She was standing on a roof ledge when Clint saw her. Her white dress glowed a sort of ethereal blue in the moonlight, and her wavy chocolate hair cascaded around her shoulders. The girl carefully drew an arrow, and pulled the string on her bow back. Her back muscles tightened, her breathing slowed. It seemed as if all of time had come to a halt. Then, it came rushing back as the sound of three knives came out from the dark. The girl’s string relaxed, and that’s when Clint noticed. A perfect crimson had begun to color the silk dress on her back, and three knives glinted in the moonlight. She swayed once from the wind, and then tipped off the ledge. It didn’t take Clint more than a second to process what had happened, and react. He pulled a grappling hook arrow and shot it at the roof adjacent to him, and jumped. He didn’t know if it was sheer luck that his aim was perfect, and that when he caught her she still drew ragged breaths. If Clint was religious, he might have thought it was the grace of God.

Clint landed softly on the street below, and looked down at the girl. Her head lolled back, and a small trickle of blood ran down her cheek. He panicked slightly, as her heart rate slowed. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, and her eyes shot open as if she had merely been asleep. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Barney?” She mumbled, studying his face in the low light. Clint drew in a breath at the sound of his brother’s name, and his muscles tightened.

“Not Barney.” He said, and she looked around at the streets, seemingly disinterested in his response. The sound of metal dragging along concrete echoed across the building, and he could feel her heart rate pick up.

“He’s coming. We have to get out of here, he’s coming for me.” She said, her voice tight. Clint looked around, as the all too familiar sound got louder and louder.

“Who?” Clint asked, though deep down he already knew. He felt her slender hand grip his arm, and she looked him in the eyes.

“The Swordsman. He’s coming back for me.” The sound stopped, and Clint looked over at the figure standing the shadows.

“That’s correct, and I want her back.” The figure said, his slimy voice echoed in the silence. Clint looked down at the girl, who had either passed out from blood loss or fear, and placed her down gently on the asphalt.

“Clint Barton; it has been a long time, cretin.”

Clint rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother to grace that comment with a reply. He raised his bow, and drew an arrow.

“What do you want with her?” He asked, his voice rough. The figure took a step forward, and the bow string tensed.

“That girl belongs to me. This does not concern you Barton.”

“I think it does now, since well, A, I just saved her, and B she didn’t seem to inclined to return to your ‘care’.”

“She’s confused.” The Swordsman replied, and took another step forward. Clint rocked back, and pulled the string, aiming to kill.

“Take one more step and I’ll shoot.” Clint warned, and the Swordsman laughed.

“I don’t think you will.” He said, and began to take his next step. His foot never hit the ground. Clint’s breathing slowed and the arrow flew, hitting the Swordsman with a thud. He stumbled back, and pulled the arrow out, toppling over. Clint turned the other direction, and knelt, wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist. He slung her over his shoulder, and with one last look at the Swordsman, headed towards his apartment.

Notes

Okay. So, I haven't written in a loooooooooooooong time so please, leave comments. I also haven't written with Clint before. Ratings and comments on how to improve are much appreciated.
Thank you to Clary, Mathilde, and Issa for editing and helping me with this first chapter!
Thanks to MsCoffee for catching my errors!