AN: I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. By the way, last chapter I mentioned that hospital that Oliver was at was called Saint Dumas. In truth, I really have no idea what it's called on the show, but I threw that in there as a reference to the DC character Azrael.

"He's gone!" cried Tony, voice high-pitched as he paced circles around the Holotable in Stark Tower's mission room.

Skye leaned against a wall, a seemingly permanent frown etched on her face. Her friend and supervising officer had up and vanished on them. For the life of her, she couldn't understand it. Ward had never seemed like the lonely type. He was usually uptight and she always thought that he preferred being alone, just like May. Then again, maybe she didn't know as much about him as she had thought.

She watched as Coulson stared at the blank screen the Holotable showed them.

Well, it wasn't a blank screen. But, it wasn't what they were hoping for.

Footage erased, it projected at them.

Great, she thought in frustration, somebody erased what might have been a lead to his location.

And she was fairly certain she knew just who did it.

She glanced at Pepper Potts, who stood in silence by the doorway, eyes downcast.

Finally, Skye had enough of the silence. "You know why he left, don't you?"

The older woman jumped at the question, gazing at Skye nervously.

Frustration at the other woman, worry for Ward, confusion at the entire situation, and slight anger at the fact that this happened right after she finally kissed Rogers, all collided in Skye's mind. She took a step forward, causing the older woman to step back.

Clint shot Skye a scowl and moved to the other woman's defense, gently tugging her out of the room, Natasha trailing behind the pair.

"Well," said Fitz, finally speaking up, "this is utter bollocks."

Clint and Natasha set Pepper down on a couch in the living room, handing her a bottle of water.

The strawberry blonde gave them a grateful look before taking a long sip.

Natasha remained silent, staring down at the other woman in thought.

Seeing that his partner would not speak up anytime soon, he took it upon himself to start talking. "He left because of the Steve and Skye thing, right? Because he felt like he was being replaced? Because he felt like Skye thought Steve was better than him?" Finally, he added in a tired voice, "And…because nobody really spent time with him? Including me."

Pepper glanced up at him, nodding sadly as she took another sip.

Clint sighed, frustrated at himself. This was partly his fault. His rookie was never the most mentally stable to begin with, and while he had managed to reign in the younger man's hatred, he had never managed to distill the sense of detachment and loneliness.

He glanced at Natasha to find her watching him intently, arms crossed and waiting for his next move.

"We need to find him," declared Clint, leaving no room for argument.

The redheaded assassin nodded her agreement, unfolding her arms.

"What about the others?" asked Pepper.

"He doesn't need a big search party, especially when the first thing the others will try to do is get him to come back without listening to what he has to say."

"So, we go after him ourselves?"

This time, Natasha answered. "That's exactly what we're going to do."

A few days later, when his vigilante outfit was finished, Grant gave a small sigh of relief. He stared down at his handiwork, pride flashing through him. It wasn't bright and bubbly. And stupid, he thought to himself. Like Captain America's. No, it was dark and menacing, just like him. And if Skye doesn't want that, he kept telling himself, then I don't care. The suit itself wasn't too special. It was a black leather material with a bulletproof vest weaved into the fabric. A lowered hood would add to the mysterious look.

However, his favorite part was the sleek, black, metal skull mask he had personally designed. The eyes were one-way, so he could see out of the dark black, but nobody could see through it. The mouth of the mask had an eerie robotic smile built in. He really couldn't be more pleased with the results.

Rounding off his weaponry were flechettes strapped to his waist and lower left leg. Two cylinder leather containers held his escrima sticks. His quiver was filled with several arrows, including lethal, electric, and grappling. He had borrowed some of Clint's technology to create the arrows, as well as the holsters and quiver for his weapons. He utilized Clint's special design where the weaponry remained locked in place unless he touched the object. When he did, the mechanism instantly unlocked, allowing him to pull it out and use it in a fight. It was quite handy, especially to ensure that he wouldn't lose any arrows while running across rooftops.

He was finally ready to go after Adam Hunt.

But first, he had a few old friends to visit.

Sneaking inside a party, any party, had always been easy for Grant, even before he learned from the two best spies in the world.

Sneaking into Oliver Queen's welcome home bash proved slightly more difficult than he had thought.

Then again, just like his younger brother always said, the Queens' had more security than the President. He was beginning to think that it wasn't as much of an exaggeration as it seemed.

After a while of scouting the place, he managed to slip inside. He stuck to the upper levels, music and the sounds of party-goers ringing in his ears. He knew he probably should be enjoying this, maybe blending in with the crowd as he observed his friends, but he found that he couldn't bring himself to even step anywhere near the dance floor. The obnoxiously insistent pop music reminded him of Skye's own music on the Bus. The dancers, although many of them wearing inadequate clothing, also reminded him of his rookie. The way they shuffled, the way their hips swayed, the way their heads bopped.

He shook himself out of his revere when he spotted a seemingly familiar person. His eyes narrowed at the man in his mid-twenties in an expensive black suit, black hair spiked. The broad smile seemed so familiar, especially when he saw that it was directed toward Laurel.

He took an involuntary step forward.

His new phone buzzed in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out.

10:00 P.M.

Showtime.

Casting one last curious glance at the person, and deciding to investigate more later, he briskly exited the party.

Entering through the roof's skylight, his mind burst into overdrive when he saw submachine guns in the hands of a small private army. They were expecting him. But how? He fired two arrows in succession, dropping the two closest to him before retreating behind a pillar for protection. It was minimal and temporary, especially because he was now trapped until he dealt with several more assailants, but at least his head hadn't been blown off yet.

Despite every complicated thing that had happened recently, he wasn't quite willing to part with his brain, thank you very much!

When the first man stepped toward his cover, he lashed out, grabbing him by the throat and using him as a human shield as his friend opened fire. He dropped the lifeless body to the ground, fingers instantly wrapping around another arrow. He let it fly and connect with another man's chest.

He remained concentrated as he continued to tear through his remaining attackers in the hallway. Just when he thought things were beginning to dwindle, a window shattered near him as a green hooded figure rolled swiftly to his feet, bow in hand. His eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the similarities in their uniforms.

Hey, I copyrighted this!

The two men's gazes seemed to lock with each other momentarily before they moved, deciding that the remaining people with guns were more important to deal with.

Within seconds the remaining opponents were either battered from devastating attacks or limp with arrows sticking out of their flesh.

He took off running, heading toward Hunt's main office. When he burst in, he was met with a surprising sight. A blonde in a black leather cat-suit was fighting a Russian man, obviously a personal bodyguard, with a Bo Staff. He analyzed her quickly, taking in her fighting style. She moved with a fluidity that rivaled May's, twirling around her opponent and using the man's momentum to her advantage.

Turning back to face Adam Hunt, he found the dark green archer was already on him.

"You missed," smirked the bald businessman.

"Really?" growled the green archer.

Grant's gaze moved to the wall, which had an arrow protruding from it. If he was right, and he was pretty sure he was, it was a unique arrow, just like the ones he owned. But this one could probably hack into the businessman's personal accounts and siphon money.

Smart.

Glancing back at the blonde, he saw her opponent on the ground, neck snapped. She was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, his job having already been done for him, and retreated to the rooftop.

First day as a vigilante…failed.

Well, it wasn't an entire bust. He'd assisted in taking down the massive private army that Hunt possessed, but he had been beaten to the man himself. And that irked him.

Just who the hell were these people?

As he walked to the edge of the rooftop, he froze when he felt the silent presence of two people behind him. Whirling around while simultaneously drawing an arrow, he faced his two assailants.

The man in dark green was on one side of the rooftop, arrow aimed and switching between him and the woman in black, who stood there calmly.

"Nice get-up," commented the woman. "You guys go to the same tailor or something?"

"Who are you?" growled the green archer.

He glanced between the two of them.

The woman was definitely highly skilled in hand to hand, but he was willing to bet that his other attacker was too. Her melee weapon was medium range, so he couldn't turn his back on her and focus on the other marksman. He was going to have to engage them both in close quarters because he really didn't want to end up getting shot or hit in the back.

Considering his response, he remained attentive. What should he be called? Suddenly, his realization from earlier hit him. He was only a weapon to S.H.I.E.L.D., not a person. A weapon that was very, very good at completing missions.

After several moments of silence, he snarled his answer, "The Taskmaster."

And then they were fighting.

He brought his arm up to block a strike from the man, while twisting to the side to avoid a strike to the torso from the woman's Bo Staff. Not even seconds in and he realized this was going to be more difficult than he had originally calculated. Lashing out with a kick, the man in green deflected it before counterattacking with an elbow. He caught it and shoved the man to the side before being met with a kick to the ribs courtesy of the blonde.

Using the split second her leg was lowering back to the ground against her, he swept her other leg from underneath her. He advanced but was stopped when he was tackled to the side. Rolling toward the edge of the rooftop, he managed to connect a punch to his hooded opponent's jaw. The man quickly returned the favor by slamming his elbow into Ward's side. Using his bow, he jabbed the assailant in the side. The man shifted slightly to the right and Grant used the momentum to flip the guy off of him. He stood to his feet and barely had time to duck the metal staff swinging for his head.

Gritting his teeth, he analyzed his chances. He could stay and fight or he could retreat. They were all on an equal level, which unnerved him slightly. Were they ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents? If not, where did they get their training?

The three of them closed in on each other.

When the metal staff connected with the green archer's stomach, who in turn nailed Grant in the face with his bow, the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had enough. He reached forward and grasped at the woman's face. At the same time, she reached for the green archer, who reached for him.

And suddenly the green archer's hood was pulled down, the woman's disguise came undone, and his skull mask fell to the floor with a resounding thud.

And then, there was silence as they took each other in. Utter disbelief and shock registered on each of their faces, even Grant's calm expression slipping.

Finally, the woman spoke up. "Well…this is fucking awkward."

AN: So, we've got two sets of people looking for Ward now. Ward also seems to recognize someone from Oliver's party, but who could it be? Also, who the heck is this blonde woman?

Well...if you watch Arrow, you probably already know, haha.