Nomad (Steve Rogers)

13

One Year Later

I turn the key and unlock the door to my apartment one evening. The streets are lit, but barely any traffic passes through as busily as it once did. The nights are the worst. Eerie and quiet. The city is all but dead. Just like half of the world's population. I know I should be thankful that I wasn't one of those who disappeared, but other times I just wish I had. 

After all. My contract to myself was complete but brought me nothing in return. 

"They tell me that you're the one to speak to about contract killings." A voice comes as I walk in,  and immediately I turn and launch a knife at who has been waiting for me, the blade smashing into the wall just shy of his head.

They make no attempt to fight back. 

The person in question is hooded, masked with only his eyes to show, and dressed in black. I know him. I've heard of him just like others in my profession have, but I also wonder why he's here. His name has been circulating the black market for weeks, months. 

"I was. But I suppose after what's now happened, I'll have to retire – haven't had a kill in months" I tell him. "You're Ronin."

He nods. "I need weapons. Wondered if you had contacts."

"If they haven't been dusted then yeah." I gesture for him to come through into my office space, going through my list and giving him the contacts that he needs. "They should be able to give you what you need."

He looks at the paper I've given him and then puts it inside one of his pockets. "You were responsible for the death of General Ross."

"It was for a good cause." I bite back, wondering whether he is here to kill me because of that as well. He's welcome to. 

Steve was right. I felt satisfaction at killing the General when the time came around, even more so when Hydra's intentions were exposed, but it still didn't bring my parents back. Another name on the list, and that's all he will be.

"You're skilled." Ronin states.

"I'd like to think so."

His eyes stare at me. "You should come with me. Bring down those criminals who survived the snap." His tone is bitter.

I cross my arms. "Why would you want my help?"

"Because what else are you going to do? It's a waste of potential."

Steve's words when I first met him ring through my mind. "You're not a killer, and you don't want to be - I can see it in your face even under all the humour you're trying to cover it up with."

But Steve isn't here anymore. I've had no contact with him except when I called to tell him the news about Ross, even then it was just two simple words. "It's done." And then I hung up. I don't know whether he was dusted or not during the snap.

I have nothing to lose, and nothing to gain either – other than the company of Ronin.

"If I go with you? You need to tell me who you are. I need to know who and what I'm gonna be working with here."

"It's a yes or a no Aster." Ronin replies.

I swallow, but the decision isn't exactly the hardest one I've had to make. "Ok. I'll help you."

At this point Ronin pulls down his mask and takes his hood off so I can now see who he is. The man behind the mask takes me by surprise. "Hawkeye?"

Clint Barton himself. And instantly I can tell that this is a man who is tortured, perhaps somewhat wrecked by grief.

"Not anymore." He corrects me. "Just Clint...or Ronin as they call me."

"You were the last person I was expecting."

Clint shrugs, "I'm full of surprises." And he looks around the apartment, picking up one of my framed pictures and studying it before setting it back down. "Found some people in the black market who directed me to you. They said you were the best...the one who exposed General Ross." He says, "You did my friends a favour though. Helped expose Hydra and showed just how corrupt Ross was as well as the handling of the accords. They're kicking themselves for that now."

I gesture for him to take a seat and he does while I perch on the edge of my desk. "Ross originally hired me to kill Steve Rogers. That's what made me question his intentions."

"But you didn't." Clint says.

"No...and I'm glad. Steve was the only one who trusted me, even if it did take some time."

Clint nods at this. "He wasn't snapped, if that's what you're thinking."

I feel a wave of relief wash over me at this, but then I see his face and know that he's lost a lot. "You lost someone?"

"My whole damn family." He admits. "And for what? Nothing. Why should people like the Mexican cartel and other criminals get to live while my wife and kids don't? I have to set things right."

"Can't do that without your arrows." I note that he is without his trademark weapons.

Clint snorts. "Those were seized when I was put on house arrest. Hence why I'm here."

I push myself off the desk and go to the closet that's in the order, opening it before finding what I need. "I have something better." I tell him and pass him a retractable sword. I have a couple but barely found the use for them. Much preferring smaller and more concealable weapons over large ones. "It's not a bow and arrow but with who you are now? It will prove to be of some use."

Clint looks over the sword blade and nods. "Perfect..." then he looks at me. "I may need you to teach me what you know. Adds to the CV."

"If I'm coming along for the ride then we've certainly got time." 

Seems like I'm back in business. Redemption was never meant for me anyway.