I is bad... Very very bad... I am so sorry that I missed a week! I can't believe that I did that! There is no excuse. Anywho, here is last week's chapter!

"You know, I don't want to sleep anyway," Clint moaned as he focused on his very sleepy looking teammates. After recounting his side of the mission, Thor and Tony woke. Fury bid them all farewell with his good eye looking to be flaming with anger. But now that Clint was awake, none of the Avengers wanted to sleep. Some were afraid to miss juicy private info, others wanted to make sure Clint didn't slip into coma. But no matter what, they were all afraid of losing Clint again. It was frightening to think of how close they actually had been.

"Why?" Bruce asked, having been previously declared 'the talker.' As he was the only one who had gotten Clint to ever share such private stories, they all wanted him to get the archer to open up. The reasons for such was never really given, but everyone just assumed it was the same. That they all wanted to know their teammate. Natasha had admitted that Bruce had gotten more out of Clint than she ever did in all her time with him. That had really shocked the other members of the team. They had all believed that Natasha and Clint shared everything but now they learned that Clint never shared.

"I was remembering Loki," Clint admitted after a beat. He looked away from the others as his free hand began to kneed the blanket that covered him. Natasha stiffened. Clint didn't mention his time with Loki to her at all. Not even telling her when he had nightmares about the demi-god. Thor looked away from the archer, wishing he could undo the damage his brother caused. Tony turned to the window, wanting to give Clint privacy but too afraid that he'd miss something important. Steve shifted, feeling rather uncomfortable considering his position. Bruce sighed, knowing that what the others had said was true. Clint was only going to open up to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Clint shook his head no. "Do you want to talk?"

"About what?" Clint questioned, sounding mildly curious. He focused on Bruce to the point that his mind went back to the cave and he forgot about the others in the room. Course that also meant his mind was telling him that if he slept, he'd die. Adrenaline rushed through the archer's system and he seemed to perk up on the bed. Bruce's eyes narrowed at the movement as his mind registered that Clint might be having a flashback to the cave. Knowing that keeping Clint awake now was still rather important, Bruce made a suggestion.

"How about meeting Coulson and your start at S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Really?" Clint muttered, having thought that Bruce knew about all that. It was listed in his file and for what he knew, none of it was blackened out by high ranking information. Bruce smirked at Clint's tone. Tilting his head to the side, Bruce turned his own tone of voice into a mocking manner.

"Heard a rumor that Coulson recruited you but he wasn't your first handler," Bruce mentioned. Clint smiled, pleased that Bruce was entertained but at the same time, knowing Fury must have told the doctor. the archer shook his head. Natasha relaxed back into her seat, glad that Clint was beginning to open up even with everyone around. Tony turned around again, shifting in his seat to anxiously wait for Clint's story. Thor smiled, pleased to finally be hearing a tale from a man he was starting to call his friend. Steve watched Bruce carefully, wondering if the doctor was okay with basically tricking Clint into telling more about his life. But Bruce patiently waited for Clint to begin his story at his own pace.

"I met Coulson at a little coffee shop while I was following a mark..."

"May I sit here?" a voice inquired. Clint almost spilt his rather bland tasting coffee all over himself in surprise at the voice. Mentally cursing himself for his lack of awareness, Clint focused on the man standing behind the other seat at his table. The man was older, beginning to show signs of balding and even having his eyes grow dim in age. He was dressed in a crisp suit and seemed like a stuck up business man. Clint didn't like the look of him. While Clint just glared at the man, he waved to the rest of the shop. "There are no other seats."

"Fine," Clint growled as he began to clean up the table and scan his surroundings to look for any sign of danger. He had the table partly covered in language arts books and a notebook. Not that Clint could read any of it. But after spending the previous day on a roof top across the street where he overheated, Clint wanted to be more comfortable today. Sadly, his luck proved as bad as before as this day happened to be the shop's ten year anniversary of being open so all drinks were half off and you got a free pastry with every order. Clint was beginning to rethink his course of action by not analyzing the area before taking this particular hit.

"Russian? Hmm... Interesting language," the man commented as he looked down at the books that Clint was packing away. Clint once again cursed his luck. Of course the one person who'd sit with him would not only want to start conversing but also understood Russian. Thankfully, Clint knew a little bit of Russian but he was sorely out of practice. Maybe his luck would hold and the guy would just be able to read it and not actually speak it. "Do you speak it?"

"Not really," Clint admitted in relief when he spotted his mark getting ready to leave the now extremely crowded shop. The man took a sip from his cup and placed it on the table as Clint stood, dropping the items into his bag and moving to follow his target. Before he could even get two steps away, the man spoke. He was still as calm as before. But now Clint was strung tighter than an elastic band.

"It took Agent Stock until yesterday to realize he was being followed. But I think you've been following him longer than that," the man calmly stated. Clint froze. Only once before had someone caught him trailing someone. Thankfully, Natalia was willing to help him out. This man didn't look like he would. He looked like he'd kill Clint without really even moving. "Sit. Let's enjoy another coffee. It's on me."

Clint didn't move. He had two choices. One, run from the shop and hope the man wouldn't keep up. But, supposedly the man knew the archer's mark. If that was true, the mark could be waiting to eliminate Clint once the teen ran outside. Or, an even worse thought, the duo weren't alone and there was a sniper somewhere waiting for the order to kill Clint. Second choice, sit down with the man and wait. He might slip up and give Clint a clue on how to get away. Or, even better, Clint would be able to find his own way out. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to talk to this man, Clint glanced back at him.

"I actually hate coffee," Clint mumbled as he slowly sank back into his seat. 'Agent Stock' took a quick glance in their direction. Seeing Clint giving him a dark glare, Stock rushed out of the shop. "So now what? It's not illegal to follow someone."

"Well, that depends. But you're right. We can take no legal action on you for this. But we can tie you to a minimum of forty murders over the last year and a half," the man mentioned, calmly sipping his drink again. Clint began to fidget. He really wasn't liking this. But Natalia always told him to use his bravado. People tend to become deterred when the person they were dealing with seemed too calm. Clint relaxed back into his seat even though his left leg was bouncing like crazy.

"Only forty? Your number is a bit low there," Clint countered. The man nodded, making Clint's leg jump up and down so bad that he bumped the table a few times. Clint was beginning to see what Natalia meant by keeping a calm bravado up. It was creepy as crap. He had never seen her do it and she never really practiced with him. Mostly, she tried to teach him out of situations like this one.

"We assumed as much," was the reply. Clint tensed, wonder when there was going to be a point to all this. "Your scores in the Army was excellent."

"Yeah well. It's too bad people tend to get pissed when a sixteen year old outranks you," Clint snarled, remembering the abuse his unit gave him. They were fine working with him, but when he got the promotion they were all going for, they got jealous. The man again nodded as if he knew this before Clint even told him. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me. Agent Phil Coulson." Clint raised an eyebrow. "Agent Stock and I work with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"Lengthy. Not CIA? FBI? NSA?" Clint joked, trying to stop bouncing his leg. He knew that he needed to be able to run at a moment's notice. As lengthy as the name was, it sounded dangerous for his health. The man smiled at this.

"I used to be FBI and USMC," Coulson retorted. Clint jerked his attention to Coulson at the familiar term. He hadn't heard it in a few years but that sort of code tends to stick with a fellow.

"A jarhead? Really?" Clint laughed. Coulson shook his head. He had been gone from the Marine Corps for so long that he almost forgotten about the nickname. Though it wasn't relevant now-a-days, other members still called the Marines by that name. "I can't really see that."

"Well, believe it," Coulson stated. He raised his cup for another sip but before the cup could reach his lips, another customer bumped into his back and knocked the drink down onto his lap. For a moment, it felt like time stopped as Coulson and Clint stared at the spilt drink. It was in this moment that Clint realized he had a chance to run. Coulson looked up at Clint just in time for the customer to apologize and for Clint to jump to his feet. Abandoning the items he brought into the store, Clint spun around and vanished into the crowd. "WAIT!"

But it was too late. Clint was already slipping through the front door. Once on the sidewalk, Clint turned to disappear into the crowd that had formed around the shop but was shocked to see Agent Stock standing at the building's corner. The teen had assumed that Stock would have been called off at this point or been waiting further away. While frozen in place, Clint watched as the man moved a hand to his ear before turning to look dead at the teen. Spinning to head in the opposite direction, the archer was stunned to see an unknown man in a similar suit to Coulson's was stalking toward him. With a curse, Clint jumped into the street.

"Wait? Seriously?" Tony loudly interrupted. Clint jumped in surprise at the sudden voice. His mind snapped back into focus as the archer realized he wasn't dying in a cave. He almost couldn't believe he had forgotten about the others. As he glanced over their faces, he could see that they were all afraid he'd shut back down and wouldn't share. Sighing deeply, Clint began to realize that he couldn't and needed to tell everyone about his life. He almost laughed at Tony continuing on, unperturbed about the fact that he may have ruined the sharing for everyone. "And you didn't die?"

"No... I got really lucky for once. I was able to dodge or they stopped in time. But, you know... Thinking back on it now, I'm not sure how lucky I really was," Clint mentioned, thinking back on the whole event with a slight smile to his face. Tony turned to this others, his face showing surprise at the fact that Clint answered him. Bruce smiled, glad that Clint was willing to open up. Natasha relaxed, feeling good that Clint was finally beginning to trust his team. Steve rolled his eyes at Tony but gave his a look that told Tony he wasn't out of the woods yet. Thor smirked, pleased that his newfound friend and teammate was willing to share such stories.

"Why?" Steve asked when Clint didn't continue on. Having figured that Tony already ruined things, he couldn't make things worse. Could he? Clint winced at the captain's voice but his smile still remained. It was joined with a slightly faraway look. Bruce recognized it as one that he had while in the cave. Clint was focusing on his past. At the other's worried faces, Bruce waved it off and shook his head to stop them from questioning it.

"Cause one of the agents chasing after me decided that I'd slow down with a bullet in my leg. It normally wouldn't have if it hadn't torn through the muscle to the point that I couldn't even twitch my toes. And Coulson once mentioned that it may have nicked a main artery or something but at the time, I didn't trust anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D, so I didn't pay attention," Clint told the group. Natasha shifted forward.

"So, how did Coulson convince you to join S.H.I.E.L.D if you clearly didn't want too in the first place?" she questioned. Clint smiled.

"You didn't have to shoot him," Coulson berated the other agent as he held tight onto Clint's injured leg. Clint tried to struggle away but the bullet had ripped through his calf muscle and made every little twitch hurt. Groaning, Clint knew he was caught but stubbornly, he still tried to get away. Coulson's hand tightened on the holes to stop the bit of blood that began to leak between his fingers when Clint shifted. The pain that raced through his limb made Clint stop shifting around.

"You just said to stop him. You never requested how," the agent retorted, anger beginning to fill his voice as he glared down at the duo. Coulson rolled his eyes at the agent before mentally filing in his head that he needed to report the agent's actions and have him reviewed for duty. Quickly, the older agent dismissed the other agent before focusing on Clint. Clint watched with extreme pleasure at the other agent walked away, grumbling about Coulson on his way. Coulson shifted his grip on Clint as the other agent rounded the corner which made Clint wince at the pain. Frowning, Coulson listened to his comm to find out how long until the medics came to check on the teen.

"You gonna kill me now? Or are you just going to make me slowly bleed to death here?" Clint groaned when he spotted more blood leaking through Coulson's fingers. Grunting, Coulson looked down at the teen. Yet again, he tightened his grip at the teen's words. Clint moaned before leaning his head back against the concrete. "Please, do it quick."

"Why in the world would I kill you?" Coulson countered, wondering where exactly the teen had gotten this idea from. Clint looked up at the older agent in shock for a second before thinking it had to be a trick. Slowly, he looked away.

"Cause, I'm evil," Clint muttered, feeling it best to just admit the truth. Coulson shifted, making Clint wince yet again. A hand reached out and grabbed the teen's chin before turning his head to face the older man. Coulson's eyes were a mix of sadness and anger.

"You are not evil," he stated with as much force as he could muster. Clint snorted, trying to turn his head away again Coulson tightened his grip on Clint's chin. "You're just... Misguided."

"Misguided?" Clint tried to clarify. Coulson nodded, a soft warm smile appearing on his face.

"Besides, I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to recruit you," Coulson explained. Clint raised an eyebrow at that. After a minute of staring at Coulson, he laughed. There was no way that the older man was serious.

"Are you kidding me?" Clint called. Coulson made no comment. Just watched the teen as Clint's mind tried to wrap around the idea that someone would want him. How could he be needed? Hell, even the 'for hire' jobs that he took were hard to get. Many people only used him to make a statement. His bow and arrow weapon choice was a very nice sign that their group was after you. After a few more minutes of this, Clint began to get that Coulson was serious. "Certainly a hell of a recruitment job. Injure me before you could even mention the dental plan."

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division wants to recruit you into their service. We want to use your skills for a better purpose," Coulson explained. Clint rolled his eyes. For most of this year, he had been spent as a contract assassin, so this was making no sense now.

"So, why didn't you just hire me?" Clint groaned when Coulson shifted once again. The older agent gave him a sad smile that pretty much begged for forgiveness. "I would have taken the hit, given the right price. Why go through the trouble of recruiting me?"

"We wouldn't want you for just one mission. And you'd have a place to stay, three meals a day..." Coulson began but Clint scoffing at him, made him stop in surprise.

"Sounds a lot like jail," Clint mumbled. Coulson laughed, mentally agreeing that it did.

"It does. But, we'd keep you safe." Clint looked at him, confused. "You're name is on a lot of hit lists. Especially a lot of gangs. Jail guards can't protect you all the time."

"How would you be any different?"

"We would teach you to cover your tracks."

"I can do that already," Clint grumbled. Coulson laughed again.

"Yeah, and that's why we found you," Coulson pointed out. Clint rolled his eyes. The older agent had a point with that. "We would teach you how to fight. Especially when backed into a corner."

"I can fight," Clint whined. Coulson leveled him with a gaze. "I can!"

"We'd teach you to be better. We would also teach you the best vantage points for each hit. One where you'd never be spotted, no one would even know what happened. You would be the best ever," Coulson finished. Clint frowned. There had to be some type of catch to this whole thing.

"You'd turn a killer into a better killer? Why?"

"There are some people in this world that need to die. They are too big of a threat to be kept alive. We need people like you who can kill them from fifteen buildings away in a hurricane. Or, someone who can stalk a mark for weeks, spying on them without ever once being spotted," Coulson described. Clint frowned, shifting away from Coulson and wincing when the old agent moved his grip on the injury to keep it protected. Suddenly, Coulson could tell that Clint was uncertain. "Something wrong?"

"What if I don't want to kill them? What if I see something that you don't?" Clint asked, knowing that his marks before hand normally always threatened to kill him if he refused a hit for any reason. It was because of that that his first hit was a good man and his poor little daughter. Coulson smiled, he knew that there was still good in this kid. That was why he asked Fury to bring him in rather than kill him.

"We don't always kill people. If there is another way to stop them, we'll take it. If you have a problem with any target, make it known. The case will be reviewed. But if you don't have justifiable evidence against the mission, the higher ups may decide to send in another agent. You'll never have to kill someone you don't want to," Coulson answered. Clint stared at him. In all his time in the Army and being an assassin for hire, Clint never had so much control over his life before. Coulson could still see that Clint didn't believe him. "We don't kill because it's easier. We kill as a last resort."

"Why me? Sounds like you have enough agents. Especially better agents," Clint muttered, beginning to become self conscious. Coulson winced, having just lost two agents on his most recent mission. He wanted to admit the truth to Clint but he also didn't want to drive him away. So instead, Coulson decided to point out Clint's current skills.

"How long were you following Agent Stock?"

"About two weeks," Clint answered, sounding very wary. Coulson nodded, having known that Clint had been following the agent longer than was reported. Yet again, it just proved how much S.H.I.E.L.D needed Clint.

"Agent Stock only noticed a few days ago. He had enough time to report that he was being followed and describe you before I was already flying out here. I found evidence, very minor evidence, of someone that had been following him for weeks. We need more agents like you who can follow a mark for so long and not be noticed. You're good. We just want to make you better," Coulson explained and before Clint could argue any more about the whole thing, Coulson held up his hand. "We've been following your exploits for a while now. Not only are you an amazing distance operative, but you are a decent spy. We've recorded you bumping into your mark while slipping poison in his drink before walking away and no one was able to describe you.

"Why didn't you ever stop me?"

"Most times we noticed all this after the fact. But twice, we were chasing after the mark that you were sent after. We tried to speak to you then, but each time our agents lost track of you," Coulson stated. Clint frowned as the medics finally arrived. Coulson gave them an angry glare at the length of time it took for them to get there. One of the medics looked sheepish and muttered an apology but both the medic and Coulson knew that he'd get a talking to later. Another of the medics began preparing a sedative with his back turned to Clint. The teen watched the others with an air of suspicion. Coulson knew that the teen needed to be distracted. "So, will you join us?"

"Do I have a choice?" Clint countered, turning to glare at Coulson. The medic shifted around and inserted the needle before Clint could even see it. Feeling the pinprick of pain, Clint turned a glare on the man. Coulson smiled, knowing that Clint was about to slip into sleep.

"Think on it."

"When I woke up next, I was tied to a bed in Medical. They were treating my leg. Course, I felt that they were still going to kill me. So, I tried to escape. Didn't realize that I was in the middle of their headquarters," Clint said. The others smiled, knowing to well about Clint's dislike of Medical. Course they all thought that the archer's dislike came from before this moment. They were sadly mistaken. "I was caught later that same day by Coulson. He found me after I dropped from a ceiling vent near the lobby. I was limping around while agents came in and left without glancing at me. He brought me back and... Well, this started my dislike of Medical."

"Really? I figured you escaped cause you hated Medical," Tony mumbled. Clint shook his head.

"Nah. I was fine with medical until they tied me down, failed to replace my IV like five times, and then sedated me for the rest of time healing," Clint told them. Tony laughed while Clint smirked. As the archer looked over everyone else's amused faces, Clint began to wonder why he never told any of them this information before. "Would have been a bit better if it wasn't for after the fact, during physical therapy, Medical requested that I be kept locked up in either jail or my room. Fury ordered me into the jail cells until I agreed to sign the consent forms for working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Why did you ever join if that was the beginning of your treatment here?" Natasha nearly snarled as she realized that Clint made her join this same group while promising that things would be better than on her own. Clint laughed at her, knowing right away what she was thinking about. He ignored the question by continuing with the story.

"So, is this my other choice?" Clint growled when Coulson arrived for the escorting to PT. Coulson sighed. It had been almost a week now since Clint had been released from Medical. After day one, when he tried to escape again, Medical and Fury ordered the archer to be locked up. It was because of this that Coulson knew Clint felt horribly betrayed and just wanted to leave the whole place. Coulson had tried to keep on explaining to Clint that if he hadn't tried to run then he wouldn't be locked up. But the teen seemed to have been waiting for some type of betrayal.

"We wouldn't be the ones jailing you. But yes, we would have to turn you over to the correct authorities," Coulson calmly replied, wishing he had a better answer for the teen. But there was none and both knew that Clint would have to be punished for the things he had done. "But remember, if you agree to work with us, we'll wipe the slate clean. You wouldn't have to worry."

"So you tell me every day," Clint grumbled as the door unlocked and two agents walked in to unlock the archer from the bed that he was currently tied to. Coulson sighed. If Clint just gave S.H.I.E.L.D a little slack then they could do the same for him. "When will this shit be over?"

"Just know that once PT is over, if you haven't decided, we will have to send you to jail and that will be your only choice," Coulson reminded. Clint rolled his eyes before sighing as the two agents got him out of the bed and onto a wheelchair that Coulson brought into the jail cell. Once seated, the two agents then began to strap him to the chair. And like every day, Clint commented on it.

"Must we go through such extreme measures?" Clint questioned. Coulson refused to rise to the bait today. Once the two agents finished, the group headed off toward the room where Clint would continue his PT. "I'm not that dangerous. I'm just a kid."

"And you nearly killed my buddy three days ago," one of the bland agents who had tied him up commented. Clint raised an eyebrow at that. Each day, he tended to test all the agents that deal with him. He was waiting for the day that they'd underestimate him and he'd be able to escape.

"Is that why I'm being recruited? Cause you have such stupid agents already and I'm the best you can find?" Clint pressed. Coulson gritted his teeth knowing the agent behind him was going to fight back.

"You stupid little shit! I can kick your ass so fast that you wouldn't see me coming!" the agent cried. Clint smirked.

"Prove it! I bet I could take you down while still in PT!" Clint countered. Coulson stopped for a moment. That's when it hit him what he needed to do. "Uh... What's going on?"

Without a word, Coulson turned down a different hallway than before. Clint glanced down the normal hallway that they had traveled for the past week. He had memorized the path after the second time they brought him down, but Coulson never brought him anywhere else. Especially when it was PT time. Coulson seemed to be a stickler for the rules and right now, the older agent was not following them. Clint wondered what changed.

"Sir?" the agent who had spoken out called when Coulson took another turn that the agent recognized. They were heading for the gym. "Shouldn't we go to the kid's PT?"

"You claimed that you could kick his ass so fast that no one would see you coming. I would like to see that," Coulson calmly stated. Clint tensed in his chair. Even though his leg was mostly healed, Clint wasn't really sure he could take down a fully trained agent. But he had claimed that he could and there was no way to back out of it now. Soon after the group arrived at the gym. Clint was amazed at the size of the place but what surprised him the most was that the mat was bare of agents and already there was a crowd arriving around the back end. Coulson barely noticed as he rolled Clint up to the end, locked the wheels, unbuckled Clint from the chair and backed away. Slowly, Clint turned to stare at Coulson.

"You sure you want me to show up your agent?" Clint joked, trying to hide his own fear of the situation. The agent smirked before stepping onto the mat and began warming up. Clint took no notice of it. He was staring at Coulson. The older agent nodded. Frowning, Clint shimmed his way out of the chair and onto one leg. Slowly, he placed weight down on the bad leg. It tinged in pain but Clint felt he could handle it. Sighing, he limped onto the mat.

"You ready for this?" the agent snapped, looking much readier than Clint was. Swallowing some built up saliva, Clint nodded. The agent lunged forward, hoping to get the first strike. Clint stepped back onto his bad leg just in time for it to give out on him. The teen dropped to the ground, using the movement to his advantage, Clint turned the falling into a roll away from the other agent. Unperturbed, the agent pressed his sudden 'advantage.' Too bad he didn't account for Clint's acrobatic skills. While still rolling away, Clint kicked out with his good leg when his back was on the ground. Still spinning, the foot connected with the agent's chin as he chased after the teen. The agent was tossed back, giving enough time for Clint to get back to his feet. This time, he stood on his good leg and barely placed his bad leg on the mat. "What the fuck was that?"

"A kick to the jaw," Clint called, watching as the agent readied himself.

"Watch out Mendoza. Don't want a little kid beating you up," someone in the crowd laughed out. The crowd joined in the laughter. Mendoza, the agent facing Clint, turned beat red before lunging after Clint again. Clint leaned back onto his heal, kicked off the ground with his bad leg and spun out of the way, bringing his elbow down onto Mendoza's back as the agent rushed by. Mendoza dropped to the ground with a grunt. Clint lithely jumped into the air, bringing his bad leg around to kick Mendoza in the chest. Mendoza went spinning away before landing with a thump a good distance away. He looked shaken by Clint's attack, while Clint seemed completely relaxed on his good leg. The crowd laughed.

"We should probably stop before I really get into things," Clint mentioned, beginning to feel more confident in his skills against the agent. Glancing around the crowd, Clint began to try and become aware of his surroundings. Right above him was a metal pole. It looked to be high enough away but as Clint mentally judged the distance, he realized, he could make it. Coulson sighed deeply. This was why he wanted Clint to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. He was good. The crowd laughed as Mendoza slowly got to his feet. His face was red with anger.

"I was just warming up," Mendoza lied. Clint nodded, trying to act like he was taking the agent's word for it, but he knew better. Mendoza wanted to kill him and right now, he couldn't even touch the teen. Yet again, Mendoza charged. Except this time, he watched Clint for signs of dodging. Clint bent his knees to get ready. Mendoza, not understanding what the move was for, continued charging. At the last second, Clint sprung up and as Mendoza ran beneath him, Clint kicked out. His feet connected with Mendoza's neck and there was a clear crack. Mendoza dropped to the mat and stopped moving. Clint's hands gripped the pole above him even as his eyes trained themselves down onto the prone body below him.

The crowd was silent as they waited for Mendoza to move. But everyone knew what that crack was. Clint had broken the agent's neck in the right place. Mendoza was dead before Clint's shoes even cleared his back. Coulson stepped onto the mat as Clint pulled himself up onto the pole and watched. Without a word, Coulson walked over to Mendoza's body, felt for a pulse on his neck and then looked up to Clint.

"This is why I've been trying to recruit you," Coulson stated before turning to the agent they had come in with. He nodded to the body before walking away. Clint hung out on the pole for a few more seconds before deciding it was best to go after the older agent. With a grace he had learned from the tightrope walkers, Clint walked across the pole and jumped to the ground in front of the older agent. Coulson's only response was a raise of an eyebrow before walking on. It took until they were a good three minutes away from the gym before Clint looked over at the older agent.

"I'm in."