AU applications ONLY About You - The Player
Name: KaOS
Age: 25
Contact: orderfromka0s on either AIM or Plurk
Past Role Playing Experience: over a year in Last Voyages with Rorschach and various other muses, a little dabbling in some other games, and a few years RP-ing on Insanejournal and Livejournal and through Facebook before that.
New Players (completely optional), if you'd like tell us how you found BTR: Black Widow's mun told me about it!
The Character
Name: Clint Barton
Age/Birthdate: 36 / June 26, 1976
Species: Human
*Type: Wanderer
Canon: Marvel, specifically the comics circa the Dark Reign arc, with some Ultimates canon pulled in for good measure. More or less; he's from the same version of things as Black Widow.
*Pre-existing powers: none! he's just your average plain-jane human.
*Rift Change, if applicable: since passing through the Rift, Barton will notice his eyesight has been ramped up even further; previously he'd already had eyesight operating at the peak of human capabilities, but with the influence of the Rift at work it will effectively be closer to what they outline in Ultimates-verse, although practically it's closer to being granted the literal vision of a hawk.
Upon passing through the rift, Barton's physical biology will change; increased fine musculature of the eye will allow him to change the shape of the lenses of his eyes rapidly and to a greater extent than normal humans, allowing him to compensate for varying environmental factors. An increase in photoreceptors far above that of humans will allow for a significantly greater acuity of vision. Range of vision will be equivalent to humans, as most raptors lack the oil droplets in their eyes that allow additional color detection, and he will still require night vision goggles to see in the dark, however with the additional photoreceptors and associated adaptations raptors have developed he will be able to resolve individual objects at greater resolution and both faster and slower speeds, and judge distances with greater accuracy than the human eye would be able to.
Dreamwidth:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forgothowtomiss
Played By: Jeremy Renner, and comics.
Icon: we'll say this one here.
Appearance:
HEIGHT: 6'3"
BUILD: Athletic, muscled, but without overdoing it. He's built like you'd expect a well-conditioned gymnast to be.
EYES: blue
HAIR: blond
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: he's got a Sagittarius symbol tattooed low on his left hip because criminals are assholes when you're drunk out of your mind (or so he'll say anyway, who knows how it actually got there), but aside from that it's mostly just scars. Matching faded, hairline scars running down the outside of both legs from when the bones got re-aligned, old puncture wounds scarred over on his right side below his ribs and lower back on his left side, just missing the kidney.
CLOTHING STYLE: Casual; he favors old t-shirts, worn jeans, and boots when he doesn't have to be in uniform, a leather jacket when it gets cold, and dark sunglasses if it's at all nice out.
COSTUME: Kevlar and leather, mostly, black with subdued purple sections for contrast, and reflective sunglasses that both protect and help boost his already superb eyesight. He's never without a bow, primarily a recurve (although he's more than competent with all versions) with a variety of arrow tips for different purposes, from explosive tips to grappling-type to standard arrowheads and everything in between.
Personality: Clint is a jokester by nature. He approaches the world with a grin and a clever quip, to all appearances lighthearted and carefree, unable to take anything seriously for long. He mocks his teammates, his enemies, those he holds close and those he hates, and the only difference between them is content, how cutting he intends them to be. He's honest about everything but himself, more than happy to provide his opinion whether or not it's wanted, and sometimes that's precisely WHY he gives it. Because somebody has to say the things nobody else wants to, and mostly as long as he hides it in a good-natured ribbing, he gets away with it.
He's cocky, arrogant, confident in his own abilities to the point where it's almost obnoxious, although he never overstates. He knows how good he is, and he doesn't brag outright; if he says he never misses it's because his accuracy is so good that statistically speaking, he doesn't. But he likes to give the impression that he's got everything under control, that he can handle the job he's given, even if he really doesn't; it's a matter of pride, and when you're one of the few pure humans in a group of people with abilities above and beyond the norm, well sometimes you need to make yourself feel like you can keep up with the metas. PROVE that you can. He hates losing; he'll eat humble pie if he absolutely has to, but he does his damnedest to avoid it as much as he can.
But all the outward self-confidence, the snark and the witticisms and the arrogance, they're all defense mechanisms; it's how he copes. His life up to getting recruited to SHIELD wasn't the smoothest, filled with bumps and potholes and roadblocks, and in general the only way he knows how to deal with it is to make light of it, act like it DOESN'T get to him. It's a leftover from the circus, the constant mentality of needing to continue on regardless of what happens, the need to keep smiling and laughing as if nothing happened, for the sake of the crowd. By now it's so complete that it'll take a HELL of a lot to get him to admit otherwise, and even then he'll be incredibly defensive and do his best to shake it off as if there isn't a problem. Regardless of the situation.
The other major thing the circus left him with is an almost rabid loyalty. To the point where it's actually potentially dangerous to his own well-being; he learned young that loyalty is everything, that you don't rat out your family or act against them pretty much or else (...having both your legs broken as a direct result of threatening to bring dirty laundry to light tends to do that), so consequently he'll do just about anything for his team -- take a bullet, undergo just about any kind of torture, put himself through hell and back, JUST because they're his team and he can't NOT have their back. If he counts you as a friend you get the same treatment, and you damn well better return the favor; it's not a thing he throws around lightly. He has many acquaintances but comparatively few ACTUAL friends; despite his overwhelmingly friendly demeanor he tends not to trust people on principle, another holdover from his less chivalrous days. He couldn't afford real friends, not when family was so important, you never knew what they would ask for or what kind of trouble they would get you into, whether they were really who they said they were, and consequently he holds the world at arm's length until its proven itself. But once you've made the list, you have a friend for life; he'll never betray you, never act to cause you harm if he can help it, and anything he does that results in those kinds of things? He'll feel guilty for for a good long time; he still feels guilty for trying to kill his brother, after all, even though he hadn't known it was him until after.
The amusing thing about his involvement with the Avenger Initiative and SHIELD in general, however, lies largely in the fact that Barton has enormous problems with authority. He hates taking orders, hates having to report to someone, hates having someone who's got that kind of power over him, so consequently when he DOES end up in those positions? He challenges authority like nobody's business, tests the limits and tries to take them further just to see what he can get away with. He respects Fury, sure, and Coulson, but Coulson's his handler, he's practically a friend at this point, and Fury....well. Fury's Fury. It's only out of loyalty, gratitude stemming from the fact that he let him join the group at all, that keeps him as in line as he is. He OWES Fury.
...which leads us to the last aspect of Barton, and this is perhaps the largest, the one that directs him the most. Clint has an almost compulsive preoccupation with debts and redemption and whatnot. He's spent a good long while proving his worth as a Good Guy and trying to break away from his criminal past, even though the record's been expunged and it's technically a non-issue, and to a degree he's STILL trying to prove himself worthy of the costume; he grades himself on a much tougher curve, expects a LOT more of himself, and really he's his own worst critic, constantly second-guessing if he's doing the best he can, if he's really worthy of being in SHIELD, let alone part of the Avengers Initiative. He hates having unpaid depts, hates OWING people, so consequently he'll either try to shrug things off as non-issues so he won't have that obligation or almost immediately tries to reciprocate so he doesn't. The only exception is Fury; he owes Fury so much (from his perspective, anyway), that he'll be trying to repay that for years.
History: Clint was born in Waverly, Iowa to parents who probably weren't the most prepared for either son. He was the second of two, and his early childhood was a mess of arguments and abuse, both physical and verbal, at the hands of a man wasn't the most pleasant of individuals when drunk, and tended to spend more time than not in that state.
It wasn't a very pleasant childhood to say the least, but when he was twelve his parents, out for the evening, were in an accident on the way home. Both were killed, and the two were put into foster care not long after, having no close relatives to take them in.
Things got much better for the pair after that, or as well as it could have gone. They left the place as soon as they came of age, jumped into the real world feet-first, played off every cliche idea of running away and quite literally joined the circus.
They started as roustabouts, a thankless job Barney continually derided, but Clint was soon recruited by the Swordsman as an assistant and eventually Trick Shot, the marksman of the troupe. With them, Clint learned how to fight, how to shoot, acrobatics, all the basics of being part of a travelling show. He proved to have quite the aptitude for it, took to it quickly and eagerly, and before long he'd made a place for himself as Trick Shot's sidekick, sharing the spotlight instead of only operating in the edges of it.
Except it came at a price. An unforseen underbelly that he hadn't noticed until he was already in the thick of it. One night, passing by one of the other tents on his way to his own, he accidentally walked across his mentor stealing from the circus' coffers. He couldn't help but step in to complain, threaten to go to the Ringmaster and tell him what was going on, but one of the assistants broke his legs instead, while Trick Shot explained to him that he couldn't say anything because they were family, and family didn't betray each other.
What could he do? Clint joined them instead, started proving his worth once his legs had healed. His skill set grew to picking locks, breaking and entering and killing from afar, but as long as he didn't think about it too hard, he could justify it. Family was everything, and they were family. He couldn't say no.
Only Barney wasn't included. For whatever reason he hadn't proven himself to them, hadn't impressed them, so as Clint advanced among their ranks his brother got left further and further behind until finally Barney left. Grew up, moved on, whatever you want to call it, he gave his notice and went to find somewhere else. Something else to do.
After injuring his brother in a heist gone wrong (wrong place, wrong time, and Clint had been out of touch with him for so long he didn't even know he was running with a different crew until he'd already put the arrow in him), Clint left to use his skills elsewhere, but old habits died hard. Plying his more reputable trade meant money was few and far between, a few gigs a year at out of the way places, at medieval fairs where he was little more than an amusing (if impressive) novelty, and circuses with impressive feats were few and far between these days. In the end, in order to make ends meet and keep food in his stomach he was recruited to a group that was little better than his old family, only they didn't play at being something they weren't. They were straight up thugs, killers, if organized, but at least they took him in. Accepted him as one of them, and for a guy who had it beaten into him (literally) that your family was the most important thing besides money, he was all too willing to fall in. Resort to old patterns. He quickly gained a record for himself, in and out of jail cells so often he could practically call the cops by name, but never any serious time, never more than a couple years in a stretch.
But it ate at him. He didn't like killing, not really, only did it because it was his job, and he always held out hope that there was something better out there. Some way he could make it without having to break the law, risk all the things that entailed.
And that was the first time Nick Fury came to hear of him.
The Olympics were approaching, and on a lark (and with the promise of no small amount of cash for the trouble), in 1996 he found himself at the qualifying rounds with a bow in his hand and a few shots in his bloodstream. It was like the punchline of a joke nobody thought worth telling, stupid, ridiculous, but he picked it up, took his shots, and nailed every one of them. Bullseyes, or close enough. And then he walked away, never to be seen again, much to everyone's chagrin.
An armed robber by trade, a petty thief for fun, dumb muscle when he needed to be, but one day the job went wrong. Just by a little bit, but it was enough, and he found himself in an interrogation room, being asked all kinds of questions. And then the door opened, the cop was shooed out, and Fury walked in.
It had taken 3 years to catch up to him, with an ideal situation to give him access; a bank robbery, something Barton's crew didn't normally attempt but fell under Federal jurisdiction easily enough for those willing to push the rules. Fury knew his whole story, practically his whole life, and gave him a choice. Keep going this route, end up in jail, or leave in his custody, join a group he'd never even heard of before, a covert, government-run operation. Get a fresh start, his record expunged, a chance to run with the big dogs and do some real good in the world, and a pretty paycheck besides.
So he took it.
He was told the group he represented was the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Better known as S.H.I.E.L.D., an intelligence department with an emphasis on Black Ops and a downright ridiculous budget. He was good with a bow already, with just about any weapon that had an edge, but they rounded out his training from there. Taught him how to be a spy; how to shoot, how to infiltrate, how to pretend to be somebody else, how to take out a guy without anybody even noticing. A variation on everything he already knew, slicked up and painted over in a coat of "government sanctioned".
His specific group, the one he was eventually shuffled into, was called the Ultimates; the best of the best of the best, and all that implied; a collection of soldiers, spies, and various Unmentionables from various departments, all collected together to operate under the radar, do the missions those who had to show their faces in public couldn't. And Barton, with some training, was a damn good operative.
Along the road, he was sent to take out a Russian spy, KGB (or the modern equivalent anyway, but nobody was under any illusions), by the name of Natasha Romanoff, code name "Black Widow" because of her reputation. He was sent to take her out, only he didn't; their stories were too similar, and he couldn't take the shot. Wouldn't take it. He phoned Fury back at base and told him, and instead was told to recruit her if he couldn't do what he was supposed to, but whatever happened was on his head.
Somehow, he managed it, and a month later he had himself a partner. In just about every way; Clint was impulsive, given to rash decision-making even under the best of circumstances, the fact that he was firmly, thoroughly, attached to her, emotionally, at that, inside of a month, really wasn't a surprise given his track record.
And from there things really took off. Endless missions, barely a day of rest in between, but it was everything he could have wanted. He was using his strengths to HELP people instead of hurt and deceive, with enough of an adrenaline rush to get him addicted to the lifestyle and keep his attention, and he started to wonder why he'd ever considered anything else.
And then Loki showed up on scene.
An infiltration of the god's own, deceiving and manipulating and suddenly the Hulk was on the loose, taking out anything that came in his path and nobody would so much as think about touching him, government spooks and local law alike.
It fell on the Ultimates to try to contain it, for as much good as it did, and finally Fury got to pull out a play he'd been waiting years for. The Avengers Initiative. A group of extra-ordinary individuals pulled from all walks of life, collected together to use their unique skills for the greater good. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye, and maybe they weren't a team yet, closer to a group of squabbling teenagers, but after a fight to get their collective heads in the game they banded together, put aside their differences to find some kind of common ground and became what Fury had always known they could be.
They contained the Hulk, and recruited the man behind him once the crisis was averted, and then they went after Loki. It was a bitter battle, taking out a great deal of New York in the process, but in the end they came out on top. Heroes.
The day saved, it seemed, the Avengers were celebrated, thanked, the topic of discussion on nearly every news channel. The next four years were great if you were an Avenger, or anyone else who fought crime; limitless opportunities, public support (mostly), although it was a darker world now, one where the things that lurked in the dark were more apparent. The things that lurked in the hearts of men.
It was this that was ultimately their undoing. One man, a villain, taken out in a fight that was really no different than any other, led to the opening of a new chapter. A darker one.
SHIELD was the first to fall. The right information into the right hands and Clint soon found himself without a boss, although at this point he was really more closely associated with the Avengers anyway. With Fury removed, SHIELD floundered, and with it public support for the Avengers and the rest of their ilk. The Avengers were then pulled under scrutiny, doubt introduced as to their character, their reliability, their morality and intentions, and before long they were outlawed, forced to run and hide and keep to the shadows or face legal action.
It wasn't a prospect Clint enjoyed. He'd never been one to hide, to admit defeat, ever since he was a scared kid it had always been his way to soldier through. Manage. Survive. But this wasn't the kind of thing you could survive out in the open, so he went to ground. Fought from the shadows, did what he could to keep his people safe. It hit him hard when Fury disappeared, because it seemed so out of keeping with the man, he'd been a constant in his life for years and he was unprepared to deal with a time when he wasn't around, wasn't there to be that constant force.
When Natasha defected to Osborn's side, joined HAMMER instead of keeping solidarity with her team, with him, it was yet another shot to the gut. People talked, after all, and while it might have been in keeping with the image she projected, it still seemed wrong to him. She couldn't do it, she wouldn't, and in the end he was right. It was a ruse, just another surveillance mission from the inside out, and when she came to him before she left, explained the whole thing, he knew he couldn't have expected anything else. Someone had to, and she was the best choice for it. The only choice.
The next few years were spent on opposite sides of the war, with Clint trying to keep under the radar, help his teammates, do what he could to take them down from the outside. He never gave up, even as the situation continued to look increasingly grim; he couldn't afford to. They had a job to do, rights to uphold, and no matter how bad it got he never wavered. Never thought twice about getting himself lumped in with the Metas when he could have made his own life easier if he just gave it up and apologized, defected from his team if not to the other side completely. They were his friends, his teammates, his loyalty lay with them, not this new group.
And then Natasha cracked it. Got what they needed to take the whole thing down, and with one final all-out assault, fuelled by desperation and years of frustration and anger, Osborn's plans were foiled, order restored slowly but surely over the coming months.
Clint didn't feel entirely good about the fact that he got away in the end, that it was once again Loki at the helm with nothing they could do, but it was a start at least. They were free men and women once more, and with the reinstatement of SHIELD, with Clint's old handler Coulson at the reigns, the Avengers returned in an official capacity under its direct protection, it was a start.
Currently, he's splitting his time about 50/50 between the two organizations, running missions and intel with SHIELD alongside his former partner Black Widow when he's not busy helping the Avengers out, and maybe he's running himself a little ragged but he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.
AU Differences: The version of Clint I'm portraying is closer to the comics version of things; he's a joker and a prankster and more of a rough around the edges criminal who refuses to take things seriously unless he has to than the slick secret agent we see in the movie version, although it doesn't make him any less dangerous. He's got a chronic problem with authority with a reputation for insubordination and backtalk, following Fury out of personal loyalty stemming from a longstanding debt rather than because he's his boss, a habit which understandably hasn't quite extended to Coulson yet.
In his timeline he was never brainwashed by Loki, had a thing with Mockingbird while Natasha was undercover (which ended badly because really, Clint, your relationships), has at least met Kate Bishop even if he hasn't taken her on as a prodigy yet, and has seen Fury disappear and Coulson rise to take his place as Director.
...additionally, because I'm a dork I'm pulling a tweaked version of Secret Avengers number 1 in as the infamous "Budapest" incident; Barton had barely been in SHIELD for any amount of time when he recruited Natasha, and it was their first mission as a team. The most important part of this, however, is the implanted memory wipe; not that it will affect a whole lot in terms of gameplay, but it's worth noting that he's got a piece of code stuck in his brain that can effectively wipe his short term memory as SHIELD sees necessary in order to preserve certain information they don't want getting out.
Writing Sample: The concrete was cold under his fingertips. Dug in, almost pushed back, although maybe that was only a testament to his own grip. He sat among the gargoyles, scant cover against Osborn's teams that patrolled below. He'd been on a patrol of his own when he'd gotten the call, barely a conversation, only a handful of numbers -- co-ordinates -- and a time. Here. Now.
Clint hadn't needed to ask who it was, he knew the voice on the other end nearly as well as he did his own. Romanoff, a woman he'd fought alongside for long enough to know this wasn't the kind of call that resulted in good news. But he waited, still in his own uniform, watching the figures moving below, keeping an eye on the rooftop around him. Secluded, and that too was intentional. They'd be away from prying eyes, for good or ill.
Not a good sign.
The redhead emerged from the shadows behind him, a testament to the few chinks in his training, but it had only ever been her who found them for the most part, just as it was only he who could find hers with any kind of ease. He turned, on guard for the few seconds before recognition found its place, then pushed himself to standing, retrieving the bow at his side as he moved.
"Hey." A cavalier smile, his usual greeting. Curious, but unconcerned. As if it were any other night, as if he hadn't already guessed he wouldn't like the topic. Act like there wasn't anything suspected, and he knew she saw through it anyway but it was the game of appearances. Habit.
He was right, he didn't like the topic. He'd assumed at first it was just a matter of scheduling, a few nights she'd need to book off to keep a low profile, a suggestion about an until-now favored site that should be avoided for the next few weeks according to the latest reports, but the truth was worse than he could have expected.
She was defecting.
An advance warning, because of who they were, what they meant to each other even though they'd never set up any concrete boundaries. Because of what they'd done. He was stunned at first, too stunned to draw anything or start something, because it was just one more thing. Loki and Fury and Osborn and now [i]this[/i] and it was just one more thing he couldn't handle. But he would. He had to.
He was almost to the edge of the roof when she stopped him. A hand on his arm, light, inviting, an echo of a thousand encounters, or so it felt, but despite the instinctive reaction to lash out, to shout or slap it away or just jump over the edge and escape the whole thing entirely, he stopped. Tightened his jaw, a sad huff of breath signaling his defeat escaping his lips, but he stayed put regardless.
"It's a front," she assured him. "Just another mission. You know where my loyalties lie. And you know where my [i]strengths[/i] do too. It's where I need to be right now."
He wanted to protest, it almost rose to his lips, but she was right and he knew it.
"You need somebody to know. In case it goes south."
She nodded.
"...Be careful." It was a reluctant statement, lackluster, and unnecessary, all things considered, but he had to say something. Couldn't just let it lie.
"Always."
And then she was gone.
Name: KaOS
Age: 25
Contact: orderfromka0s on either AIM or Plurk
Past Role Playing Experience: over a year in Last Voyages with Rorschach and various other muses, a little dabbling in some other games, and a few years RP-ing on Insanejournal and Livejournal and through Facebook before that.
New Players (completely optional), if you'd like tell us how you found BTR: Black Widow's mun told me about it!
The Character
Name: Clint Barton
Age/Birthdate: 36 / June 26, 1976
Species: Human
*Type: Wanderer
Canon: Marvel, specifically the comics circa the Dark Reign arc, with some Ultimates canon pulled in for good measure. More or less; he's from the same version of things as Black Widow.
*Pre-existing powers: none! he's just your average plain-jane human.
*Rift Change, if applicable: since passing through the Rift, Barton will notice his eyesight has been ramped up even further; previously he'd already had eyesight operating at the peak of human capabilities, but with the influence of the Rift at work it will effectively be closer to what they outline in Ultimates-verse, although practically it's closer to being granted the literal vision of a hawk.
Upon passing through the rift, Barton's physical biology will change; increased fine musculature of the eye will allow him to change the shape of the lenses of his eyes rapidly and to a greater extent than normal humans, allowing him to compensate for varying environmental factors. An increase in photoreceptors far above that of humans will allow for a significantly greater acuity of vision. Range of vision will be equivalent to humans, as most raptors lack the oil droplets in their eyes that allow additional color detection, and he will still require night vision goggles to see in the dark, however with the additional photoreceptors and associated adaptations raptors have developed he will be able to resolve individual objects at greater resolution and both faster and slower speeds, and judge distances with greater accuracy than the human eye would be able to.
Dreamwidth:
forgothowtomissPlayed By: Jeremy Renner, and comics.
Icon: we'll say this one here.
Appearance:
HEIGHT: 6'3"
BUILD: Athletic, muscled, but without overdoing it. He's built like you'd expect a well-conditioned gymnast to be.
EYES: blue
HAIR: blond
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: he's got a Sagittarius symbol tattooed low on his left hip because criminals are assholes when you're drunk out of your mind (or so he'll say anyway, who knows how it actually got there), but aside from that it's mostly just scars. Matching faded, hairline scars running down the outside of both legs from when the bones got re-aligned, old puncture wounds scarred over on his right side below his ribs and lower back on his left side, just missing the kidney.
CLOTHING STYLE: Casual; he favors old t-shirts, worn jeans, and boots when he doesn't have to be in uniform, a leather jacket when it gets cold, and dark sunglasses if it's at all nice out.
COSTUME: Kevlar and leather, mostly, black with subdued purple sections for contrast, and reflective sunglasses that both protect and help boost his already superb eyesight. He's never without a bow, primarily a recurve (although he's more than competent with all versions) with a variety of arrow tips for different purposes, from explosive tips to grappling-type to standard arrowheads and everything in between.
Personality: Clint is a jokester by nature. He approaches the world with a grin and a clever quip, to all appearances lighthearted and carefree, unable to take anything seriously for long. He mocks his teammates, his enemies, those he holds close and those he hates, and the only difference between them is content, how cutting he intends them to be. He's honest about everything but himself, more than happy to provide his opinion whether or not it's wanted, and sometimes that's precisely WHY he gives it. Because somebody has to say the things nobody else wants to, and mostly as long as he hides it in a good-natured ribbing, he gets away with it.
He's cocky, arrogant, confident in his own abilities to the point where it's almost obnoxious, although he never overstates. He knows how good he is, and he doesn't brag outright; if he says he never misses it's because his accuracy is so good that statistically speaking, he doesn't. But he likes to give the impression that he's got everything under control, that he can handle the job he's given, even if he really doesn't; it's a matter of pride, and when you're one of the few pure humans in a group of people with abilities above and beyond the norm, well sometimes you need to make yourself feel like you can keep up with the metas. PROVE that you can. He hates losing; he'll eat humble pie if he absolutely has to, but he does his damnedest to avoid it as much as he can.
But all the outward self-confidence, the snark and the witticisms and the arrogance, they're all defense mechanisms; it's how he copes. His life up to getting recruited to SHIELD wasn't the smoothest, filled with bumps and potholes and roadblocks, and in general the only way he knows how to deal with it is to make light of it, act like it DOESN'T get to him. It's a leftover from the circus, the constant mentality of needing to continue on regardless of what happens, the need to keep smiling and laughing as if nothing happened, for the sake of the crowd. By now it's so complete that it'll take a HELL of a lot to get him to admit otherwise, and even then he'll be incredibly defensive and do his best to shake it off as if there isn't a problem. Regardless of the situation.
The other major thing the circus left him with is an almost rabid loyalty. To the point where it's actually potentially dangerous to his own well-being; he learned young that loyalty is everything, that you don't rat out your family or act against them pretty much or else (...having both your legs broken as a direct result of threatening to bring dirty laundry to light tends to do that), so consequently he'll do just about anything for his team -- take a bullet, undergo just about any kind of torture, put himself through hell and back, JUST because they're his team and he can't NOT have their back. If he counts you as a friend you get the same treatment, and you damn well better return the favor; it's not a thing he throws around lightly. He has many acquaintances but comparatively few ACTUAL friends; despite his overwhelmingly friendly demeanor he tends not to trust people on principle, another holdover from his less chivalrous days. He couldn't afford real friends, not when family was so important, you never knew what they would ask for or what kind of trouble they would get you into, whether they were really who they said they were, and consequently he holds the world at arm's length until its proven itself. But once you've made the list, you have a friend for life; he'll never betray you, never act to cause you harm if he can help it, and anything he does that results in those kinds of things? He'll feel guilty for for a good long time; he still feels guilty for trying to kill his brother, after all, even though he hadn't known it was him until after.
The amusing thing about his involvement with the Avenger Initiative and SHIELD in general, however, lies largely in the fact that Barton has enormous problems with authority. He hates taking orders, hates having to report to someone, hates having someone who's got that kind of power over him, so consequently when he DOES end up in those positions? He challenges authority like nobody's business, tests the limits and tries to take them further just to see what he can get away with. He respects Fury, sure, and Coulson, but Coulson's his handler, he's practically a friend at this point, and Fury....well. Fury's Fury. It's only out of loyalty, gratitude stemming from the fact that he let him join the group at all, that keeps him as in line as he is. He OWES Fury.
...which leads us to the last aspect of Barton, and this is perhaps the largest, the one that directs him the most. Clint has an almost compulsive preoccupation with debts and redemption and whatnot. He's spent a good long while proving his worth as a Good Guy and trying to break away from his criminal past, even though the record's been expunged and it's technically a non-issue, and to a degree he's STILL trying to prove himself worthy of the costume; he grades himself on a much tougher curve, expects a LOT more of himself, and really he's his own worst critic, constantly second-guessing if he's doing the best he can, if he's really worthy of being in SHIELD, let alone part of the Avengers Initiative. He hates having unpaid depts, hates OWING people, so consequently he'll either try to shrug things off as non-issues so he won't have that obligation or almost immediately tries to reciprocate so he doesn't. The only exception is Fury; he owes Fury so much (from his perspective, anyway), that he'll be trying to repay that for years.
History: Clint was born in Waverly, Iowa to parents who probably weren't the most prepared for either son. He was the second of two, and his early childhood was a mess of arguments and abuse, both physical and verbal, at the hands of a man wasn't the most pleasant of individuals when drunk, and tended to spend more time than not in that state.
It wasn't a very pleasant childhood to say the least, but when he was twelve his parents, out for the evening, were in an accident on the way home. Both were killed, and the two were put into foster care not long after, having no close relatives to take them in.
Things got much better for the pair after that, or as well as it could have gone. They left the place as soon as they came of age, jumped into the real world feet-first, played off every cliche idea of running away and quite literally joined the circus.
They started as roustabouts, a thankless job Barney continually derided, but Clint was soon recruited by the Swordsman as an assistant and eventually Trick Shot, the marksman of the troupe. With them, Clint learned how to fight, how to shoot, acrobatics, all the basics of being part of a travelling show. He proved to have quite the aptitude for it, took to it quickly and eagerly, and before long he'd made a place for himself as Trick Shot's sidekick, sharing the spotlight instead of only operating in the edges of it.
Except it came at a price. An unforseen underbelly that he hadn't noticed until he was already in the thick of it. One night, passing by one of the other tents on his way to his own, he accidentally walked across his mentor stealing from the circus' coffers. He couldn't help but step in to complain, threaten to go to the Ringmaster and tell him what was going on, but one of the assistants broke his legs instead, while Trick Shot explained to him that he couldn't say anything because they were family, and family didn't betray each other.
What could he do? Clint joined them instead, started proving his worth once his legs had healed. His skill set grew to picking locks, breaking and entering and killing from afar, but as long as he didn't think about it too hard, he could justify it. Family was everything, and they were family. He couldn't say no.
Only Barney wasn't included. For whatever reason he hadn't proven himself to them, hadn't impressed them, so as Clint advanced among their ranks his brother got left further and further behind until finally Barney left. Grew up, moved on, whatever you want to call it, he gave his notice and went to find somewhere else. Something else to do.
After injuring his brother in a heist gone wrong (wrong place, wrong time, and Clint had been out of touch with him for so long he didn't even know he was running with a different crew until he'd already put the arrow in him), Clint left to use his skills elsewhere, but old habits died hard. Plying his more reputable trade meant money was few and far between, a few gigs a year at out of the way places, at medieval fairs where he was little more than an amusing (if impressive) novelty, and circuses with impressive feats were few and far between these days. In the end, in order to make ends meet and keep food in his stomach he was recruited to a group that was little better than his old family, only they didn't play at being something they weren't. They were straight up thugs, killers, if organized, but at least they took him in. Accepted him as one of them, and for a guy who had it beaten into him (literally) that your family was the most important thing besides money, he was all too willing to fall in. Resort to old patterns. He quickly gained a record for himself, in and out of jail cells so often he could practically call the cops by name, but never any serious time, never more than a couple years in a stretch.
But it ate at him. He didn't like killing, not really, only did it because it was his job, and he always held out hope that there was something better out there. Some way he could make it without having to break the law, risk all the things that entailed.
And that was the first time Nick Fury came to hear of him.
The Olympics were approaching, and on a lark (and with the promise of no small amount of cash for the trouble), in 1996 he found himself at the qualifying rounds with a bow in his hand and a few shots in his bloodstream. It was like the punchline of a joke nobody thought worth telling, stupid, ridiculous, but he picked it up, took his shots, and nailed every one of them. Bullseyes, or close enough. And then he walked away, never to be seen again, much to everyone's chagrin.
An armed robber by trade, a petty thief for fun, dumb muscle when he needed to be, but one day the job went wrong. Just by a little bit, but it was enough, and he found himself in an interrogation room, being asked all kinds of questions. And then the door opened, the cop was shooed out, and Fury walked in.
It had taken 3 years to catch up to him, with an ideal situation to give him access; a bank robbery, something Barton's crew didn't normally attempt but fell under Federal jurisdiction easily enough for those willing to push the rules. Fury knew his whole story, practically his whole life, and gave him a choice. Keep going this route, end up in jail, or leave in his custody, join a group he'd never even heard of before, a covert, government-run operation. Get a fresh start, his record expunged, a chance to run with the big dogs and do some real good in the world, and a pretty paycheck besides.
So he took it.
He was told the group he represented was the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Better known as S.H.I.E.L.D., an intelligence department with an emphasis on Black Ops and a downright ridiculous budget. He was good with a bow already, with just about any weapon that had an edge, but they rounded out his training from there. Taught him how to be a spy; how to shoot, how to infiltrate, how to pretend to be somebody else, how to take out a guy without anybody even noticing. A variation on everything he already knew, slicked up and painted over in a coat of "government sanctioned".
His specific group, the one he was eventually shuffled into, was called the Ultimates; the best of the best of the best, and all that implied; a collection of soldiers, spies, and various Unmentionables from various departments, all collected together to operate under the radar, do the missions those who had to show their faces in public couldn't. And Barton, with some training, was a damn good operative.
Along the road, he was sent to take out a Russian spy, KGB (or the modern equivalent anyway, but nobody was under any illusions), by the name of Natasha Romanoff, code name "Black Widow" because of her reputation. He was sent to take her out, only he didn't; their stories were too similar, and he couldn't take the shot. Wouldn't take it. He phoned Fury back at base and told him, and instead was told to recruit her if he couldn't do what he was supposed to, but whatever happened was on his head.
Somehow, he managed it, and a month later he had himself a partner. In just about every way; Clint was impulsive, given to rash decision-making even under the best of circumstances, the fact that he was firmly, thoroughly, attached to her, emotionally, at that, inside of a month, really wasn't a surprise given his track record.
And from there things really took off. Endless missions, barely a day of rest in between, but it was everything he could have wanted. He was using his strengths to HELP people instead of hurt and deceive, with enough of an adrenaline rush to get him addicted to the lifestyle and keep his attention, and he started to wonder why he'd ever considered anything else.
And then Loki showed up on scene.
An infiltration of the god's own, deceiving and manipulating and suddenly the Hulk was on the loose, taking out anything that came in his path and nobody would so much as think about touching him, government spooks and local law alike.
It fell on the Ultimates to try to contain it, for as much good as it did, and finally Fury got to pull out a play he'd been waiting years for. The Avengers Initiative. A group of extra-ordinary individuals pulled from all walks of life, collected together to use their unique skills for the greater good. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye, and maybe they weren't a team yet, closer to a group of squabbling teenagers, but after a fight to get their collective heads in the game they banded together, put aside their differences to find some kind of common ground and became what Fury had always known they could be.
They contained the Hulk, and recruited the man behind him once the crisis was averted, and then they went after Loki. It was a bitter battle, taking out a great deal of New York in the process, but in the end they came out on top. Heroes.
The day saved, it seemed, the Avengers were celebrated, thanked, the topic of discussion on nearly every news channel. The next four years were great if you were an Avenger, or anyone else who fought crime; limitless opportunities, public support (mostly), although it was a darker world now, one where the things that lurked in the dark were more apparent. The things that lurked in the hearts of men.
It was this that was ultimately their undoing. One man, a villain, taken out in a fight that was really no different than any other, led to the opening of a new chapter. A darker one.
SHIELD was the first to fall. The right information into the right hands and Clint soon found himself without a boss, although at this point he was really more closely associated with the Avengers anyway. With Fury removed, SHIELD floundered, and with it public support for the Avengers and the rest of their ilk. The Avengers were then pulled under scrutiny, doubt introduced as to their character, their reliability, their morality and intentions, and before long they were outlawed, forced to run and hide and keep to the shadows or face legal action.
It wasn't a prospect Clint enjoyed. He'd never been one to hide, to admit defeat, ever since he was a scared kid it had always been his way to soldier through. Manage. Survive. But this wasn't the kind of thing you could survive out in the open, so he went to ground. Fought from the shadows, did what he could to keep his people safe. It hit him hard when Fury disappeared, because it seemed so out of keeping with the man, he'd been a constant in his life for years and he was unprepared to deal with a time when he wasn't around, wasn't there to be that constant force.
When Natasha defected to Osborn's side, joined HAMMER instead of keeping solidarity with her team, with him, it was yet another shot to the gut. People talked, after all, and while it might have been in keeping with the image she projected, it still seemed wrong to him. She couldn't do it, she wouldn't, and in the end he was right. It was a ruse, just another surveillance mission from the inside out, and when she came to him before she left, explained the whole thing, he knew he couldn't have expected anything else. Someone had to, and she was the best choice for it. The only choice.
The next few years were spent on opposite sides of the war, with Clint trying to keep under the radar, help his teammates, do what he could to take them down from the outside. He never gave up, even as the situation continued to look increasingly grim; he couldn't afford to. They had a job to do, rights to uphold, and no matter how bad it got he never wavered. Never thought twice about getting himself lumped in with the Metas when he could have made his own life easier if he just gave it up and apologized, defected from his team if not to the other side completely. They were his friends, his teammates, his loyalty lay with them, not this new group.
And then Natasha cracked it. Got what they needed to take the whole thing down, and with one final all-out assault, fuelled by desperation and years of frustration and anger, Osborn's plans were foiled, order restored slowly but surely over the coming months.
Clint didn't feel entirely good about the fact that he got away in the end, that it was once again Loki at the helm with nothing they could do, but it was a start at least. They were free men and women once more, and with the reinstatement of SHIELD, with Clint's old handler Coulson at the reigns, the Avengers returned in an official capacity under its direct protection, it was a start.
Currently, he's splitting his time about 50/50 between the two organizations, running missions and intel with SHIELD alongside his former partner Black Widow when he's not busy helping the Avengers out, and maybe he's running himself a little ragged but he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.
AU Differences: The version of Clint I'm portraying is closer to the comics version of things; he's a joker and a prankster and more of a rough around the edges criminal who refuses to take things seriously unless he has to than the slick secret agent we see in the movie version, although it doesn't make him any less dangerous. He's got a chronic problem with authority with a reputation for insubordination and backtalk, following Fury out of personal loyalty stemming from a longstanding debt rather than because he's his boss, a habit which understandably hasn't quite extended to Coulson yet.
In his timeline he was never brainwashed by Loki, had a thing with Mockingbird while Natasha was undercover (which ended badly because really, Clint, your relationships), has at least met Kate Bishop even if he hasn't taken her on as a prodigy yet, and has seen Fury disappear and Coulson rise to take his place as Director.
...additionally, because I'm a dork I'm pulling a tweaked version of Secret Avengers number 1 in as the infamous "Budapest" incident; Barton had barely been in SHIELD for any amount of time when he recruited Natasha, and it was their first mission as a team. The most important part of this, however, is the implanted memory wipe; not that it will affect a whole lot in terms of gameplay, but it's worth noting that he's got a piece of code stuck in his brain that can effectively wipe his short term memory as SHIELD sees necessary in order to preserve certain information they don't want getting out.
Writing Sample: The concrete was cold under his fingertips. Dug in, almost pushed back, although maybe that was only a testament to his own grip. He sat among the gargoyles, scant cover against Osborn's teams that patrolled below. He'd been on a patrol of his own when he'd gotten the call, barely a conversation, only a handful of numbers -- co-ordinates -- and a time. Here. Now.
Clint hadn't needed to ask who it was, he knew the voice on the other end nearly as well as he did his own. Romanoff, a woman he'd fought alongside for long enough to know this wasn't the kind of call that resulted in good news. But he waited, still in his own uniform, watching the figures moving below, keeping an eye on the rooftop around him. Secluded, and that too was intentional. They'd be away from prying eyes, for good or ill.
Not a good sign.
The redhead emerged from the shadows behind him, a testament to the few chinks in his training, but it had only ever been her who found them for the most part, just as it was only he who could find hers with any kind of ease. He turned, on guard for the few seconds before recognition found its place, then pushed himself to standing, retrieving the bow at his side as he moved.
"Hey." A cavalier smile, his usual greeting. Curious, but unconcerned. As if it were any other night, as if he hadn't already guessed he wouldn't like the topic. Act like there wasn't anything suspected, and he knew she saw through it anyway but it was the game of appearances. Habit.
He was right, he didn't like the topic. He'd assumed at first it was just a matter of scheduling, a few nights she'd need to book off to keep a low profile, a suggestion about an until-now favored site that should be avoided for the next few weeks according to the latest reports, but the truth was worse than he could have expected.
She was defecting.
An advance warning, because of who they were, what they meant to each other even though they'd never set up any concrete boundaries. Because of what they'd done. He was stunned at first, too stunned to draw anything or start something, because it was just one more thing. Loki and Fury and Osborn and now [i]this[/i] and it was just one more thing he couldn't handle. But he would. He had to.
He was almost to the edge of the roof when she stopped him. A hand on his arm, light, inviting, an echo of a thousand encounters, or so it felt, but despite the instinctive reaction to lash out, to shout or slap it away or just jump over the edge and escape the whole thing entirely, he stopped. Tightened his jaw, a sad huff of breath signaling his defeat escaping his lips, but he stayed put regardless.
"It's a front," she assured him. "Just another mission. You know where my loyalties lie. And you know where my [i]strengths[/i] do too. It's where I need to be right now."
He wanted to protest, it almost rose to his lips, but she was right and he knew it.
"You need somebody to know. In case it goes south."
She nodded.
"...Be careful." It was a reluctant statement, lackluster, and unnecessary, all things considered, but he had to say something. Couldn't just let it lie.
"Always."
And then she was gone.
Shoot a bullseye