Putty Arrow, Bro!

it will remain for archive reasons and just in case I decide to indie Clint again

There are few things April knows with certainty. languages, her children, and Clint’s unerring ability to maintain calm under pressure.

Generally speaking that unerring calm comes hand in hand with a truly terrible sense of humor, and given her current unshod state combined with the disheveled nature of what had in fact been an incredibly expensive dress it was no wonder that her husband’s appearance was met with the sound of the metal baton extending.

April rolled her eyes, tension easing from her spine because if Clint was here that meant things were going to improve rapidly.

“Electroshock arrow?” She drawled, green eyes practically aglow in the dim half light of the alley, “Anne Rice weirdo over took one of'em t'the face.” She sniffed and managed to straighten. The asphalt dug into her feet and she was sure she’d cut her left arch open on some broken glass. Her foot throbbed, sharp lances emanating from the bottom of said appendage. She daren’t glance down however lest her distraction allow bozo’s two and three an opportunity to gain any ground on her.

She flexed her grip on the baton, “Metahuman–” she corrected the Avenger, “Whose clearly read too much Vampire th'Masquerade,” drawled with the sort of irritation she usually reserved for the exceptionally stupid SHIELD Agents. Or Chavez from filing who was always screwing up April’s careful categorization in the office.

“You wanna just…knock th'rest of'em out so we can take th'babies for ice cream?” If she did not allow herself to feel afraid of what could be a potentially terrible situation, then it meant that Tommy would not be afraid. The last thing she wanted to deal with once this little kerfuffle was resolved, was Tommy suddenly fearing every single person they encountered on the street. 

Of course, Tommy was a Barton. Which meant he’d probably take the experience and decide he wanted to grow up to be just like Clint. 

Behind her, pseudo-vampire number two (in possession of some epically badly bleached hair), flung himself at April with a snarl, his hands clenched into fists that April only just managed to knock aside with the baton, bringing her knee up into his gut with violence born of the incredibly small, and angry as she sidestepped around him. Mostly gracefully.

“Sometime in th’near future’d be nice darlin’.”

April was giving him a truly exasperated look, and even amongst all the terror and danger of the situation, Clint couldn’t help but smile. If she was taking the time to whip up a snarky comment or two about his timing or his weapons choices, then things couldn’t really be all that bad, could they? “Yeah well, I’m not sure how much a real arrow is gonna do. These aren’t exactly wooden stakes.” he quipped. “Besides, I don’t think it would teach a very good lesson if I just straight up murdered this dude in front of our kids.”

Two more goons popped out of nowhere, and April took on one of them like a champ. If they weren’t already married and didn’t have two totally awesome kids together, he’d probably ask her out on a date just for that. Clint loosed his arrow into the face of the one standing in front of him. The vampire/metahuman thing shrieked and fell to the ground again, twitching as electricity coursed over him. A second later, Clint dropped a knee to his face, and he quit moving. The third guy was running for him; Clint shot a putty arrow at his feet, stopping the goon in his tracks. Clint ran over to him as the man struggled to release his feet from the goo, and smacked him hard across the cheek with the edge of his bow. The man howled and grunted as Clint struck him again, once in the stomach, once in the nose, and one more time to the back of the neck before he crumpled on the ground.

April had taken care of her foe with flying colors, though Clint gave him a final kick in the face just for good measure.

He slung the bow across his back, and hurried over to the kids. Faith had her face buried in Tommy’s side. It was good that Faith hadn’t seen, bad that Tommy had. The kid was either going to get nightmares, or get inspired by the serious ass-kicking he’d just seen his dad do, and Clint didn’t really know which one was worse. “Hey baby bird,” he said soothingly as he scooped Faith up into his arms and kissed her gently on the cheek. “No more crying, okay? You’re all right, Daddy’s gonna take us all away from the bad guys. She hiccuped, and hugged her little arms around his neck. Clint, in turn, hugged Tommy with his free arm. “My little man, you’re so brave! Thank you for taking care of your sister.”

“Are they gonna wake up, Daddy?”

The wanna-be vamp edged closer and April pushed Faith into Tommy’s arms, green eyes narrowing. She had a stun baton in her bag if she could get to it. If for no other purpose than to provide a distraction long enough for Tommy to get himself and Faith safely away.

Whether or not Clint was on his way, April couldn’t tell. Her phone was now abandoned on the asphalt of the alley. Her jaw worked, gaze flicking between the vamp and his cohorts, and the place where her bag was spilled across the asphalt several feet away. Soft word to Tommy in yiddish, all instruction to keep quiet and comfort his sister. Before she rose slowly, gaze never straying from her would-be attackers.

“Y’all don’t know me very well if y’think I’m just gonna sit by an’ do what y’want.”

It had been perhaps too many years since she’d been attacked or forced to exercise her (admittedly limited) hand-to-hand skills; thankfully her aim was still just as true, shifting to remove her heels. (The one left at any rate. Wherever the previous one had got off too was a concern for another time). The familiar weight of an expensive Louboutin in her hand she smiled, then flexed and the shoe went arcing through the air to clip the lead wanna be vamp in the face. 

Suitable enough distraction for her to dart between him and the dumpster to reach for her bag, gaze scanning the area to ensure Tommy and his sister were securely wedged behind the receptacle. 

He killed the motor in the car when he was at the edge of the block, and rolled the car silently toward the alley where April’s phone was located. He at least hoped she was with it, and so were the kids, all preferably in one piece. His heart pounded a little more fearfully in his chest than he would like to admit at the thought of finding nothing but the phone lying in a dumpster, maybe a few smudged and bloody fingerprints covering the screen.

Nope, he wasn’t going to think about that. April was fine, and so were the kids... They had to be.

The car slowed to a stop. Clint grabbed his gear out of the backseat and got out, car in drive and key still in the ignition, ready to rumble the car back into life. He’d be ready for a quick getaway if they needed it. He drew an electroshock arrow and knocked it in his bow as he walked silently to the edge of the alley. He could hear voices, and a thrill of relief rushed through his body as he heard April speak. There was a swish of air, a grunt, and then the sounds of someone scrambling over damp concrete -- that was his cue.

Clint stepped out into the alleyway and shot the the assailant in the back, square between the shoulders. He spluttered, staggered forward, and fell to his knees, though Clint could tell he wasn’t down for long. His eyes darted around the alley: Tommy, Faith, and April, all looking shaken (or absolutely terrified in the case of their children) but otherwise safe. He gave his son a small, comforting smile, and a look that clearly said, “Stay where you are, bud.”

The bad guy was standing up, and Clint drew another arrow. He pointed it directly at the creep’s face as he turned around. His skin was sickly pale and devoid of color, save for a mark on his cheek where April had (presumably) whacked him with something. He grinned at Clint, revealing pointed teeth. “Vampire.” Clint said, more to himself than anyone else. “Okay. Not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me all week, but it’s up there, I’ll give you that.

April misses the days when she and Clint did not have kids running screaming through the house. To be perfectly honest, not that she doesn’t adore Tommy and Faith she just… once upon a time her free moments were spent in the quiet. Reading. Or working.

Not being shot at by deranged metahumans masquerading as pseudo-vampires. She’d lost her shoes in the kerfuffle (something which still stung); Tommy cling to her side, eyes wide with terror. At seven, he was her little man, whereas Faith– only recently turned two, had a fist crammed in her mouth while she sniffled and heaved quiet little sobs that April did her best to soothe.

The lead metahuman (April refused to call them pseudo-vampires in her head) had clearly been reading too much Vampire the Masquerade and Anne Rice. He rounded the corner with a fucking bat, his duster sweeping out behind him.

“C’mon doc- we just wanna talk, maybe have a little snack or two.” 

All April could hope was that Clint was actually near his damn phone.

Clint was surprisingly cool with being a dad, although sometimes the noise was, uhh, excessive to say the least. There was something about screaming children’s voices that hit a particular pitch that drove Clint absolutely bonkers sometimes, even more than gunshots or bombs going off or alien weapons blasting in his vicinity. Still, that strange juxtaposition of being an assassin/spy/superhero by day and happily-married-with-children by night was oddly comfortable. If you had told him he’d feel that way before Faith, before Tommy, before April, he’d have looked at you like  you were a complete nutcase. Now, he couldn’t imagine life without them.

He had the apartment to himself for a couple of hours which, admittedly, was really nice too. He lay on the couch playing video games, Lucky nestled between his legs, when he heard his phone buzzing against the side table. He paused the game, and answered. “Y’ello?” he said. Nothing but faint voices and some rustling noises. “April, I can’t hear you. Is this a butt di--” He cut himself off. Faith was crying, and an unfamiliar voice was speaking, threatening them. Clint sat up, pushed the home button on his phone, and switched it to call tracing. A second later and he was off the couch, grabbing a quiver and bow from out of the hall closet.