Well, I'm finally back! It's been like over a month since I updated, and I am truly sorry about that. I've currently got an essay to write that's next Friday, so I'm just warning you guys so that you now the next chapter may be slow to update. I got a huge boost of motivation from Nyaed whose story "Satisfaction" is a wonderful read for all you Frostiron fans (seriously, I've had a blast reading it, it makes me want to just shriek with utter joy, and god damn, Loki and Tony are just irresistibly adorable in their own sassy way). Also, thank you and Majestic - Pegacornfor following this story, I'm seriously surprised I've gotten these much followers so my first proper story on this site. Currently, this story has had 843 views, and I'm just blown away from the amount of people who took the time to actually click on my story and take a gander.

OC: Yes, yes, we get that you're all emotional and happy right now, but I do think this note has gone a little too long.
LiulfrLokison: Fine, we'll get to you. You just love feeding them little snippets about yourself, don't you?
OC: Of course, it doesn't feel right to just dump a whole ton on them, I rather spoon feed a few little juicy bits before dropping the bombshell.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story besides -
OC: ME! Although I would say I contributed to most of my backstory, you are just my vessel to reveal my existence to the world.
LiulfrLokison: . . . Yeah, he's a bit hyped up for this chapter. Well, as I was saying, I don't own any character besides him, the rest belong to MARVEL (those marvelous people). Otherwise I seriously would have placed Loki on the Avengers, cause Tony (being the smart little cookie he is) would have realised, for a God of Lies and Mischief, Loki wasn't really putting his all into the fight.

And here, is the chapter!

Chapter 7: Watching The Puppets Dance

-o0o-

The room beyond was pitch black, except for a small light that flickered over a tall object which was covered with a dark coloured cloth, sitting innocently at the opposite side of the room.

Approaching the object with cautious steps, Clint hesitantly grasped the material and after deliberating if it was a good idea or not, gave it a tug.

The sheet fell away, running over his hand like water over pebbles, the smooth silk almost caressing his fingertips. But the soft caress soon became a cold embrace when his eyes fells upon the object, a chill running down his spine at the sight before him.

It was a slim, tall ornate mirror, bordered with thin metal bars that curled around the framed glass like the hands of a skeleton, a pattern of scraggly tree branches,

In some weird way that defied the laws of physics, the mirror stayed upright, the thin metal looked ready to snap in two from the slightest touch, and black mist seeped out from behind the sheet of glass, filling the room with the scent of wet dirt and rotting bones.

Wrinkling his noise at the scent, Clint peered at the mirror in confusion, wondering how it was supposed to relate to his trial. And as he leaned closer towards the glass, he faintly heard the sound of rustling cloth, spinning around to find the tall golden eyed man standing behind him, pale lips curling into an eerie grin that caused warning bells to go off in his mind.

"Good, your hearing aids are working perfectly, I was afraid the spell hadn't set properly." At those words, Clint's hands flew up to touch his hearing aids, only now noting how his fingers seemed to tingle when he touched the plastic. "What, did you do?" Clint murmured with a frown, trying to think if there was a difference between the sounds he heard now compared to before the man had tinkered with them. "You were able to hear me approaching, normally you wouldn't be able to but I've placed a little enhancing spell on your hearing aids, it allows you to hear the slightest of sounds."

Normally that would have sounded like a huge favour, but judging from the way the man's amber eyes glittered with absolute insanity, it did not bode well for Clint.

"Your trial awaits. May fortune be with you." The man murmured, a pleasant smile on his lips as he towered over Clint.

"But, how am I supposed to start my trial? There's nothing here except a mirror." Clint couldn't help but remark, and soon came to regret it.

That pleasant smile widened into a toothy grin, madness dancing in the man's eyes as he withdrew his hands from his robe sleeves, reaching out with those spider – like fingers to rest on Clint's chest.

Staring down at the ashen appendages splayed across his torso, Clint felt a sense of dread flood through his veins.

"Like this."

With a simple nudge of his fingers, the man drove Clint back against the mirror, the cold glass biting into his skin. But to his horror, his back didn't collide with the solid form of the mirror, but sank through it as if it was slime, oozing over his limbs and pulling him in like quicksand. The thin metal bands that curled around the mirror's frame slithered forward like serpents, wrapping around his wrists and ankles as he felt the back of his head sinking into the glass.

"Do not break the metal that holds you, without it, you will be lost forever and cannot return to the mortal world. And whatever you do, you cannot interfere with what you will see. No matter how much it pains you."

The man withdrew his fingers from Clint's chest, a solemn expression on his face as the glass swallowed the archer in. And before his ears were pulled into the mirror, he heard the man whisper five words that made his heart stop cold.

"For anguish awaits you there."

The man's grave golden eyes were the last thing he saw before the mirror consumed him.

-o0o-

The first thing Clint saw when he came to was a grand ceiling above him, one that wouldn't be out of place in an old cathedral or opera house. Plush carpet was under his body, thick red strands making him lean to more of an opera house type of building. Getting to his feet, he found the thin strands of metal wrapped around his wrists and ankles, tight enough to remind him they were there but not tight enough to cut off his circulation. The metal was cold as ice, biting into his skin as if they were the bony hands of the dead.

But as he surveyed his surroundings, he found an exact replica of the mirror behind him, embedded into the wall. It somehow, in some weird and bizarre fashion, seemed to fit in with the opera house decor despite the skeleton like patterns the pale grey metal created. He was standing in a hallway that seemed to connect from the foyer, to the upper floor of the opera house. Seeing as the doors to the foyer where bolted shut with heavy metal bars, his only option was to go up.

And as he made his way up the thickly carpeted stairs, he could hear the sounds of a battle ensuing in the room beyond.

Reaching the door that lead to the balcony seats, Clint found himself hesitating as his fingers curled around the ornate handle, unsure if he wanted to see what lay beyond the doors.

The man's parting words rang loudly in his mind, was he truly prepared for what he was about to see?

Taking a deep breath, Clint readied himself and threw the door open.

The moment his eyes fell upon the vast stage, lit up in bright lights, he never knew his heart could hurt this much. It beat rapidly in his chest, feeling as if someone had viciously burrowed their clawed fingers into his chest and was slowly dragging it out, squeezing the organ tight enough that he felt like it would burst under the pressure.

Stumbling forward, Clint grasped a marble railing as his legs gave out under him, clutching a hand over his heart as his eyes followed the horrifying scene in front of him.

On the stage, his team mates were fighting.

Except they were fighting each other, faces cold and blank without emotion, eyes glazed as the blood of his friends spilt on the floor.

But what made Clint's heart hurt the most was their shadows, the outline of strings were attached to their bodies, directing how they moved and fought the others. High above the stage, a large figure cloaked in a hooded black cloak held the puppet strings in their hands, cackling softly as blood coated the floor in crimson pools, and Clint could tell there was a smirk hiding behind that white mask.

He could do nothing but watch as Tony plunged a knife into Natasha's back, yanking it out so brutally that blood smeared his face, but Natasha spun around a second later without her usual grace, and fired a bullet into Tony's stomach. The inventor staggered back, blood almost gushing from the wound but he moved forward with jerky movements, raising the knife as Natasha fired another three bullets. Only two found their mark, her arms were twitching so much that her aim was completely off, leaving Tony with a bullet in his left thigh and right shoulder. Despite the injuries, he kept going, stabbing the knife deep into Natasha's side, a black liquid oozing from the corner of his mouth as he twisted the blade, Clint could hear the knife scraping against bone, and tasted bile in the back of his mouth.

Natasha held the gun against Tony's head, firing off a shot point blank. Clint choked as he watched Tony fall, his body shaking as if he was having a seizure as he lay in a pool of his own blood. Natasha fell to her knees and her side was painted red, collapsing into a heap next to Tony, staring up at the puppeteer with wide dead eyes.

Both Thor and Steve were fighting Bruce, whose skin was tinted green but never changed into the Hulk. Steve's shield slamming into the gamma specialist's back made Bruce stumble forward right into the path of Mjolnir, sending the smallest of their team flying as the hammer collided with his face, the loud crack was all Clint needed to hear, confirming that his neck had been broken.

The archer was barely aware of the tears falling down his face, silently watching as Mjolnir rammed into Steve's chest, the sound of ribs breaking under the force and bones piercing organs was enough for Clint to tell that Steve was dead. The vibranium shield that Steve had thrown slammed into Thor's neck, the razor sharp metal slicing into the Asgardian's thick skin, leaving a deep gash that poured blood all over the silver armour.

Thor was the last to fall, a dull thud that seemed like crashing bells to Clint's ears.

The puppeteer cackled madly, pulling at the strings in its hands with bone thin fingers, the bodies of his team mates stood back up, covered in blood and bruises, and began to attack each other again.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, slumped on his knees and tears dripping down his cheeks, unable to pull his eyes away from the bloody scene. It was only the biting cold of the metal that reminded him what he was seeing wasn't true.

"I think you've had enough."

Clint almost slammed his forehead against the railings, finally able to tear his eyes away from the stage to find the ashen man staring down at him with solemn golden eyes.

"What, in the name of all that's holy, was that?!" Clint screamed, pointing to the stage which as completely coated in blood, but the bodies of his team mates had disappeared. The man glanced to the stage, before looking back down to Clint.

"That, was your fear. Although it was rather gruesome I suppose." The man crouched down onto his knees, placing one of his spindly hands onto Clint's shoulder, the appendage was surprisingly warm despite looking so cold. Clint found himself leaning into the contact, his heart still pounded painfully in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

"What have you learned from what you've seen?" The man's voice was soft and calming, like a father trying to comfort his child. He didn't sound hurried or demanding, easing the pain in Clint's chest as he tried to ignore the fear and horror that had ensnared his mind. What had he learned from this experience?

"I . . ." Clint paused, wetting his lips as he tried to think, looking down at the floor, he was able to analyse others, but when it came to himself, he was blind.

However, his thought process was brought to a halt when he heard the man wince, glancing up to see the grey skinned man holding his other hand to the back of his head, as if he had been hit. He wore an expression of pain on his face, the hand on Clint's shoulder tensed and he could feel the sharp points of the man's nails nearly digging into his flesh, flinching slightly.

The man seemed to notice this, hastily pulling his hand away from Clint to join the other, clutching his head as if he had a migraine. He was muttering something angrily, in a language Clint was not familiar with but could definitely tell they were curse words.

"Are, are you okay?" Clint found himself asking, almost reaching out to the man but halted as burning golden eyes fell upon him, almost like the spitting fires of Hell itself. He felt as if he was looking into the eyes of an ancient dragon, and could do nothing but cower underneath its gaze.

It took a few minutes, both just staring at each other until the sound of a wall crumbling broke them out of their stupor. This seemed to panic the man, his hand reaching out and grasping Clint's arm tightly, dragging the stunned archer to the doors. "Quickly, I cannot hold this place together much longer!" The man sounded genuinely panicked, throwing the doors open and almost flying down the stairs, Clint could do nothing but follow, bewildered and confused but knew when to follow orders.

"We will talk on the other side, go quickly!" The mirror was right in front of him, the metal frame peeling away and dragging him in, making his whole body shiver as he was emerged into the cold embrace of the molten glass yet again.

Yet, he couldn't help but feel worried for the ashen man, wondering what had caused such a violent change in behaviour.

-o0o-

The moment Clint fell out of the mirror, he was gasping for breath. The pain in his chest had gone, and his head felt strangely clearer than before.

Picking himself off the floor, he felt the metal around his wrists and ankles crumble away, leaving thin scars that looked like he had wrapped barbed wire around it that had dug into his skin. Staring at the marks in slight shock, he almost missed it when the ashen skinned man burst into existence, emerging from a cloud of black mist and stumbled slightly as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair. Exhaustion was plain to see on his face, those golden eyes had dulled to pale amber, making the man look sickly when combined with his grey skin tone.

"I, apologise for the rough handling. And the scars. The trails are never meant to leave physical marks." The man's voice was hoarse, as if he had been yelling at the top of his lungs for a good couple of minutes. "What, happened? If I may ask?" Right now, it seemed like it was a good time to not get this guy angry, Clint knew when he had to use tact instead of sarcasm.

"Your comrade, the Odinson, did not appreciate his trial, and took his anger out on the surroundings. There is a limit to how much I can do at the moment, considering the restrictions I've been placed under." The man paused, as if he hadn't meant to give that much information in the first place.

Restrictions? This guy was powerful enough to delve into their minds, pull out their fears, expose it to them and he had a limiter on him? Clint found it all mindboggling, who exactly was this man?

"That is quite enough about me, let us focus on you." The man set those amber eyes on him, anger sparking in his eyes but that was fading fast, leaving the man's eyes frightfully blank, much like the eyes of his dead team mates.

"That, was my fear. The fear that they'll have their minds controlled like mine was." Clint tried to not remember the gruesome scene, but he had to in order to pass this trial. "There are many sorcerer's in the Nine Realms that can easily ensnare a weak mind, but if one knows how to combat it, then it only becomes a problem for those who are much more gifted in the arts of twisting one's mind." The man said this with a hint of rage and self – loathing in his tone, crossing his arms over his chest and one spindly finger tapped his forearm with a random beat.

"So, how do you intend to fight this fear of yours?" The man asked, his finger stopped tapping almost immediately, a patient expression on his face as Clint tried to think of the best way he would be able to face his fear, now and in the future. The answer seemed all too simple in his mind, surely the man would expect a detailed answer that was guaranteed to work?

"Sometimes fears can be dealt with the most simplest of answers."

Jolting, Clint glanced up from where his eyes had fallen to the grime coated floor, looking up at the man in disbelief. That ashen face wore a bemused smile, pale amber eyes had returned to a rich gold, glinting with mirth.

That was all he needed to know.

Swallowing loudly, Clint gave his answer.

"I just have to keep a better eye on my team mates if we fight against opponents who use magic. And if someone tries to control them, I'll be there to stop them from hurting anyone."

Silence fell upon the two, Clint's palms became rather sweaty as the man stared at him with blank eyes, processing the answer.

An eternity seemed to pass, the archer waiting for a response and the ancient staring back at him, if someone was to drop a pin it would seem like thunder to the two.

A grin rose onto those grey lips, razor sharp teeth scraping against each other, sounding like two stones being struck together to Clint's ears.

"Correct. You are mortal, and there is only so much you can do. But as long as you remain as their watchful eyes, you can prevent such events from occurring." The man strode forward, placing a hand on the mirror and the glass remained as solid as marble. At his touch, the metal began to warp and bend, melting into a lump of grey into the man's palm.

The glass had shrunk down into two pieces, the size of a glasses lens, and Clint was completely perplexed at what had just occurred in front of him. But his attention was seized again as the ashen man strode over to him, the metal lump began to leak through his fingers and latched onto the glass, moulding around the piece until it formed into the shape of something similar to aviator goggles, except more sleek and less bulky in its design, as well as looking a bit more high tech.

"This, is my reward for you passing your trail." The man slipped the goggles over his head, letting Clint place it over his eyes. They seemed like normal goggles, but as Clint peered through them, he was surprised to see a gold and black outline pulsing around the man's shape, making him feel a little disorientated.

Tugging the goggles off and letting them dangle around his neck, he glanced up to the man while trying to settle his roiling stomach. "What does this do, exactly?" The man chuckled, tapping the glass lens lightly before stepping back while wearing a smug grin on his face.

"These goggles sharpen your eyesight, but their most important feature is that they allow you to see who has magic or not, you can see their auras. The larger the aura, the more magic they have. I believe Loki will be able to explain what colours mean what kind of spell, but I will tell you that if the colour is a dark blue with a vibrant yellow mixed into it, those are mind control spells. That, is the kind of colour you must look out for. However, if someone is being controlled, the colour of their aura will be that dark blue and yellow, but will have black flecks. If you are able to hit the nerve point where most of the black has settled, it should temporarily release them of the spell until it can be removed, as that nerve point is where the spell was cast on."

Clint blinked, looking down at the glasses, and back up to the man who hummed a light tune under his breath as he practically glided over to the door. This man had just given him a way to protect his team mates, as well as release them from mind spells.

Who, exactly was this man and why was he stuck here in this asylum? Who would have enough power to tie him to this place?

"Thank you. This, is something that I can never repay you for."

The words of gratitude slipped from his mouth, as Clint grasped the goggles in one hand, yet again he found himself close to tears, this gift, would be something he would cherish and use to protect those he cared about.

"There is no need for thanks, you have faced your inner most fears, and as such, you deserve a suitable reward. It was you who made the effort, not I." The man smiled, standing by the door with one thin finger pointed at the keyhole.

The parchment (that he had all but forgotten about) burned in his hand, causing him to yelp at the heat and opened his hand, confused to see the parchment wasn't crushed but had rolled up into a small scroll, the perfect size for the keyhole under the rust coloured handle. "Doctor Banner is currently the only one who has completed his trail so far, you will find him beyond this door. You will most likely have to wait a while for your other companions, they, are having a little difficulty with theirs."

The words sent chills down his spine, he definitely knew Natasha had a lot of baggage, Tony certainly did, but Steve and Thor, he wasn't too sure about. He could only guess Thor's trail had something to do with events that occurred on Asgard, but the Captain's fear was something he could only make fruitless assumptions about.

"Will you be there for them, like you were with me?" This man didn't seem cruel enough to let him face that trial alone, so he hoped the others were getting the same treatment. The man blinked a few times, surprise on his face which morphed into a wry smile.

"You already trust me that much? Well, I cannot lie about that, it is easier to face ones fears with another than facing them alone. I will be there for them, have no fear."

As Clint slotted the parchment into the door, he could faintly smell the scent of a warm hearth and home baked apple pie as he passed the man, a smell that made him think of home, safety, and affection.

The door swung open and he took a breath of fresh air, stepping out into the light, and oddly enough, he found himself missing the soothing tone of the man's voice.

-o0o-

A/N: We have reached the end of Clint's chapter, and man, I felt really terrible putting him through that, but at least he got a good reward out of it! I felt like the OC should be with them through the trails, so I've decided to continue it through the other trials, I want to show different sides to the OC because I'm not making him the outright villain, he's just, a little misunderstood. My chest was actually hurting as I wrote Clint's trial, his is shorter than the others, I felt like I'd just leave the imagery to your imagination. I'm going to try and make the other's trails longer, I think I'll have more information to go off for them.

But right, the list. XD

Bruce (completed)
Steve
Clint (completed)
Tony
Natasha
Thor
Loki

Once again, sorry about the long delay, and I will be starting on the next chapter later as I've got to get my train home and need to walk down a huge ass hill to get to the station. Please tell me what you thought about the chapter, and if there's any advice you can give me, I would be eternally grateful for it!

LiulfrLokison out! :3