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character's age: forty-eight
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player's alias: asdfg
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character's codename: Trickshot
Joined: 10-April 17
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Last Seen: May 14 2018, 06:33 PM
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Barney Barton


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Mar 29 2018, 01:41 PM
New York was a dangerous city. It was dangerous for anyone, from children who could be whisked away by cruel, insane people for unthinkable reasons, to average-dressed, middle aged men, who were usually at risk of much more mundane crimes. They were supposed to have money on their wallets, and phones and watches that could be sold for some change.

So Barney shouldn't have been very surprised when the tail he had gotten a couple of blocks away turned out to be some a-hole with a kitchen knife, poking him in the back with it, telling him to keep walking, into the next alley. Barney was immediately relieved; how awful would it have been if Clint actually hadn't trusted him enough and had someone follow him?

Barney raised his arms in a feign of harmlessness, and let himself be poked into it, where another guy with a gun, that looked so old and poorly cared for it might not even work, met them. "Pass the wallet, old man." Barney hadn't been willing to fight. He was trying to go unnoticed, very hard. That meant not even a concealed gun on him, and that meant not wiping the floor with these two pieces of nothing. But, really, "Old man?" How old did he look, he still even had his full head of hair, in the natural color!

Of course, talking back to the people with weapons on you was stupid, and he should feel glad the guy with the gun - clearly the leader - used the butt of the gun to strike him in the face. He rolled with it, letting him feel good about hitting him hard while he avoided most of the damage. He still felt it, and it was going to bruise for a few days. "NOW, OLD MAN!". Leader didn't mean balanced.

He moved very deliberately slowly to reach for his wallet, fully aware of what a knife to the gut could do, no matter how untrained the user was. He turned it, offering to the man on his back, who eagerly picked it up, and, with anxious fingers, struggled to open it while holding to the large grip of the blade in his hands. He started walking around him, to stand by his boss, his face scrunching into a deep, angry frown. "HEY!" He spoke with deep indignation, "There's nothing here!"

May 6 2017, 08:57 PM
one track mind

‘Barton, like Clint Barton?’

In the good old days, S.H.I.E.L.D. had their Agent Barton, and HYDRA had theirs, and because neither made a habit out of publicizing the private information of their high-ranking operatives, most people even on their side knew they existed. Then, his dumb little brother had to put on a purple suit and go fire arrows on aliens with Captain America and a Norse god. Almost fifty fucking years later, not having spoken a word to each other in about half of those, and Clint still kept finding new ways of fucking things up for him.

Thankfully, not many people got to learn his name. Whenever he dealt with outsiders he usually gave them a false one; he was supposed to be dead, after all, and there was no reason to go around risking it. But some people knew - people high in the hierarchy, usually. For anyone else, ‘Trickshot’ worked just fine. And if someone ever knew enough to be able to go ‘Wasn’t there another Trickshot?’ then Barney at least got to reply ‘I killed him, and took his name.’ It was good at shutting them up.

Then, HYDRA fell. Barney managed to regroup with some other loyalists on the other side of the Atlantic, but while he made out due to the secrecy of his existence, the cell he met had made it simply because they were too small to be noticeable. It had been tough; Barney was field only - due to the situation of his joining, his ability to perform at a high level of rationality was dubious at best, so it wasn’t unexpected he wasn’t given much decisory power, and that meant he was not fully integrated into the politics; he had been assigned a handler to do just that. Now, acting on his own behalf after over a decade, he had been desperate enough to make use of this tidbit; this time, however, instead of attracting the few who knew about his brother’s position, it repealed them like a poorly-conceived prank. The only ones who would go for it would be those informed enough to be able to tell it was true. Barney was too annoyed by it to properly appreciate its cleverness.

It still did its job, and Barney was back on the right side of the ocean once more, with the self-titled Clairvoyant, who inherited his codename from another, too. He had never met the previous one, and was hardly aware of him. He had been convinced of the authenticity of the claim by other means. The king is dead, hail the king.

Still, that left much in the open. How much was left, which part of it was salvageable and which part would have to be purged to ensure the safety of the rest. What was the plan, then? At least, what’s the next step? “Have you already decided? On my next mission?” It wasn’t the first time he had asked, but he was antsy to go back on the field. It had been years already, could anyone blame him?

Apr 10 2017, 01:14 PM
[dohtml]<div align="center"><div class="app_body"><div class="app_header">Charles “Barney” Barton</div>

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<h1>Full Name:</h1> Charles Bernard Barton<br>
<h1>Codename:</h1> Trickshot<br>
<h1>Occupation:</h1> Agent of HYDRA<br>
<h1>Date of Birth:</h1> August 4th<br>
<h1>Age:</h1> Forty-eight<br>
<h1>Height:</h1> 6” 2’<br>
<h1>Weight:</h1> 185 lb.<br>
<h1>Distinguishing Features:</h1> several small scars and burns around his body, earned in a lifetime of combat<br>
<h1>Member Group:</h1> Human<br>
<h1>Playby:</h1> Gerard Butler

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While he is, for all intents and purposes, completely human, and as such, prone to all human weaknesses, Barney also shares the combination of high visual acuity and eye-to-hand coordination that makes both Barton brothers incredible sharpshooters.
Having been trained by the Army, the FBI, and HYDRA, and having considerable field experience, Barney is by now a seasoned fighter, and though specialized in long-range weapons, especially snipers and compound bows, he is also trained in melee combat, and known for his ability for improvisation.
Besides combat, Barney also learned, starting at the circus, several conning tricks, from pickpocketing to misdirection and distraction, skills that he has honed in time, especially at his undercover work. He is fairly competent at hiding his true intentions, usually through adopting a falsely cheerful and talkative personality, using sensory-bombardment to manipulate his victims.
Barney also possesses a very inquisitive mind, and strong will, that allows him to weather painful situations, both physically and emotionally, and always plan for an exit, no matter how dire the circumstances are.

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Barney Barton was always the man went to when you needed a job done. More than anything, the most noticeable thing about him is his ability to, on one hand, prepare himself to be best of his ability for all the troubles that may arise, and, on the other, to keep soldiering on even when the circumstances pile up against him. Barney was never a blind follower, and he is capable of realizing that, if the the orders he receives aren’t ideal, the field is also not the place to argue strategy, accept they are the best the situation allows, and follow through.
His personal life was both more and less complex in the fact that it was basically nonexistent. The only emotional bond left to him was with his younger brother, Clint, and to say they left things in a bad way is an understatement. They had always been different people, and Barney was still a child himself when he found himself responsible for him, but Clint is still family, and the similarities between them are hard to deny. More than that, Clint is his responsibility, and Barney failed him before, yet, as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and an Avenger, he is a prime target for HYDRA. This is the biggest source of conflict between his programming and his former self, driving even someone as steady as him to erratic behavior whenever Clint, or his family are concerned.
Other than that, between realizing that, growing up, he seemed to look more and more like his abusive father, and watching himself react with violence and anger, and the regret in leaving his brother behind and the resentments his family life left him with, Barney was never willing to even consider a family of his own. Romantic entanglements and friendships were always superficial, fraught with tension, and lacking in trust, and were always quick to break apart.
Yet, this is not how people see him. Except for the rare few that manage to catch him overwhelmed or off-guard, usually a S.O. or field leader, people he needs to trust to ensure the job is successful,, most people would actually describe him as almost the exact opposite: expansive, relaxed, humorous. Barney learned young how to hide his true feelings, from his hatred at his father to his own hopelessness and fear from Clint; in the circus, he learned the best way to make people not see what you want to hide is to give them something else to look at, and that’s what Barney does: making off-color jokes, invading other’s personal spaces, showing no caution or regard, he can let himself approach others without having them come too close to him, in return. Developed and honed through over years working undercover without being found, Barney went from a child who learned to manage people to a skilled liar and manipulator. And, to be honest, the jokes are funny; it’s just a matter of not keeping them to himself anymore.
After being subjected to the Faustus method, outwardly Barney acts much the same for those who do not know him well. The greatest difference would be how he has been freed from his misgivings about his actions, but since he rarely let them interfere in his behavior on the field, many would be unable to point out how he changed. HYDRA made Barney realize every lost innocent life is a small price to pay in reaching the higher goal of order and control global domination would bring. He feels as if his slate was wiped clean: his life, as it was, should never have happened. Under HYDRA rule, it won’t, anymore. Those like his father won’t be allowed to terrorize their own family, and will be rehabilitated through force, or made useful as cannon-fodder. Those like his mother will be given the chance to protect and raise their children properly, or have them taken away to be cared for by those who can. Children like Clint will learn to conduct themselves and do their part. And for men like Barney, who are happy to comply, compliance will be rewarded.

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His house is not a place for children; his father enjoys preying on the weak, and his mother is too weak to defend herself, much less anyone else. He knows he has to be strong, but he also knows he has a lot to grow up before it happens, so he waits.
It’s not that that difficult, after he figures out the rules of the game. When to shut up and listen to the yelling, when to reply back and take the punishment, because his father’s hand is hurting to hit someone, and if they wait too long it will be worse in the long run. His parents are just something else he has to manage through life, until he’s old enough to leave.
It’s not terrible, not as terrible as it could be while it’s only himself and his mother to withstand his father; the problem is his brother, because he has a heart issue. The issue is, he has one. He sees it in his mother’s eye, the silent plea for him to protect his little brother, like she never protected him, even when he kept his head down, and did the right thing. Clin’t doesn’t and now he’s not something else he has to handle, he keeps throwing everything else out of whack.
Despite himself, he does what he can. He takes Clint outside with him even when he wants to be alone, he teaches for free the things he had to scrape and hurt to learn, he tells the truth: that they have to keep their heads down and wait, because they will outlast him.
But Barney can’t save Clint from himself. When the doctor gives them the news that Clint’s hearing is permanently damaged, he leaves and locks himself in the bathroom, and starts to laugh. It seems about right, Clint would rather go deaf than listen in the first place.

Barney was right, and their father finally died, that’s what the cops came to tell. Barney hears the “Good.” from Clint’s lips, the one he probably can’t even hear himself, but he knows that’s not good, not at all. That’s not how it’s meant to happen; their father is supposed to die alone and in pain, of a leathery liver in a hospital bed, and he isn’t supposed to take his mother with him. That’s supposed to be the time when she becomes a real mom, when Barney gets to have someone... Clint doesn’t mind, because he has Barney, but Barney has no one.

They can only take so much from foster homes before they straight-up run away with the circus. It doesn’t take long for the truth to make itself obvious: homes are always better in some ways, worse in others, and this is a little bit different, because it’s not a home at all. It’s work, but Barney is good at getting jobs done, and the extra showmanship keeps Clint distracted enough that he can do it without worrying about him. All he has to do is keep his head down and to the job, and they’ll get out. He’ll outlast them, too.
Clint becomes the performer’s mascot, and they teach him things, tell him he’ll be a main act someday. Barney had already taught the basics him to throw stuff, so when Clint is given a bow, they say he’s a natural. But they teach Barney things, too, the sleights of hand. Not the ones for the show, the ones that make the real money; how to make a costumer look there when he takes their wallets from their pockets here, how to pack contraband on the false bottom in one of the many similar boxes when they pack up to move and not lose track of it as they cross state lines and deliver on the other side; how to make the houses they know are empty of people be empty of stuff. He’s not happy, and he knows it’s not right, but that is the job, and he learns quick, and he’s good at it, and gets it done.
He knows it won’t last - can’t last - but Clint doesn’t. He wants to be forever in the circus, the doesn’t understand the circus he believes in doesn’t exist. Barney tries to warn him without telling the truth, because he knows how Clint will react to the truth, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. This is meant to be temporary, just another stop, he tells and tells Clint but he just won’t listen. They had sparred together before, but they had never fought; Barney can’t remember who throws the first punch, and he’s afraid he forgets on purpose, because he didn’t want to know that he thought he could beat Clint into doing what he wanted.

Of course, sometime, Clint has to find out the truth, and his heart tells him it’s wrong and he has to act, and he gets beat up for it, by someone bigger and stronger, again. Barney knows he’s supposed to take care of him, fix everything, make things better. He can’t. He’s angry at Clint, because it’s his fault that things went wrong, that he won’t shut up and do as he’s told, that they had something nice going, and he ruins everything.
That’s it, Barney realizes. He has always told himself that no matter how much he’s growing to look like his father, he’ll never act like him,, but now he sees he’s just waiting to be strong enough for it to be his turn. Clint has to go to the hospital, and when the circus leaves that night, Barney leaves with it.
It’s for the best, Barney tells himself. Barney can’t save Clint from himself, but he can save Clint from Barney. By the time he was Clint’s age, Barney was taking care of the both of them; Clint can handle one, at least. Barney pretends he’s only sad, and not the slightest bit relieved.

The day he turns 18, he leaves for the Army, and never looks back.

He has good instincts, and good aim, they tell him. They tell him he’s a natural, and he doesn’t correct them. He keeps his head down and gets the job done. It doesn’t take long for him to be volunteered to sniper school, and sooner than he thought, he feels at home with a gun in his hands, and he thinks he can get used to the way it feels when it hits a human target. With some targets, it never does.

He fulfills his duties with honors, and moves to the reserve, going to college on an Army scholarship. He majors in Criminology, as a pre-law course, and a GPA good enough to be accepted by a respectable school, but then his S.O. shows up on campus before his graduation. He’s too good, he tells Barney. At listening, following, doing. The moment they have the chance, they’re calling him to duty. If he really doesn’t want to go back - and the S.O. knows he doesn’t - then he needs someone on his side that can tell the Army no. Someone like the the FBI.
Charles Bernard Barton has a clean sheet, technically, but his and his records tell a convincing story, and Barney Barton knows more than he should about how to run a scheme - or several - , and an Army-trained sniper with some education and a lot of skill is someone that both sides of the law can find use for. Instead of sending him to the field as an agent, they groom him for undercover work.
It’s like Barney’s meant for all the jobs he doesn’t want to do. But if he keeps his head down and get them done. It’s just this one, all he needs is to see it through.

He starts from the bottom, joining in as a new goon in some crooked billionaire’s scheme, only to get struck by an arrow coming from nowhere. He could have sworn it doesn’t start to hurt until he saw it was Clint’s.
He sees Clint turn on his partner, he grasps his hand, trying to speak. He knows Clint has to do, and what he’ll do, instead. He’s still the same damn stupid kid.
When he wakes up, his brother’s nowhere to be seen, and no one knows it was his brother. Both sides say not to worry, that he has been dealt with. He hadn’t even had the chance to say anything, but it’s for the best. Barney has no idea what to say.
He had tried to find his brother before, and he tries again, and later, many times, but he always comes up empty. Sometimes he thinks it’s for the best, that he doesn’t want to know either way.
As far as anyone knows, Barney had been shot with an arrow to the chest, and still managed to take down one of the attackers with him. No one can say how it was even possible, but it’s the sort of thing that earns someone a reputation.

The job continues for several years, as Barney climbs up the ranks, feeding his handlers enough information on their criminal enterprise to find the connections and assign the blame. Every time, it’s too soon to pull the plug, there’s more they can get, he only has to stay put a little longer. He never gets too close to other people, never makes a life for himself. He gets the job done, and then follows another. He finally realizes there will never be an end to it.

When it comes to criminal empires, you start digging too deep, you are going to strike HYDRA. When Barney Barton starts to get involved in what’s their business, they investigate him like no one else can - because no one else has spies deep inside S.H.I.E.L.D. - and learn that he’s related to Clint Barton, Hawkeye, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.s most prized agents.
When Barney Barton goes M.I.A., and, years later, he is considered K.I.A. the truth about his real identity is kept a secret by the FBI, to protect the agents still part of the operation; to the rest of the world, it’s just another criminal who went missing, probably killed by his many enemies. To HYDRA, having Clint Barton’s brother in their hands is the chance of the lifetime.

As an undercover agent, Barney had always been kept in the dark for as much as he could, just for situations like this. It’s funny to realize that his captors don’t care about the little he knows; what they want, he knows nothing about. It was the sort of thing Barney just found laugh-out-loud funny. They didn’t share his sense of humor.
He manages to stall for a while, hiding the fact that he hadn’t seen Clint in years, and hadn’t talked to him in even longer, and that they left things in bad terms. But even he can be worn down by time, and eventually the truth comes out; it takes a little longer for them to believe him, but he figures at least now there’s nothing left for him but a bullet to the head, and he welcomes it.
Instead, they have his Army records, FBI reports, and his several attempts to escape to show him he has something to offer; and HYDRA has a way to make him compliant.

This is not the time to keep quiet; he thrashes, and fights with all the strength he has left, but eventually, Faustus wins. There’s no outlasting Faustus.

It’s not that bad; in fact, it’s pretty good. He doesn’t feel different, he’s still himself, just with a fresh new perspective on life, a simple one, really: he doesn’t have to try so hard. HYDRA offers him something he never had before: support, stability, a goal to look forward to and work towards, instead of some amorphous future where he reaps vague rewards for all his hard work. The only thing it takes a while to get used to it the bow. They hire him teachers, who he doesn’t need for long. He’s a natural, they say, but there’s no secret to it. Shooting, killing, it’s all about the fundamentals. In the end, he has to admit, it’s a hell of a weapon, he just didn’t like it how it reminds him of his brother; his brother doesn’t weigh down on him anymore.
Hail, HYDRA.

<div class="app_footer">asdfg | 30 | GMT-3</div>
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