[right]The Far, Far Past
Madripoor[/right]
Clint walked lazily through the streets filled with criminals of all sorts. Honestly, he feels the most at ease here than he's felt in a long time. It'd be so easy just to turn a corner, slip the comm out of his ear and vanish. But he doesn't. Because that would mean going back to what he used to be. And that wasn't an option. He wanted to do good. Not be a criminal. If only SHIELD would realize it and stop using him as an assassin. Why did they think he rebelled?

Clint scuffed his sneaker against a crooked stone and hissed. A sharp pain shot into his toe. 

"Watch your step." A passerby laughed. 

Clint flipped whomever it was off before walking again. [i][color=bc8dbf]Shake it off[/color][/i]. He mentally told himself. It's just a toe. And he had a meeting to make it on time to. Coulson had set it up a few days ago to get him an in, and the possible whereabouts of Black Widow.[hr][right]The Present
A dirty motel; Libson, Portugal[/right]
Clint jerked to a stop as Nat's slim arm shoot out in front of him. The archer narrowed his eyes at the door, but didn't hesitate to follow Nat into the shadows. His outfit was dark, much like Natasha's. The only difference this was his old SHEILD special ops uniform. Stark would have a fit if he discovered Hawkeye was wearing an outdated uniform when he had designed one for stealth, that wasn't all flashy and purple.

[quote=Natasha][color=#cc0000] “Company. I’ll race you to the car. Winner gets to choose where we eat next.”[/color][/quote]
Clint's mouth broke into a grin. Bets were so his thing. "[color=bc8dbf]You're on[/color]." Clint agreed. And without further ado the man stepped back out of the shadows and towards the doors. His hand was resting easily on his gun and his eyes were sharp. The men about to come through the doors were an unknown. They could be part of the Ten Rings, but since they were following Yuri because he was connected to the Rings, it was either the best bet, or the worst. Or they could be HYDRA. The little fuckers were everywhere. Poor Cap was still upset about it. Not that Clint blamed the guy.

As the door slowly opened Clint pulled his gun and in the smooth motion fired a shoot into the man opening the door. There was a sharp curse as the man hit the ground. Dead. Clint wasn't an amateur. Because of that he was still moving as the door flung itself open and a grenade flew through it. 

In a very showy move Clint fired on the grenade before it got too far from the gunmen. The explosion was loud in the small space and the heat sharp, even as he dove for cover on the opposite side of the room from the receptionist desk. [i]Sucks for you[/i]. Clint thought briefly. There was most likely another of the hit team down or dead. Having a grenade blown up in your face did quite a bit of damage.