AN: Firstly, I apologise for the delay in uploading this next chapter. That thing called 'real life' got in the way. (I will be having words with it for its inexcusable behavior!) Secondly, I hope this chapter then lives up to all the high expectations out there. Your reviews and PM's have been amazing, they always brighten my day.

-A-

"It's been four days Coulson, I think it's time you accepted that the boy can't see a good deal when it's shoved in his face," said Fury over the comm. link.

"Sir, I don't think that it's about not wanting to leave Moretti, more that he's scared of the consequences. That and he doesn't know how to trust. Everything that I've leant about Clinton Barton is that he gets a good thing and it turns bad on him. His parents died, he ran from the orphanage, he ran from the circus. Somehow fell in with Moretti who then went to loaning him out to the highest bidder. He has no reason to trust me," stated Coulson.

"You still think you can change that?"

"I have an idea," said Coulson.

"Should I be worried?"

"No, I just need you to approve Phelps and Greer to come join me in Baltimore, Delancey too."

"Coulson?"

"You send those three; all five of us will be back on base within five days." Coulson held his breath while Fury considered his request. He knew it was a risk, four agents to go collect one man who had turned down SHIELD's help not once but twice. But then third time was always a charm, or so he was told.

"Alright, you have a go. But I want a full report when you get back."

"Thank you Sir."

"Don't thank me," said Fury hanging up.

Twelve hours later and Coulson was leaning against the side of his SUV as he watched a SHIELD jet land. The ramp lowered and out stepped Agent Phelps, smiling as always and almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. Followed by Agent Greer, leader of Red Team, one of the top strike teams SHIELD had. Greer was currently pulling a pair of Aviator shades on as he focused on Coulson. Then finally Agent Delancey, a big black man with a buzz cut. Most men went running scared when they saw Delancey coming, even before he drew a weapon. It was quite a show to watch. Delancey was adjusting his ever present black baseball cap before he picked up two duffle bags in one hand and followed the other men to the SUV.

"Coulson," greeted Greer as the two men shook hands. "Fury tells us we're on a recruitment drive."

"Something like that," smirked Coulson.

"Am I gonna get shot? I always get shot with you. Remember Kandahar? I do! I've still got the scars."

"Stop your bitching Greer," boomed Delancey as he smacked Greer on the back with enough force to make the smaller man stagger forward. "We're off base, I owe you one Phil."

"I'd thought you'd like a small reprieve from training the new recruits," nodded Coulson as he shook the big man's hand.

"Yeah, remind me not piss off Fury again," laughed Delancey.

"You blew up a jet, what did you think was gonna happen?" grouched Greer as he started to stow their gear in the trunk.

"It was only a Cessna," shrugged Phelps, failing miserably to hide a smile.

"Exactly," laughed Delancey. "I'd understand if it was a Quin Jet."

"It was Fury's Cessna," pointed out Greer. "You're lucky Fury didn't throw you in a hole and leave you to rot. Or worse he could have sent you to Alaska."

"How is going to Alaska worse?" asked Phelps in confusion.

The three more experienced agents all looked at Phelps like he was mad not to know the reason why Alaska was worse.

"Let's get to the safe house, I'll explain the situation on the way," said Coulson moving towards the driver's seat.

"What's wrong with Alaska?" asked Phelps again. "I have family in Alaska."

-A-

"Coulson, this has got to be one of your craziest plans yet," stated Greer as he pushed the surveillance photo's around. Each one was of a different angle of their target, Clinton Barton. Some were of Moretti's men standing outside of Moretti's house or Moretti's men positioned down the street.

"I've been watching Barton for the better half of a week. He has no discernible patterns, he doesn't own a car, he doesn't use public transport and for the most part he doesn't even walk down the streets, opting for rooftops and his skills in parkour," explained Coulson as he pointed to a photograph of Barton on top of a roof.

"But three plans, Coulson? That's a little excessive even for you."

"I could give you a forth if you would prefer?" smirked Coulson.

"I think I'll pass," sighed Greer pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm still getting my head around plan three and the fact that you want to use a flame thrower."

"One plan for each circumstance," explained Coulson. "We go tomorrow, if a particular situation presents itself then we have an already outlined plan."

"All for a kid, who doesn't want to join," pointed out Delancey in disbelief. "It's a hell of a risk."

"If we don't pick him up now; he'll be dead within a year. We cannot afford to lose talent that this kid has to offer," pointed out Coulson, hoping to convince the other agents that he was right. That all this effort was worth it. That Barton was worth it.

"Phil, I was there when you recruited Phelps, and I thought you were mad then. Sorry kid," said Delancey. Phelps only shrugged in response. "But this isn't just another kid who made some bad choices. He behaves like a born operative, he's had no formal training and yet we can retro-actively trace him back to hits in at least five different countries and you want him to defect to our side? Phil, we take him back to a base and we will be taking away all of his choices. He turns us down again and Fury will put a kill order on him."

"I know," sighed Coulson. "But this kid has potential."

"He is pretty amazing," added Phelps remembering Tokyo. "Single-handedly took out thirty-seven Japanese bikers and what my sources say he took out a Russian General in his own home. Escaped a Korean prison pit and..."

"Alright," interrupted Delancey, knowing when he was beat.

"Greer, you in?" asked Coulson.

"Of course I'm bloody in. But if he tries to shoot me, I will shoot first."

-A-

Coulson and Greer stood on the roof of a four story building three streets over from Moretti's house. "You know when I told you I had a forth plan," said Coulson as he looked through the binoculars focusing on the front door to the house that Antonio Moretti did all of his business out of. Their target one Clinton Barton had come out and was getting into the back seat of the car parked out front.

"Yeah?" asked Greer not sounding very certain.

"We're going to use plan four," said Coulson standing up and climbing down the the fire escape as fast as he could.

"What's plan four?" asked Delancey over the comm. link.

"There's going to be a black Escalade coming towards you, run it off the road," ordered Coulson.

"What! Are you crazy?"

"Target is in the back seat, run the damn car off the road." Coulson was back on street level running down the alley towards Phelps who was in the drivers seat of the van, Greer close behind him.

"Coulson, we need more than just run him off the road," pointed out Greer.

"Head towards Delancey," Coulson ordered Phelps getting into the back of the van. Phelps didn't argue as he put the van in gear. Pulling out just as Greer got the door closed.

"Coulson?" asked Greer again. "What's the rest of the plan?"

"Kidnapping with witnesses," stated Coulson like it was obvious as he held out an assault rifle to Greer.

"I'm behind the Escalade," said Delancey.

"I have you in sight," replied Phelps. Both the Escalade and the truck that Delancey was driving were coming towards them.

"Do it now," ordered Coulson as he flicked the safety off his own rifle.

Delancey pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and sped up to catch up to the target vehicle. Pulling up alongside the car he gave a tight tug of the steering wheel to the right, pushing the back end of the car into the curb. The speed of the two vehicles caused the target car to bounce up onto the curb, the front end hitting a lamppost and coming to a very sudden stop.

Smoke was issuing from under the hood of the Escalade as Delancey jumped out of the truck, his weapon in hand. Moving to the front of the car, he could see the target pushing himself up so he was sitting again, blood running from a cut to his forehead. Ignoring him for the moment Delancey kept walking so he could see the driver and front passenger, both were unconscious, the driver possibly dead.

The screech of tires alerted him to the arrival of Phelps driving the van. Pulling up alongside the car, Coulson and Greer jumped out the back. They both moved towards the rear passenger side door, the target was still conscious but dazed. Greer yanked open the back door and pulled the target out. The kid immediately began to struggle, causing Coulson to have to reach down and take a hold of Barton's free arm which only made the kid start to use his feet. Kicking out at the two agents he began to twist his body making Greer and Coulson get closer together and compromising their own line of fire.

"Fuck this," growled Greer dropping his hold on Barton and using the butt of his rifle he hit the target on the back at the base of his neck. The target promptly collapsed into Coulson's arms unconscious.

"Was that necessary? He wasn't going to shoot you," frowned Coulson.

"Yeah, well he was thinking about it," said Greer pulling out a Glock from the back of the kid's waistband.

Before Coulson could say anything else bullets started hitting the tarmac around them. Looking down the street to the direction the Escalade had come from. Coulson recognised several of Moretti's men coming towards them at a quick pace, all of them holding automatic weapons of some kind. They were still on Moretti's turf so he wasn't surprised that the crash had been discovered so quickly.

"Entrar en la furgoneta," yelled Coulson as he started return fire. DeLancey knelt and picked up Barton, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman carry. With Coulson and Greer covering him he ran for the van that Phelps still had running.

"Somos los dueños del halcón ahora," Coulson shouted between shots. With Greer ahead of him they both jumped in the back of the van, getting the door closed just bullets impacted into the metal. Phelps stamped down on the gas pedal and accelerated away from the shooters.

"We own the hawk now. Seriously?" asked Greer in disbelief. "That's your big plan, just yell some shit in Spanish and hope one of them understands."

"They do, plus I've got a trail leading from here to Columbia."

"Do you now? So you going to continue to tell me that this was plan four and you didn't plan on doing this from the offset but you knew we'd all say no, because that was bat shit crazy!"

Coulson arched an eyebrow at Greer's outburst. "There's an airstrip twenty miles from here, we'll board a plane with the flight plan going to Columbia which has us landing mid way between two of the major cartels down there. If Moretti wishes to follow up on his acquisition then that's where it'll lead. He'll either start a war or find out that he's been had. If it's the second option then it'll be too late, and he'll know that he'll never find Barton. It'll be bad business to keep looking for just one man."

"I'm assuming that we're not going to Columbia?" asked Delancey.

"No, we'll land in Haiti, where a SHIELD jet that is picking up another team will take us back to the New York Base."

"Because the Columbians happen to use Haiti as a trading port it'll be natural for a plane from Baltimore to stop there on the way to Columbia," laughed Delancey.

"Exactly," smirked Coulson as he started to check on Barton.

"Sometimes it's scary how your mind works," sighed Greer.

-A-

AN: If the Spanish is incorrect it's because I used Google translator. Sorry.