Hey! Sorry I forgot about these… but here's the disclaimer: I DON'T OWN MARVEL AND I'M NOT RICK OR SHANNON PLEASE DON'T SUE ME. Though if someone did try to sue me, we would both be disappointed. The most expensive thing I own is my guitar, and it's pretty beat up. (But I love it)

Anyway, that disclaimer goes for this whole fic. I won't remember to do it every chapter, so there's no point in doing that. Now read on!

Prologue

Clint POV

After chatting with the kids for a little while longer (during which time little Lucas came upstairs, and Clint was stunned at the seven-year-old's appearance. He was almost identical to Peter, though the younger boy's eyes seemed even bigger and browner than his older cousin's, giving him an air of pure innocence. Clint was extremely relieved to see no tracker around Lucas's wrist), Clint left and hailed a cab to take him back to the Avengers Tower. As he stared out the window and watched the scenery blur past, Clint thought about what had just happened.

[Flashback to when Clint arrived at the Moore House]

Clint looked up at the building in front of him. It was a regular brownstone, with a sign that Moore House in blue letters next to the door.

He was pretty sure this was the right place. Clint hadn't really read all the details of this 'poorly planned publicity stunt', as Tony had called it. He had mostly skimmed the papers he had been handed. He knew that this was a foster that housed some enhanced kids, and that Fury and a few other powers that be were trying to clear up the whole 'Sokovian Accords Avenger Battle' mess through stunts like this. Especially since the U.S. government had passed an altered version of the Accords, throwing the States into chaos.

The other members of the team were each at different foster homes and places like them across the city, including a few slightly outside the city's edge. Whoever chose the places seemed to think it would be smart to split everyone up, which was probably a good idea, seeing as things had been decidedly... frosty between most of the team members since the Rouges had returned and everyone had moved back into the tower together.

Deciding that he had stalled enough, Clint walked up to the door and knocked.

"Just a second!" A woman's voice called from inside the house. A moment later, the door opened to reveal an older lady, maybe early to mid-fifties, with greying brown hair and a warm smile.

"You must be Mr. Barton," The woman said, opening the door wider. "I'm Patricia Moore. Please, come in."

Clint stepped inside the house, looking around as he did. It seemed like a normal house, mostly tidy, but with a few toys out on the living room carpet and a couple jackets tossed over the backs of chairs.

"The kids are upstairs right now, I thought it might be best if you met them somewhere where they felt comfortable. Two of them are out right now, but they should be back any minute. There's always traffic in New York." The woman laughed and Clint smiled.

"Here, follow me," Patricia said, leading Clint up a staircase. She was silent until reached the top. "They're all very sweet kids who have been through more than anyone should," Patricia said while turning to face Clint, a stern look on her face. "If you upset any of them..." The woman trailed off as she stared at Clint.

Clint suspected the sentence was partly left unfinished so that the woman wouldn't have to voice a threat and partly because Patricia was unsure of threating an Avenger. (Or Ex-venger.)

Actually, maybe the latter reason wasn't right. The older woman was holding Clint's stare without backing down, and he could see the steely fire in her eyes. She deeply cared for these kids, and truly didn't want to see them hurt, even if she had to threaten Hawkeye himself.

"I understand." Clint said. "I would never upset any of them purposefully, and I will attempt not to do so unknowingly either."

Patricia relaxed slightly. "Good." She said with a firm nod, then turned and opened the door.

Inside the room were a set of bunk beds, another bed, two desks, and five teenagers. All of them looked over at Clint and Patricia as the latter opened the door.

"Kids, Mr. Barton's here." The woman said, gesturing to Clint. Clint waved. What was he supposed to do? Tony was right, this was a poorly planned publicity stunt. Of course, he would never tell Tony that he was right about something.

"Hey." said one teen, who sitting on the regular bed with another boy. "I'm Percy."

"Hey to you too," Clint said as he studied the kid. Percy had longish black hair pulled back in a short ponytail, though it didn't seem that it was a specific style. It looked more like James's had when he was the Winter Soldier, long because he hadn't bothered to cut it. There was also a silvery white-gray streak running through Percy's hair. The kid also had intense sea green eyes, and Clint thought he spotted a bit of a tattoo peeking out from underneath of the left sleeve of the kid's dark blue hoodie.

The boy sitting next to Percy gave a small wave. "Hi, I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

Clint waved back.

Peter looked younger than Percy, as Percy looked about seventeen. Clint would have placed Peter at maybe fourteen or fifteen. The young teen had brown hair and big brown eyes and was wearing a t-shirt with some sort of science equation on it.

"I'm Doreen!" Clint looked to where two more teens were sitting on the bottom bunk of the bunk beds, with one more sitting on top. The one who had spoken was a smiling teenage girl, seemly about the same age as Peter, and she was the only girl in the room. The girl- Doreen- had very short red hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing an outfit of black leggings, a short blue and white checkered skirt, and a white t-shirt with a multicolored peace sign on it. She was by far the most colorful person in the room. "Nice to meet you," Doreen said, still smiling.

"Nice to meet you too," Clint said.

"I'm Chase, and he's Key," the boy sitting next to Doreen said, while pointing to the kid on the top bunk above him, who gave Clint a wave. 'Interesting,' thought Clint. 'Everyone introduced themselves, except for Key. Chase introduced him.' Clint filed this thought away, feeling it might be important. Then he looked back at the two boys. "Hi." Clint said, returning Key's wave.

Chase looked about sixteen, and so did Key. Both boys had blonde hair, although Chase's was a tumble of short golden curls and Key's was a lighter blonde and looked to be purposely styled in somewhat messy spikes. Furthermore, Chase's eyes were a bright emerald green while Key's were ice blue. Their skin tones were almost identical however, and what with Case introducing Key and all, Clint guessed that maybe the two were brothers and he had mis-guessed one of their ages? Or maybe they were fraternal twins...

"Well, have fun!" Patricia startled Clint out of his thinking with a smile as she left the room. "I'll send Lucas and Estelle up when they get back."

"Wait-" Clint started, but it was too late, the woman was almost halfway down the stairs already.

"So..." Clint said nervously. "Wassup?"

Percy raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Really? Wassup? That's the best you got?"

"I don't see you coming up with anything better," Clint responded, a little miffed. What was he supposed to say?! And 'wassup' was always a solid opener.

Percy shrugged, still smiling slightly. "I never said I could do any better, I was just wondering if you could."

The other kids laughed at that, and Clint smiled too. "Alright, fair point. I had no idea what to say."

"I wouldn't either," said Chase. "I mean, what's the point of this actually? What are we supposed to talk about?"

Clint paused dramatically. "I... have absolutely no idea."

The teens started laughing again, and so did Clint.

Then he saw the bracelet on Chase's wrist.

"Wait a second," Clint said, giving all the kids a quick glance to confirm his thoughts. "Are those all tracking bracelets?"

The laughter in the room quickly died out.

"Yeah." Peter said quietly.

[next is the previous chapter then the beginning of this chapter]

"We're here, sir" the cab driver said as he pulled up to the Avengers Tower.

"Thanks," said Clint as he paid the man. "Have a nice day."

As he climbed out of the cab, he remembered the way the mood in the room had sobered when he mentioned the tracking bands, and the way the tracking bracelet around Estelle's six-year-old had looked. He and the others needed to have a serious conversion. Now.

Wassup? ;) Hope you liked this chapter, I know it's short. Hopefully the next one will be longer. I'll be sticking with Clint's POV for a little bit while I find my rhythm. But don't worry, there will be other POVs. :) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I would love it if you review! - Ellie