#danny 1

 @immortalweapon​​

Clint wiped his blade off on his sleeve and stared out into the rain. He might’ve given up the name, but he still had the eyes of a hawk. He noticed things moving in the shadows. A doorway whispering open. That’s when he moved forward, blade at the ready. But he didn’t swing it just yet. 

He grabbed the skinny kid leaving and slammed him up against the wall. The katana was down at his side, and he tilted it just enough to catch the gleam of a street light. “You’re not the one I’m after,” he said in Japanese. “But you know where he is.” 

The kid nodded, eyes wide. Clint wouldn’t hurt him, he had some humanity left, but he didn’t need to know that yet. “All I want to hear from you,” Clint continued. “Is an address. Then you get to go home, all your limbs intact.” 

He angled the blade so that the glint of light fell across the kid’s throat. Clint saw his adam’s apple shift as he swallowed. He murmured an address, and Clint repeated it back to him. When the kid nodded, Clint let him go. He took off scampering down the alley. 

Clint paused there for a moment. He wasn’t sure why. This was the first tangible lead he’d had in weeks. Towards something he didn’t even fully understand, but he knew enough to know they were dangerous. Ever since he started looking into them, he’d felt like he was being watched. The hair on the back of his neck standing up. He stayed still, katana in hand. Then he turned his head. 

He gave up the name, but he still had the eyes. “I can see you,” he called out, turning to face the shadows. “You got a problem with something I did?”  

“ i do not desire your gratitude ”

“Oh...kay,” Clint said, arching a brow. The Tracksuits had gotten a lucky punch in. That’s all it was, that’s why Clint was reeling, blinking tears out of his eyes and touching his nose gingerly from the ground. “You know, most people just say ‘your welcome,’” he noted, hauling himself up so he could get a better look at the masked man. “You kinda let this whole ninja thing go to your head, ya know. You’re talking like a fortune cookie.”

Bang. 

It wasn’t a loud sound, really. Not nearly as loud as the bottle crashing to the floor, shattering into pieces after Jessica’s hand shot out. She sat bolt upright on the futon, staring at her front door. Studying the familiar silhouette who was raising his fist to knock again. 

“Jesus, I’m coming,” Jessica muttered, kicking at the broken glass, swiping it out of her way. She pounded towards the door and yanked it open, staring bleary-eyed at the visitor. “Danny. What the hell are you doing here at...” She trailed off glancing behind at the sunlight streaming through her windows. Mid-afternoon, at least. “Just what are you doing here?” she asked, turning back to him. 

ren had skipped the church part of the service, opting instead just to join the mourning at the cemetery. from his spot further back, he could see the line of cars making their way down road. 'and so it begins,' he thought, continuing to lean against the hood of his impala, buds in his ear. slowly, he fished out his phone from his pocket, lazily swiping his finger across in a zigging motion, and tapped the pad of his thumb against the play button. by then, music was replaced with the sound of footsteps. "that went longer than i thought. guess my timing's still shit." he cradled his phone in both of his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. and then he sighed. "then again, not like any of us can predict this crap. unreal."

i never think about danny watson anymore