3. Shield?
Clint went into hiding that same day, mourning. The Boss had been right, too, because two days after the incident on the roof, two men came after.
He let them come. The only person he'd had in the world was dead. Clint saw no point in continuing in the world. Especially, not after killing so many people. However, much to his surprise and disappointment, the two men hadn't come to kill him. They'd come to offer him a job and took him to their boss.
"Hawkeye. You've made quite a name for yourself. I'm Enrique Corona, a pleasure to meet you." The two men's boss had introduced himself as the chairman of one of the most prestigious construction companies in Florida.
"You know, Hawk," Clint stood with his hands at his sides, still armed, at the desk of Mr. Corona, where the chairman sat in a comfortable desk chair.
Killing The Boss like you did, that was some feat. Do you know how long gangbangers have been trying to kill him?"
"No, sir."
"Decades," Corona said, smoking a cigar. "How long had you been with him?"
"Two years."
"Imagine. One of my boys always trying to get The Boss. On him for 23 years. You get him, alone on a rooftop. The product of two years. How long have you been in this line of work?"
"Two years, sir."
"How many people have you killed?"
"... I lost count."
"That's a lie, Hawkeye. Everybody knows how many lives they've taken."
"More than 20, sir." Clint's voice deepened suddenly.
"You've been a busy man, then. I don't blame you. Did The Boss teach you how to use off-shore accounts? How to get your money?"
"Yes. He did."
"I see." Corona puffed on his cigar for a few seconds. "The reason I'm asking you all this, is that I have a job for you." Corona waited for a response. Taking Hawkeye's silence as consent, he continued to speak. "My main competitor is a man in poor health. His son will soon inherit control of his company. He is also a very annoying politician."
"Who do you want dead?" Hawkeye asked, knowing the direction Corona wanted the conversation to take.
"Both of them. Can you do that? I'll pay you in cash."
Clint smirked. Of course he could do that. But maybe he didn't want to. "Where are they?"
"Right now they're in Alaska, they have some sort of cabin up there. The old man has a problem with heat and his son pretends to take care of him."
"Why do you want them dead?"
Corona seemed to lose his patience and scowled. "Look. You either do the job or I tell my boys to kill you."
Hawkeye did a quick headcount. Two guys on his left, two on his right. He could easily take them. But that would mean killing them, Corona, and anybody else he might encounter on his way out. More than five people. Clint didn't want to kill anymore than he had to. "I'll take the offer," he said finally. "But I'll need transportation and more clothes."
Clint began to research on Corona's competitors. Turns out they had a mansion about 5 miles from Nome, Alaska. It got bitterly cold there, blinding blizzards, avalanches, the whole deal. br / Clint completed the job, this time using a rifle, though he almost got himself buried by an avalanche in the middle of a thick forest.
Corona was very happy with Clint's work and efficiency. He hadn't expected Clint back for another month, when Clint had come back in less than two weeks. Corona had payed well and told Clint that, should he ever need a permanent job, he was welcome to work for him. He had also said he would spread the word, Hawkeye was back in business, even if The Boss wasn't.
Clint went on, finding job after job in a similar fashion as he had with Corona. His sleeves, his clothes were stained with red and he felt he left red footprints wherever he went. There were no words to describe the guilt. Some did come after him, though, and Clint would hide and dodge bullets, half wishing one would be true and kill him, before he killed anymore people. And as the months turned into years, he realized he was making more enemies, and the bullets were getting closer. He got grazed on the arm more than once and twice he'd gotten shot in the leg, thrice in the side. He felt he was always looking over his shoulder.
But he was good at what he did and if whoever was shooting at him happened to get into his line of sight, - which was very long, the line, - they were gone, and arrow ending their life.
Eventually, Corona sent for Clint once more. Clint went along with the two messengers, idly wondering what Corona wanted from him.
,Clint was shown to Corona's office again, realizing that the plaque that identified this office as Corona's said CEO, now. Nothing had changed except that Corona was a little older, a little plumper, but he still liked to smoke apparently. And he still had the same four guards.
"You've been busy, Hawk. It took me a while to find you, can't believe how good you've gotten at what you do. That governor down in Arizona? How much did they pay you to kill him?" Corona puffed on his cigar.
Clint didn't answer, standing at Corona's desk, unmoving. He didn't like to talk about his kills and the money. He did it because there was nothing else left for him, nothing but his bows and arrows, and his rifles and bullets and his homemade weapons and explosives and. . . guilt, bleakness.
"Fine, it's alright, you don't have to tell me. How long's it been since I last saw you. Eight, nine years?"
"Five years."
Corona chuckled. "How old are you, Hawkeye?"
"I don't see how that's relevant." Clint frowned.
"Just answer the question."
Clint hesitated and after a second, one of the guards on his right pointed a gun at his temple, clicking a round into place. Clint clenched his jaw and answered. "Almost 26 years old, sir."
Corona laughed a little bit and waved his hand at the guard, who lowered his weapon.
"Things don't have to be difficult unless you make them, Hawkeye. I'm trying to help you out. Rumor on the street is you got competition."
"Is that so?" Clint drummed his fingers against his leg, impatient and a little annoyed.
"Ever heard of the Black Widow? Lethal, beautiful and also good at what she does."
"Never heard of her." Clint lied. She was a legend, of course he'd heard of her. More kills to her name than anyone on record. Once she had killed a man who had been offering a job that he had been interested in. Corona was right when he said she was competition.
"Just as well. Don't cross her path, Hawk. I mean it."
"Hmph," Clint waited while Corona puffed on his cigar. That had to be bad for his health.
"Ever heard of shield?" Corona asked after a short silence.
"Shield? Yeah, I've heard of shields but - ,"
"No. Shield. Singular."
"Shield?" Clint frowned. They'd been after him for a while, but he wasn't about to tell Corona that. "I don't think so."
"It's an acronym for a government agency. As annoying as they get. Their agents are trained soldiers and spies, usually. They're involved, I think, with the World Security Council, but that's not the point. You were wounded recently, no?"
"Yes, two weeks ago." Clint gave up on trying to keep things to himself if Corona already knew about them.
"And shot at four days ago, right?"
"You've been following me." Clint's voice deepened in irritation.
"If I owe someone a favor, yes."
"You don't owe me anything. And I sure as hell don't owe you."
"That's beside the point. The point I'm trying to make, Hawkeye.. Is that SHIELD is after you. And they won't stop until you're dead."
"There's a waiting list for that, actually. Of people who want me dead. I don't think SHIELD will be able to kill me if I've already been killed by someone else." Clint commented nonchalantly.
"This is serious, Hawkeye!"
"Look, Mr. Corona, I appreciate your concern. But I've managed so far. I can take care of myself."
Corona sighed, putting out his cigar. "Don't play with the government, Hawk. They're after you."