Summer 2012
The afternoon sun was still high, barely passed it's most dangerous hours. In the city, the local people were hiding in whichever building they could, thanking the gods of air conditioning. Even the wildlife was keeping it quiet and would not show itself before sunset. Only the tourists were foolish enough to brave the carcinogenic rays, lured by the cool sea breeze.
Sprawled in a lounging chair, toes dug in the sand, Clint Barton was making the most of his holidays. For once, he had no chance of being called half way through. The aliens were all dead, and Captain America was taking care of the business as usual terrorists. The man was a machine. No wonder all U.S. governments since WW2 had always renewed the budget to find him. The Captain's added value on both the soft and hard national power had probably already made up for 70 years' worth of grants.
Clint raised his head a bit, and checked that his little family were enjoying themselves. Lila and Cooper were building a sand castle, under the watchful guard of their mother.
Marrying Laura had by far been the best decision of his life. That and leaving the Circus.
He lowered his sunglasses a notch, still looking at his wife. Excellent choice of swimwear.
With a smile he looked away. Better think of something else before becoming indecent. A couple of hundred yards away, he spotted a old man selling ice cream. The poor soul was walking up and down the beach. Clint feld bad for the man. At his age he should be resting, not walking miles under a scorching sun for a most likely meager take-in. The archer seriously hoped that by the time he made it to that age, there would be a decent pension for veterans.
Feeling generous, Clint rose in the chair and started rummaging in his wife's giant beach was sure there would be some local money in there.
Bingo.
He got up and started looking around for his flip-flops. Where had the darned things gone?! Clint walked up and down the picnic sheet by his chair, in the hopes of feeling the elusive footwear underneath. No luck.
The salesman was getting closer and Clint was able to have a good look at him. Time had not been kind to the elder. His skin, turned by years of sun into a fragile leather, betrayed how tired the old man was. It was obvious he was used to hardship, but his back lacked the muscle mass one would have expected in a person doing daily physical labour.
Clint went down on one knee and looked under the lounging chair.
Still nothing.
The old man passed by.
Clint got up. Too late. No frozen goodness for him and the family.
He dusted the sand of his knee.
He didn't feel like running after the salesman for an ice-cream, but he was annoyed at the disappearance of his shoes. He walked towards his family. If Laura didn't know where they were, then they were truly lost.
Some yards away, the old man was being called by a young man in ridiculously bright swim shorts. Maybe a student on holiday? Clint didn't like the way the tourist summoned the old man, as if he was a lowly servant. That was just rude.
Kids these days.
Reaching his wife, Clint passed a loving hand along her back, smiling when she passed an arm around his waist.
- Hey, Honey
- Hey yourself, answered Laura with a smile. Are you done napping yet?
- I wasn't napping. I was... enjoying the view.
Laura laughed and turned to hug her husband.
- Did you come over here to flirt, or did you need something?
- Have you seen my flip flops?
- I put them in the beach bag whilst you were napping.
Clint made a face and walked back to the bag. Seriously?! He was rummaging in there not five minutes ago and saw nothing.
Further away, the interaction between the old man and the young tourist seemed to be going south quickly. How can you even argue with an ice-cream seller?
Clint reached the bag and pulled out his flip-flops.
Just as he was standing back up he saw the young tourist grab the old man by the collar and raise his arm.
Clint didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, he retrieved a flip flop and threw it like a knife.
The shoe flew flat through the air and hit the young thug right on the carotid, as the Avenger had intended. The hoodlum let go of the old man and collapsed on the floor. Pressure points were a bitch.
Clint ran to the old man to check he was okay.
The elder had a distraught face not having yet realised the threat was neutralised. He blinked a few time, before looking at the new tourist in front of him.
- I'm ok, thank you. But how did you…?
He let his sentence trail, a confused frown on his face as he watched his rescuer slip on his flip flops.
He had a proper look at the man and suddenly knew exactly where he had seen this face before. On the news. Saving the world.
- You!... You are an Avenger, aren't you? The one with the bow?
Clint smiled and put his hand on the shoulder of the old man.
- Actually, I'm a tourist. And I just fancied an ice cream.
The old man was not fooled. He had seen the Avenger, a few minutes before, rummaging in a giant pink bag. He must be here with his family. The elder smiled.
- Of course, friend. Have all the ice-cream you want. My treat, said he opening the freezer-basket
Clint grabbed four cones and discretely dropped a few bills in their stead.
- Thank you for the gift.
The Archer turned back to rejoin his family, distributed the ice cream, and returned to his lounging chair.
He may not have saved the world, but the had saved the day.