Hawkeye Clint Barton Novels & Stories

Michelle Hart, it read in a small, tired font. The small, ugly thing inside me that catalogues people’s tells straightened like a hunting dog. Clinton Hart flinches in the office. The way his gaze kept darting to the security camera. The half-answers, the stalling. He hadn’t been protecting some anonymous source. He had been protecting someone special to him.

Pressured by circumstances, Clark reluctantly listened to his potential client's request, only to discover it was the Young Master who had once slandered him, nearly taking his life. Renamed Agent C, Clark recognized the face despite the Young Master's aging. Today marked their first meeting in ten years. "So, whom do you want me to eliminate?" The Young Master revealed his target: Arrendice Hart, his cousin, a significant obstacle since her mother's demise. Clark, now aware of the family's intricate turmoil, faced a moral dilemma.

All of it frozen before he'd even know something was wrong. Then I sat back and thought about Barton. Barton Black had been in the background of this war since before I knew there was a war. Rihanna's father. A mafia Don who smiled at everyone and owed loyalty to no one. The kind of man who didn't build enemies because he turned them into assets before they had the chance. Elena had mentioned his name once. Two weeks before the fire. She'd said she'd heard it somewhere it shouldn't have been and that she wanted to look into it before she said anything concrete.

positions, but the helicopter was already descending in a flurry of wreckage. The side doors sprang open, and a dozen armed individuals descended to the ground, their military gear stripped of all national identification or affiliations. They spread out in a perfect tactical formation, taking up over-watch positions as their apparent leader approached with two other soldiers. Their weapons readied but pointed to the ground in an obvious gesture of neutrality. Arnold instantly angled his body in front of Alice, adrenaline surging and muscles stiff for further violence. The tall figure removed his helmet, revealing a rugged face with deep creases and a broad scar that traced the curve of his