Disclaimer: I own nothing Avengery but my own headcanon. On special request for Robin371! I'll try to get another chapter up soon and wrap up the fic. I wasn't planning on making it a full fledged one.


Clint was bored.

Like, really bored.

From the time he'd woken up from HYDRA's medical treatment, he had been going, going, going almost constantly. For some reason HYDRA had still wanted to test his abilities (even though he had been one of SHIELD's top agents, even though the many times he had run across any HYDRA agents in the past he had kicked their butts, but he wasn't going to say anything about that, no he wasn't) and so his missions had been relatively simple affairs. A few assassinations, a few data recovery operations, and a particularly weird mission that involved pretending to be a cowboy for some reason, but nothing that posed much of a challenge for him. He missed the days when every mission was fraught with danger, where every decision he made was literally the difference between life and death. Though SHIELD was a bunch of lunatics, he had to admit their mission planners were a lot ballsier than HYDRA's.

He had wanted to go on one mission to take out that smug son of a bitch Captain America, but he had been flatly denied, the HYDRA higher ups citing his "conflict of interest" in that particular mission. Arguing with them had been fruitless, and as much as he insisted that he had no compunctions about killing Cap despite him being a former teammate, they continued to stonewall all his efforts. He wasn't given the title of master assassin for nothing though, and a few recon trips into HYDRA files revealed it wasn't a conflict with Captain America they were reluctant about, it was with Cap's associate the Black Widow. When he read that, the name bounced around his head, ringing oddly. Despite his photographic memory he couldn't seem to recall why the name resonated with him so strongly, and, deeply uneasy with the feeling, had at last stopped pestering HYDRA for the op. The Winter Soldier had been given the assignment instead.

Now, with the Winter Soldier AWOL and HYDRA spread to the fucking wind, Clint didn't have much to do these days. He had considered busting the HYDRA higher-ups out of prison, but decided against it. He held no loyalty to those bastards anymore, what with their sloppy organizational leadership and lack of a proper plan B. But really though, how had HYDRA never developed a contingency plan for when the SHIELD idiots realized HYDRA had infiltrated them? They only had sixty years to do so. Plus, though he was loath to admit it, he was still nursing a bruised ego. He had been referred to multiple times as "a total failure", and "not properly suited for the job". They seemed to love the Winter Soldier, what with his non-existent personality and robotic monotone, but Clint had never in his life been described as docile or obedient. He fully supported HYDRA's ideology, but he wasn't just some goon, an attack dog to be sent out whenever they felt like it. He had too much self-respect for that shit, and he wasn't afraid to voice that sentiment when HYDRA got a little too order-happy. He was one of the best operatives on the planet dammit, and

So now he was freelancing, taking on the odd job here or there to keep his skills from getting too stagnant. He had enough money that he never needed to work again, but frankly, he'd been working in the business since someone was smart enough to hire him. Espionage was all he knew, all he really wanted to do. Several agencies had expressed interest in contracting him, but he was still weighing his options. Granted, it was nice being on his own. He picked his own missions, set his own hours, but having a parent organization did have its advantages. Advanced spy tech, a team of mission support specialists, and increased protections were just some of the luxuries he had taken for granted when he was with SHIELD and HYDRA, and he was just now realizing how many enemies he had made over the years. Still, most of the offers he had were Russian and Chinese organizations looking to have an American agent on the ground, and the thought somehow left a sour taste in his mouth. At least with SHIELD/HYDRA, his targets had been of every nationality. One offer in particular that had piqued his interest was a job offer as a ranged weapons instructor for an organization called the Red Room. He had turned it down when he realized the specific demographic of the trainees, prepubescent orphan girls, and it skeeved him the fuck out. He was used to dealing with pretty questionable stuff, but he had a line and the Red Room was definitely way beyond it.

He frowned when his alarm went off and groaned, rolling his body up into a sitting position from his prone position on the couch. He didn't want to go meet with another client right now. To be fair, he had just gotten back from an international job only thirty six hours prior, but he had a quick recovery time. He was just being whiny. Scrubbing one hand through his hair, he sighed again and heaved himself up and slouched toward the shower. Duty called.


"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Rodgers, please. I'm a professional." Steve looked distinctly unimpressed and Natasha couldn't blame him. They had worked closely together over the past years and he could read her better than anyone except Clint. Well, that might not be true now….

"Hey, hey, it'll be fine. The op will go off without a hitch." Natasha jumped as Steve's hand curled around hers, squeezing it tightly. She hurriedly blinked the tears out of her eyes as she mentally reviewed the plan. Based on Bruce's recommendations, it would be too risky to send someone that Clint knew and worked with closely, so Sharon was posing as a recruiting agent for the Corporation, a criminal organization that Natasha knew would be very interested in acquiring an associate with Clint's skill set. Sam would be staged in the square as close backup, while Steve and Tony would stay as over-watch and emergency backup.

She would be in the square too, though the general consensus was that it was a bad idea. She wouldn't budge on that particular detail though. Clint was, well, she wasn't quite sure what to call what he was to her except that she needed to be down in that square. Steve had tried to bully his way down into the square as well but she refused to let him. Steve was so physically large it wouldn't be hard to spot him in a crowd, and there was evidence Clint still fully recognized his former teammates. However, Natasha knew the real reason he wanted to be down in the square was to keep an eye on Sharon. The two of them had recently started to become friendlier with one another, and though Natasha was happy that Steve seemed to finally be settling down some, she didn't need an overprotective guard dog on the ground.

Hopefully Sharon would be able to sedate him without any problems, and they would be able to bundle him off to Stark Tower where Banner and a team of the world's finest psychologists/psychiatrists were in wait to reverse whatever HYDRA had done. She couldn't shake this feeling of unease though.