Sorry for the late update! I have been on a reading spree, and haven't really had the will to update my stories. I finished one, updated two weeks ago, I believe, but this one will take a while to fonosh, so bear with me! This one's somewhere between seven and eight hundred words, bit short, but it should do...or will it? Violence involved.

-RedWayneHood(Im thinking of changing my username...suggestions?)

If anyone was looking at the top of the buildings that night, they would of seen a dark figure running and jumping and flipping across the tops of buildings at incredible speeds, like a scene from a movie impossibly coming to life. But, no. The city of New York has its shares of hero's and villains. They had proof that the creatures of myths were real; that gods and monsters very much existed. They have seen magic and superpowers, so who are they to judge a shadow outlined by the setting sun?

Clint finally hears something. A muffled yelp. He skids to a stop, dropping into a kneel so that he could look over the edge of the building. There. Right below him were three men, a teenaged girl slowly getting backed into a corner, clutching her purse to her chest, as well as. Oh. Her right hand was tightly gripping that of a little toddler. Fury rages through Clint's veins. He doesn't know what they will do to the two, just that they were only children.

He jumps off the building, the four floor drop no problem for him, now. He lands in a half-crouch, the sliding of his metal katana on his sheath being the only thing to alert the five of his appearance.

"I would advise you step away." He says in a low voice, standing up, blade at his side. The three men turn around, and, like many times before, he questions the intelligence quota of every single baddie he has faced. One of them scoffs.

"Who are you?" Clint narrows his eyes. Of course they wouldn't know him. "You don't look like you're from around here, so bug off!" Clint cocks his head. Did they just tell him to 'bug off?' He's been officially "dead" for half a year, and he isn't going to miss out on life yet.

"I'm nobody." He says. "I'm just a Ronin." He stares at the three men, directing his next words at the teenager.

"Turn around, and cover the kids eyes." And, wisely, the two kids turn around, and thats when Clint does his 'work'. Work because it wasn't much of a fight. He drew his sword, and, against the three pocket knives, was already guaranteed a win. He cut all three blades perfectly at the hilt, before kicking one of the men backwards. One of them tried to sneak up on him, but a backward stab into a part of his abdomen free of any vital organs got rid of him. The third man, well...he'll have trouble eating and sneezing for a long time. The teenager had run away with the toddler a while back after he cut their blades, pushed them to the side, and told them to run. Now he's standing with a bloody katana, in the middle of three fallen bodies.

"Hands up." He stops himself from physically reacting to that voice. He slowly turns around, face to face with the one and only Natasha Romanoff, a gun held at eye level. It's not filled with tranqs like she does on patrol. He can tell that it is filled with real bullets.

He never thought his 'death' would go this far.

"Drop the sword." She says, stepping closer. Clint's mind goes blank. What to do, what to do, what to do?

"Wait! Miss, he saved us!" Natasha quickly drops her guard at the young voice, facing a teenaged girl with red eyes, breathing heavily, a young toddler boy hugging her leg, dried tears on his cheek. "They-they...I don't know what they were going to do, but this mister saved us!" And it finally clicks to the assassin, who curses in her mind for somehow dropping her guard. She turns around, no one there. She looks up, and, four floors above her, see's a flash of a black cloak. She stares for a few moments, before diverting her attention back to the girl and boy.

"Okay", she says, able to tell she wasn't lying. She looks at the three bodies, quickly assessing their situations. All unconscious, not fatally wounded. That stab looks nasty, but it won't kill him. "Did he tell you anything?" The girl quickly nods.

"Y-yes."

"Yeah!" Squeals the boy, suddenly. Natasha's heart pangs: he has brown hair and brown eyes, looking distinctly like Clint...had. "He's my new hero! He's Ronin!" The girl nods.

"He called himself a Ronin." Natasha notes that down, before she tells the two to quickly return home as she calls the local police and briefs them quickly about what happened. When she ends the call, she can hear the sirens wailing.

'Ronin' she thinks as she walks away. 'Who are you?'