8Aug2021 - Where In The World Was Clint Barton - Option 35: Kunst - n. Art; Fine Art
Title: Where In The World Was Clint Barton - Option 35 - Kunst - n. Art; Fine Art
Author: Beriaearwen
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Avengers (Movieverse)
Characters: Clint Barton, Director Fury, Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles
Rating: Suitable for people over 13
Word Count: 2370
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of the Avengers (Movieverse) belong to Marvel, etc. All are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: “Now that is art.” “No, that is fine art.”
Where In The World Was Clint Barton - Option 35: Kunst - n. Art, Fine Art
By Beriearwen
Clint slipped into Fury’s office and took a seat. He knew he hadn’t taken his boss by surprise - little did - but a glance out the window showed he may have gotten past Maria. A smirk appeared on his face at the thought. His record was not the best against Maria, but only Fury and Nat were better.
“She saw you and sent a heads up,” Fury opened.
A chagrined look appeared on Clint’s face. He would have to figure out how she spotted him and adjust for it.
“It’s not so bad,” Nick soothed. “She didn’t catch you until you passed through my door.”
So, a partial win for him. He nodded at the comment, accepting the truth of it. He still had work to do, she shouldn’t have caught him at all. “So, what’s up, boss?” he asked, knowing Fury didn’t care for the name.
“I have a new assignment for you.”
Clint sat straighter and raised an eyebrow in question. “The Lemurian Star…”
“Is no longer your concern.” At the astonished look on the archer’s face, Fury added, “I’ll send Nat with Cap and his team as backup.”
Clint snorted. “That will end well,” he opined, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
Fury shrugged in response.
The two of them had been working hard and very subtly to get the evidence they needed to weed out Hydra agents from their ranks. Their operation had nearly been blown when the Hydra weapons were found during the Loki crisis when Clint had been brainwashed.
The recovery from that had put them back much further than they would have liked, but there wasn’t much choice. With Cap involved now, Clint was pretty sure it would end in flames. He would have to make sure his records were gone before he left. He wasn’t going to risk his family.
“I have a different job for you.”
“Oh?” Clint asked, wondering what could be important enough to pull him from their project.
“The New Council is coming to New York to meet with the United Nations,” Fury informed.
That caught Clint’s attention. On the world landscape of shadow organizations, the Watcher’s Council had been more rumor than reality before their headquarters blew up. Since beginning to re-form and changing their name, more information had been available and they were coming out of the shadows a bit more, but what their actual role was remained shrouded. The world only knew what let the New Council (not their actual name, but what everyone called them) let them, and honestly, that was very little and very different than expected.
The fact that the leaders were able to not only step into their roles but control the story so well meant they were far more savvy and more dangerous than originally thought, especially because they only had one name - Rupert Giles.
“And what will my role be?” he asked.
“Officially, you’re going in as a body guard for Mr. Giles and his associate.” At Clint’s surprised expression, a frustrated look crossed Fury’s face. “It was all we could get them to agree to - having a body guard. As it was, they eventually requested you.”
That put Clint on high alert. A shadow organization specifically asked for him to play bodyguard. That couldn’t be good. “Did they give a reason?”
“Not as such, they stated that you were the only one properly equipped who might possibly be able to keep up.”
“Properly equipped?” he asked, mind spinning with scenarios.
Fury shook his head slightly. “They said they were impressed by your work with a bow.”
That statement paused Clint’s thoughts. His work with his bow. His eyes narrowed as a thought niggled at the back of his mind.
Fury didn’t give him a chance to try and recall the information, instead the Director passed a folder across to him.
Flipping it open, Clint saw the picture of a somewhat harried looking middle aged man with the slightly blurred faces of young people around him - blurred just enough to prevent identification.
Lifting his eyes from the picture, he met Fury’s.
“We don’t have clear pictures or data on any of the young people,” he admitted. “Most of what we did have went down with Sunnydale.”
Sunnydale. The name echoed in his mind. It was something that he didn’t understand and would never know about since the truth was classified well above his pay grade. It was a name that sent a chill down his spine for reasons he could not define and a dream for those who make fake identities.
He flipped through a few pages and his brow rose at the latest entry - adoption papers for an adult and teen, formerly Buffy and Dawn Summers. It was followed by information on investitures and of inheritance. His eyes rose to meet Fury’s.
“We think he’s bringing his older daughter with him. We found out a bit about her pre-Sunnydale and an offer for a full scholarship to Northwestern, but nothing else.”
“Someone’s being very careful,” Clint observed, eyebrows rising at the newspaper clippings about Buffy.
“And I want you to find out why,” Nick commanded.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Clint stood by the chauffeur, waiting for Mr. Giles and whoever he brought with him to deplane. He found it interesting that, unlike his predecessors, Mr. Giles flew commercial and would be going through customs like anyone else. He had noted, however, that the man and - he assumed - his elder daughter had chosen International Business Class rather than either coach or first class. He didn’t blame them, it was his preference as well.
He perked up slightly at the sight of Dr. Giles, there was something more to the man than museum curator, but it was his blonde daughter behind him that set him on alert. She was… something. Predator was the first thing that came to mind, like a sleek mountain lion. The image quickly passed, but his years of training and exposure to Nat kept him from dismissing it out of hand.
The duo made their way through customs a bit faster than he would have expected, but not unduly so. They approached him and the chauffeur without pause and he noticed the way they evaluated both of them.
“Mr. Barton,” Mr. Giles greeted. “It is a pleasure. Thank you for your actions in New York.”
Before he could reply, Mr. Giles turned to the chauffeur to greet him by name as well.
Clint’s attention switched more fully to the blonde woman in front of him whose eyes were wide and innocent at the moment. He was instantly on edge. If nothing else, his daughter and wife had taught him to be wary of that look - and to resign himself to inevitable defeat. “Miss Giles.”
“Mr. Barton,” she replied before a slight pout appeared on her face. “No bow?”
Clint smiled slightly. She was going to be trouble. “Not in an airport, but I assure you you’re safety is not an issue.”
An odd look flickered across her face before she shrugged. “Fair enough. You do have it with you though?”
Clint nodded in agreement, wondering exactly what the glint in her eye meant other than trouble for him.
Despite the conversation, he had been keeping an eye on the area surrounding them and noticed some attention directed toward them that didn’t sit well. Smiling genially at the newly arrived duo, he suggested, “Why don’t we head over to your hotel and discuss your itinerary?”
His charges nodded and followed the driver out while he memorized the faces of those who gave him concern.
It was about an hour later as he settled into the hotel suite that he and his team had cleared earlier in the day and again when they arrived that they got down to business.
It was an hour and twenty-three minutes later that he wished they were back at the airport.
He got the information Fury wanted, not that he could tell the man, but he almost wished he hadn’t. His world had expanded enough in the past few years, but he understood why he had been requested and why he was the one told. He may also have had a slight case of envy when he was shown Buffy’s personal travel collection of weapons.
Of course, he had readily demanded to go hunting with Buffy after their evening commitments at the various art galleries, ballets, orchestral concerts and about every other sort of boring diplomatic party that could be imagined. Apparently it wasn’t just the New Council trying to woo the UN, but a lot of the UN wooing the New Council as well.
And wonder and joy, he would get to deal with securing all of those places and ensuring his charges stayed safe and alive afterward too.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Clint scanned the room again, standing in what he determined was the optimal spot. He really wanted to be about fifteen feet straight up from here, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. He wasn’t in charge of overall security, just that of Buffy and Rupert. The thirty seven other heads of security were ensuring the security of their charges as well.
Thinking of his charges, he scanned for them again. In the three days he’d been with them, he determined Rupert was easy enough to watch and was willing to listen to his instructions. Buffy… He suppressed a sigh. Honestly, he was having a hard time imagining rescuing her from anything, Not that he wasn’t providing rescues, but so far it had been saving ambassadors and assistants from Buffy’s ire rather than rescuing Buffy from anything. Not that he could blame her, but she should have been more prepared for dealing with cultures that didn’t view women the same way as they were in the US. Although one or two of them he almost didn’t bother saving because their actions were not products of their culture, just of their general stupidity and chauvinism.
The other problem with Buffy...
His shoulders tensed as he heard the slight scuff behind him.
With a conscious effort he relaxed his shoulders and let out an audible sigh. “I really wish you would stop doing that,” Clint complained before shooting a look at her over his shoulder. “I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Hmm,” Buffy agreed, not moving any closer.
Clint turned his attention back out toward the rest of the gathering, realizing that Buffy was hiding behind him. He couldn’t stop the small smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth. The woman wasn’t afraid of anything and could easily take on all comers, but she was hiding. “Not enjoying the art?” he asked, having already experienced a similar occurrence at the first soiree.”
Buffy let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t see how this is even considered art,” she complained. “My mom ran an art gallery and, sure, I questioned some of her choices too, but this…”
Clint took a moment to stop scanning the crowd and look at the “art” on display and providing the excuse for the soiree. Had he been less professional, he would have winced. “Yeah. I see your point.”
He could almost feel her suddenly brighten behind him and wondered exactly how much trouble her newest idea would bring them. Not that he was going to complain about it. Her previous two ideas had been kind of awesome.
“I know, right. Now that shot you did last night fighting the M’Karquens demon, that was a work of art,” she enthused.
Once again the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, pleased by the praise. He had actually felt pretty useless on the hunt until that moment. He understood it, though. In their hunts, she was the expert and he was the novice, so it only made sense. “You proposing a second art exhibition after this?”
“Oh, yeah. I got a text from one of the local Watchers. Apparently there’s a nest by the docks that’s a bit to much for the local slayers.”
“Sounds like fun.”
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
It was a few weeks later that found the trio at yet another soiree. This one was in a completely different type of venue, very modern and techno. This, however, wasn’t being hosted by any of the UN contacts, this was being put on by one of their computer vendors.
“What sort of art do you think this is?” Buffy asked, slipping up beside him.
Clint had stopped tensing whenever she appeared beside or behind him. In their time together, he’d reached a level of trust with her that he had only ever found before with his family and Natasha. He’d made his peace with her world after the first week, but was still pleased that it wasn’t his normal world.
The heavy-beat of the techno song blaring in the room blended into the previous one causing a moment of cringe-worthy discord before the previous song faded. “Painful?” Clint offered.
Buffy laughed. She’d been in her fair share of clubs across the world, including ones similar to this one, but rarely during the day. “I’m almost afraid to agree for fear it will make me sound old.”
Before Clint could reply, the music stopped and the video screens suddenly flipped to various live news feeds.
The Archer and the Slayer stood side by side and watched.
“Aw, hell,” Clint said softly. “I knew it would be trouble.” No one had said yet, but he knew with absolute certainty that this had Captain America’s finger prints all over it. Who else could have taken the quiet purge and instead burn it all to the ground, good and bad. “Killed the patient to stop the cancer,” he grumbled. He caught Buffy turn her head to look at him. He just shook his head.
It wasn’t too much longer before they were able to see the large carriers start crashing into the Patomac.
Buffy let out an impressed whistle.
Clint turned toward her and raised a brow.
“From someone who has burned down buildings, blown up building and sunk a city, I gotta say, that’s a pretty fine work of art.”
Clint contemplated the view before him and thought about the end of Hydra. “Fine art,” he agreed.
End.
Author: Beriaearwen
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Avengers (Movieverse)
Characters: Clint Barton, Director Fury, Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles
Rating: Suitable for people over 13
Word Count: 2370
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Mutant Enemy, etc. The characters of the Avengers (Movieverse) belong to Marvel, etc. All are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: “Now that is art.” “No, that is fine art.”
Where In The World Was Clint Barton - Option 35: Kunst - n. Art, Fine Art
By Beriearwen
Clint slipped into Fury’s office and took a seat. He knew he hadn’t taken his boss by surprise - little did - but a glance out the window showed he may have gotten past Maria. A smirk appeared on his face at the thought. His record was not the best against Maria, but only Fury and Nat were better.
“She saw you and sent a heads up,” Fury opened.
A chagrined look appeared on Clint’s face. He would have to figure out how she spotted him and adjust for it.
“It’s not so bad,” Nick soothed. “She didn’t catch you until you passed through my door.”
So, a partial win for him. He nodded at the comment, accepting the truth of it. He still had work to do, she shouldn’t have caught him at all. “So, what’s up, boss?” he asked, knowing Fury didn’t care for the name.
“I have a new assignment for you.”
Clint sat straighter and raised an eyebrow in question. “The Lemurian Star…”
“Is no longer your concern.” At the astonished look on the archer’s face, Fury added, “I’ll send Nat with Cap and his team as backup.”
Clint snorted. “That will end well,” he opined, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
Fury shrugged in response.
The two of them had been working hard and very subtly to get the evidence they needed to weed out Hydra agents from their ranks. Their operation had nearly been blown when the Hydra weapons were found during the Loki crisis when Clint had been brainwashed.
The recovery from that had put them back much further than they would have liked, but there wasn’t much choice. With Cap involved now, Clint was pretty sure it would end in flames. He would have to make sure his records were gone before he left. He wasn’t going to risk his family.
“I have a different job for you.”
“Oh?” Clint asked, wondering what could be important enough to pull him from their project.
“The New Council is coming to New York to meet with the United Nations,” Fury informed.
That caught Clint’s attention. On the world landscape of shadow organizations, the Watcher’s Council had been more rumor than reality before their headquarters blew up. Since beginning to re-form and changing their name, more information had been available and they were coming out of the shadows a bit more, but what their actual role was remained shrouded. The world only knew what let the New Council (not their actual name, but what everyone called them) let them, and honestly, that was very little and very different than expected.
The fact that the leaders were able to not only step into their roles but control the story so well meant they were far more savvy and more dangerous than originally thought, especially because they only had one name - Rupert Giles.
“And what will my role be?” he asked.
“Officially, you’re going in as a body guard for Mr. Giles and his associate.” At Clint’s surprised expression, a frustrated look crossed Fury’s face. “It was all we could get them to agree to - having a body guard. As it was, they eventually requested you.”
That put Clint on high alert. A shadow organization specifically asked for him to play bodyguard. That couldn’t be good. “Did they give a reason?”
“Not as such, they stated that you were the only one properly equipped who might possibly be able to keep up.”
“Properly equipped?” he asked, mind spinning with scenarios.
Fury shook his head slightly. “They said they were impressed by your work with a bow.”
That statement paused Clint’s thoughts. His work with his bow. His eyes narrowed as a thought niggled at the back of his mind.
Fury didn’t give him a chance to try and recall the information, instead the Director passed a folder across to him.
Flipping it open, Clint saw the picture of a somewhat harried looking middle aged man with the slightly blurred faces of young people around him - blurred just enough to prevent identification.
Lifting his eyes from the picture, he met Fury’s.
“We don’t have clear pictures or data on any of the young people,” he admitted. “Most of what we did have went down with Sunnydale.”
Sunnydale. The name echoed in his mind. It was something that he didn’t understand and would never know about since the truth was classified well above his pay grade. It was a name that sent a chill down his spine for reasons he could not define and a dream for those who make fake identities.
He flipped through a few pages and his brow rose at the latest entry - adoption papers for an adult and teen, formerly Buffy and Dawn Summers. It was followed by information on investitures and of inheritance. His eyes rose to meet Fury’s.
“We think he’s bringing his older daughter with him. We found out a bit about her pre-Sunnydale and an offer for a full scholarship to Northwestern, but nothing else.”
“Someone’s being very careful,” Clint observed, eyebrows rising at the newspaper clippings about Buffy.
“And I want you to find out why,” Nick commanded.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Clint stood by the chauffeur, waiting for Mr. Giles and whoever he brought with him to deplane. He found it interesting that, unlike his predecessors, Mr. Giles flew commercial and would be going through customs like anyone else. He had noted, however, that the man and - he assumed - his elder daughter had chosen International Business Class rather than either coach or first class. He didn’t blame them, it was his preference as well.
He perked up slightly at the sight of Dr. Giles, there was something more to the man than museum curator, but it was his blonde daughter behind him that set him on alert. She was… something. Predator was the first thing that came to mind, like a sleek mountain lion. The image quickly passed, but his years of training and exposure to Nat kept him from dismissing it out of hand.
The duo made their way through customs a bit faster than he would have expected, but not unduly so. They approached him and the chauffeur without pause and he noticed the way they evaluated both of them.
“Mr. Barton,” Mr. Giles greeted. “It is a pleasure. Thank you for your actions in New York.”
Before he could reply, Mr. Giles turned to the chauffeur to greet him by name as well.
Clint’s attention switched more fully to the blonde woman in front of him whose eyes were wide and innocent at the moment. He was instantly on edge. If nothing else, his daughter and wife had taught him to be wary of that look - and to resign himself to inevitable defeat. “Miss Giles.”
“Mr. Barton,” she replied before a slight pout appeared on her face. “No bow?”
Clint smiled slightly. She was going to be trouble. “Not in an airport, but I assure you you’re safety is not an issue.”
An odd look flickered across her face before she shrugged. “Fair enough. You do have it with you though?”
Clint nodded in agreement, wondering exactly what the glint in her eye meant other than trouble for him.
Despite the conversation, he had been keeping an eye on the area surrounding them and noticed some attention directed toward them that didn’t sit well. Smiling genially at the newly arrived duo, he suggested, “Why don’t we head over to your hotel and discuss your itinerary?”
His charges nodded and followed the driver out while he memorized the faces of those who gave him concern.
It was about an hour later as he settled into the hotel suite that he and his team had cleared earlier in the day and again when they arrived that they got down to business.
It was an hour and twenty-three minutes later that he wished they were back at the airport.
He got the information Fury wanted, not that he could tell the man, but he almost wished he hadn’t. His world had expanded enough in the past few years, but he understood why he had been requested and why he was the one told. He may also have had a slight case of envy when he was shown Buffy’s personal travel collection of weapons.
Of course, he had readily demanded to go hunting with Buffy after their evening commitments at the various art galleries, ballets, orchestral concerts and about every other sort of boring diplomatic party that could be imagined. Apparently it wasn’t just the New Council trying to woo the UN, but a lot of the UN wooing the New Council as well.
And wonder and joy, he would get to deal with securing all of those places and ensuring his charges stayed safe and alive afterward too.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Clint scanned the room again, standing in what he determined was the optimal spot. He really wanted to be about fifteen feet straight up from here, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. He wasn’t in charge of overall security, just that of Buffy and Rupert. The thirty seven other heads of security were ensuring the security of their charges as well.
Thinking of his charges, he scanned for them again. In the three days he’d been with them, he determined Rupert was easy enough to watch and was willing to listen to his instructions. Buffy… He suppressed a sigh. Honestly, he was having a hard time imagining rescuing her from anything, Not that he wasn’t providing rescues, but so far it had been saving ambassadors and assistants from Buffy’s ire rather than rescuing Buffy from anything. Not that he could blame her, but she should have been more prepared for dealing with cultures that didn’t view women the same way as they were in the US. Although one or two of them he almost didn’t bother saving because their actions were not products of their culture, just of their general stupidity and chauvinism.
The other problem with Buffy...
His shoulders tensed as he heard the slight scuff behind him.
With a conscious effort he relaxed his shoulders and let out an audible sigh. “I really wish you would stop doing that,” Clint complained before shooting a look at her over his shoulder. “I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Hmm,” Buffy agreed, not moving any closer.
Clint turned his attention back out toward the rest of the gathering, realizing that Buffy was hiding behind him. He couldn’t stop the small smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth. The woman wasn’t afraid of anything and could easily take on all comers, but she was hiding. “Not enjoying the art?” he asked, having already experienced a similar occurrence at the first soiree.”
Buffy let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t see how this is even considered art,” she complained. “My mom ran an art gallery and, sure, I questioned some of her choices too, but this…”
Clint took a moment to stop scanning the crowd and look at the “art” on display and providing the excuse for the soiree. Had he been less professional, he would have winced. “Yeah. I see your point.”
He could almost feel her suddenly brighten behind him and wondered exactly how much trouble her newest idea would bring them. Not that he was going to complain about it. Her previous two ideas had been kind of awesome.
“I know, right. Now that shot you did last night fighting the M’Karquens demon, that was a work of art,” she enthused.
Once again the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, pleased by the praise. He had actually felt pretty useless on the hunt until that moment. He understood it, though. In their hunts, she was the expert and he was the novice, so it only made sense. “You proposing a second art exhibition after this?”
“Oh, yeah. I got a text from one of the local Watchers. Apparently there’s a nest by the docks that’s a bit to much for the local slayers.”
“Sounds like fun.”
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
It was a few weeks later that found the trio at yet another soiree. This one was in a completely different type of venue, very modern and techno. This, however, wasn’t being hosted by any of the UN contacts, this was being put on by one of their computer vendors.
“What sort of art do you think this is?” Buffy asked, slipping up beside him.
Clint had stopped tensing whenever she appeared beside or behind him. In their time together, he’d reached a level of trust with her that he had only ever found before with his family and Natasha. He’d made his peace with her world after the first week, but was still pleased that it wasn’t his normal world.
The heavy-beat of the techno song blaring in the room blended into the previous one causing a moment of cringe-worthy discord before the previous song faded. “Painful?” Clint offered.
Buffy laughed. She’d been in her fair share of clubs across the world, including ones similar to this one, but rarely during the day. “I’m almost afraid to agree for fear it will make me sound old.”
Before Clint could reply, the music stopped and the video screens suddenly flipped to various live news feeds.
The Archer and the Slayer stood side by side and watched.
“Aw, hell,” Clint said softly. “I knew it would be trouble.” No one had said yet, but he knew with absolute certainty that this had Captain America’s finger prints all over it. Who else could have taken the quiet purge and instead burn it all to the ground, good and bad. “Killed the patient to stop the cancer,” he grumbled. He caught Buffy turn her head to look at him. He just shook his head.
It wasn’t too much longer before they were able to see the large carriers start crashing into the Patomac.
Buffy let out an impressed whistle.
Clint turned toward her and raised a brow.
“From someone who has burned down buildings, blown up building and sunk a city, I gotta say, that’s a pretty fine work of art.”
Clint contemplated the view before him and thought about the end of Hydra. “Fine art,” he agreed.
End.