#clintbartonassassin

If Tony Stark did one thing right, it was the winter season, Maria mused to herself while standing in the main lobby of the residence hall. She directly faced a roaring fire in the warm stone fireplace, casting its flickering orange glow over comfy, overstuffed couches and armchairs, all laden with knit afghan blankets and pillows. A basket of cedar logs sat next to the hearth because of course Stark Tower would have a real, wood-burning fireplace. The room was otherwise empty and disappointingly devoid of any other décor to indicate the season normally associated with joy and warmth. A depressing single strand of twinkling lights had been plugged in near one of the couches, tangled to hell and eventually abandoned (probably by one of the Young Avenger boys, their attention spans seemed to be on the low end).  

Heaving a sigh (borne of excitement, not annoyance), the Avenger got to work. A ridiculously large evergreen tree had been propped up in its appropriate water-filled base in the center of the room, near the point where the ceiling was highest. JARVIS had arranged for its delivery and had agreed with her that Señor Stark not be informed of its arrival. She wanted this to be a surprise! Boxes had been deposited at the far end of the room, brand new and sealed- purchased, of course, with her monthly allowance earned solving the world’s problems and fighting baddies big and small. A quick flick of a lengthy talon cut cleanly through the clear packaging tape and the flimsy cardboard fell open, revealing a plethora of shimmering metallic spheres and glittery dangly ornaments. From her kneeling position, she leaned back on her haunches and surveyed the tree, which was easily fifteen feet in height. Where to start?

The shapeshifter rose, holding a coiled strand of lights across both hands and approached the tree on silent feet, chin tilted toward the top of the tree. “I think I know how you wanna do this,” a gruff voice broke in on her thoughts from behind and she whirled around. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see the tousle-headed blonde perched on a balcony that opened into the common room from the floor above. Clint looked entirely relaxed with one knee bent and the other dangling loosely between metal balusters, toe pointed lazily toward the floor. “Hola, arquerito,” she said fondly, tilting her head as he began to stir. Clint scaled the metal railing normally intended for a human being’s safety- though in this case it had been used as a handrail- and swung from it, leaping down a half story and falling into a small roll to absorb the shock of the fall before springing back up. Two swaggering steps brought him a pace length from the dark-headed woman, a signature smirk plastered across his weatherworn face. Maria gave him an appraising look, not quite skeptical, but the knowledge that the archer tended to speak without intending to be taken seriously.

“How then, chiquito?” She turned back toward the tree, shifting the lights in her hands as if testing their weight. “I was thinking that if I used my python arms, I could try and snake the lights around and around, like this,” she lilted, holding up the lights and miming the action for effect, looking at the Avenger for approval. Clint squinted, nodding in agreement, though his mouth was set in a thin, straight line. “Now, I’m no tactician Santiago, but I think that this may be the perfect opportunity for you to enlist the help of your favorite marksman. I take payment in pizza,” he finished, folding his arms across his chest and rocking back on his heels. “Trust me. You’re gonna want my help.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile, though her eyebrows betrayed her cynicism. There was a long pause, filled only with soft pops and cracks from the fireplace. “Claro, sure. JARVIS?” she assented finally, then looked up toward the ceiling. “Placing the order as we speak, ma’am,” the AI system replied neatly almost immediately. Clint clapped his hands, his face breaking into a grin. “Alright. This should be fun. I mean, it will be fun. And cool. Just watch,” he spoke excitedly.

Maria wasn’t quite so sure, however, and became even less so when the archer withdrew his ever-present bow, snapping it open with a sharp flick of his wrist. He reached forward, gently plucking at the end of the strand and fixing it to the end of an arrow he had already nocked as though it were second nature. “Now, just watch,” Clint rumbled, his body tensing in a line not unlike the taut string of his bow, pulling back and extending his arm in a smooth, practiced motion. A small sound was the only indication that he’d released the arrow, and with it the strand of lights went sailing upward, cascading down from the feathered end of the arrow now secured at the top of the tree’s trunk. “All you gotta do now is plug ‘em in! I can do more- this’ll be the best looking tree for miles around,” the Avenger said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm that ended with him reaching for another arrow. Maria grinned, pleased with the result. It was not a conventional lighting scheme, but it would be perfect.

She returned to the boxes and retrieved more and more strands of lights, feeding them to the archer as he shot more toward the top of the tree- never missing once. When finished, the treetop was littered with arrows, each attached to its own strand of lights dangling vertically down the entire length of the pine. Clint stood back and admired his handiwork with a self-satisfied smirk, giving the shapeshifter a look as if to ask “what’s next?”, but Maria had already turned away and was digging through the next box, this time pulling out ornaments and shoving them into his arms. “Decorate!” she exclaimed. For the next few hours they patiently emptied the boxes and trimmed the tree. Clint enjoyed shooting the ornaments onto the tree, while Maria was utilizing her shifting ability to allow her to use snake-like appendages to reach the highest spots. At last, she stepped back into the dim room; the fire had burnt low ages ago, smoldering quietly behind them. Clint was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet and the shapeshifter gave him a nod. He plugged in the extension cord and the tree burst into light, some strands blinking, others not, but all reflecting off of the shiny surfaces of the ornaments so carefully placed on the pine tree’s boughs.

They stood for a moment in awed silence, admiring the tree before an automated, accented voice spoke to them over the intercom system and broke the spell.

“Mr. Barton, Ms. Santiago? Your pizza has arrived. I am sending it up presently.”

"Well now, ain't that a sight?" Rogue said to herself, floating just a few inches off the ground near Osborn's helicarrier. It had been pure luck that she had been out of the school and nearby (she hadn't really gotten any calls from Osborn since she had joined, and thus didn't see the point in hanging around often), though she had bothered to borrow some super strength, durability, and healing. She'd learned from the Cyclops explosion.

But now Rogue was staring up at two large battle airships facing off each other above New York City. The new one bore the Latverian logo, identifying it as Doom's. She had hoped for a moment it was Fury who had chosen to take over. But what would she do now? As an Avenger and an American, it was her duty to protect the American people and fight Doom. But she wanted Osborn to be taken out. Doom apparently wanted this same thing. Though Rogue wished she could just let this be two villains fighting each other, it wasn't. Any shrapnel or helicarriers flying out of the sky would land on the people below. The city wouldn't evacuate. Couldn't in time, but most people were so used to these things, they hunkered up in their apartments and hoped not to die.

Name: Cordelia Barton (She’s named after a Shakespearan character- just like Viper was. But since Clint never learned her real name, he gave her his last name.)

Gender: Female

General appearance: Cordelia has dark blonde hair, like her father, straight and down to her shoulders, that she prefers to leave loose (much to the frustration of her parents who don’t think its practical). She has her mother’s green eyes. Cordelia has a slim build and is of average height. 

Personality: She has her parent’s sharp tongue - a mix between Viper’s heavy sarcasm and Clint’s dry wit. Unlike her parents however, she is optimistic and doesn’t believe in no win scenarios. Cordelia is reckless but sincere. And while she is extremely intelligent, she isn’t interested in studies.

Special talents: She has decent aim, and a bit of a head for chemistry. But she is an extremely talented escape artist.

Who they like better: Cordelia has spent more time with her father, but enjoys her bad girl outings with her mother more.

Who they take after more: Clint almost regrets that Cordelia is turning out more like her mother.

Personal headcanon: Cordelia has no interest in saving the world, or destroying it. She wants to be a magician.

Face Claim:

Caitlin Carmichael as Child Cordelia:

Alexis Dziena as Adolescent Cordelia:

She had received her mission: Find Clint and try her best to get him to join H.A.M.M.E.R. It was simple. Or at least it sounded simple. Alex knew that it wouldn't be as easy as it seemed. Clint was loyal to a fault. It would take everything she had to even get him to consider joining with Osborn. She would have to use everything. She didn't want to manipulate him, but she didn't want to know what would happen to him if he refused, either. Clint was a good man with a good heart. He didn't deserve to be considered a fugitive and she didn't want that to happen. 

She was almost sure she knew where she could find him. The roof of his apartment. He had brought her there a few times. Said it was the best place in the city to get away from all the chaos and clear his head. That was why she was on her way to the apartment building now. Only a few more steps and she would enter the building. She could have just flown to there. It would have been much easier and simpler. She didn't want the public to see her, though. His apartment was in plain sight and with it being sunset, she would be easily seen. 

Alex opened the door to the building and made her way to the elevator. She kept her head low, not wanting anyone to speak to her. When the elevator doors closed, she pushed the button that lead her to the top floor. As the compartment shot upwards, Alex took deep breaths. She was nervous to see Clint. Nervous to tell him that she had joined H.A.M.M.E.R. The ding sound brought her out of her own head. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own. They were guiding her to the door that contained the rooftop access.