Clint's got his own troubles to worry about in the months following the New York attack. Russians in track suits, his dog, the neighbor kids... the last thing he has time for is a mission to Africa with Tony to track down a would-be Wakoda Thief. But that's exactly what he's doing. No good deed goes without getting burned.
I'm breaking all the rules with this one.
Any movie after the Avengers doesn't count.
Matt Frack Hawkeye Fans will especially enjoy
Bushfire
The heat stung his eyes, whipping him back and forcing his face to take shelter beneath his arm. He'd tried moving forward, pushing through despite the flames rising on either side of him, but in the end he was forced back. Fire columns cut him off on both sides. The roar of it deafening the screams of those burning all around him. He panted. With each breath, the smoke and ash stirred up and billowed out to block his vision.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
He fought against the constraints of his clothes and his own claustrophobia. His boots were heavy and dragged at every step.
The fire continued to rage, to ignite the very air around him. He was forced down on all fours to scramble beneath a tree thrown down in his path. The bark was already black and smoldering. Its crown engulfed. The further he crawled the more his skin boiled.
Sweat poured off of him from his back to his pits and flowing in every crevice, mingling in the blood from the gunshot wound he hadn't tended to. He continued to heave and gasp. He dragged himself under the tree, felt the burning bark tear into his clothes.
A radio cackled in his ear.
"Clint? Hawkeye, can you hear me? Hawk?! Hawk, can you hear me?"
Clint's mic was dead. It over heated, burning his throat in a neat square. He continued to force himself forward, onward, as far out of the inferno as he could reach. Before he knew what he was doing, where he was, he had already started to dig. A flat wall of towering rock blocked his path. A tunnel rested underneath and, God forgive him, he started climbing under it.
This wasn't part of the plan.
How could he have known the man they went after was built like a thermal reactor?
How could he have known that the entire horizon would go up like a Fourth of July firecracker?
He knew only these goals now.
Run.
Dig.
Escape.
Breathe.
in honor of those who have reviewed already, as this is a re-post, here is what they had to say:
Guest: really cool
The Cocky Undead : This is definitely a interesting start! I love Clint so I'm excited to see where you go with it.
OceanicBean: I look forward to the next chapter!
Batghost: Danggit! I totally forgot how you love cliffhangers! And, leaving Clint in danger... Again.
khaitosfren : Can you slip into a story like an old habit and still be holding your breath? I'm there.
The Spoiled Duchess: Oh, honey, you can break all the rules you want. Just keep it coming! SOOOO glad you're back.
Lillehafrue : Well, this certainly started off with a bang! Holy crap! Something tells me our poor Hawk is trouble this time...Can't wait to see more! Welcome back!
sirenian22: Wow! Great start and a cliffhanger. I absolutely love your work. It is so easy to visualize everything you write :)
::: Thank you all for the support and the outpouring of love. I'm not sure what will happen to "Where's Clint" but i'm just taking this one day at a time.