Yes, hello, enjoy a fight scene that I 100% have given up on and am just throwing your way to get it out of the way. Ok? Ok. Love you. Bye.
"You've got this, y'know. I have no doubts."
"That makes one of us, at least…"
"I mean it, Katie. Look, if you're not up for it then-"
"Screw you, old man, I can run this mission in my sleep!"
"Then why do you want to quit it?"
The look she gave Clint broke his heart, made all the aches and pains that had him in the hospital bed in the first place seem miniscule. She stalled, eyes turning sadder than he's seen in anyone her age. He scooted over just the slightest in the small bed, lifting his left arm to move the IV tube out of the way so she could climb in next to him. She did so without any hesitation and curled right up to him.
"What if I don't live up to you?" She whispered when the silence between them stretched. He squeezed just a little tighter a little tighter to ground her. "What if no one accepts there's a new Hawkeye? Even if it's just until your arm heals… People mightn't like it."
"People don't care that much about me." Clint laughed at his self depreciation, getting a half assed slap to the gut as a reprimand. "We all know it's true. But screw the public opinion - the team loves you and are overjoyed to have you along. Just follow Caps orders, keep your head on a swivel, and shoot straight."
"Wish you'd follow those rules sometimes…" She grumbled, tucking her head into his side to hide her face. She was nervous, so the tears were understood. Clint would ignore them if she wanted him to.
"If you decide tomorrow you're not up to it, I'll talk to Cap for you. Make up some excuse that makes it my fault, ok?"
"No, no. I want to try give this a go." Kate eventually resigned. Clint glanced down at her to see her eyes slipped closed, hand gently gripping the thin t-shirt he was wearing like it was her lifeline right now. "Just… You have big shoes to fill, Hawkeye."
"Please." Clint laughed, her smile was worth the way it tugged wrong on his still healing ribs. "We both know you're the better Hawkeye…"
Follow Caps orders, keep your head on a swivel, and shoot straight.
Clint really wished she hadn't listened to those rules this time around. He watched Kate's peaceful face as he carried her bridal style through some long ass corridor he hadn't seen before. Even though the knock was hard enough to cause some blood at the back of her head, she didn't seem in pain.
Whatever little bit of medical knowledge he had screamed at him that something like that could be a bad thing just as easily as it could be a good thing.
Once he had released Zelda's cuffs and gathered Kate into his arms, Nighthawk had started them walking - Zelda infront of Clint once again while Nighthawk ensured the gun stayed trained on the back of his head from behind. They had started downwards again, three floors further than the document level, until they ran out of stairs and all that was left was a long ass corridor.
Clint and Bucky knew that there was some kind of underground escape. The Circus were known for it, and their plans of the area confirmed it too. Old tunnels criss crossed this whole area from some kind of war time era. Clint couldn't say which one, they never bothered to look into them anymore than seeing where they all lead to. All Clint could say was that they were dark, dusty, disgusting, and confusing in all the wrong ways. Clint had one of the best memories and eyes out there, and even he was confused after walking for just ten minutes.
Zelda ahead of him seemed to know where they were going, though. Manoeuvring through the darkness like it was second nature to her. The only sound following them the whole time was their own footsteps. Clint was more hyper focused on the breathing sounds of Kate in his arms, making sure that she was still alive while looking dead ahead.
The corridor continued on for who-knows-how much further in front of them, though Zelda took a slight left turn to one of the many fire exit doors lining the walls. Through it Clint could just make out some stairs and he started climbing after Zelda without question. He really didn't want a bullet in the back of his head, that would ruin his day even more.
He knew that Nighthawk was itching to put one there, even when they were allies he was probably envisioning it.
In the back of his mind, as they reached the top of the stairs and made their way through another maze of tunnels, Clint was pretty happy that Steve didn't decide to send himself to watch Ronin. A sheen of sweat was forming on his brow just from carrying Kate all this time. He couldn't imagine doing this with a knocked out Steve.
Come on Hawkeye… Wake up and we can take 'em…
Sure, it would be some battle with a gun trained Clint's way and the pair of Hawkeye weaponless; but they've been in worse situations before. He could take them alone, already had scenarios forming in his mind, but he needed Kate alert enough in all those situations to at least run away from the fight.
"This is our stop." Nighthawk sounded too smug behind Clint as Zelda opened a large metal door. Clint couldn't blame the man - he'd be a smug criminal too if he managed to capture an Avenger.
Once the door was fully opened Clint had to squint his eyes - sharp white light spilling through and assaulting his eyes. The dimness of the tunnels had him thinking that he was going to some horribly stereotypical criminal bunker. What actually greeted him was a seemingly long forgotten bakery of some kind - coffee shop Clint guessed once he stepped into the room.
A counter top with a refrigerated display unit sat gathering dust - tables and chairs stacked high in the corner opposite it. The main door and windows were shuttered on the outside of the shop - too secure to attempt any kind of escape without the right tools.
"Lay her down here." Zelda finally spoke when she moved behind the counter top, pointing to the end of it while she untied a rope she had taken from God knows where.
They had led him here way too easily, it had to be a main space of theirs. Clint figured, as he lay Kate down as gently as he could, that they had to have all kinds of toys hidden around here. He'd just have to get some kind of opening to have a look around and find them.
His arms automatically went behind his back as soon as he stood straight from laying Kate down, feeling the press of a pistol against the back of his skull. A small smirk found its way to his face, half expecting a pistol whip for allowing the man to get that close to him.
Once his hands were tied Manfredi seemed to relax a little bit and moved Clint to stand in the middle of the room. Zelda was just finishing tying Kate's hands to the leg of the countertop. Intricate and tight knots - they didn't want her moving any time soon.
"So," Clint finally found his voice - looking between the pair that brought him here when Zelda finally stood. "I get to meet who's in charge now?"
"When he's ready." Nighthawk answered with a nod to a wooden door behind the counter. The stores supply room in its past life, Clint guessed.
Zelda was more quiet than ever - not meeting Clint's eye (well, Clint's cowl's eye) at all as she moved to the aforementioned door, entering without a knock and closing it softly behind her.
Nighthawk gave a low whistle, taking Clint's attention from the door to the man. He had hopped up onto the countertop just above Kate, facing out Clint's direction. The whistle had come from inspecting Clint's katana in his hand - still sheathed.
Clint's jaw tightened just a little as the man examined the case with an impressed nod.
"This is nice. Authentic?"
"Older than you and I combined." Clint confirmed. His eyes glanced at the gun sitting on the counter next to Nighthawk. He could get the rope undone in no time, but the eight foot or so distance between the pair meant that Clint would have to step and leap to grab it.
Too risky - especially since Clint knew the man would still be on guard for an attack like that.
"No kidding." He hummed, carefully removing the Katana from it's home and pointing the tip Clint's way. The hold was tight and sloppy. A blade like that deserved better. "I just take this and those robes and I'm Ronin, right?"
Clint narrowed his eyes and stood a little taller at the slight threat. The guy was friendlier speaking to him now than he has been in all their interactions. It unnerved Clint.
"Takes a lot more than that." Clint shook his head, willing himself to calm.
Nighthawk hummed in thought, watching the blade slice through the air as he spun it like a toy. The Ronin side of Clint's brain was planning the man's slit throat at the lack of respect.
"Suppose you guys have to learn a little of this outdated shit." It was a ruse to get Clint riled up, not a friendly conversation. Give him a reason to put a bullet in Ronin's head and claim self defence. Clint was better than falling for that.
The small smirk Manfredi sent Clint's way at the silence meant he knew it wouldn't work, too.
A small moan, slight movement, was all the indication that Kate gave at being awake. It was enough for both men to notice, Nighthawk didn't seem to give a shit though and Clint wasn't about to make it known to the man how much he cared for her well being.
"Any good with this thing? Haven't heard a body count from a Ronin for a few years, so can't imagine you're anything better than an amateur."
"Untie me and I'll show you just how good I am."
"Now there's an idea." Nighthawk's smirk widened as he hopped down from the counter top, sheathing the blade once more. "Boss is a swordsman after all… Think he mentioned wanting a fight with you."
Clint raised his chin at the challenge, about to reply that he'd take anyone anywhere, when the wooden door opening took his attention.
Up close and personal, no longer seeing him on a grainy tv screen, it was clearly not Jacques currently staring his way. The man taking the Swordsman mantle was sturdy - wide built and stocky. He stood roughly the same height as Clint, slightly towering over Zelda who stood behind him.
Even though Clint knew that the man wasn't Jacques, seeing that mask staring at him turned him right back into that terrified teenager he once was.
"Ronin, it's a pleasure." The man started, calm and friendly and more mid-west than Clint was expecting. It tugged at something in the back of Clint's mind.
The man in the doorway drummed his fingers on the hilt of the sword hanging by his side, impatient. The other hand rest freely and comfortably behind his back, making Clint's own confined wrists itch for freedom. He wasn't sure what the man was waiting for in response to the greeting, but he seemed to give up and look Kate's way instead,
His head tilted slightly to the side - contemplating.
"Probably a bad move - taking another Hawkeye." Clint let the words tumble out, succeeding in the attempt to get the man's attention back on him. He really didn't need Kate getting any more hurt on his account.
Swordsman stared at Clint a moment more than Clint felt comfortable with. He made a humming sound and turned his head slightly to look back at Zelda.
"They were all there?"
"Think so. It was a large attack, definitely this one and Widow, and someone laying down fire." Zelda replied with a nod. Clint frowned a little more.
The man was weighing up his options here, trying to see just how fucked having an Avenger as a prisoner made him. But he seemed way too calm about it.
"Joey, be a dear and cut him loose." Manfredi looked just as confused as Clint felt, looking at Swordsman with eyebrows raised.
The man in charge didn't clarify any further - just moved from the doorway to stand in front of Clint instead. Clint kept his posture straight and his breathing steady - even as Nighthawk moved behind him to take the ropes from his hands.
"You've caused me a lot of hassle." The man's voice was low, dangerous. Through the mask Clint could swear he could see a scowl. He let the man continue. "Knew exactly what you were when I was told you showed up. I let it slide, Zelda convinced me to let it slide, I thought a lowly SHIELD backed assassin wasn't the worst. But the Avengers?"
"You killed one of their own. Not my fault they wouldn't stay away."
There was a huff of a laugh from the man and a shake of his head before he took a step back. In one fluid motion, with the grace of only someone trained highly with the weapon could achieve, Swordsman drew his own Rapier and held the tip of it against Clint's throat.
Clint didn't flinch, didn't move a single inch, even when the man's weight shifted into a fighting stance.
"I respect the suit, respect the tradition involved- that tradition means you should respect an honest challenge." His voice was a boom now, bouncing off the walls in the empty space. It was an intimidation trick his dad used to use - showed that the person lacked any self control. Clint stored that in the back of his head for another time.
With a nod from Swordsman, Manfredi held Clint's Katana out for him. Once Clint had a firm grip on the weapon - ewwww Hydra germs - Nighthawk moved to stand behind the counter top.
Zelda had moved there too - an indistinguishable look on her face. Though Clint had only quickly glanced that direction before getting his eyes back on the man who had a blade to his throat.
"Problem is your kind never likes battling to anything other than death."
"A warrior's death is the greatest honour." Clint's reply was automatic - drilled into him from his time in this suit. "Everyone deserves a chance to fight for their life. A surprise killing is never a respectable thing to do."
"Hard pass." The man shook his head before dropping his weapon to a rest position. Clint drew his own and threw the sheath to the side, knowing that whether or not they agreed to a battle there was going to be a fight happening anyway.
"No matter what happens here - that Hawkeye wannabe is living, just going to stay here for a while. I have nothing against her." Swordsman was moving towards the barricaded door, Clint matched his movements towards the opposite side of the room. "It's just you I haven't made my mind up about."
Clint tested the swing of his blade, testing the balance, while he turned to face Swordsman. The other man had already fallen into an attacking stance - right foot poised behind his bent frame ready to launch himself, the blade in his hand raised high and pointed towards Clint.
Clint's eyes gathered this in a split second and felt his body automatically falling into a defence pose - body turned slightly at an angle to be able to dance away from the oncoming attack. He held his Katana blade across his waist, staring into the mask of the man who taught him all the skills he was about to employ.
He wondered, for the first time really since stepping foot into the room; if it wasn't Jacques who was seeking revenge then just who was it? And what the fuck did Clint do so wrong to warrant it?
The stare down was longer than Clint would have liked, both opponents measuring each other up. Clint had the slight agility factor, he was sure of it. The other man's stature and his automatic fighting stance assured him of that. It meant that if Clint kept on the defence, kept moving and kept the action flowing, he should outlast the man with ease. The more tired he would get the better chance there was of an opening for Clint to end things.
Swordsman tested the swing of his Rapier - a much heavier and longer blade than Clint's own katana. Though that wouldn't bother Clint in the slightest, he knew this going into it, he just had to be smart with his deflections.
He took a slight glance to his left to check on the other three in the room. He couldn't rule out Zelda and Manfredi getting involved in some way. Kate was awake now, he really wished she wasn't, sitting up as best she could with her hands still bound. He needed to keep the fighting away from her, keep it -
The glance away was all the distraction that Swordsman needed to break the deadlock. He charged at Clint with a pace that he wasn't expecting from a man of his size. The Rapier was held in both hands at waist level, aiming straight for a one hit shot to Clint's midsection. Clint took a half a step back and parried the strike upwards in a swooping arc, getting himself nicely into position to drop his arm to deflect the Rapier's returning downward strike. The man was already going for killer blows, but then such was the job of his sword.
A flurry rush of high and low swings, each defected by Clint as he made sure to turn the pair of duellists around to the opposite direction when he began to run out of room. The lock up continued - the only sound in the room being the harsh hit of metal on metal and the two men's heavy breaths. Once in the centre of the room Swordsman took the chance with the momentum of a downward swing to follow through and strike out wildly at Clint.
The only option was to avoid something like that, and the leap away had his back crashing harshly against the counter top. He glanced at Swordsman who had gathered his feet from the wild shot and had his Rapier held at Clint's head height. A dagger had appeared to accompany the sword in his left hand, and Clint was sure it had his name on it.
Movement over Clint's left shoulder had him jumping away from the counter top. He looked Manfredi's way with a slight frown, even while his Katana was busy keeping contact with Swordsman's own blade. Nighthawk sent Clint a smirk and shrugged, arms raising slightly.
"Just enjoying the view." He said innocently; as if Clint would believe that.
Still though, Clint had to turn his attention back to the danger at hand as each man circled each other. Clint couldn't see the expression behind the man's mask, but his shoulders were already showing signs of deep breathing and strain. The Rapier wasn't meant for long battles, it was starting to show already,
Someone trained to Jacques standards should know that…
"I'm hurt." Swordsman feigned upset, knocking Clint's Katana experimentally once. It didn't budge in Clint's grip. "To think I wouldn't fight fair."
"Not really in your nature." Clint spat back, wary now that the circling had his back to the former Hydra agent once more. He had to hope Kate was alert enough to warn him if anything would come.
"Fighting dirty against a Ronin is some seriously bad luck." Swordsman shook his head at even the notion. Clint's eyes narrowed, watching the other man knock the swords together once more. "Into the back room, guys. Leave me and these two."
"But boss-"
"I'll let you watch me kill him, Joey." Swordsman cut the man off, a hint of a smirk in his voice. Clint took another step towards the door, circled closely by Swordsman once more. "Go on, let me have my fun."
The third tap the man gave Clint's sword was that little bit more forceful, so Clint planted his right foot and shoved, causing the man to lose his footing backwards in a spin.
It didn't take long for him to recover, and Clint had to crouch just the slightest to brace himself as the man charged once more - this time dagger leading with his Rapier held out to the side.
Clint spun to avoid the hit, using the momentum of the spin to draw his own dagger that was attached to his lower back. The Rapier was coming at him at a blinding pace, the arc high and fast and it took all Clint had to raise both his katana and his dagger to use them both to block the blow.
His hands were too high, his midsection exposed, so Swordsman took the chance with the close proximity and his sword caught to slice out with his dagger.
It sliced through Clint's robes just as he released his hold on the Rapier, the sound of metal scraping on metal as the sword collided with the armour behind his robes. That would have been a dangerous cut, and Clint took the moment of a space while Swordsman returned his Rapier to an attacking position to prepare himself for another strike.
Clint should have the stamina advantage on paper, but lord his lungs were starting to burn with the strain of defending blow after blow. He wasn't as young as he once was, and he was starting to feel it.
Strike after strike came, some high and some low, and Clint was beginning to waver in his defence. The backwards steps he had to take pushed him closer and closer to the chairs and desks piled up in the corner. Once close enough, and once a downward swing was coming, Clint dove behind one of the old wooden chairs. The blade lodged itself into the top of the wood - the strike hard and heavy enough to send splinters flying - and for the first time in the fight one of the pair let out a curse. It was a desperate growl as Swordsman tried to rip the blade free, and Clint took his chance from behind the chair to kick it with force at the man.
It sent him reeling backwards, the force enough to break the chair just enough for the Rapier to be pulled free, and it took no time at all for the man to throw swing after swing at an advancing Clint
Clint deflected the swings with his own Katana, closing the gap enough to lull the man into a false sense of security. A couple feet away and the man did what Clint had hoped - he led a charge at Clint with the dagger in his left hand, a forceful scream leaving his throat as he became desperate.
Clint took the blow on his hand, allowing the dagger to slice and draw the first blood of the contest. It gave Clint the position to trap the dagger between his own two blades, giving one harsh tug on the man's arm to make the dagger fall to the ground. Swordsman stumbled back just the slightest at the force of the twist, and while Clint was still in an off position he kicked out at Clint's groin height.
Instinct had Clint jumping back in a crouched position, getting the area away from the kick that would surely incapacitate any man. He was out of position and off balance, yet Swordsman made the mistake of going for a low strike, allowing Clint to a) see it coming even with his head down and b) swing his Katana across his body to deflect the blow.
The charging Rapier was heavy enough to knock Clint's sword away and snap his wrist painfully to the side, but it was enough of a deflection to get Clint standing properly and have his Katana raised high and ready towards Swordsman's head.
Another stare down, both their breaths more ragged now. Clint's hand stung where he was sliced, now his wrist was throbbing, and still Swordsman was standing without a visible mark.
This 'in one piece' mentality Clint had wasn't working. He had to change it up.
He was lulled into the false sense of security once, that lack of control coming through in spades and creating dangerous overconfidence.
With a deep breath in and out Clint let his hand that was holding the katana waver dramatically, giving Swordsman enough of an opening and enough cockiness to charge at Clint Rapier point first. Clint took half a step to his left, turning his body at a slight angle, and took the sacrificial - and fucking painful - slice to his left side. Just as the blade cut into his skin Clint clamped his arm tight around the other man's, using enough force to keep him there even when he started to panic pull.
With swift and practiced hands Clint quickly threw the dagger from one hand to his other, freeing up his right hand to grab the man's trapped wrist. In a swift motion Clint twisted the wrist to pull his arm behind his back, the Rapier clattering to the floor and a scream leaving the man's throat at the force of it.
Within two seconds of Swordsman charge Clint had the tables turned. The man was slammed harshly against the wall, pinning his free arm between his torso and the bricks while Clint kept a painfully tight twist on the one behind his back.
"Enough!" Clint barked into the struggling man's ear, though his own panting made it come out a little weaker than he intended. The slice in his side was oozing blood, he could feel it, and it fucking stung.
Clint raised his free hand, the one holding the dagger, and used it to slice into the man's right bicep. A deep, sawing motion. Enough to draw a scream from the man without doing life threatening damage.
"Yield and I'll stop chopping your arm off! You've lost, face it."
"Stop being so dramatic, Clint." His voice was strained with pain, but Clint's name came from his mouth loud and clear and full with the intention he wanted.
It caused Clint to falter, grip loosening just enough on the man's hold to almost have him struggling fully free. The man's blood spilled down his dagger and onto his hand, but all Clint could do in that moment was stare at the back of the purple mask he had been battling.
"Clint?"
Shit.
He was already holding his breath from the name, but coming from Kate's lips had a whole new level of heartache hit him. He let go of the pressure on the dagger so he could turn enough to look Kate's way. She was alert enough now, having watched all the action in front of her this whole time. Her eyes were slightly wide as she looked Clint up and down, gears clicking into place in her mind. Even though Clint was completely covered in black and gold he had never felt more exposed in his life.
"Kate, I-"
Clint's attempt at any kind of explanation to the young woman were cut short by an ear piercing bang. A gunshot, coming from the man he had pinned, and it took a moment for Clint's mind to realise it wasn't aimed at Kate in any way.
The blindingly searing pain from his thigh hit him hard and fast, enough to have a scream ripping its way through his throat. The pain had him stumbling back, releasing his hold fully on Swordsman so he could drop to the ground and apply some pressure to the offending area.
The fucker had a weapon hidden somewhere. Clint could have kept pressure on the mans arm, shouldn't have gotten distracted so easily, he let go enough for him to get the gun and - shit this is bad.
Everything was white, his vision coming and going as he tried up the pressure to ease the pain. All it did was send more blood pooling through his fingers.
Everything clicked somewhat back into place when he felt a boot on his shoulder, pushing him back from his sitting position to instead lay on his back. The loss of pressure on the wound had him groaning and writhing in pain.
The man he had previously pinned was above him, the dagger still deep in his right arm with blood dripping from it, though it was the pistol in the same hand that held Clint's eyes. He couldn't see behind the mask, but Clint was sure the smirk was shit eating.
"Dirty cheat." Clint growled through gritted teeth. Instincts had him reaching back down with his right hand to his gunshot wound, wanting any kind of pressure to relieve the searing pain there.
"Cheating? In a fight? Be realistic, Clint." The man sighed with a shake of his head. Clint could do nothing to stop Swordsman when he reached down and ripped the Ronin cowl from Clint's head. It was done with enough force to send his head snapping back down painfully, making him see stars for a moment. He closed his eyes to try blink them away, and to quell the shame inside of having his cowl removed.
It was one of the most disrespectful moves anyone could pull on a Ronin, on any warrior, literally pulling their identity away from them. Clint could never recover the honour of the suit after an action like that.
He swallowed hard and forced his eyes back open, not ready to lose the battle for consciousness just yet. It was getting harder, though. Those black spots behind his eyes getting larger and larger with each blink.
Rolling his head to the side Clint saw Swordsman lean down for Clint's previously discarded Katana. A new found energy spike hit him when seeing that, causing him to ignore the protests of his aching body to roll over.
"Don't you dare touch that." Clint growled louder, making his way to his hands and knees with enough effort to cause sweat to drip from his brow. "It's mine, you dick."
"Cute." The man laughed, open and loud, at Clint's attempt of fighting on. Clint looked up at him during his struggle to get upright just in time to see his boot slam down on his left shoulder.
No sound this time, not even a yelp of pain, but lord his leg wound screamed loud enough in his body to make up for it. His arms gave way from the force behind the boot and suddenly he was face down on the floor, cheek pinned so he could still look out. He locked eyes with Kate while the man's boot remained on Clint's shoulder.
"You're like a cockroach." The man above him sighed, and Clint stilled when he felt the tip of the Katana rest on the soft spot of his opposite shoulder. That would do some damage, damage that Clint wasn't sure was recoverable.
Kate's eyes were hard to read. There was some emotion there, and Clint set his jaw to try to snap her out of it, try get her moving and out of the shock she was in. More so he selfishly wanted them clear and friendly, like they would always be when looking at him. Friendly was absolutely the last thing he would love to see after the year he's had.
There was going to be no way to get that, though. She had just found out he was alive and well, after all this time he was living and breathing. Now she was going to be forced to watch him die all over again. He hoped he did enough to show with his own eyes how sorry he was for that.
"I'm not sure how many times this makes it - me trying to kill you." The pressure on the blade increased, Clint winced. "You want the blade so bad, though? You can have it."
This time Clint did scream, loud and raw. Even the hardest trained soldier wouldn't be able to keep quiet when a sword stabs straight through your shoulder, especially when done hard enough to pin into the floor beneath.
The blackness was approaching as he heard Kate throw insults and threats the man's way. Clint wanted to tell her to shut up, keep quiet to save herself, though he did believe that they weren't stupid enough to try kill Kate too.
The fight was leaving him, he tried, struggled against the boot and the blade even as everything screamed in his body to just rest. Even if he wanted to fight on he was literally pinned. No way out, no way to escape this.
"You've always been a pest." The man growled above him. Clint closed his eyes, waiting. He knew the voice, it pulled at the back of his mind even harder than before. Something there screaming at him to remember, but the screams of pain were just that little bit greater. "Sleep tight, Clint."
A sharp pain to the back of his head followed. It was enough for the blackness to fully take him, sending all the pains away.