#HIII yes i have decided to make it so that barton has no choice but to trust her with this... what about it? / j

[mad-hunts]

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

'whenever you're a part of gotham's underground, it's just a rule that you're going to make some enemies, and that means you have to be prepared for anything.' that is something that barton remembers telling his kids once in an attempt to warn them against ever letting their guard down around other people — and somewhat of a mantra that he himself liked to abide by. which, seemed very relevant right now, seeing as he was staring down at the bloodied corpse of someone he originally thought was on his side. but it seemed like the man was quick to change his alliances whenever he was offered a better deal by another villain to be their new inside person and all they had to do was kill him before they could officially switch to working for them. or, perhaps former police officer would be the more appropriate way to refer to him now.

cyrus mitchell was his name. and for a while, he served as barton's 'inside man,' who would report back to him whenever his name was so much as whispered in gotham city's police station for a ridiculous amount of money. but having the ability to be three steps ahead of everyone would always cost you in one way or another. to be able to protect yourself and those you loved, barton did have this idea that you had to sacrifice something, as that seemed to one of the quickest ways to gain power over someone or perhaps even a whole system; both on a physical and mental level. though with that sacrifice came risk, since people like cyrus were obsessed with the idea of living the good life and whenever a new, better offer for work flew into their lap... they immediately wanted to take it. if only he hadn't gotten so greedy.

barton was still breathing heavily from all of the energy he'd just exerted while he was doing something rather unsavory to cyrus's head, which actually caused it to look like less like a head in the end and more like a mess of gore, as well as blood. all of the adrenaline that he had been feeling before was now something that he was beginning to come down from; which made barton to begin to really feel the aching that cyrus, the slimy bastard, had brought about in his legs when he had him pinned down to the ground stomach first for a good five minutes or so. so as you can imagine... with all of the craziness that had been going on around him, barton's mind had failed to remember that someone was actually supposed to be meeting him here soon.

mya, barton thought her name was? thus, he was rather startled by the other suddenly being in his vicinity — in his workshop — and failed to find the right words to say to her for a moment. barton put on his best smile then and tried to ease the tension in the room with a quip, ❝ ahh, right. you're here. don't mind him, he's just going to be hanging around for a little bit... up until i gather enough strength to pick him up and carve him like a thanksgiving turkey, ❞ a breathy, but also sadistic chuckle came from him as he reached for one of the rags that he typically kept near his autopsy table. that's when his vision suddenly stopped working on him and he had to bend over the table to keep himself standing. his eyes, particularly his left one, felt like they were their own individual fountains now as his body seemed to remember that... yes, that man had gone for his eyes and he was pretty sure, had probably cut deep enough directly below them to cause them to overproduce tears because they were damaged.

that's when he felt it. it must've been mya, because there was no one else here at the moment, who had taken the cloth from him and was now wiping at the blood running down his face. barton still couldn't see anything so he had to grope around blindly to loosely grab her other hand's wrist. a shaky groan left his mouth as red-hot pain ran through the areas that she was wiping clear of blood, though that was likely not her intention. he pulled on her wrist then and tried to bat away the hand she was actually using to help him, ❝ ugh, what are you doing? stop it. you're hurting me. ❞

another attempt to bat at her hand, and that's when he decided to try to open his eyes to see her rather than keep them closed. which proved to only hurt him further... great, just great, he thought. mya could kill him if she wanted to right now and he'd be utterly defenseless.