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08/24/2012 01:30 PM
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Choices
Current mood:
 depressed
The archer walks unto a long abandoned cliff side walkway, his eyes darting around, his hands shaking. It had been a very long time since he had come here and he had good reason for it. Mainly, too many bad memories and the beginnings of hangovers that never seemed to end. Still, he felt a connection to the ghosts that haunted this place. The ocean roared beneath him and the wind blew harshly against his face, reminding him of how this place was to him emotionally. How he shouldn't be here now. How he couldn't take the memories of her voice screaming out to him. Then there was the reunion. Then there was the recollections that flooded his mind. The hot tub. The night they made love as if there would be no tomorrow. Those memories stung his heart almost as bad as the wind stung his face.
One singular door was closed, the other one, he knew was protected almost as strongly as a bomb bunker.
There's always those moments in a person's life when their torn between what's real and what is a lie. On the outside, they smile and act like everything in the world is perfect. Yet, on the inside, they hurt. They look for some sort of understanding to help them towards that next step in life. Sometimes that step leads to a crossroads, you know, the one that people spoke on back in the day that could lead to happiness or despair. In a lot of ways I'm standing there now but for some reason, one I don't know for sure yet, well....I know I'll choose the right one.
It's been years, more years than even I want to admit too but I still feel that connection with her. I don't think I ever lost it to begin with. I've had those fantasies that most men have about that perfect woman but mine have always been more simpler. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Something as small as a hug, a sweet caress, a cuddle, hell..even a smile can lead me in a direction that can bring out the best in me. I'm not the type that is hard to make happy. I just need the right person to provide that spark in my soul to make me happy.
This was the same location, one he had traveled to many times without anyone knowing about. That one place where it seemed all of his thoughts seemed to trickle from fantasy to reality and then back to heartache. So many years, so many memories...some standing out screaming to him but others seemingly fading away. The location was the pacific coastline overlooking the beaches of Palos Verdes. His thoughts? Where they had been for years before now..on a woman that he could never forget no matter how hard he had tried.
Clint's finger's traced along the wooden railing overlooking the beach line at least fifty foot below him, his eyes locked on the stars in the sky. This is where he went to think of her and the significant impact she had on his life. It had been a long time since he had seen her but his thoughts had never wavered. He still loved her and there was no doubt in his mind that he would until his dying day. The truth, one that had hit him earlier like an anvil to his head was simple, she had moved on to greener pastures while he was away.
He couldn't blame her though. How could he? He was the one that left her when life became tough. As always, Clint took the high road out and tried to protect those that he cared about. His motto had always been out of sight out of mind. Still, it never occurred to him just how far out of mind he would be. His struggles and redemptions, fails and successes..none of that mattered now. All that seemed to make any sense was the future and the path he would take.
Which led his thoughts back to the crossroads. If he took the left, it would only lead him back into the past...a past that he loved and one he would never forget. On the right however was something more shinier. A new beginning. A chance to forget everything that had broken his heart in his life.
Choices...life..decisions..
When would life ever be simple? Choices easy...the only way to find out was to make that choice.....
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08/07/2012 01:57 PM
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Oh come on�you think I�d have an Arrow flying around this place if I didn�t have my bow again?
The Location: Bed-Stuy, New York; apartment of Clint Barton Clint rubs his fingertips across his temples as he falls backward into a chair, then lowers his hands back to his lap, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His head was throbbing. The past twenty four hours had been a hell of an ordeal and his body was feeling the bumps and bruises of it. He hurt in places he had forgotten existed on his body...especially his head. A thrown bottle upside the head that connects has that affect on a person. At least he had made a friend. A loyal one it appeared from what had happened earlier in the evening. Arrow. That was his name and he had saved Clint's ass in a way that most human's wouldn't have. For that reason, he had a home at Clint's place as long as he needed or wanted it. He couldn't help but think how funny life can be sometimes. Things that he thought were dead and gone seemed to be popping up all over this new world. Old friends, old habits, people checking in on him, and people causing static. What was he to do? Show his mettle and pull a Pinky and the Brain routine? Get a sidekick again? Pull a yearlong drunk? Hell, maybe even adopt a dog? So many choices were before him, especially while he waited to be rescued and took back to his home world. The question was..did he want that now? The longer he stayed here, the more he called it home.
Sure, he knew he was gone for weeks on end at times but it didn't mean he didn't think of those at home almost every day. He missed them. He missed them in a way that most could never comprehend. It was what it was though and his work kept him away for longer periods of time that he would like. He had to keep going though. Partly for his own sanity but mostly for those that depended on him. Yet, he had found recently that what made him feel like himself was the one thing he was missing in his life. The adventure, the purple suit, his friends and those he looked at at times as closer than his own family. His home away from home.
Clint spoke silently as his mind drifted off to a special place, a hilltop that visited quite often at one time in his life. He thought of something a close friend and confidant once told him. 'How do you live if your ruled by your past but how do you let go of a past that helped mold you?' It was a question he asked himself over and over for the past few years. There wasn't a definite answer in his mind until the past few days. It was like someone finally pulled his cord and the light bulb came on over his head. He finally understood. Most of all, he 'got it'. He didn't have to change who his was despite what others thought. He didn't have to be with the in crowd. He didn't have to fall in love to be loved by those that really mattered to him. He didn't have to go out of his way to make someone smile or say hi. Quite honestly, he finally came to the conclusion that he didn't have to give a shit about anyone that didn't deserve his time. Which was hard to come by to begin with. Slowly, he sit up and made his way to his feet, making his way over to a panel on the wall in his rooftop apartment. For a very long time, he hadn't put on the suit, opting instead to be Clint Barton instead of Hawkeye. With a smile erupting on his face, he pushed a small hidden switch on the wall and watched as a sliding wall panel slid open. Inside hung the purple costume the world knew as Hawkeye, along with all of his bows and specialized arrows. He reached for his bow and took it into the palm of his right hand, gripping it as if his life was renewed. Once again, he spoke in light voice as Arrow looked over at him and barked happily. "Oh come on...you think I'd have an Arrow flying around this place if I didn't have my bow again?"
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07/12/2012 12:42 PM
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Yeah...me too.
Current mood:
 animated
He hates running like this. It's never been his style and especially not now. Yet, it's dark and he left his goggles at home. Even worse is the fact he is wearing civvies and without a trick arrow to spare.
"Shit!"
How does he always get himself in these scenarios?
"Fuck!"
Something nearly grazes the side of his head, the whisp of the air of it passing by is the only tale tell sign of that theory but he hadn't heard a gunshot ring in the air. The next thing he notices is..
THUNK!
That would be the sound of Clint Barton hitting a sign post, much like George of the Jungle would hit a tree. He literally bounces off of it and rolls into a fetal position for the briefest of moments, grimacing in pain. Through a mumbled but heavy breathed voiced, he speaks, rolling over to see the shadow of his would be attackers. Clint's eyes widen as they get closer, the forms of the people becoming more clearer to him.
"You have got to be shitting me!"
Clint sits up in an indian style stance as a small hand reaches towards him.
'Sorry mister...we thought you were Justin..'
Clint's head tilts to one side as the second kid pulls out his Nerf gun into full view, grinning all cheesy like he had just shot down a mongoose. Clint waves off the aid and the little boy pulls his hand back, but rocks on his heels back and forth nervously.
'We didn't mean ta scare ya."
Clint jumps up quickly to his feet, shrugging off the kids words with a light clear of his throat.
"It's ok...but ya gotta be more careful...lotsa bad guys are out."
The kids looked around and then one of them circled his index finger around the side of his head at the other, signaling a he's loony sign. The kids stepped back some from Clint, even as a light came on brighter from a balcony a floor up from the ground. A woman's voice called out below.
'Boys! It's time for bed!'
The boys took another step back with one of them saying...
'Sorry again mister. I hope your head's ok.'
Clint responded as the kids ran off.
"Yeah...me too."
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02/11/2012 01:21 PM
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Vendetta
Current mood:
 adored
 They say that change is imminent eventually, that only a select group of people can see within the depths of their souls and see where they need to be. We are those people the government should be afraid of for we are the voice of the people that can not speak for themselves. We are Vendetta.
Vendetta Inc. was formed in 2007 by Carlos Vendetta after the Superhuman Registration Act (SHRA) was passed by the US government. The stance of the organization was to be the voice of the people caught in the crossfire between the different factions that deemed mutants and meta humans "living beings of mass destruction." Carlos knew at the time that once these people were forced to register, that other citizens, whether they were gifted by powers or regular humans, would soon be persecuted by their own government. The signs were already apparent by the government forcing policies on the general populace.
The proverbial ball began to roll after the passing of the act and Vendetta was formed to play the intermediate between the government and the people. It went well for a while, with Vendetta operatives helping the Red Cross and other non for profit organizations to help the people caught in poverty and the damage caused by the Civil War that erupted between the government and heroes that opposed the SHRA. Eventually, Carlos saw the need for the people to have their own protectors. A lot of good was done in the world after his dream came to fruition, especially in provinces such as Genosha and within the US in mutant havens like District X.
Unfortunately, after many behind the scenes wars with likely villains such as Lex Luthor and Strife, Carlos felt the need to gain his own haven for those caught in the crosshairs of the war and New Texas was born. To the dismay of those gathered their however, Carlos realized that his method had been wrong and went on a hiatus to find himself. During this time, Vendetta fell apart as leadership parted ways, all but Clint Barton who remained almost to his death when the Vendetta compound was bombed by still unknown assailants. Many of the old incarnation still believe this was an act of war on humanity itself by the government, simply for the people of Vendetta trying to give the people a safe haven and peace.
Today, the old Vendetta Inc. is gone but the reasons they fought are still living within many of the old guard. It is obvious most in the man that stood side by side with Carlos Vendetta on many occasions, Clint Barton. The dream lives within him and the others that have rallied to stop the war in the world, a war that has turned from one on the battlefield to one waged behind the scenes. A war that is unnecessary as the Civil War was. Still, the voice of the people must be heard. The people must have a home to come to, whether they be mutant, metahuman, or human; to escape prosecution and tyranny by their government and those that would wish to cause them harm.
The dream lives within us. The people will be safe with us. We will be their voice. We are Vendetta.
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01/25/2012 12: PM
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Chance Barton bio
Chance Barton is the oldest son of Clint and Bobbi Barton,
alias Hawkeye and Mockingbird of Avenger's fame. His conception was kept a
secret by his parents to the other Avengers, except for the maid at the West
Coast Avengers compound, Maria. Bobbi had planned for Maria to be her child's
nanny; however a plot had been formed by Buck Chisholm, alias Trickshot to
force Bobbi into losing the child by drugging her secretly.
In her fourth month, the unknown delivery of the drug into
her body by Maria caused Bobbi to have a miscarriage. Emotionally distraught,
the loss of the child inadvertently caused Clint and Bobbi to reconcile before
both her and Clint seemingly died later. The child however was not dead and was
secretly kept alive in an incubator by scientist of the Secret Society, an
organization that Trickshot had ties to.
Chance was later legally adopted by Trickshot and raised as
his own child without knowledge of his biological parents. Trickshot hoped that
Chance had the same natural abilities as his father Hawkeye. Chance was brought
up in the carney atmosphere and trained by Trickshot in the art of archery,
just as his father had been as a youth and soon became a star attraction to the
show. As he grew older though, he found out more of the real source of his
"father's" financial wealth.
Following Trickshot into the ranks of the Secret Society,
Chance found his niche as an operative within the organization and received
additional training by Boomerang and Wyre. For the next several years Chance
worked as a freelance bodyguard, assassin, and mercenary for well-paying
clients. As time went on Trickshot was diagnosed with terminal cancer and that
he only had a short time to live. Wanting to die a noble death, Trickshot
sought out Clint, who had become a very accomplished archer and took the name
Hawkeye. Trickshot wanted to set up a duel between him and Hawkeye in which
Barton would win. Trickshot then went about luring Hawkeye to an island in
Greece, and they fought but Hawkeye found he could not kill his old teacher.
Instead the two made their peace and went their separate ways.
Later, Trickshot learned that Crossfire had put a bounty on
Hawkeye's shooting arm and had hired a variety of criminals to attack him. At
around the same time he received word that Trickshot's cancer had gone into
remission. Wishing to help his former student, Trickshot assisted Hawkeye in
taking out one faction of the Secret Empire and the act seemingly ended in
Trickshots death. However, Buck had survived and after hearing of the event
that caused Hawkeye's death in Manhattan, he decided to tell Chance the truth
of his lineage.
Now, Chance has heard of sightings of his mother and father
and their apparent resurrection and has joined the cause to bring Hawkeye to
his knees. Trickshot however has fallen to cancer again and the young man is
struggling with his responsibilities to which he should stand with. His real
mother or the man who he calls his father, Trickshot. In any case, he wants
Hawkeye to pay and will do anything to see this achieved.
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01/23/2012 12: PM
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Rebuilding a Chance..
They
say that change is imminent eventually, that only a select group of people can
see within the depths of their souls and see where they need to be.
He wiped the sweat from his brow as
he tilted his customized Harley motorcycle to one side and stepped off of it,
making sure that it stood firmly on its stand. The light winter breeze blew his
hair slightly as he looked forward at the building. No, it wasn't the one he
called home but for this moment in time, it would have to do. There were too
many memories to just let it all fade away from existence. His pops would have
wanted it that way, even if his hard headed ass would have never admitted to
it.
At least it's a start...
The young man thought to himself as
he walked the sidewalk away from the parking lot and towards the door. A man met
him halfway in a scarlet and black uniform and extended a hand his way in
greeting.
"How
you doing Chance?"
Chance lifted his arm and took the
man's hand in his firmly, shaking it for a brief moment before releasing it.
"I'm doing good Jeff. I see
things are still moving along slowly but your holding the fort down."
The man shook his head up and down
slightly before responding, letting his hand rest on his side.
"Yes
sir but we have to start somewhere. I'm just glad you called me to come help
with this. "
Chance smiled before a slight frown
appeared on his face and he lifted his hand up to tap the man on his shoulder
lightly.
"It's the least I could do
after what happened to your brother in New Texas Jeff. Your family has always
been very dedicated to what my dad and Carlos stood for. I just hope we can
bring it back to where it was one day. At least that way we'll know were
trying, ya know?"
Chance sighed a bit and pulled back
his hand from the man's shoulder. Clearing his throat, he continued.
"Everything starts with a dream
though Jeff. Hell, you know that. You were here before and saw the good our
parent's did. I just hope we can do the same."
The man showed Chance another slight
nod and stood to the side, opening the door for him to enter. In return, the
young walked inside as the door whished closed behind him. Letting out a light
sigh, Chance's eyes teared up as he looked around the half finished complex,
remembering what had happened just a few months earlier.
//"OCTOBER 12TH!
Do YOU REMEMBER?!?"
Chance pulled back his
hand and slapped Clint across the face repeatedly, then reached for the
crossbow perched on his upper leg while dropping his father's chin and standing
up, execution style. Chance yelled out again, lifting the crossbow and
directing its sights at his father.
"DO YOU REMEMBER
ME?!?"
Clint eyes watered up
when he heard the date. How could he not remember that date? It was the day that
his first child would have been born had Bobbi not lost it. How did this man
know that though....Unless he was telling the truth? Clint shook his head in
disbelief and whispered softly through hurried breaths.
"It can't be..."
Chance
forced his will, slowing time into almost a standstill as he moved. He could
see the dart getting closer to him and then turned his head towards his father,
pushing him out of the way with his hand. Chance spoke although his voiced
seemed like it was in slow motion.
"Fooooooooouuuuuuurrrrr
ssseeccccoooooonnnnndddddssss....saaaavvveeeee meeeeee
daaaaaaaaaaadddd......Pleeeeeeaaaasssseeeee........."
Everything
was in slow motion now and Clint seemed to be stuck in slow motion as well, yet
his mind raced along at normal speed. He realized what was happening now; even
as the dart hit Chance in his neck and the young man began his slow decent to
the pavement. The device that Chance had placed on Clint's chest began to blink
quickly, engulfing the archer in a bright white light. 4, 3, 2, 1...and Clint was
gone. Lync screamed out, dropping the gun instinctively and reaching to catch
Chance at the last possible instant in his arms, yet yelling out and still
trying to reach Clint with his other outstretched hand.
"NOoooooooooOOOOOOOOoooOOooooo!"//
Chance stopped in his tracks,
putting way the memories with a blink of his eyes. There were more important
matters at hand.
The only parts of the building
finished were the first floor level. A whisper escaped his lips as he looked at
a photo on the wall, more of a symbol of the struggle of a past he wasn't there
for.
"Four seconds...all you have to
do is find what I left you...when you do dad, I'll have your dream waiting for
you here...."
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01/09/2012 12: PM
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((Characters I will be roleplaying...
....from this profile...this is a work in progress so please bare with me. ^_^ They will be written into story lines but I wanted people to know what the characters are all about and who they are. They will be added here as they are introduced. All of these characters are my creations in rp, just so everyone knows.)) Name: Cian Eamon. 
Cian Eamon was born somewhere in Austria in 1988 to wealthy aristocrat Aletha Mekshir and Sean Eamon, one of the leaders of the IRA sanctioned organization, The Saints. Sean had been part of a so called humanitarian effort to bring medical supplies to the natives of the city, but was in truth there setting up a drug smuggling arena. His mother and father split up shortly after with Cian remaining in Austria and his father returning to Ireland. He was a normal child during this time until he reached his teen aged years. The first sign of his gift arising was when his mother caught him sleeping while levitating above his bed. Shortly after, she relocated with Cian to Ireland where she believed he could get the help she thought he needed. When they arrived, it was soon known that Sean wanted no part of Aletha although he was infatuated with Cian's gift and knack for electronics. This was the time when Cian learned of his father's loyalty to his country and Sean's image as a hero to the unspoken cause. Sean's numerous missions were kept a secret from Cian though. His mother only let Cian around his father in the workshop where Sean usually focused long enough on various projects long enough to keep his sanity. In the meantime, Cian was treated as Irish and was soon made a citizen due to his father's heritage and wealth. He was also considered the chosen one because of his gifts and a strange birthmark he had, one that many of the religious factions within the IRA considered the brand of God. His training was done by operatives within the Saints but his mother was always nearby to oversee his care.
Sean Eamon was killed during a hiatus in the United States a few years later, and Cian, now of legal age was the benefactor of his wealth and inventions. The actual murderer of his father has been kept a secret from him but during the funeral, his meaning and anger was evident in his voice although many did not understand his old Gaelic tone. Shortly after, he found out his father was not dead but in turn was in a coma and volunteered for a special process of his father's design, a dna transference to digital brain impulses. DNA was gathered from several historical figures, Napoleon Bonaparte, Grigori Rasputin, and Bennet de Paris to name a few. The process was a complete success and he picked up the experience and knowledge of the subjects. However, there was a catch as his father's mental implant was included as well at Cian's request. His thought was that his father would live on in a way through him. He was right but not in the way he wanted. Cian has been dealing with multi personality disorder ever since and it is being dealt with by hypnosis to keep his father's consciousness at bay.
Cian has said he is going to avenge his father's death and promised to focus on his training. He has taken over the business that belonged to his father and has made it a prominent name in technology again in a few months. Now, he is staying close to his new mentor Dominic Lyncoln and his personal instructor, Alana. Powers & Abilities: Cian is a psionic with unlimited potential but lacks the training. He is more instinct at the moment. However, he is a technological genious like his father and has all of his inventions at his disposal. The most important being teleportational devices and weaponry. He has a premonition ability that seems to be a second sense but allows him to see things a few seconds before they happen.
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01/09/2012 01: PM
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Chance Industries
Chance Industries:
Chance Industries is the result of five generations of Eamon clan family investments and is owned currently by it youngest member, Cian Eamon. This company was created to be the worlds leading private developer of weapons technology. It is a government contracted company who works in conjunction with the government and has many other contracts with countries and global peacekeeping organizations throughout the world including the UN and NATO. This company falls under the Irish banner and also designs,builds,and funds the operations of several foreign organizations. It employs well guarded but respected research labs in various nations all over the world and allows them to bypass regulations and governmental oversight. In this manner Chance Industries broke technological barriers of most leading developers.
Chance Industried was originally founded in 1752 by Ian Eamon as a Naval Gun Foundry. Until five years ago, it's head engineer, inventor, and CEO had been Sean Eamon until various mental disorders caused his fall from power.
Over the years Chance Industries product line has moved beyond machine guns and tanks and now includes nano-scale technology, directed energy weapons, and force barrier defenses. This is a listing of weapons products which include:
*AGP (Anti Gravity Pods)
* Cloaking and Teleportation Technology
* Networking Technologies
• Time Dampeners
* Molecular Reducer/Enlarger
* Weapons Research and Production for Military
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01/09/2012 01: PM
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Char: Sean Eamon
Name: Sean Eamon.
Alias: Ghost
Sean Eamon, aka Ghost, was born in Dublin, Ireland. He is a
world renowned inventor, a soldier, and a militant idealist. Sean fought
against the British regime during the height of Bloody Sunday, joining the IRA,
and working with a black ops team called The Saints.
While in Austria during the late 1990's, Sean had a run in
with a hit man, code named Wraith, who was ultimately revealed to be his
father. Unknowingly, they fought and Wraith was shot in the head by Sean. Sean
fell many stories from the chapel roof where they battled to the concrete
below. He nearly died and spent six months in the hospital after the battle.
While in the hospital, he met a woman named Aletha Mekshir, a wealthy
aristocrat whom he fell in love with. The two were married a year later in
Sicily. His son Cian was born somewhere in Austria in 1991. Sean had been part
of a so called humanitarian effort to bring medical supplies to the natives of
the city, but was in truth there setting up a drug smuggling arena. Sean and
Aletha split up shortly after with Cian remaining in Austria with his mother
and his father returning to Ireland.
Having lost everything, Sean became the perfect soldier,
cunning and deadly. His exploits caught the attention of the IRA, who offered
him a spot in the governments black ops unit. He was one of the first people
that were injected with an experimental serum that had been designed to
increase strength and reflexes. Of the ten people that volunteered, only two
lived, the other being another young man by the name of Regan Riley. The two
became fast friends although they had totally different backgrounds and were
assigned to the Saints leadership. The process however drove Sean to the point
of psychotic with his work as an inventor being the only thing he could focus
on.
On a mission in America, Sean attempted to kill Clint Barton
at Lync Gevoel's request. The was a bid for revenge on an incident that had
happened a few years earlier when Lync's partner, Scream was brutally murdered
by Niesa Smyth. Although it seemed his mission was a success, Clint Barton was
rescued by Joel Masters and Sean was exiled to the United States. During this
time, Sean became a prominent member in the drug cartels of New York.
During a mission by Hawkeye and Powergirl to retrieve the
documents called the 7 Day Theory, Sean Eamon was attacked and beat to death by
Power Girl at his own safe house. His body was retrieved by Lync Gevoel and his
mental imprints transferred to his son Cian in hopes of retrieving the
information that was lost in the documents. However, as fate would have it, the
time traveling old man Hawkeye returned in the past too warn Sean before his
death could happen which gave him time to prepare. Arrangements were made with
the Hand to revive him when his death occurred.
His whereabouts now are unknown and only a few know of his
new found life.
Powers:
Known superhuman abilitites: Sean is a mutant with a
superhuman intuitive talent for inventing mechanical devices. His mutant
ability functions as perception, as he possesses the ability to visually
perceive "mechanical energy" (the kinetic energy and potential energy
present in the components of mechanical systems) in action. This power allows
Sean to instinctively know and understand the potential and functional
operations of any machine or technological device in his visual range, a skill
that combined with his natural intelligence allows him to conceive, design and
build mechanical devices; and operate, modify and disassemble existing
technology or create countermeasures for it.
Sean's superhuman talent does not mean that he is a greater
inventor than geniuses such as Reed Richards, Victor Von Doom, or Anthony
Stark, none of whom owe their talent for invention to mutation. But even a
genius at invention must for the most part consciously work out the theoretical
principles behind the invention and then the design of the invention itself
through a series of logical steps. In Sean's case, however, many of these
logical steps would be worked out by his subconscious mind. Hence, Sean himself
might not be entirely aware of exactly how he figured out how to create an
invention of his.
His abilities with machines are not just limited to
inventions however. Sean has also shown the ability of communicating and
commanding any machinery. This includes but is not limited to cellphones, guns,
telephones, watches, televisions, and radios. It should be noted that just
because he commands or communicates with a machine doesn't necessarily mean
that a machine will obey or tell the truth.
Sean has also gained peak human strength and near
bulletproof skin due to a super soldier serum that he recieved in an
experimental project. Sean is also a very gifted marksman and hunter.
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01/07/2012 01: PM
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Happy endings...sorta.
"I thought that pain was something completely familiar to me, like a counterpart to my soul. Lost in the levels of itself, comfortable in the well known and remembered swirls of it. I've lived with pain for so long that I never thought it could affect me again."
She told me to go. Find out where my head was and come back at least with my head high or my heart finally free. That was a tough one for me. I mean really, how could I give up someone that I had literally given my entire heart to? That in itself is a contradiction when it comes to someone like me. I'm a flirt, a but I'm a lost cause when it comes to love. Some women are always walking through life looking for that prince, I on the other hand have always looked for that one I could call my princess. Unlike some however, I found mine and lost her.
Jessica knew that, no matter how much I sweet talked her and flashed her that Clint Barton smile. She hadn't been in SHIELD just for her amazing good looks. No, she was a hell of good read of people, especially men with psychological episodes. She was right though. If I was going to put anything together for the future, I had to at least attempt let go of some of my past. I owed that much myself to see where I stood with Bobbi...just one last time.
Jessica told me that she would be there regardless, as a friend if things went well, or as much more if it went bad. How could a man refuse a woman that was that understanding? On the other hand, if I didn't go, she'd probably go all Spiderwoman and kick my ass.
Which led Clint Barton to this moment. He sit on the edge of a hotel bed, night sand next to him and more booze than he needed. He was wrestling with himself.
Call her. You need closure at least. Why make it worse?
As always, in a man's head at least, there was the other voice that chimed in.
Don't call her. There's no reason to set her off and make things worse. Give her time.
Then again...
Call her.
And again..
Don't call her.
Finally, he came to unconvincing conclusion and simply mumbled out.
Shit.
Clint had to go. He had promised Jessica he would. Still, a little drink wouldn't hurt first and he eyed the liquor bottle near him before finally grabbing a bottle water next to it. It wouldn't have helped matters to show up drunk that was where Clint really wanted to be right now. No, Niesa had always taught him that it was an easy out and he usually stumbled into more trouble that way that he helped solve. Still, it was a temptation he didn't need.
Instead, he slowly reached over to the phone, pressing a few numbers on the key pad. It immediately went to voice mail after he lifted it to his ear. He attempted to leave a message but wasn't sure what to say. He just lowered the phone and stared at it, trying to put into words the frustration, anger, and betrayal that he'd felt for the past year. It was a mute cause of course and he knew it. Clint hung up the phone and grabbed his keys. Over the phone wasn't the best way to handle this anyways. No, face to face.
It wasn't long before he was on the road, his hair blowing through the bitter cold night air as he made his way on his Harley Davidson motorcycle. His ear buds blared from him iPod in his head, playing a type of music he didn't listen to very much these days. Country. The song was Josh Gracin's "Let You Go." The lyrics echoed through his head.
I said I'm over you and that we're through....so you should just move on..Cause I don't need and I don't want you and I don't love you anymore.'
The words touched his heart and his eyes began to tear up. A rare sign of weakness for the archer. He fought the tears back though until the wind finally gave him the help he needed. Then the end of the song came and he broke down completely, slowing the motorcycle to a stop on the side of the road, his right hand lifting to cover his eyes.
' Well I still love you and I'll always need you. I know I'll miss you now that you're gone and now I know I'm not the best you'll ever know...cause I loved you enough to let you go'
He lowered his head, even as the song came to an end, speaking in light but cracked voice.
"How do I tell a woman that showed me how to love again that I don't love her anymore....especially when it's a lie. I do love her. I just can't do this anymore. God damn it...how am I supposed to do this?"
Part 2
When he arrived, Clint found her in the WCA lab. She looked up as he entered and he flashed her a half hearted smile, just as her face brightened and she stood up. His facial expression changed to more of a frown when he saw her smile. In return, Bobbi's did as well. Many years together had taught the other what such expressions meant, even when most would not have noticed. After an awkward moment of silence, Bobbi spoke.
'Clint? What's wrong and don't tell me nothing.'
"We need to talk Bobbi."
The moment the words left his lips, he could already see her barriers going up. She responded in a way he expected.
'That's it then isn't it? '
Clint responded in a light but remorseful voice.
"Yes...but..."
'And you being the morally correct person you are Clint had to come and tell me in person.'
'You know you could have just sent me an email Clint but no..not you. You always were a gentleman."
"I'm not feeling much like one..."
Bobbi turned as she let her hand drift to her waist, yet her eyes told him how she was feeling. Bobbi cut him off again.
"It's never easy Clint. How many times have we been down this road. How many fucking times?!?"
Her voice broke up some and she turned around again.
"You said it Clint...now go...just leave me alone."
Clint shook his head no and walked over beside her, closing down the screen to the laptop with his hand.
"No Bobbi...not this time. You're not going to do this to me again. I'm not always the one that screws up..not this time."
Bobbi lifted her arms and crossed them across her chest but still would not turn to look at him. Clint took a deep breath and moved back from her laptop, then continued.
"Stop pretending to be someone you're not Bobbi...the woman I..."
Bobbi snapped back quick, cutting Clint off again.
'Is this where you tell me you love me Clint? That I am the only one for you and your soul mate? Your full of sh...'
This time, Clint cut her off.
"No. All I ever wanted was the woman I fell for..the one that came to me when I needed something to make me believe again. Damn it Bobbi! You proposed to me!"
Clint stopped talking, his eyes tearing up again as he choked back his words. Bobbi in turn took the opportunity to talk again.
'Clint...we both know I wanted a divorce before I was kidnapped and drug off to that God-forbidden hellhole of a Skrullworld. When you were there when I got back...'
Her voice cracked this time as she spoke.
'..and you were there to hold me....to tell me everything was going to be alright...I thought maybe...just maybe. Here was my Hawkeye..my knight in purple armor. I thought what the hell...maybe we were worth a second chance. I was wrong. You were wrong. We both changed and now it's time to move on...your right.'
"It's ok Sport. I'm a big girl and I understand. I know you love me and I will always love you. We just don't work well together outside of a bedroom right now."
Clint smirked this time, rubbing his thumbs against the top of her hands.
"Ditto Moxie....."
Nothing else was said as their eyes met and their lips greeted each others in a soft kiss. Closure was what Clint wanted but what he found was something he lost that he valued the most in her, a woman that understood him the way he understood her. His best friend....closure.
//Relationships come and go in life but the love for a true friend will always remain.//
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