#the fact that the first thing out of barton's mouth here was 'oof' just proves that he cannot take anything seriously

[mad-hunts]

@stamour sent🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body.

there was something wrong with him. and for barton to say that meant that whatever he must've been experiencing was simply too hard to ignore, and/or just that bad — this situation itself definitely being able to fit into both categories. barton had woken up, after all, and the first thing he'd noticed was that he had no freaking clue as to where he was. plus, his head was pounding as if someone was using a jackhammer on it, causing a groan to leave his mouth rather quickly. did he get blackout drunk or something? barton was starting to think that could very much be a possibility until he turned his head.

what was sitting next to him certainly caused any semblance of sleepiness in him to dissipate, as it wasn't a pretty sight at all. the man had been stabbed in the cheek right below the eye and his cornea was leaking blood because of it as well as his cheek. there was also a noticeably big bruise on the other side of his face that was now paler than it should've been (seemingly because of pallor mortis). it didn't scare barton, but it did startle him as he was not expecting to see that at all. what the hell had happened to cause all of this and perhaps more importantly, what did he do? barton tried to remember but failed at first as he rose a hand up to his temple. he was able to feel that there was a semi-deep gash there and then it all clicked.

the man beside him was one of the people that seemed to act as an enforcer to an up-and-coming gang that'd been forming in gotham during the last few months. they'd already made quite the name for themself, since they were known for trafficking weapons in a town that was full of criminals, but the leader of it decided he'd wanted to branch out a little; reaching out to barton in order to buy pharmaceuticals from him that were very illegal and for good reason. but like a lot of these gangs run by quote unquote 'young people,' the leaders of them often got greedy and all of a sudden, they were trying to haggle him for much more of the substance than they'd actually bought from him. things only escalated from there then whenever he refused and now... well, it seemed the rest of them had ran off somewhere to do any combination of licking their wounds, and trying to recoup from all of the losses their dumb boss had caused to be inflicted upon them.

they had met in what was possibly one of the most cliché places possible (an abandoned building) in barton's opinion and so he thought he'd be pretty safe to just leave from here. but as he was getting up, barton heard something clatter behind him. there was another person here, perhaps intending to do some urban exploration, who'd now seen him with the body. barton's gaze went steely whenever they landed on love and he hurriedly reached down to pick up the bloodied knife not too far from the man he'd killed. he cleared his throat, the rotting mask he wore making the sadistic smirk that was forming on his lips somehow even more dreadful.

❝ oof... i bet you're feeling pretty unlucky right about now, huh? well — whatever you do, don't feel sorry for this scumbag right here. he was just about as bad as they come, ❞ barton pointed the knife he held in the other's direction, the metal gleaming in the light, ❝ how would you like a head-start? i mean, before i kill you, too. ❞