Clint blinked a few times to try and get his eyes to focus; the last thing he recalled was being electrocuted, a fact that his body was reminding him of right now. There was also a cold emptiness that had gripped him since his stint in medical.

Losing track of time completely meant he had no idea the day let alone the time; so there was nothing to do but wait for either the conclusion of Mason's 'treatment', or some ill-conceived but loyalty driven jail break from the Avengers. The archer really hoped the latter would never come. He wasn't giving up because he would never allow himself to; but he was realistic about what was going to happen to him when this was done, about what he felt should happen.

He didn't have to wait long to find out what Agent Mason had planned for the next round. "Good morning Agent Barton. I trust you are feeling better this morning?"

Barton managed to pull together enough spit to lob a glob towards Mason's feet. The agent glanced down briefly and continued with his impassionate dialog.

"Our findings are still inconclusive which means we will have to move on to phase three; unless you would like to spare us all a lot of trouble and just confess to your crimes."

Ignoring the pain and protest from his aching muscles, Clint lifted his head to look Mason dead in the eyes. "Confess?"

"Yes. Confess to conspiring with the war criminal Loki. Confess to performance negligence in regards to your ineffectiveness during the bank robbery fiasco that required a full SHIELD team to respond as well as the Avengers, and caused the loss of one of the vials of the Keres serum. Confess to the attempted murders of Anthony Stark, Captain Steve Rogers and Agent Natasha Romanoff and anything else that your handler Agent Coulson has managed to keep from official records during your career."

Clint glared at the ground as Mason went over his laundry list of defects from the last few months. Ironically he might've been able to persuade the archer to agree to the accusations had he not brought Coulson's name into it; that was a major mistake. Barton would have negotiated for something that didn't sound like treason, like he hadn't betrayed everything he'd stood for; but at the thought of Coulson's name being dragged through the mud simply because he'd been Clint's handler, was where a spark of fight flared up in Hawkeye.

He would never confess to treason because at the end of the day all Clint had was his name; a name that Phil had ensured meant something. Clint wouldn't lose his honor, and he certainly wouldn't let the monkey in the suit before him rob Coulson of his. He might not have been able to protect his friend from Loki, but he could damn well keep his memory intact.

"I'll tell you where you can stick your confession."

"That's unfortunate; you could have made this easy on yourself."

"We still can make it easy; you and me can settle this."

"Oh Barton, this isn't a grudge match" Mason bestowed the younger man before him with a patronising smile "I have the council on my side and you have a list of violations. More importantly, I'm not going to sink to your level."

"I don't know that there is a level lower than council errand boy."

Mason's well trained group wasted no time in taking their positions. The largest of the guards began cracking his knuckles as he loomed over the injured and restrained prisoner, while the doctor jab yet another syringe into Clint's neck.

A familiar feeling washed over Barton; he took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for what was to come. SHIELD conducted extensive training with truth serums. Clint was pretty sure he could hold off its affects for a while, but his already weakened condition and the prospect of becoming a punching bag was a little intimidating. Truth serum had a way of turning you all around, and while Clint had been nothing but honest about the events Mason mentioned, the drug could muddle him up enough for Mason to get his confession. You've survived worse he thought but after the first punch landed square on his jaw snapping his head back, he had trouble actually remembering any of it.

The only parts of Clint that were warm were the small patches of skin covered by fresh blood; the coldness of the room would have caused him to shiver if the bindings weren't so tight. A large bruise was beginning to dominate his face, but the true extent of his injuries were hidden under the splatters of blood that covered him. Red drool spilled over his split lip and expanded the pool that formed at Clint's feet. He could tell from the number of blows and the frequency that there was only one guard hitting him, but his vision was suggesting that there was three.

Whatever drug concoction they had slipped him was definitely lower grade; Mason was obviously depending on physical influence rather than chemical. Amateur thought Clint as he took another blow to the stomach. He'd been beaten far worse by far better men than this goon. Mason's demeanor was getting more frustrated with every refusal on Clint's part to confess to treason; spurring Barton on in his defiance. Each punch was becoming weaker and weaker as the guard tired; it was just a matter of time. You've survived worse became his mantra.

Leaning his head against the cold brick wall of his cell he tried to take advantage of his momentary respite from his interrogation, and get some much needed and longed for sleep. However, the hard floor only made him painfully aware of every single bruise and cut that littered his body; he could only hope that exhaustion got the better of him and blotted out the pain enough for him to pass out at least.

It had been a difficult week full of beatings and psychological torture. The first day consisted of his medical evaluation which comprised of Barton being used as a pin cushion for any and all tests the council could dream up, to determine if Loki could still possibly hold any control over the agent. That had left him feeling empty and detached.

Mason quickly moved things to electrocution, beatings, water tortures, sleep deprivation and drugs. He could imagine the condition he was in based on the blood crusted all over the black and blue parts of his body he could see. His arm looked like a pin cushion from the ridiculous amounts of blood samples they kept taking. He also couldn't shake the weird coldness that had gripped him since medical got their hands on him.

The truth serum and hallucinogens gave Mason the opportunity to work the psychological angle. Clint had to laugh; nothing Mason told him wasn't anything he hadn't been telling himself for the last year. It had only confirmed the archer's beliefs about himself, and when he was brought before the council he would take whatever they handed out. He still wasn't going to confess to treason but he would submit to their sentence; it would be his last and truest act to protect the Avengers, but the refusal of treason was for himself and Coulson.

The cell door slammed open and the four guards entered the room. Clint painstakingly made it to his feet; there was no need to fight anymore, he would go willingly. His arms were wrenched behind him and bound with the harsh metal bite of handcuffs. He didn't so much walk out of the dark cell as he was dragged between the two harbingers of death.

The group entered a large room which had a video camera and five computer screens. Barton was deposited in the wooden chair in front of the video camera. The screens suddenly flickered to life displaying the four council members and Director Fury.

"Director Fury, Agent Clint Barton," began council member two, "we are prepared to deliver our findings in regards to Barton's status."