AN: This is one of the prompts from those prompt blogs, not by a request like all the others.
Tumblr prompt: You are an assassin. A child has just come up to you, handed you all their pocket money and asked you to kill their abusive relative. (Plot twist: You give her back her money and kill that asshole for free)

Drabble 43-Keep Your Money

Danny had long since made peace with the fact that he's a horrible person. Not because he was a liar or a backstabber. But because the killed people for for his afterlife (Sometimes actually stabbing someone's back). He himself had been murdered by his father, for being a freak would not stand in his household. Later Danny went back and haunted him for a month before killing him. After all, he couldn't have known he was what his parents hated most. Not until it was already to late.

He spent most of his time in the human realm rather than the ghost realm. He was still attached to the place, and he wasn't quite ready to let it go. Especially when there were people to be killed.

He had a code, of course. No children and no animals. Those were it. But anyone else was free game. Like Mafia bosses, bad cops, and more recently, bad parents.

He was sulking in a barn, looking for a safe place to rest, when a small blonde child ran in, crying. He didn't seem to notice Danny.

He was wearing a purple shirt and tattered pajama bottoms, and the left side of the boys face was swollen. Danny's eyes flashed red as he squeezed his fists in rage.

Once the boy wiped away the tears and calmed down a bit, he looked around, taking in the silence of the barn.

And that's when be spotted Danny.

"Who-who are you?!" He asked. Danny held up his hand and pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing his snowy hair and kind, green eyes.

"I'm a ghost assassin," he replied calmly. It probably wasn't the best way to go, but the had no time to sugar coat things. Not when he had to find a new hideout.

"An assin? Can you repeat it?" The boy asked, confused. Danny did, a bit slower this time, and noticed how the boy stared intently at his mouth.

"Are you deaf?" Danny asked. The boy nodded and placed a hand over one of his ears.

"Yeah, cause of my dad. Hey, assassins kill people, right?" The boy asked. Danny signed a yes to him, cocking his head to the side at who the boy wanted dead. After all, he was a child. Children shouldn't want anyone dead.

W-H-Y, Danny spelled out. He knew some sign language , but not all. The boy wordlessly came up to him and handed him $2.37 and a button with some lint trapped in it.

"Can you take care of my dad?"

Danny looked at the boy, with his messy blonde hair and bright, hopeful eyes as they stared at him like he was sent from the angels. Danny squeezed the money in his hand in anger before gently giving it back to the child. The swollen eye, deafness, and the weird way the kids nose was shaped all stood out to Danny. It took him a fraction of a second to put two and two together.

"No need to pay me for this one," he said.

He flew out of the barn and into the parent's bedroom before looking down at the father. His side was gross and messy. There were empty beer bottles and an unloaded gun near his night stand that had a broken lamp on it.

It was only a few seconds. Painless, him dying in his sleep, and Danny wished he could have made the man suffer, but he had to get back to the boy in the barn as his father's corpse grew colder. Partly from the ice Danny put in his heart, partly from the chill coming in from the cracked window.

He slowly flew back into the barn, watching the kid perk up as the came to a stop in front of him.

"Is it done?" He asked. Danny nodded.

"Whats your name?" He asked. The boy grinned from ear to ear, showing a missing tooth.

"Clint Barton. Man, wait till my brother hears about this!"

"No. Dont tell anyone, they wont believe you," Danny said. "However, if you ever in any need again, just give me a call."

Clint grunted as he was kicked to the side. His vision was staring to fade, and the pain in his side was excrutiating. There was definitely broken ribs, and maybe even a popped lung. He was no doctor, but he knew that that was bad.

He was kicked in the face again, and it took all of his strength not to black out. He spit some blood out of his mouth, trying to get up. But with his chest hurting and only one half-decent arm, it was a struggle.

He was going to die.

"Come on, ghost dude. I need you," the muttered under his breath. It was the only time he had ever needed his assistance. Ever since that night in the barn, he had been more open and independent. Hell , he even joined the fucking circus. But now the was having the shot beaten out of him by the Russian Mafia on stereroids, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He saw a flash of light, and saw blood that was maybe not his splatter onto the floor, before completely blacking out.

When Clint woke up again, he was at the Tower. The room was empty except for his dog and the ghost kid, who hadn't changed a bit over the years. He was still as tall and muscular as Steve, with those same kind eyes.

"You actually showed up," he wheezed. The figure looked at him, smiling bitterly.

"Yeah, well, how could I say no to my only freebee. We got history," the replied. "Nice hearing aids, by the way. They suit you."

"Thanks. Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

"Danny. But most of you humans just call me Phantom. I kinda like it."

Clint wanted to chuckle, but his chest hurt to much, so instead he let out some sort of half-wheeze, half-snuffle.

"It was nice seeing you again, Clint. If you ever need anything again, you know I'm there."

And the Danny disappeared, leaving Clint to deal with his half blind dog pouncing onto his broken arm out from excitement.

And even though he had left , Clint still let a thank you escape from his lips before patting Lucky's head and going back to sleep.