was less than two days since he had last seen his spider, and he already missed her like crazy. Clint knew the official story, that they were being kept apart because they were both so skilled at what they did that it was more economical to split their skill-sets up, was bullshit. He knew the real reason they'd been split up was because their relationship was under scrutiny by the higher-ups.

Almost six damn years of it not being a problem, and they suddenly decided to do an evaluation. Simply because Clint refused to leave the premises of a building when ordered to, because Natasha was injured and needed his help. He'd done it before, and it had never been a problem. With the kind of work they did, when you were out in the field without backup, you didn't leave your partner, no matter what happened. Coulson understood that, and had never put them on report for going back or disobeying orders to save each other. Not that Coulson had ever given them orders that that required them to do that. He trusted them to complete the job regardless of what happened, and had frequently turned a blind eye to rules and regulations being broken in the meantime. Despite his reputation as being a stickler for rules, Coulson had no qualms breaking them as needed.

That idiot who'd replace Coulson as their handler while he was recuperating from being almost blown up six months ago had been completely useless. He hadn't listened to them, and it had almost cost them the mission, not to mention their lives. Clint and Nat had managed to complete it anyway (no thanks to him) but he hadn't liked being ignored. They'd no sooner gotten back to base, and they were suddenly on suspension, and only allowed to do solo missions, while the matter was 'investigated'.

Coulson and Fury had both been livid, but there was nothing either of them could do to reverse anything. The council was involved, which meant politics were involved, and so Strike Team Delta was currently listed as inactive. And, if the council had their way, would probably stay like that for some time. They never had liked Clint and Natasha that much after all. Natasha more so than Clint for some reason. Though Clint understood he wasn't exactly the flavour of the month with them either.

Clint hated politics. And rules and regulations. And deserts, self-proclaimed gods, and tasers. Not to mention being away from Natasha, and not even been able to get in contact with her. Clint just hated everyone and everything at this point in time.

He just wanted to get back to SHIELD's New York Base and see his Tasha again.

Natasha apparently felt the same way, as she was waiting to meet Clint as soon as he stepped off the jet. As he disembarked she ran towards him, ignoring the looks people were giving them. Clint immediately dropped all his things and swept her off her feet as they hugged each other.

It was a while before they broke apart. When they did, Clint grinned broadly.

"Guess what? I met a real-life god. And watched him fight a bit metal monster that breathed fire and win. It was unreal."

Natasha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow before leaning down to pick up one of the bags Clint had dropped.

"I fought my way past an army of incompetent goons, and infiltrated the very heart of Hammer Industries. I then blew the building up, after copying the contents of his main computer onto a hard drive. Oh, and I stopped Stark from dying. He's signed onto the Initiative as a consultant."

Clint blinked as he shouldered the other bag.

"It may have only been a few days, but I think that we have a lot of catching up to do. What say we take the next few days off, and go away for some fresh air? The farm sounds pretty good right now. No responsibilities, no worries, and getting to spend some quality time with you."

Natasha grinned, tucking herself under his free arm as they headed indoors.

"That sounds perfect. Plus, we haven't seen them for a while. We can see how they're settling in."

Clint grinned at her.

"Exactly. After everything that has happened lately, I reckon we are owed some time off. Besides, I've got some material we can use to blackmail Coulson into saying yes if he needs some gentle persuasion."

Nat's eyes lit up in glee.

"What is this material?"

THE END.

Possibly of this universe. See notes below.

...

NOTES: Clintasha is love, Clintasha is life. I don't care what people say, I will not let this ship sink.

Even if I stop writing stories in this universe.

Which I am thinking I will do.

One person left a review on chapter one. ONE PERSON. I have a heck of a lot more people following me and reading my stories, yet only ONE took a few minutes out of their twenty-four hours a day to give an author some feedback and say they enjoyed their work.

From this, I draw only one conclusion.

People do not like my writing enough to give it more than a glance over when a new story comes out.

All my hours of hard work and dedication to writing a story are not appreciated.

Therefore, if the people reading it don't care, why should I bother to write anymore?

And it's not just this story. The same thing happened with Fractured Trust. That story took me two-and-a-half-months to write. The feedback I got for it was practically nothing when you consider the amount of effort that went into it.

I am willing to continue writing stories in the CSC Universe. I have a great master-plan that will dig deep into a rich mythology, and explore many different themes. However, I have also drifted slightly away from the MCU in the past couple of years, and it would not be a hardship to never write one of these stories again. Personally, I would prefer to do just that.

Especially as I have now finished university, and am heading out into the real world. Time to write fanfiction will become rarer. When I do write, I want to write things that people will enjoy, and leave me feedback for.

And the CSC Universe does not seem to fulfil that criteria anymore. For whatever reason, it may be time to lay this universe to rest.

Either way, I am taking an indefinite break from CSC for now. I have not yet made a definitive decision as to whether I stop writing these stories permanently or not.

Right now, I am more than ready to end it. Maybe develop some of my ideas into original stories one day, where they might be appreciated more.

But there are a couple of people out there who have given me lovely feedback over time. These people are the reason I don't just drop it right now.

The future of the CSC Universe hangs in the balance.

The next move is yours.