A huge thank you to those who have reviewed or added this story to your favourites...hugs to you all! :)
And a massive hug to DevinBourdain, you've helped me out soooo much with this, I even get goose bumps reading it...lots more darkness/Clint whump in this chapter, you have been warned.
Phil Coulson jumped out of the black sedan as it screeched to a halt, the three remaining agents jumping out after him. His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew, he just knew, that something had happened to Clint. Pushing the worry out of his mind he ran up the few steps that took him inside the building.
Agent Davis was waiting outside the elevator and Phil could see the man almost sigh in relief. "Sir."
"Talk to me Davis."
The agent nodded. "I've lost contact with three of my agents sir. They went up in the elevator and Agent Caulder is guarding the back exit. No one has left so they must still be in the building."
Coulson pointed to two of the agents that arrived with him. "You two with me. Davis and Riley, you two stay here. How long ago did you lose contact?"
"Only a few minutes ago, sir," Davis responded.
Phil nodded and headed up using the stairs, the two agents following in his wake. Please be alright, please be alright. The handler repeated the mantra in his head as he got to the floor room 102 was on. Phil stopped outside the door and pointed to the two agents to check left while he went right. They nodded and readied their guns. Coulson moved first and his experienced eyes narrowed at the sight of blood on the walls, and what looked like bullet holes and knife marks in the walls.
"Agent Coulson, over here."
The agent made his way over to the other agents and froze when he came to the open elevator. Three bodies, three SHIELD agents, all lying in pools of blood. Phil felt sick. He raised an eyebrow in question when Agent Thomas checked for life signs; he already knew there wouldn't be.
"There all dead, sir," Thomas said quietly.
Coulson paused and took a calming breath, it would do no one any use if he fell apart and started punching things; that just wasn't his way. Instead he remained detached, calm in the face of the carnage before him. But he also knew that as soon as he found out about Clint, it would be harder to control the façade.
"Barnes, you stay here, contact a clean-up crew. Thomas you're with me, we'll check out the room Agent Barton was heading to." The agents nodded and Phil turned, moving silently down the corridor with Thomas at his back.
The door was open a fraction and Coulson nodded to Thomas to enter first. They cleared the area quickly and efficiently as all SHIELD operatives were trained to do. Phil could smell the coppery scent of blood. Steeling himself, he walked into the end room with his weapon drawn and froze.
"Lucas?" Phil rushed forward and pressed shaking fingers to the man's neck and smiled when he felt a pulse, thank god.
Pain filled eyes were suddenly staring at him. "Ag'nt Coul'sn?"
Coulson shouted at Thomas to call for an ambulance and quickly checked the injured man over. Blood was everywhere and he tried to focus on Lucas but his chest was burning with worry for his young agent. The man in the chair must have noticed.
"The R-Reaper…..t-took Clint…..they kn-ow….each other…" Lucas gasped, the cuts he received weren't very deep, but they had bled a lot.
Phil froze, he knew deep down that the Reaper had his young charge but hearing it confirmed had his insides clench painfully at the thought of what he would do to Clint.
"Y-you need…..to find…..him," Lucas coughed and almost tumbled forward when Phil untied the ropes around his wrists and legs. Thomas ran back through and helped Phil wrap up the worst of the man's injuries.
"Ambulance is on its way and I checked with Davis and Caulder, still nothing sir. They have to still be inside the building," Thomas told the lead agent as they finished wrapping the wounds.
Phil stood and flipped his phone open. "Sir, I need more agents. The Reaper has Clint and they are somewhere within this building."
Fury could hear his agent's concern flowing through the phone. "They're on their way Phil. Keep me posted."
"Yes sir."
"And Phil?"
"Sir?"
"Kill this bastard," Fury ordered in his usual demanding tone and Phil found himself smiling.
"Yes sir!"
Death was going to find the Reaper today, Phil would make it happen.
Clint was jolted awake with a backhand to his face. He groaned and let his head fall forward. Man he hated drugs, everything still felt heavy and he couldn't concentrate. The archer grunted when his head was yanked up by someone gripping his hair painfully tight. His fuzzy head was still trying to determine where he was and who had him, it was kind of sad that this was a usual occurrence for him.
"Wakey, wakey Clint. We have lots to get started with," came the Reaper's creepy voice in his ear. The hand gripping his hair suddenly vanished and Clint's head fell forward to his chest.
Well shit.
The agent tried to move his hands but realised they were bound to the hard chair he was currently occupying, and his ankles bound to the legs of the chair.
Reece chuckled. "Come on Barton, I want to see what you're made of." He paused, tapping his knife against his cheek then smiled at the archer. "Inside and out."
"Fuck you Reece," Clint spat weakly, damn he hated drugs.
"No thanks." The Reaper backhanded him again and Clint grunted. The young agent forced himself to open his eyes even as he felt the pull of the drugs trying desperately to take him back under. The archer knew if he focussed on the pain it would ground him, and keep him from falling back into a drug induced sleep. Closing his eyes he felt the burning from the stab wound to his shoulder, and heard the drip, drip, drip of blood from his hand hitting the concrete floor. The makeshift bandage was saturated with red liquid.
Reece must have noticed the agent's struggle to stay awake and decided to help. He pressed his thumb into his captive's shoulder and grinned when the man arched his back and bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. The Reaper smirked and moved away, twirling the knife in his hand around and around, admiring its beauty.
"How did you end up at SHIELD Clint? The last I heard you were just a petty crook. They must have really lowered their expectations when they decided to make you an agent."
Clint looked up at the young man in front of him. "What can I say Reece, I'm that good they decided to turn me from the dark side to the good."
The assassin in front of him smirked. "I've heard, the infamous Hawkeye, I was surprised to find out it was you though Clint. Very surprised. Back at the orphanage you were always trying to look out for the younger kids, and now you're a cold-blooded killer, just like me."
"I'm nothing like you Reece!" Clint snapped.
The Reaper chuckled. "Struck a nerve there did I? You kill people Clint, whether it be for the government or not. You still kill, how is that any different from what I do?" He actually seemed genuinely confused.
The archer shook his head, the guy just didn't get it. "What I do is for the good of the country, you kill people for fun Reece. In what world is that okay?"
"In mine."
"Well there's your answer, you're a fucking psychopath." Clint smirked at the enraged look that spread across the assassin's face. He knew he shouldn't be antagonizing the man, but Clint being Clint, just couldn't help himself.
Reece's cold dark eyes intently flickered over every inch of the archer, sizing his captive up, looking for that kid that had been brave enough to take an interest in him all those years ago. He leaned forward until he was mere inches from Barton's face and with more honesty than a murder should have, said, "We could be brilliant together, Clint."
Barton flinched away from the words. The irrational fear from years of being told he was no good, a plague upon those who dared get close to him, bubbled up. Could this sadist see the darkness within him that he had prayed he could hide from the world?
"The things we could do. Think of all the new ways we could tear people apart, the rush would never end. The world wouldn't be able to stop us; we'd be gods among men." Delight flickered in his hollow eyes and a wave of euphoria spread through him just thinking of the possibilities.
Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, the archer simply replied, "There is nothing you could ever say or do that would convince me to be like you."
"Let's start then shall we?" Reece growled, his time for talking was done.
"Why not, it's not like I had any other plans but to take you out and here you are." Barton smirked at the twitch that he caused in the Reaper's eye.
Reece gripped the archer by the hair and pulled his head back, the sharp point of the knife pressed against his exposed throat. Clint tried desperately to hide any fear from his face, he wasn't going to let the other man know that one of his worst fears was having his throat slit. The other was anything to do with his eyes, they were what made him who he was.
Clint felt the trickle of warm blood running down his neck, and swallowed. The guy was seriously unhinged.
"Don't test me Barton, I will not give you the easy way out. I'm going to make you scream and when I finally do, and I know I will. Only then will I slit your throat. This is the deal I made with every other agent."
"What about the girl, Laura?" Clint asked.
Reece smiled. "Everyone has needs Clint. But I lost control, I always lose control once I get a taste of blood."
The archer frowned. "How did you get a taste?" He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.
"I bit her." The Reaper smiled as he recalled the memory.
Clint grimaced, that was disgusting. "Nice," he said sarcastically.
Reece walked round to stand behind Clint and pushed him forward. The archer breathed through his nose and struggled not to panic. He hated not being able to see what was going on. The material of his t-shirt was pulled away from his body, the knife cutting through the fabric easily. Clint tried not to flinch at the few times Reece nicked his back as the material was removed.
The archer sat frozen when Reece started touching his back, almost gently. The agent could feel his chest tighten in fear, he had no idea what the Reaper would do.
"You got these from the orphanage, didn't you? That man was a mean old bastard, but he took a liking to you." Reece smirked as Clint tried to hide the shudder that ran through his body at the memory.
The younger assassin caressed the old scars that littered Clint's back before bringing his knife down and cutting into one of them. Barton's body tensed and he clamped his mouth shut, breath through the nose, out through the mouth. Clint repeated it over and over as Reece carved new pain into old memories.
It was almost five minutes later and the archer was panting, trying to control the pain that had encompassed his body. He wasn't sure how many times the Reaper had cut into his back, having lost count after four. Reece chuckled and gave Clint a pat on the back before moving away. Barton almost bit right through his lip.
"I can see why you are considered the best, Clint, not even a whimper."
"F-fuck you!" Clint hissed in agony as Reece shoved him roughly back in the chair, his freshly open wounds burning like a fire across his back.
The agent barely had time to prepare himself as the knife was brought down onto his arm, straight through until it imbedded in the arm of the chair. Clint thought he was going to pass out but still managed to stop the scream of pain from escaping his lips.
"W-why?" Clint managed to ask after a minute of trying desperately not to pass out.
The Reaper smiled. "Why what?" He stood a few feet from the archer and watched as the blood pooled onto the floor.
"W-why are y-you doing t-his?"
"I used to be afraid Clint, from my dad, from bullies and just from life in general. But then I realised something, instead of being afraid I was going to stand up to them. I killed my father first, but it was over too quickly. I realise now I should have taken more time. Savoured it. So then I began practising and found I wasn't afraid anymore. I went after everyone that ever hurt me, brought justice upon them." He leaned forward to stare Clint directly in the eye. "That's what you do isn't it, bring justice to those who deserve it."
The archer shook his head sadly. "N-no Reece, you kill b-because you e-enjoy it. I have n-never and w-will never enjoy it. But it n-needs to be d-done." The agent knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, between his hand, shoulder and now his arm he was losing too much blood. "W-why me? I t-tried to protect you."
Reece scoffed. "Yeah you did such a good job, when you left guess who he turned to? Yes that's right, me." The assassin paced away from the archer and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "To be honest though, I didn't know you were SHIELD, but I was told by one of your agents that Hawkeye was the best, so I saw it as a sort of challenge. It just turned out to be fate that you are Hawkeye. Ironic don't you think, it's like some higher power knew you should be punished."
Clint's head drooped forward to his chest, he did feel bad that by leaving the orphanage he had let someone else be abused by Bradford, the man in charge. But he didn't think he deserved this, he was just a kid then too. Barton knew that wouldn't make a difference in Reece's mind, the assassin was fuelled by blood and that is all that would satisfy him.
Reece walked over to stand in front of the injured agent and gripped the handle of the knife still protruding from his arm and yanked it out. Clint squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, he almost cried out that time but it turned into more of a whimper, fuck!
The Reaper smiled sadistically as he knew he was getting close, he would make the Hawk beg for death. He gripped the blade in both hands and was ready to drive the weapon into Clint's thigh when a voice rang out in the darkness.
"Put. The. Weapon. Down." Reece froze and glanced up, an agent of SHIELD stood at the doorway to the basement, his gun aimed at the young assassin's head. But the Reaper knew he couldn't stop, he wouldn't until all the Hawk's blood was spilled.
"Don't do it kid," came a calm steady voice. The man in the suit stepped closer, his gun never wavering, but Reece saw his face pale when he got a good look at the agent tied up in the chair. The blood pooling on the floor was a dead giveaway of how bad the situation was.
"I don't want to have to kill you Reece, but I will if you don't put the weapon down. Now!"
The Reaper glanced down at Barton and saw his eyes were closed, blood was still pouring from his wounds so was still alive, for now. Not for long, Reece thought. He locked eyes with the agent and brought the blade down.
Phil knew what he was going to do as soon as the Reaper made eye contact with him and without hesitation he fired, the bullet piercing the young assassin between the eyes. The body dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. The older agent found he didn't really care, his one focus was the bleeding man in front of him.
He rushed over and placed his fingers to his agent's neck, relieved to feel a pulse even if it was weak. Phil could have kicked himself; Barton had been right under their noses, just several floors below them, suffering at the hands of a mad man.
"Thomas get the medics in here, NOW!" Phil couldn't contain his panic, he quickly cut the ropes away and lowered Clint onto the cold concrete floor. There was blood everywhere but there was nothing Phil could do about that now. He had to make sure no more of the precious liquid escaped.
"Clint? Clint come on, open your eyes. Open those baby blue's for me." Phil felt true fear grip his heart when there was no response. Get your shit together Phil, he still has a pulse.
Thomas ran in with two medics and stopped dead at the sight of Barton laying on the ground with blood everywhere. He wasn't sure how anyone could survive that much blood loss, but he knew if anyone was going to be the exception it would be Hawkeye, the man was known for beating the odds.
Phil helped the medics out where he could but they could tell there would be no telling the older agent to back off. Coulson stayed at Clint's head, talking quietly to him, running his fingers through the kid's short hair and pleading with him to keep fighting. No one said anything about the quiver they heard in the handler's voice as he spoke, no one dared.
"Let's get him out of here." Phil nodded and followed behind without a word, Clint would make it, he had to or Phil would drag his ass back just to kill him again for putting him through this.