Bad Aim Chapter 1
By: Cadet Deming
I don't own the rights to The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. This takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with characters and organizations from the comics. This is a sequel to my story "Spying is the Loneliest Profession," but it should stand on its own. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Contains Hawkeye and Iron Man. Suspense/Espionage Thriller/Comedy
New York City
Clint "Hawkeye" Barton's stomach was in his throat. He wasn't afraid of being shot at, or hand-to-hand combat, or even being attacked by aliens. As he stood in the lobby of the A.I.M. Corporation, he faced one of his greatest fears: becoming a middle-management civilian.
He surveyed the lobby of his new employer. People scurried around in designer clothes and bright yellow uniforms that looked like protective gear from a Sci-Fi movie. They looked like bee-keeper costumes. He noted nobody smiled, but had looks of grim determination pasted on their faces. It reminded him of his bygone days as a SHIELD agent.
Clint approached the receptionist's desk. She didn't look old enough to drink. Her nametag identified her as: "Carmilla." She appeared engrossed in reading. He assumed it was a trashy magazine, but she was studying a biochemistry textbook.
He cast his shadow over her and said, "Hi, I'm Clint Barton, the new Director of Security. I'm here for my orientation."
She glanced up at him. "We know who you are. If you could please pass through the retinal scanner. You're already in the system."
Clint was a little taken aback that the company already had his eyeballs in their records, but it made sense. Loki had escaped from Asgard and blinded him in one of his acts of vengeance against the Avengers. A.I.M. had agreed to replace his eyesight with their technology, but the tradeoff was he had to come work for them.
Clint stared into the scanner, trying not to blink. He saw a brief flash of light and heard a click.
Carmilla handed him a pass. "Wear this at all times. You don't want to go anywhere here without ID. Paul Ebersol will give you your orientation. His lab is in Basement Level 3. Welcome to The Hive."
He turned away and heard her mutter, "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
Clint remembered "The Hive" as being the name of the underground research complex in the Resident Evil zombie movie. The workers around him may as well have been the walking dead.
Clint pressed the elevator button. It scanned his fingerprint and blinked that he was a match. The place's security measures were even stricter than SHIELD's.
He entered the elevator, noting that it contained some unusual pipes and vents. He saw a camera on the ceiling. The carpet was green and gold, with a two-headed snake pattern. The music playing was in the Italian language.
The door opened and Clint walked through the basement. Screens gave warnings about temperature, radiation, and toxicity levels. The latter two put him even more on guard. He could smell a mixture of chemicals.
He reached the lab, marked with the nameplate "Paul "Fixer" Ebersol, Vice President of Research and Development." Fixer was hunched over repairing a piece of equipment. His bald head was covered by a metallic visor with red lenses.
He looked up and grinned broadly at Clint. His teeth were unnaturally white, like a game show host or Miss America contestant. Clint wondered how long it would be before Fixer asked if he could introduce him to Tony Stark.
Fixer said, "Welcome. How're my eyes doing?"
Technically speaking, since Fixer was the person who made the cybernetic eyes, they were technically his, but Clint wanted to set down some boundaries.
Clint said, "MY EYES are doing fine."
"Good, before anything else, you need to sign some paperwork."
Fixer handed him a stack of papers the size of a small dictionary. Clint thumbed through it and read out loud, "In the event of birth defects in any future children, I absolve A.I.M. of any responsibility?"
"Oh, that's standard operating procedure. Everyone signs. We need it for the vaccinations."
Fixer took out a hypodermic needle and some vials of medication.
Clint recoiled as his spine tingled. "I don't like needles. And my immunizations are up to date."
"You were the Avenger's archer, right? An arrow is just a giant needle."
Clint winced when he said "were." He had left SHIELD, but things were up in the air on whether he was still an Avenger or not.
Clint said, "Big difference. I like putting arrows in other people. I don't like other people putting arrows in me."
"Listen, if this bothers you that much, I'll give you an injection gun, and you can administer the doses yourself. This is a safety precaution. A.I.M. deals with a lot of cutting edge research, some more dangerous than others. This builds up your immunity. No one has died on us…in 256 days."
Clint frowned, but reluctantly agreed. He held the injection gun to his own neck and pulled the trigger.
Fixer asked, "Was that so bad?"
Clint rubbed his neck. "I'll tell you in the morning. What are you working on that's so dangerous?"
"We'll let you know when the time is right. Is there any chance you can introduce me to Tony Stark?"
Stark Tower, New York
Tony Stark was awakened by the sound of hammers and nails. He was exhausted, but as hyperactivity was his natural state, it didn't take much to rip him from sleep.
He reached through his Pratesi linen sheets and grabbed his girlfriend's shoulder. Pepper Potts stretched to face him. The sun illuminated the freckles across her nose. She groaned.
He asked, "Why are the workmen here so early?"
"They're supposed to come at nine."
Tony leaned over to look at his alarm clock. It was blinking 3:07 AM.
He sat up sharply. "The power went out. That's not supposed to happen. The power can't go out. It's Arc Reactor Technology. It's supposed to be limitless."
Pepper rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Maybe a line got interrupted, or something overloaded."
"Maybe. I can't deal with maybe. Not when I have a board meeting in one week. Not when so much is at stake. Not when the whole company depends on this technology working."
"It's too early for me to tell if you're being a drama queen again or if this is serious. We'll have the engineers trace everything back."
"I'm not a drama queen." Tony said. "Drama princess maybe. Or drama duke. I like drama duke."
"Sounds like the name of a Great Dane."
Tony leapt out of bed. The coldness made him realize he was naked. Pepper tossed him a silk robe, embroidered with his monogram.
He walked to the window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. He had promised to use Arc Reactor Technology to power all of New York, if not the world. His mind started calculating the possibilities of the damage if the ART couldn't even power his own building.
To be continued