Narrative: Dog Days Are Here Characters: Clint NPC: Goons, a mutt Location: New York Timeline: [BACKDATED] March 4, 2016 Description: Clint buys an apartment building and gets a dog. Rating: PG-13 (violence against people and animals) Notes: With apologies to the comics from which the gist of this is lifted from.
In retrospect there had been signs. There had been letters actually - poorly worded ones, that nonetheless got across the point in big block letters, and red text that there was to be a sudden rent increase as of the first of next month. And those letters had been dated the 25th of February. Clint would find these letters later, once everything was said all tossed into a pile under his couch, along with a couple of overdue bills, and a stray arrow.
But there had been other signs, like guys (goons really) lurking around, being menacing. Other people spending time around outside the front of the building, taking pictures, making plans in loud voices about what they were going to build in this spot when the building to torn down . . . okay that last one really should have clued Clint in, but he was busy. Being an Avenger took up a lot of time, and there was the Charles Xavier death ... he was busy. Real busy.
Too busy to look for a new apartment.
That was what Clint told himself as he walked down the street, on his way to - well buy an apartment building. He had the funds, thanks to clearing out his savings (and man that had hurt, that savings had been built up, money he had gotten when he turned twenty-one from his parents estate -such as it was - that had been in trust for him. Savings he had managed to accumulate from his job, savings that would mean he always had a backup ....) and getting a loan from the bank.
But yes, this was about him being busy. And not about his neighbors freaking out about rent increases, neighbors that would be homeless. Neighbours that Clint cared about. This was about Clint, and his convenience. This wasn’t about helping other people, really. It wasn't.
He came to a stop outside of a empty looking store front, nodding at the fellows outside. Fellows that he recognized from the building, not residents but guys that were always around lately. Loitering. He'd do something about that if it continued once the building was his.
Outside with the fellows was a dog, now Clint wasn't sure what breed, but the dog looked friendly enough. Bending down, Clint paused with his hands over the dog's head, taking note of the wagging tail, but he wanted to make sure that petting the dog was okay. “Hey, if I ask if your dog is friendly, and you say yes, and then he bites me, and I make a scene about how you said that your dog is friendly, are you going to say ‘hey, that’s not my dog’?”
That got him a blank stare and Clint sighed as he began to pat the dog, people had no respect for classics now! Not that he did. He just liked that joke. The dog's tail wagged, and Clint smiled at it; “Good boy? Girl?” He looked up to the people around them who all just shrugged. “This your dog or -?”
“It’s ours.” One drawled. “But boy-dog, girl-dog, what does it matter?”
Frowning Clint gave the dog one final pat and then stood up. “Right, well.” He gave a nod of his head and entered the building.
* * *
Ok so things could have gone better.
As he ducked a punch that was thrown at his head, Clint yelped; “did you not get the memo from your boss? I paid for things - fair and square!” All right, he had maybe said a few things about being an Avenger. Knowing the Avengers. That he knew a hot shot lawyer (he did! Kinda … he knew a hot shot law student ….) that he himself was not without skills that could make life very interesting for the man who owned the building.
And so a deal had been made - a deal that apparently hadn’t been conveyed to the underlings. Or maybe the plan was that they would now have the money and the building. As he straightened up after ducking, a punch came out of nowhere and got him in the face. He staggered back, and then saw - behind the guy that had punched him - the dog. Standing right behind the guy, right there behind him and looking and Clint and wagging his tail.
So Clint pushed the dude back, and he fell right over the dog.
Clint swore the dog winked at him. He was really growing to like that dog ...
Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he saw the building's former owner leaving, with the bag that Clint had brought with him, the bag with the cash. “Hey - hey!” The man didn’t make eye contact and Clint swore, and then the dog, that damn dog, was running over and in front of the man, blocking his path and growling at him, hackles raised.
The man came to a stop, and Clint jogged over, and grabbed his shirt. “We had a deal -” Clint snarled that, and continued; “You want to go back on our deal? You want to bring The Avengers into this? Hell - forget them, you think they're the scariest people I know? Naw, they aren’t, I know lots of scary people, so I’m going to sue you, then maybe I’ll leak your address to some people I know who work off the book … you know how I am. You know who I could know.” Lies, all of them, but Clint was pretty sure this guy wasn’t going to report him - he was a coward. He had people he paid to be his muscle …
And as Clint kept his grip on the guy's jacket, he saw resignation cross his face. He gave a slow nod, and said something in a language Clint didn’t know and the guys who had surrounded them fell back.
The former building owner gave a nasty smile; “enjoy being a property owner Mr. Barton. I hope you find it as … thrilling as I have.”
He said something else as Clint released the jacket, and Clint watched him go and get into a waiting car. Clint sagged his shoulders a bit, well. This was a thing he now had a building so - yeah that was a thing and -
A gunshot brought him out of his thoughts, and he spun around - one of the guys was shooting at the dog, and maybe hit it, since the animal was limping, and the poor animal was running, out, out into traffic and -
Clint closed his eyes, then forced them open. A car was speeding away and the dog - oh god the dog -
* * *
He didn’t really remember getting to the vets, but he got them there somehow. Telling the dog all the way that it was a good dog, such a good dog …
And now he waited, trying to ignore stares. Not making eye contact with anyone, just watching the clock. Standing when the vet showed up and asked him to come with her, heading into a room off the main office where she said: “All right Mr. Barton, your dog is very lucky …. he’s going to be fine.”
Looking at the vet, Clint blinked registering that the dog was a male. And -- his? He blinked again, trying to come up with words, an explanation but what came out was; “Oh, oh thank goodness.”
“Now, we just have to do some paperwork, your dog's name?”
Clint didn’t say that he hadn’t known the dog's gender until seconds ago, so he went with the first thing that came to his brain. “Ahhh - Lucky.”