Warnings: Violence, killing, being in close quarters to dead bodies
Clint's alarm goes off at 5:00am, and he groans and slams his hand down on the snooze button. He gives himself to the count of three to sit up and throw his legs over his bed and then he's turning his alarm off and stumbling towards the shower. He could've slept in a little bit longer, but he'd wanted his last long, hot shower before going on a mission where he'll be lucky if he gets two hours of running water a day, let alone having it hot.
He showers and throws on a pair of SHIELD sweats and a plain cotton shirt before stumbling out to the kitchen for a cup of tea and breakfast. He mixes granola into a bowl of yogurt and adds some chopped up banana, and he eats, mechanical, as his water boils.
He hadn't gotten to sleep until past midnight, because every time he thought he should leave Coulson and go to bed, all he could see was Marshall's body lying dead on the floor of some warehouse, and Clint had leaned in for another kiss.
Eventually, Coulson had called it a night, but he lingered at Clint's door, kissing him one last time before going to his own room. It had taken more willpower than Clint wants to admit not to follow Coulson to his bed.
Something to look forward to when he comes home, Clint tells himself as he pours his hot water into a travel mug and drops a tea packet in. He leaves it on the counter to steep and goes back to his room to brush his teeth and grab his bag.
When he gets back to the kitchen, Coulson's leaning against the counter. He looks as tired at Clint feels, and Clint notes the coffee that's already started brewing.
"You have an early morning too?" Clint asks.
"Wanted to see you off." Coulson pulls Clint in for a brief kiss—too brief—and slips a flash drive into his hand. "Upload that to your Starkpod before you get on the jet."
"Thanks." Clint slips it into his pocket, and he lingers next to Coulson for a moment longer before summoning his strength and heading out.
There are two audio files on the drive, and Clint loads them to his Starkpod while he brushes up on his Ukranian again. He mutters to himself, quiet, even though Sitwell has his headphones in so can't hear him, as he repeats phrases over and over again.
Clint doesn't have a chance to listen to the files until he's settling into the apartment SHIELD's procured for him. It's nicer than the place he stayed in the last time he was here, but now that he's been promoted from fish hand to renaissance criminal, he supposes it makes sense.
He has easy roof access which means it's easier for him to get surrounded, but he also has the ability to escape both on the street and roof level which will probably end up coming in handy.
Once he's investigated all the nooks and crannies in the small space and evaluated all the possible entrances and exits, and evaluated the advantages and disadvantages of where he is, he gets ready for bed and starts scrolling through his Starkpod.
There's one file called Much Ado About Nothing and another called My Side of the Mountain. Clint recognizes Shakespeare so he clicks on that one first, and Natasha's voice comes through.
"Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare. Act One, Scene One: Before Leonato's house."
Clint smiles and leans back to listen as his team performs Much Ado About Nothing for him, and suddenly he doesn't feel quite so far away.
The next morning, Clint goes out to start reaching out to people. He goes first to the bakery down the street from him.
The owner isn't involved, but his brother is, and Clint only feels a little guilty about bringing trouble to the man's business. He buys two day's worth of bread and a breakfast pastry as a peace offering.
As he's eating his pastry, a man in a pair of dark pants and even darker jacket comes in and orders something that isn't on the menu. Clint picks apart his pastry as the owner apologizes for not having what he wants.
A moment later, the brother appears from the kitchen. "Ah, a specialty item?" he asks and Clint can hear the slimy smile in his voice. "Of course. It will take some time to make, but I can get anything you want."
"Olek," the owner protests.
Clint leaves his half-eaten pastry in the table, but he takes his bread with him as he saunters up to the counter. He flashes Olek and the newcomer a smile. "I'm sorry. You're into specialty items now? Is this a recent business expansion?"
Olek frowns. "Do I know you, sir?"
Clint's smile gets a touch more dangerous. "You're going to wish you didn't. I'm the man you're trying to replace. Is there a good place we can talk? I'm sure there's just a misunderstanding that we can easily work out." Clint reaches into his coat like he's going to pull a gun, and Olek pales.
"I'm not trying to replace anyone," Olek says. "I work in my brother's bakery. That's it."
Clint reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bullet that had killed Marshall. He sets it down on the counter. "So it's a coincidence that not a week after my guy is murdered, you're moving in on his territory?"
Olek's eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head, and he's starting to sweat. "I don't know what you're talking about. I swear." He looks to the customer for help, and Clint suspects that maybe Olek's telling the truth. He's been recruited to run weapons, because he has the bakery as a cover. It's the clients Clint should be pressing for information.
"In that case, you won't mind if I have chat with this gentleman about where to best procure his," Clint pauses, "specialty good." He nods to Olek, and wraps his hand around the customer's arm and hauls him out of the bakery.
"Who are you?" the man demands, twisting, trying to get free. "I just wanted pastry!"
"You're a terrible liar, and I don't have the patience for your games. I went on a well-earned vacation only to have to cut it short, because someone thought they'd start killing my men. So not only am I down an employee, but I didn't get the chance to work on my tan. Someone is going to pay for that, and right now, it's looking like it's going to be you."
"This is about Hedeon?" the man asks. "I heard what happened to him, but I had nothing to do with it. I liked him. Fair prices, didn't threaten too much. It was a good arrangement, but he's gone, and I still have needs. I had to find a new source. It's just business."
"Then why don't we do business," Clint says. "After all, everything that belonged to Hedeon belonged to me. I'll honor his contracts."
The man nods, and Clint lets him go with a small shove.
"Before you go," Clint says, and he smirks as the man's face drains completely of color. Clint flips him a coin. "Go get yourself a nice pastry. I'll meet you there at this time tomorrow to go over details."
Clint checks and cleans his guns that night when he gets back from exploring the small village. He also cleans his knives, and he puts together tomorrow's outfit, making sure there are enough places to hide his weapons.
It seems like Olek has replaced Marshall, but he knows nothing. Meaning Clint's going to have to rattle Olek's customers or even plain out steal them in order to get the big guy's attention. Of course, doing that is a good way for Clint to end up as dead as Marshall had.
He goes to his kitchen to make dinner, because going through the motions of cooking will help to calm him down. He's not going to die. He's going to find out who had killed Marshall, put a bullet in him, and go back home to Coulson and the Avengers.
Clint eats and makes his plan for tomorrow and then he goes back and listens to the next act of Much Ado and goes to bed.
Clint picks a roof diagonally across from the bakery, and he sits there for the two hours before his meeting with Kyrylo. It's why he notices the way Lyak seems nervous as he opens shop, why he knows that the fish stand across the street isn't supposed to be there and that the man delivering papers isn't the one who usually does it.
Clint slips from the roof and follows the paper man to the next building he's delivering to, a bar that isn't even open yet. Clint lets himself into the bar, and he pulls the paper man in, wrestling him to the ground, pinning him in a matter of seconds.
"I just deliver papers!" the man protest as Clint wraps a bit of rope around his wrists, pulling tight and looping the knots so there's no give.
"Bullshit," Clint says and he hauls the man to his feet. "You're on the lookout for me. Did a pretty shitty job seeing as I got the drop on you. Fish man working with you or are there several people that want me dead?"
The man spits at Clint's feet. He takes that as they're working together. He shoves a dirty rag in the man's mouth to keep him quiet and slips out to the fish man's stand. Clint gives a boy with sunken eyes and trembling hands enough money to buy a week's worth of fish and asks him to make a ruckus when he buys from Clint's target.
The boy, not wanting to lose the money, does as he asks, and Clint has no problem getting up behind the fish vendor without being noticed. He slings his arm around the man's shoulder, and his free hand is in his pocket, presses the butt of his gun against the man's side.
"Friend!" Clint says, overly cheerful as the man stiffens next to him. "You've been working hard this morning. Come, get a drink with me. I'll even pay."
Clint half-drags the man to the bar with him, and as soon as they're through the doors, the man moves. Clint's expecting it, and he ducks out of the way of the man's first swing. The second catches him across the jaw, but Clint lands a punch of his own as well as a kick in quick succession, and after only a small scuffle, he has this one subdued too.
They're both bound and sitting side by side, and Clint pats them both down, coming up with two knives, a gun, and a garrote a piece.
He tsks as he sets the weapons aside. "You brought a lot of weapons." He lifts up one of the garrotes. "You really thought I was going to let you close enough to use this?" He shakes his head. "You two are the sloppy ones, not me."
The fish vendor growls something behind the rag Clint's stuck in his mouth.
"I'm going to assume that was an unimaginative threat," Clint says. "No doubt, you two were sent to kill me, because your boss has heard that I'm here to avenge my associate. Now that I'm here, I've decided to make myself a bit of competition as well. Which means I'm going to need some employees."
Clint gathers up the weapons and he takes most of them to the far corner of the bar. He sets two knives on the floor, facing each other. "How do you feel about interviewing?"
Clint wanders around to the bar, and he pulls a bottle of cheap vodka off the shelf. He opens it and takes the rag out of fish vendor's mouth and shoves the bottle in.
"A shot of courage," Clint says, laughing as the man tries to swallow, but there's too much and a lot of the vodka ends up spilling out of his mouth and down his shirt.
He gives the paper man the same treatment.
"Anyone up for seconds?" Clint asks.
They both glare at him and Clint shrugs. "I'm sure you've figured it out, but I only want one of you. And I want the best. So, I'm going to let you both go, and it's a fight to the death. Whoever is still alive at the end, is my new Hedeon. You try to escape or to kill me," Clint pulls a gun out of his pocket. "And I'll recruit somewhere else."
Clint smiles, too many teeth to be friendly, and cuts their bonds enough that with some struggling they'll be able to snap the rope. And then Clint goes to the other side of the room and watches, ready to shoot if things start to go south.
Paper man gets out of his bonds first, and he gets to both knives as fish vendor slips his rope. Fish vendor grabs the bottle of vodka, and he takes a chug before rushing the paper man. One smashed vodka bottle and several cuts later and a stab later, both men are lying on the floor. Fish vendor is bleeding out, paper man is unconscious.
There's glass and vodka and blood all over the floor.
Clint kills the paper man and goes to the bakery.
"Sorry I'm late," Clint says as he slides into the chair across from Kyrylo. "Had some business to take care of." Kyrylo jumps at the sound of Clint's voice. Clint's smile is far from pleasant. "Surprised to see me? Did you hire those two men or is there someone out there watching over you?"
Kyrylo stutters and almost spills his coffee.
Clint catches the cup before it spills, and he watches as Kyrylo's eyes dart to the blood stain on Clint's sleeve. "I hope you didn't hire them, because it would've been a waste of money." Clint grins and leans in. "You're clearly working with your supplier even though I've made you a better offer. Tell him that he killed one of mine so I killed two of his, and in my book, we're even now. Got it?"
Kyrylo nods. Clint snatches his pastry and walks out.
Clint lays low for a while. He keeps an eye on the bakery, and he tracks Kyrylo's movement and to a lesser extent he follows Olek.
He's there when the clean-up crew comes in for the fish vendor and the paper man, but that doesn't lead anywhere. It's just two men who drag the bodies out and burn them. They don't bring Clint to anyone higher up in the food chain and as far as he can tell, they're men hired specifically to deal with dead bodies. Useless then.
Kyrylo is equally useless. Clint isn't sure how he gets the message to whoever killed Marshall, but the day after Clint's little stunt, there are three people guarding him. They're still easy to spot, but they're looking out for each other meaning Clint isn't going to try and grab them. Not that he was going to anyways. He's waiting for someone worth his time.
Olek continues to talk to the occasional customer about specialty goods, but Clint hasn't seen him meet with anyone either. He has, however, watched the frown lines in Lyak's forehead deepen by the day. Lyak's discovered what Olek is doing or at least knows that his brother is up to no good, and he doesn't like it. Clint can use that to his advantage.
He bides his time for two weeks, giving things a chance to settle, and in that time he doesn't have a lot of downtime, but he manages to finish Much Ado.
On the night he makes plans for his next move, he plays My Side of the Mountain, and he grins like an idiot when Coulson's voice, warm and steady pours through his headphones. He stays up an hour later than he was intending to just to listen to Coulson tell him the tale of a boy who runs away from home and adopts a peregrine falcon.
The next morning, Clint goes to the bakery right when it opens, and there's no one there except for him and Lyak.
Lyak's eyes narrow when he sees Clint. "You've brought trouble here. You're not welcome."
Clint admires a man who will stick to his principles even when it could cost him a profit. Or his life. Of course, Clint has no desire to kill Lyak. He tries to avoid killing innocents.
"I'm not the one who brought the trouble," Clint says and he leans against the counter. "I'm only here to end it."
Lyak reaches for his knife, and it isn't until he has it securely in his grip that he looks interested. "You want to end it?"
Clint nods. "A friend of mine was killed a few weeks back. The man who killed him is the same one who has pulled your brother into his illegal dealings." Lyak's mouth twists at the reminder of what his brother's doing. "I want to remove the man from this area."
Lyak shakes his head. "You mean you want to remove him from this life."
Clint shrugs. "Semantics."
"I don't like killers," Lyak says. "Were you behind the deaths at the bar?"
"I heard that was a drunken brawl," Clint says, adopting his best innocent face. "All I want is your brother's employer."
"I can't help you," Lyak says. "I don't know who he is."
Clint knows better than to push right now so instead he, slowly, pulls out a couple coins. "In that case, could I have three loaves of bread?"
Lyak frowns like he's not sure what to make of Clint's behavior but after a moment he shrugs and goes to get the bread.
It's fresh out of the oven so Clint rips off a piece and eats it while it's hot. He gives Lyak a salute and goes back to his apartment.
Time for the next stage in his plan.
Kyrylo is picking up a shipment of weapons in four days. Clint's gathered that much from following Kyrylo and listening to his conversations with Olek. Clint also knows, from a quick search of Kyrylo's apartment, what the satchel that's going to hold the money looks like.
It takes Clint thirty minutes to track down an identical one. It takes him almost the full four days to counterfeit enough money for the payment. He has no idea why SHIELD thought part of his kit for this op should be a printing press, but he's incredibly grateful.
On the night that Kyrylo's set to make the exchange, Clint dresses in fleece lined pants and a puffy jacket so he looks bigger than he is. He also wraps a scarf tight around his neck and puts his hood up. Between the clothes and the dark, he's confident that no one's going to recognize him or even get a partial look at his face.
Switching the satchels is easy, and the thrill of it reminds Clint of his younger days at the circus when he made his money pick pocketing. Trick had put a stop to that, claiming that it was bad for business, but he'd opened Clint to more lucrative businesses so Clint hadn't been too upset. Why settle for forty bucks in cash when you get could a couple grand in jewelry?
Clint stashes the satchel with the real money up in the tree next to the village marker, and he ditches his puffy coat and pants there as well and changes into a more functional fighting outfit. By the time he's in his cargo pants and long sleeve and has all his weapons strapped into place, Kyrylo has enough of a head start that Clint can start following him.
Clint finds a new tree to perch in, and he watches the exchange through his binoculars. Kyrylo inspects the guns, tests one out, and hands over his satchel. Olek flips through the money, and, satisfied, they part.
Clint waits for the entire area to clear before going back to his tree and collecting his clothes and the money.
Clint goes to the bakery the next morning and only buys one loaf, telling Lyak that he'll be back in tomorrow.
When he arrives, Lyak is scared, and he fumbles through the loaves of bread before handing them over. He wraps one in yellow paper, the rest in white, and he puts the yellow one on top.
"Eat this one first," he says.
Clint nods and takes the bread home. When he breaks the loaf, he finds a piece of paper rolled up inside.
Vasyl. He's going to kill Olek. Please help.
Clint grins and slips out to find a secure place to make a call.
He stays in the area as Sitwell goes to his contacts to dig up what he can on Vasyl. Clint considers calling Coulson or Natasha, and then he reminds himself that he's a professional and instead waits for Sitwell's report.
Vasyl, aka The King, is man behind the weapons trafficking. He also owns a very lucrative casino in the city, and he's the kind of man that keeps his hands clean so that he can live large and enjoy the money he makes from his dealings.
Clint's glad that he's the show type and not the hidden behind-the-scenes type, because this makes it easier for Clint to do his job.
He ends his call with Sitwell and hitches a ride back to the village before going to pay Lyak a visit.
"This loaf is stale," Clint says, handing a loaf of bread, still in its bag, to Lyak. "I want two fresh ones or I'll get my bread elsewhere."
Lyak starts to look outraged and Clint looks pointedly at the bag. When Lyak's eyes widen, Clint knows that he's seen the money Clint shoved in there.
"Take a vacation," Clint says, quieter this time. "You and your brother lay low for a bit. Better yet, move. New names would be good."
Lyak looks around his shop, and Clint's sure he's seeing the improvements he's made, and familiar faces of regular customers and maybe even relatives, and Clint feels a pang of sympathy for the man. He's going to have to give up his entire of his life because his brother was an idiot.
"My bread?" Clint asks, a touch of impatience in his voice. A line is starting to form behind him, and he doesn't want to arouse suspicion.
"Of course," Lyak says and he goes to get the bread.
Clint spends that day and the next making preparations. He moves out of his apartment in the village, and he finds a crumbling room in the city to rent. He calls Sitwell to affirm the safe house situation in the city and then he watches.
He spends two days cataloguing the flow of traffic in and out of the casino and the next two days after that observing a slice of Vasyl's room using his scope, a crack in the wall, and a conveniently placed bug.
After that, he feels ready to move in. He doesn't like going in without any weapons, but he'll be checked at the entrance to the casino and again at the backroom and carrying is a sure way to end up dead.
He spends an hour on the floor, doing some light gambling, flirting with waitresses and stashing weapons throughout the room. The knife from a gentleman's steak goes missing and ends up in a potted plant by the back hallway. Another knife gets taped under a table near the entrance.
There aren't many other things that can be used as weapons. In a pinch he can take the fake trees and swing them at someone's head, but there's nothing else small that Clint can hide away.
Once he's done all the prep he can, he heads towards the back. He knows he's at the right place when two men in suits that are clearly packing step in front of him.
"This area is restricted," the one of the left says.
"I'm here to see Vasyl," Clint says and he can't help his grin as the hired muscle look surprised.
"He asked for a meeting with you?"
Clint thinks about the bullet in Marshall's head. "He was rather insistent."
The one on the right frowns. "He didn't mention nothing about a meeting."
"I've found something that I believe belongs to him." Clint pulls out a wad of bills, the cash strip still binding it tight. He hands it over. "Heard rumors of a deal going south."
The man turns the money over in his hands before pocketing it and leading Clint down the hall. They bring him into a room full of men in expensive suits drinking and smoking. Clint thinks they need to stop watching so many bad mob movies.
"Boss," the man who had been on the right says. He slides the money across the table.
The one who had been on the left pats Clint down. Clint watches who the other guard nods to, watches the man look interested, and watches as the man next to him reaches out to take the money.
Vasyl is the one not moving. The one reaching for the money is second in command? Another flunkie? The intel on him hadn't been great, and there hadn't been any clear pictures of anyone on his payroll. Well, no one important anyways.
The guard finishes his pat down and Clint makes his move as the man's standing up and off guard. Clint's elbow smashes into the man's face and his other hand grabs the man's gun, and Clint gets two shots off before he has to dive to avoid the room's reaction.
He doesn't waste time checking to make sure that he hit Vasyl and Vasyl's decoy. He fires off a couple distraction shots so he can get the door open and escape into the hallway. People are already rushing back. Clint wonders if they heard the shots or if there's an alarm system. He hopes it's the first. Alarm system with make his escape much more complicated.
He dodges a shot, fires off his gun again and slips into the closest door he can find. There's a man having a private blackjack game that for some reason involves half naked women. Clint doesn't question, he just shoots the dealer who's reaching for a gun and locks the door.
Clint drops his empty gun, grabs the dealer's gun and pushes the chips towards the shell-shocked man, before searching for a way out of the room. He's clearly not going through the door, but there are no other doors and no windows.
Ceiling it is then.
He pops open the vent, grateful that it's big enough for him to fit in, and he hoists himself up as he hears something wriggling the doorknob. They're going to break in soon, and it's going to be obvious where he went. He needs to move faster.
He scrambles down the vent shaft, in the opposite direction of the people who are chasing him, and he's relieved when he finds the one that goes up. He's slower going up, because he has to press his body against the edges to keep him from sliding down, but soon he's busting out and on the roof.
There are three men stationed on the roof. Clint shoots one and dives to the left, firing off two more shots before leaping off the roof. He lands and rolls on the next roof, but when he springs to his feet, a bullet grazes his shoulder. Another shoots clean through his leg. He curses as he falls to the ground.
He can hear shouting, and he's sure they're getting back-up. They're going to be on him in a second. He needs to move. He forces himself to his feet, and he hobbles to the edge of the roof. It's not that far to next rooftop, and that one's lower than this one. He should be able to make it, and if he doesn't, well, he'd rather die by landing on the sidewalk than being shot or tortured by the enemy.
He jumps.
His leg screams in pain when he lands. He bites his hand to keep from screaming out loud.
He gets across three more roofs before his leg hurt too much to move let alone jump. They're going to follow him here. This isn't good.
He looks around him for something to use. He's on a residential building, because there's laundry hanging up. He can use the rope to strangle someone if they get close enough. But if they get that close then one hit to his leg will incapacitate him.
He looks down at his leg. He's bleeding pretty heavily. First order of business, keep himself from bleeding out. He grabs a shirt off the line and starts tearing it into strips so he can bind his wound.
"Hey!" a female voice says sharply. "What do you think you're doing?"
Clint has his gun trained on her in an instant. Her being a young woman, probably no more than twenty five. She goes from angry that someone's stealing her laundry to scared, and Clint only feels a moment of guilt. He can hear the angry voices getting closer. He needs cover. More importantly, he needs help.
"You know Vasyl?" Clint asks. "The owner of the casino?"
The girl's lip curls in disgust. "Who doesn't."
Good. He can work with this. "I just shot him in the head."
The woman looks at him, looks at his gun, and then cocks her head as she hears the people coming. In an instant, she's at Clint's side, retying his wound for him.
"Put the gun away," she says. "You aren't shooting anyone in this building."
"I certainly hope not," he says.
Clint spends a whole day in the cellar of the complex, hiding under a blanket with someone's dead grandfather. It isn't the first time he's had to hide with a dead body, but he was really hoping that it would be the last.
Clint recites as much of The Outsiders as he can to himself, and when he his mind becomes too scrambled to do that he names every SHIELD personnel he can remember. After that he names the Avengers and all their code names (Natasha takes him a long time). When he's too far gone to do that he names bow types.
Once he gets to a continuous loop of One more minute, and I'm free. One more minute, and I'm free, he loses track of time. And then Aneta, the woman he met on the roof, is pulling the sheet back and saying, "I think we're good, come on."
Between the lack of sleep, lack of food, blood loss, ad whole lying next to a dead body for hours, Clint's unsteady on his feet. He winces when he puts too much weight on his leg, and he has to lean on Aneta to get out of the basement.
"I need a little more help," Clint says. "I'm sorry to impose, but I need you to get me somewhere."
They sneak out that night after Clint scans the area looking for threats. He thinks they're clear. He hopes they're clear. He doesn't want Aneta getting killed because of him.
She helps him to his safe house, and Clint gives her a portion of the money he'd stolen from Kyrylo. She tries to give it back and then she tries to stay with him until someone comes to help him, but he doesn't want her getting any more involved than she already has.
As soon as he's alone, he calls Sitwell. "I'm ready to go home."
"We're ready to have you home. How urgent?"
Clint checks his wound. The edges are starting to crust and turn yellow. That's not good. "As soon as possible."
He hangs up and cleans the wound as best as he can and re-bandages it. And then he sits against the wall and puts in his headphones. He can't risk sleeping, because his head is fuzzy, and his wound is infected, and he might not wake up if he closes his eyes.
Coulson's voice fills his ears as Clint restarts his recording of My Side of the Mountain.
He starts to float, his mind separating from his body, the words floating through his ears after only a few minutes.
He hears footsteps, and he's not sure if they're real or just in his head. If they're real he should do something. Are footsteps bad? Maybe. What should he be doing? He can't remember. He can't think.
"Clint?" someone asks, but his name is distorted, drawn out and fuzzy.
"Banjo?" he asks. That's who comes and rescues him from the forest. Helps him when he gets sick. When he gets lonely.
There are hands lifting him up. There's another hand on his forehead. They're dragging him away. He can't go away. Not yet. He needs Frightful. He can't go anywhere without Frightful.
"Frightful," he mumbles.
"Shit, he's hallucinating."
Clint closes his eyes and finally lets sleep take him over.