Coulson sat down at an empty viewing station in the security office.
"Thanks for letting me do this Andrews."
"It's no problem Coulson. Can I ask why you want to monitor the camera footage tonight?"
"It's just for something I'm doing with the agent I'm training." Coulson replied, setting up his screen so he could see the roof, the track, and the hall leading to the old training room.
"I didn't know you were training agents." Andrews said, sitting down in his own chair.
"Special case. A recruit I brought in needed a more personalized training plan."
"Makes sense. Hope everything works out okay with your trainee."
"Thanks." Coulson replied.
He took a sip of his drink as he turned his attention to the screen.
Coulson's eyelids began drooping around midnight. He was used to stakeouts, but he was normally better prepared for them. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Cold coffee was one of his least favorite parts of surveillance. He was contemplating whether or not to go make himself a new cup when some sixth sense made him look at the screen. The camera looking at the hallway leading to the old training room showed Barton quietly pushing open the door of the training room. Coulson stood up and left the room, his coffee sitting forgotten on the desk.
Clint bolted awake, his hand wrapped around the handle of his Desert Eagle shotgun. He looked around the room, taking in the boxes of the storage closet as he slowly returned to reality.
Nightmares of Barney and Melody were the worst. He could push away the nightmares about his time as an assassin quickly enough once he was awake and he had found ways to manage most of the others, but the nightmares about Barney and Melody clung to him long after he was awake. They shook him up.
Clint decided he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anytime soon and began folding his blankets. He tucked them into the corner along with his pillow and his gun. Walking out from behind the pile of boxes that hid his makeshift bed, he quietly pulled open the door open just a little so he could see the hallway. He looked around and, upon seeing no one, stepped out and pulled the door behind him.
Clint walked down the hallway and opened the door to the workout room. He grabbed a pair of twenty-five pound weights. He sat down cross-legged on one of the mats and began curling the weights up and pushing them over his head. By his tenth repetition his arms were beginning to shake, but he kept going. Images of Barney and Melody kept flashing through his head.
Clint pushed the weights over his head for the twentieth time. He held them there for a moment, his arms shaking with exhaustion. Before he could lower them, a pair of hands grasped them and pulled them from his unresisting grip. Footsteps echoed around the quiet training room as the weights were returned to their place on the weight rack and whoever it was came back and crouched in front of Clint. Clint looked up. His eyes met those of Agent Coulson and he sighed.
"Get up." Coulson said.
Clint complied. Coulson grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip and marched him down the hall to room 41. He forced Clint down into one of the beanbag chairs and tossed him a Gatorade and a snack bar from the small fridge in the corner of the room.
Coulson sat down across from Clint.
"Why?" He asked.
"Why what?" Clint replied, staring at the floor.
Coulson put his hand under Clint's chin and gently forced Clint to meet his eyes. "Why do you keep setting yourself on a path to self-destruction?"
"How long were you watching?"
"Long enough. And I know it's not the first time you've done things like this. So tell me, why?"
Clint sat there quietly for several minutes. Coulson stood up, exasperated, and began pacing the room.
"Redemption." When Clint spoke, his voice was so soft that Coulson barely heard him.
Coulson sat down across from Clint again, but he didn't speak.
"I don't think it's even really possible for me to find redemption, but this is my way of trying."
"Barton, you're nineteen. There is no way you can't find redemption. But this-"
Clint cut him off. "You don't understand. I killed one hundred seventy six people in a year and a half. I'm poison, everything I've ever touched falls apart. There isn't any redemption form me. I just kid myself into thinking there is so I can keep going."
"There is redemption, I promise. I'll help you find it. But this, pushing yourself until you collapse, it's not the way." Coulson stood up. "If you like, we can clean out one of the spare rooms and turn it into a bedroom in the morning."
Clint stared at him, caught off guard by the statement.
"You're obviously not sleeping in the trainees' bunks. It wasn't hard to figure out once I looked at the security cameras."
"Thanks." Clint replied, standing up and moving towards the door.
Coulson watched until Clint slipped back into the storeroom, then headed off to his own bed.
Coulson stopped in front of one of the empty rooms that littered the lower levels of Shield.
"We're going to turn this one into your bedroom."
Clint pushed open the door to reveal a mostly empty room. Dust had collected in the corners of the room.
"It'll take a bit of work, but I think you could use a break from lessons. After lunch, we can start cleaning out the room and find a few pieces of furniture."
Clint pulled the door closed behind him and followed Coulson to the workout room. He moved to grab a roll of tape but Coulson stopped him.
"We're going to do a more freestyle sparring today. You have from the sparring mats to the back wall to maneuver."
Almost before he was done speaking, Clint was moving. He snapped a side kick off at Coulson's side, following it with a swift punch. Before Coulson could counterattack, he moved back, standing calmly just out of Coulson's reach.
Coulson smiled to himself as he went on the attack, moving around Clint and trying to force him to spin in order to keep Coulson in sight. Instead, Clint stayed still, listening to Coulson moving behind him. Suddenly he ducked as Coulson's kick swept over his head. Clint gave ground as Coulson launched a series of quick punches at his head and torso.
As he reached the wall, he turned and used the wall to push off, launching himself into the air and flipping neatly over Coulson's head. He landed lightly on the ground and put his arm around Coulson's throat. Coulson tapped his arm, signaling the end of the match.
"Nice. But," He cautioned. "It's risky to let yourself be maneuvered unless you know your surroundings."
"I know my surroundings."
"Now. But when you're in an unfamiliar place, you won't. Go again?"
"Sure." Clint replied, content to let Coulson make the first move this time.
Coulson grabbed a bottle of water off the top of the weights rack and tossed a second one to Clint.
"That's enough for right now. Go get cleaned up and we'll start cleaning and assembling your bedroom."
Clint walked out of the room. Coulson picked up the fan that had gotten knocked over in their last match and turned out the lights before following him.
Coulson opened the door to one of the supply closets where they kept the spare furniture. Looking around, he found a bed frame, mattress, dresser, and nightstand. He loaded them onto the cart he had brought with him and wheeled them back down the hall to where Clint had started to clean out his future bedroom.
"I found some furniture. It's a bit plain, but it'll work for the time being."
Clint looked up, took in the furniture, and tossed Coulson a broom. Coulson caught it out of reflex and began sweeping the room, starting on the opposite side of the room from Clint.
Between the two of them, the work went quickly and within a couple of hours, the room was free of dust and cobwebs.
"Let's put the bed in the middle of the wall." Clint said, noting the air vent just above where he had suggested putting the bed.
He and Coulson pulled the various pieces of the bed frame off the cart and carried them to the middle of the room.
"Do you know how to assemble this?" Clint asked.
"How hard can it be?" Coulson replied.
He began laying out the pieces of the bed frame on the floor so they resembled the general shape of a bed. Coulson took one of the side pieces for the bed and placed it in the correct slot in the headboard. He tried to stand it up and jam the other end of the board into the corresponding slot on the footboard, but when he stood up the headboard, the board fell out of the slot.
Clint laughed as Coulson looked up at him. "Are you planning on helping with this?"
"Eventually. I just have to finish my chocolate bar first." Clint replied, producing a chocolate bar from somewhere.
Several funny mishaps, ten minutes, and a chocolate bar later, the bed was assembled. Clint and Coulson quickly dragged the rest of the furniture into the room. Once the last piece was in place, Clint took a seat on the dresser.
"Dinner?"
Coulson walked through the mostly empty halls and pushed open the door to his bedroom. He was about to sit down on his bed when he noticed the folder and the note lying there. He picked up the note and read it.
Agent Coulson,
You have a mission brief at 2300 hours in my office. Your flight leaves 0200 hours. Do not tell Trainee Barton about your mission. I have arranged for Agent Kingston to cover his training while you are away.
Director Fury
Coulson grabbed the folder of the bed and stormed out of his room.
Director Fury opened the door to his office to admit an angry looking Agent Coulson.
"Agent Coulson. You're here for your mission brief, I assume."
Coulson sat down in one of the chairs and dropped the folder on Fury's desk.
"Want to explain this? You know I have one week left of my probationary period as Barton's handler."
"I'll pause your probationary period."
"Why was I assigned this mission?"
"You are the only agent not already on a mission who is cleared for field duty that has both the qualifications and the clearance."
Coulson sighed. "I suppose you ought to go ahead and brief me then."
Agent Coulson knocked on Clint's door, a duffle bag in one hand. After the second knock, Clint opened it, blinking sleepily.
"Sorry it's so late Barton. I want-"
"You're leaving." Clint said, dull resignation in his voice. He walked back into his room, leaving the door open, and sat down on the dresser. Coulson followed him into the room.
"I'm leaving on a mission in a few minutes. Technically, you aren't supposed to know."
"Then why are you telling me?" Clint asked.
"You deserved to know. I didn't want you to think I had abandoned you." Coulson let that sink in for a moment before he continued. "Agent Kingston will be handling your training while I'm away."
"How long will that be?" Clint asked.
"A week, two at the most. I apologize that I can't stay longer and say goodbye properly, but my flight leaves in five minutes. I'll see you in a couple of weeks Barton." With that, Coulson left the room and pulled the door shut behind him.
Clint joined Agent Kingston in one of the classrooms on the main floor. He took a seat in the hard-backed chair on one side of the rectangular table in the middle of the room. Agent Kingston took a seat on the other side of the table and opened the folder she had brought with her.
"Barton, do you speak any languages other than English? Agent Coulson hasn't listed any in your folder." She asked.
"French, Spanish, German, Greek, and Chinese fluently. I also speak a little of the Serbian language, Russian, Latin, and Dutch." Clint replied, staring boredly into space.
Agent Kingston marked down the languages in her folder.
"You certainly seem to have a gift for languages. Why don't you work on learning more of the Serbian language? There should be some books on it in the library." She waited for Clint to respond. When he didn't, she continued. "Director Fury has asked me to give you a field evaluation. What will happen is you will be given a target and a paintball sniper rifle. Your goal is to take out your target and make it back to a safe house without getting caught. We will have several agents in the crowd looking for you."
"Can I use my bow?" Clint asked, drumming a rhythm on the tabletop with his left hand.
"No. We don't have any paintball arrows."
Clint frowned, but didn't say anything.
"You'll get the mission brief tonight. You can take the rest of the day to prepare or you can go study. Dismissed."
Clint stood and walked out of the room, heading for the shooting range.
Clint slipped onto the roof of the building across from his target's house in the predawn light. He pulled out the pieces of his paintball sniper gun and assembled it with quick, deft movements.
As the sun rose, Clint settled down to wait.
Agent Kingston opened the door to the room where Trainee Barton was supposed to meet her. Looking around the empty room, her eyes lit upon the clock. Trainee Barton was late. She sat down in one of the chairs, planning the lecture she was going to give him on being punctual. Several minutes later, her eyes drifted down to rest on the folded sheet of paper lying on the table. She unfolded the paper and frowned.
Agent Kingston,
I decided to head out early to do a bit of surveillance before my training exercise.
Trainee Barton
"Dammit!" Kingston tapped her comm. "I want the agents participating in today's training exercise ready to go in five minutes. And someone find Trainee Evans, and tell him he's coming too."
Around nine o'clock, Clint noticed a pair of agents join the crowd. A few minutes later, one of the Shield trainees slipped into the crowd, trying and failing to be unnoticed. Clint smiled. This was going to be fun.
He turned his attention back to the window of the apartment as a flicker of movement caught his eye. His target had opened the window and was sitting on the couch, apparently watching something on TV. Clint slipped a silencer onto his rifle and aimed. He pulled the trigger and a second later a splatter of bright pink paint bloomed on the side of the target's head. With a few quick twists, he disassembled the gun.
Clint ran along the rooftops for several blocks, staying low to the roof. When he was far enough away, he climbed down the fire escape of the building he was on and joined the busy crowd, slinging his quiver over his shoulder as he did.
Clint activated his comm as he stepped into a small shop.
"Agent Kingston."
A moment later, she responded.
"Trainee Barton. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'd like to make a slight change to the training exercise."
"Besides the ones you already made, I assume."
Clint ignored her comment and continued. "I'd like to extend it to nightfall."
"You want to try to evade our agents until nightfall? I suppose we can do that if you want."
Clint cut the comm connection and turned to look at the shop. It was a costume shop. Outfits lined every wall, ranging from sumo wrestler to fairy. He walked toward the door, intending to leave quickly before Kingston had her people trace where he had talked with her from. Then, a green cape and brown jerkin caught his eye. A plan began to form in his mind as he walked over to inspect the clothes.
Clint stepped out of the store and slung his quiver over his shoulder. The black of his quiver contrasted sharply with the spring green of his new cape. He pulled the hood over his head and moved through the crowd in the direction of the park. After about fifty feet he became aware of someone following him. He looked down and pretended to notice that his shoe was untied. He moved off to the side and dropped into a crouch to tie his shoe. His pursuer stopped beside him and crouched.
"Do you need any help?"
Clint turned to face the man. Until that point, the hood had been casting shadow on Clint's face. Now, the man was able to clearly see it. He reached towards his ear to activate his comm, but a tap on his chest stopped him. Clint had pulled out a chalky training knife and tapped it against the man's chest. The knife was a blunt one normally used in practice knife fights, but it would serve the same purpose as a paintball gun.
"You're dead. And careless. Be sure to tell Agent Kingston how you decided to approach a target without knowing whether or not they were armed."
Clint and the other man both stood up. Clint watched for a moment as the man walked away before rejoining the crowd himself.
Several hours passed without incident. Around noon, Clint wandered into a small cafe. He got a sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat down at a table in the back corner. He was almost finished with his meal when young woman approached his table.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but notice your quiver. Are you on an archery team?"
"I'm actually just going to a convention."
"So those are just props?" She asked, sounding disappointed.
"No, they're real enough. I'm a traveling performer and I use archery in some of my tricks. It's just that today, I'm going to a convention. If you happen to be at the park around five o'clock you might see me performing though."
"Maybe I will."
The girl walked away. Clint downed the rest of his coffee. He tossed his trash in the trashcan and left the shop.
Around five o'clock Clint found himself in the middle of the small park on the outskirts of town, just a couple of blocks away from the rendezvous spot for the training exercise. He spotted an agent walking through the park close by. Glancing around, he spotted the girl from the cafe. He made his way over to her.
"I don't think I caught your name earlier. I'm Aiden Smythson by the way." Clint said, extending a hand for her to shake.
"Faith Angel." She replied, shaking his hand.
"I'm just about to start my show. Care to watch?"
"I'd love to."
Faith followed Clint to a clear space in the busy park. Clint pulled out his bow and strung it in one smooth motion. He selected an arrow from his quiver and fired it into the air. It flew high into the air and the tip burst open in a shower of confetti. He fired several more arrows off into the sky, where the tips burst in a shower of multi-colored sparks that shone brightly in the gathering dusk. The sparkles attracted a small crowd of people. Clint launched himself into a series of flips, earning a round of applause from the crowd. Glancing up at the sky, Clint watched as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"And, for my last trick," He called. "I will disappear!"
An agent in the crowd moved forward, trying to stop Clint. Before he could, Clint fired an arrow with a small cylindrical canister attached to the shaft. The arrow arced high into the air. As it began its descent, a thick smoke burst forth from the canister, concealing Clint from view. Hidden by the smoke, Clint fired a second arrow, this one with a rope tied around it, into the branches of a tree on the outside edges of the crowd. He jumped and grabbed the rope. Pulling himself up, he glided over the heads of the people watching. Distracted by the smoke as they were, no one noticed as he landed softly on a low hanging branch of the tree. Clint fired another spark arrow towards the opposite side of the crowd as the smoke started to clear. By the time the smoke had cleared completely, Clint was long gone, leaving no clues to how he had disappeared.
Clint dropped lightly onto the roof of the safe house. He crept lightly down the steps to the second floor, where Agent Kingston's office was located. When he reached the door, he waited for a few moments, then knocked on the door. Agent Kingston pulled it open.
"Trainee Barton." She said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "Come inside and I'll debrief you."
Clint took a seat across from her at her desk.
"Where's your sniper equipment? You were instructed to return with it, after all."
In answer, Clint pulled several pieces out of his quiver. With a few deft twists, he assembled them into his paintball sniper rifle.
Keeping her face carefully blank, Agent Kingston said, "Your mission went off without a hitch. None if the agents in the crowd we're able to catch you or link you to the 'shooting'."
"That's my job." Clint said cheekily.
"Points will probably be deducted from your score for making up your own rules. There is a car outside that'll take you back to Shield."
"Thanks, but I'll find my own way back."
Clint left Agent Kingston's office and took the stairs back to the roof. He grabbed a spare set of arrows from where he had hidden them that morning and, putting them in his quiver, he leapt off the roof. He grabbed one of the branches that grew close to the roof and allowed his momentum to swing him around the branch until he was able to land on the top of the branch in a crouch. He stood and started to make his way back to Shield.
"What are your thoughts on him?" Director Fury asked.
"Physically, Trainee Barton is one of the best assets I've seen. He's strong, fast, agile, everything that we look for in our assets." Agent Kingston said. "Mentally, I'm not sure. He's reckless and unwilling to play by the rules. During our training exercises he tries to change the rules as he goes."
"He has issues with authority." Director Fury said.
"Some. I think that with the right handler, he could be one of our best agents. But…"
"But what?"
"He doesn't work well with others."
"He has a few months left in his probationary period. If we can't find some way to either fix his issues or work around them, then we'll just terminate his association with Shield at the end of it."
Good luck to everyone who has exams tomorrow.