Times like these were the worst. Times when he was alone and had time to think. Times like these didn't come much, they were few and far between. But he hated it when they finally did.

Hawkeye ran a hand down his face, head swiveling around to survey the meeting room. He was alone. There were no more villains to fight, no more dragons to slay. He had absolutely nothing to preocupy him as the numb spread to the far recesses of his body.

His fingers thrummed against the wooden table, thwump, thwump, thwump, thwump. The rythmic motion soon became tiresome and he stood abruptly from his seat. He didn't like this, he didn't like this at all.

The screams started as they usually did. Fantom echos in his mind of the millions of lives he's slaughtered. They grow louder as the memories grow clearer, he clutches his head and lets a feral growl escape his lips. He wished they'd leave him alone.

They wouldn't though, he knew that. He also knew he deserved it. This was his punishment, his just desserts. Everything he deserved. With that thought, he sat back down at the mahogoney table, welcoming the blood curdling screams. Because he knew he deserved it. So, he sat there and greeted them like an old friend.