Chapter 1 / Laying Low:

Hey All! Here's a random fic that just popped out of my head the other day. Expect spoilers from Captain America: Civil War and Daredevil: Season 2. As always feel free to leave me feedback, whether it be something you liked, criticism, or simply ideas/inspiration.

I loved Hawkeye in Civil War and have recently grown attached to the awesome comic series and felt inspired to write a fic about what happened to him after Civil War. I've been secretly hoping that (although unlikely) he will crossover into the Netflix shows for an episode or arc, or even get his own series. Now would be the perfect time as he cannot go home due to the fallout of Civil War, so they could do an awesome gritty series based off of his comic. This compelled me to cross this fic over with Daredevil, as I found my planned story and character inclusions syncing up nicely.

Synopsis: Hawkeye is laying low after the events of Civil War, but when a local gang begin to make trouble in his neighbourhood, he finds it hard to ignore. To add to his ever-escalating list of problems, he finds himself on the local vigilantes radar *wink wink*.

Clint Barton closed the door to his cramped apartment, slowly moving to slump himself on his uncomfortable couch. He sighed as he sunk deeper. Another dull day in hiding. He stared at the ceiling in silence, boredom settling in.

How did he end up here? Taking residence in a shitty apartment building in the middle of Hells Kitchen? Oh, right! He chuckled. He was a wanted man now. A criminal. His face dropped. The term stung more than he cared to admit. He was a loyal S.H.I.E.L.D Operative, an Avenger even! Not some thug or assassin…not anymore, at least. What would his family think?

His family…Clint's face dropped even further. Everything had happened so fast. Cap had called and he had answered. How could he not? It was Captain America! He knew that Steve wouldn't have been calling without a good reason, and his kids…god his kids would never have forgiven him if he didn't help the Captain in his time of need.

Clint didn't regret the side he'd chosen. He'd follow Cap anywhere. He trusted the man and his judgement more than anything. But that didn't change the fact that he was now laying low in a run-down complex located in arguably the most dangerous part of the city: Hell's Kitchen. Why Hell's Kitchen? Because it was in New York. And what idiot in their right mind would come to New York when the Government was hunting them? Clint chuckled once more. Their Avengers team had decided that it would be best to split up and lay low for a while, unwilling to take the risk of endangering T'Challa and the rest of Wakanda. Cap had given him the strangest look when he had suggested that he might choose to hide in the city.

There was a sudden crash from outside. Clint slowly got up to gaze out of his window, already knowing the sight that he would be met with. The local gang, his neighbours referred to them as The Tracksuits, were causing trouble for his building again. He wasn't sure why they called them by the creative term: The Tracksuits. Maybe it was due to the fact that they always wore brown tracksuits…nah, it must be a coincidence.

The rumours were true. Clint always did see better from a distance. There were three Tracksuit thugs in the alleyway. They were busying themselves by beating an elderly man, demanding their protection fee. Clint's face hardened as he recognised the man. It was Paul. The retired baker who lived on the floor below him. He was one of the kindest men that Clint Barton had ever met.

He slammed his fists down onto the windowsill. How he would love to put arrows into those thugs…but it was actions like that that went against the whole laying-low ideal. He hesitantly turned his back, slowly stepping away one foot at a time. This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. He was an Avenger! He was supposed to help people! But helping Paul would only draw unnecessary attention to himself. He sat back down on the couch, body trembling with supressed emotions. One day…one day soon…Clint wouldn't be able to hold back any longer. And on that day, he would take pleasure in taking down every last thug that dared to threaten his building! He just had to keep himself in check for as long as he could.

"Easy…this'll be easy. I can hold my temper right? I can do this!" His face relaxed slightly, confidence beginning to take residence there. But his eyes told a different story…

The next attack came two days later. Clint was making his way back from the store, his cap pulled low over his face as he tried to blend in. Being a less interesting Avenger had its benefits, as the majority of the public wouldn't recognise him unless he was suited up. That made his current state of living slightly easier.

He was just fishing the keys to the building out of his pocket when he heard the screams. Clint gritted his teeth, continuing to unlock the door as a young couple was thrown out from the alley next to him. They scrambled to their feet and ran past him, up the stairs and to the safety of their apartment. Clint made to follow when he heard a shout behind him. He paused, taking a deep breath before dropping his bag of supplies and turning to face the voice, ready to teach them a well-deserved lesson.

There were two Tracksuit members this time, one sporting a baseball bat on their shoulder whilst the other kept one hand in their pocket, possibly hiding a sidearm. Easy, Clint thought, he could take them without breaking a sweat. He was static as they approached, striding over with foolish confidence.

"Hey bro!" Tracksuit One bellowed, despite the fact that they were almost face to face. "You live here?" Clint didn't answer.

"I've never seen you around before!" Tracksuit Two exclaimed. "You must be new!" Clint smirked slightly in satisfaction. He had spent the past three weeks since he had moved in avoiding the gang. He stayed silent.

"If he's new…" Tracksuit One began, sharing a look of greed with his partner, "…then he must not be aware of our arrangement with his building."

"Riiiiiiiiiight…" Two replied, smiling with malice, "…despite what you may have heard, we are the landlords around here! You pay us for your maintained protection! And guess what? It's rent time! That's $800 a month!" Clint knew for a fact that their supposed rent time had been last week. Tracksuit One pulled the bat down off of his shoulder as Two kept his hand in his pocket. Clint's eyes shot to the pocket as he heard the distinctive click of the hammer being pulled back. He looked back up to see Tracksuit Two's eyes meet his own, his smirk growing wider as he registered that Clint was aware of his hidden sidearm. "Pay up now or you might have to find out why we are the ones in charge here!"

Clint observed the pair. He could easily take them both. His fists clenched at his sides as he tensed up, preparing to strike. Their smiles grew wider as they noticed that he was about to fight back. They wouldn't be smiling if they had any idea as to what they had just started. He drew a deep breath, clearing his mind in preparation for combat. The thugs did the same, thinking that they were up against a foolish man who they could beat to a pulp. The tension was thick as Clint suddenly lowered his guard, placing a mask of fear over his face.

"Okay…okay…" He stuttered, stumbling back a step, "…I don't want any trouble, I'll pay you your money…" He backed into his bag, swiftly picking it up as he continued, "I've just got to go and get my wallet…I'll be back in a sec…"

Clint wasted no time, swiftly moving through the open doorway into the building as the two Tracksuit thugs addressed each other in confusion.

"I guess we don't have to beat on him now…shame really…what a waste…"

"Yeah…"

"Wait…hasn't he just been to the store?" Two questioned, eying Clint's bag.

"Yeah…" One answered, turning to the Avenger as he closed the door behind himself. Clint grinned as he walked away, patting his wallet which was tucked away safely in his pocket as the two thugs banged on the door, shouting in protest…

The third encounter came the next evening. Clint was in bed, desperately trying to clear his troubled mind and get some sleep, when heard shouts from the alleyway once more. After a brief moments hesitation he got up and made his way over to the window. There was no way that he was getting sleep tonight now anyway.

Clint's trained vision identified Tracksuit's One and Two from the day before, but they were now joined by Tracksuits Three, Four and Five, who were currently terrorising a poor mother and her daughter.

Clint's jawline tensed. They were stooping so low as to threaten children now? The little girl couldn't be older than eight. He couldn't stand for this. He had to do something. Cap would understand…

He paused for a breath. Cap would understand. The patriot would never have been able to stand by and let this continue…and neither would Clint. He strode back over to his bed and swiftly pulled a case out from under it. He'd stop their reign of terror, no matter the consequences.

Tracksuits Three and Four gripped the wailing mother as Five held the daughter in place, pointing a knife at her throat. The child was shaking and whimpering.

"Why are you doing this?" The mother screamed, her voice breaking mid-sentence. "We've paid you your money!"

"That may be the case," Tracksuit One replied, sinisterly tapping his bat in his hand, "but every now and again we need to make an example of someone, to keep everyone in line, and unfortunately for you…" He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat taint the air.

"Who should we kill first?" Tracksuit Two asked the others, visibly shaking from excitement.

"This one!" Five exclaimed, raising his arm in the air before bringing it back down towards the girl, knife at the ready. The man did not hesitate, going straight for the kill. Neither did Clint.

Before any of the Tracksuits could react, a black arrow was sprouting from Five's neck, the force of the shot sending him to the floor. The Tracksuits all stood rooted to the spot, shock planted on each of their faces as they slowly swept the alleyway, searching for their attacker. The child was terrified, instantly scampering to safety behind a dumpster. A second arrow followed, hitting the space between the four remaining thugs before detonating in a flash, stunning all of the Tracksuits.

Three and Four lost their grip on the mother, who quickly scurried off to find her daughter. Clint smiled. Both of the innocents were out of the way now, he no longer had any need to hold back.

"UP THERE! ON THE FIRE ESCAPE!"

Shit! He'd been too focused on the civilians, he'd taken his eyes off of the thugs. He looked down to see Tracksuit Two aiming his gun, spamming the trigger before he had even managed to raise it high enough.

Bullets embedded themselves around him as Clint leapt, twisting mid-air to fire off a grapple-arrow. His body fell momentarily before the tether reached its length, pulling him into a swing.

For once Clint was glad that he had trained at the circus, as the reflexes he had built up were the only things that saved him from smashing into the wall. Planting his feet on the surface, he quickly softened his impact before pushing off again, releasing the tether before dropping to the ground, avoiding Tracksuit Four's bullet spray, who had taken over shooting duties as Two reloaded.

Clint rolled to absorb the impact of the fall, quickly following the child's example and ducking behind a dumpster for cover. He'd managed to get a quick glance at the Tracksuits. For anyone else it would have been just that, a glance, but not for Clint. Not for Hawkeye. Tracksuits Two and Four were holding back whilst One and Three were advancing. Two and Four seemed to be the only ones possessing firearms, whilst One was equipped with his baseball bat and Three had had a switchblade drawn. Clint drew himself an arrow, knocking it with professional ease. He could take them. They wouldn't catch him off guard again.

He emerged from cover, instantly lining up his target and firing, taking Four down with an arrow to the shoulder. Three was almost upon him now with One close behind. Two was already raising his gun. Clint quickly knocked a second arrow, shooting Three in the thigh, sending him to the floor before stepping in front of the rapidly approaching One, blocking Two's line of sight.

He swiftly picked up Three's blade and threw it with deadly accuracy, watching as it skimmed One's hip to embed itself in Two's groin. One quickly closed the distance between them, swinging his bat. Clint dodged the swing easily, ducking beneath the weapon before landing a series of quick jabs to the man, sending him to his knees. One tried to recover and punch Clint, only to have his arm twisted behind his back a moment later, screeching in pain as Clint dislocated it.

Clint turned and began striding over to Three as One fell to the ground behind him.

"Gather your friends here and get out of my sight!" Clint stared hard into Three's eyes as he gave his commands. "Tell whoever is in charge that this building and its residents are off limits! If I catch any of you around here again then you'll all end up like you friend Number Five over there!" He gestures over to the thug who had attempted to kill the child.

Tracksuit Three looked momentarily confused at Clint's name for his comrade before scrambling to his feet, grabbing One and hauling him over to Four. After helping Four get to his feet, the three of them dragged a crying Two around the corner and out of sight.

Clint lost interest as soon as they rounded the corner, his focus now solely on his terrified neighbours who were harboured behind the dumpster in front of him. It was because of this, perhaps, that he did not notice the crimson horned figure watching him from the rooftop above.

Notes:

-Who could that be? hmmmmmm…

-As I mentioned at the beginning, this is heavily inspired by the awesome Hawkeye comic series by Matt Fraction

-I know I mentioned Cap a few times, but I always got the impression that Clint respected Cap a lot, after all he was on his side in Civil War. I felt that pretty much all of Cap's team was on his side because of Cap himself and their loyalty to him more than the fact that they thought it was the right side