Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.

Chapter 3 - Nest

Bruce and Tony continued to stare at Clint's karyotype for several minutes, unable to believe what they were seeing.

"That's…not good," Bruce finally whispered.

Tony snorted. "Oh, I don't know. A couple extra chromosomes never hurt anybody." But even as he said it, his eyes never left the screen and his face retained a serious, calculating look.

Bruce whirled on him. "A 'couple extra chromosomes'? How can you think that's okay! My god, he was in the laboratory explosion! Who the hell knows what could have gotten into his bloodstream! What did get into his bloodstream!" He pointed emphatically at the screen in front of them. "And it altered his DNA!"

Stark narrowed his eyes. "We don't even know that's what we're dealing with. The man is up and moving and seems to be perfectly fine."

"Fine? He died, Tony. Died. And what else would it be? We just fought some messed up mutants, and he was in close proximity to the lab. The ramifications of that are…" Bruce waved his hands around, searching for the appropriate word.

"JARVIS," Tony snapped. "Run those tests again. Twice. I want to be absolutely sure that this is what we're looking at."

Several minutes later, and they were looking at the same karyotype.

"I'm not a geneticist," Bruce mused, "but even I know that that is horribly wrong. I just don't know what it means."

"JARVIS, what are these?" Tony asked, pointing out the handful of what appeared to be 'mini chromosomes' scattered around the regular sized ones.

"They appear to be microchromosomes, sir. They are found only in some cases of Down syndrome, but are more commonly found in birds, fish, reptiles and amphibians."

Neither man knew what to say to that.

After several moments, Bruce shook his head. "I don't get it. That's not normal. His DNA should be extremely unstable now. It shouldn't even exist. It should have killed him."

"He did die on the floor," Tony pointed out helpfully. Bruce was not impressed.

"And now he's awake and recovering. It doesn't make sense." Bruce passed a hand over his eyes. "He needs to know about this."

So the two men went in search of the Hawk, and found him in the kitchen in the midst of a four-course meal, surrounded by the rest of the Avengers. Everyone looked up as the two scientists entered.

Bruce looked in shock at Clint, who was clearly ravenous. "Uh, Clint, are you feeling alright?"

He made an incomprehensible sound and Natasha rolled her eyes. "He's fine enough to eat the entire contents of Stark's refrigerator. He has an appetite to rival Thor."

Clint made another sound, and pointed at Natasha meaningfully. She apparently understood, because she just rolled her eyes at him again.

Bruce shot a questioning look at Steve, who seemed to be completely baffled by everything.

"He was walking," Steve told him. "And talking. He seems to be doing fine."

"Yeah, well," Tony interrupted loudly, jumping straight to the point, "we found out what's wrong with him."

Everyone stopped moving. Even Clint abandoned his food and fixed his eyes on Tony.

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, yes, well, we took a look at your DNA, Clint." He shifted uncomfortably. All eyes were on him. "It seems you were in close proximity of the laboratory blast and may have gotten some of the specimens into your bloodstream, because…your DNA is…"

"Screwed up." Tony, ever so direct.

Clint fixed them with hard eyes, his face carved of stone. Natasha turned to them. "What are you talking about?"

"We looked at Clint's chromosomes. He has several extra, smaller chromosomes. They're – what did JARVIS say they were again?"

"Microchromosomes. They are found only in some cases of Down syndrome, but are more commonly found in birds, fish, reptiles and amphibians," JARVIS dutifully repeated.

"Right, thanks. I'm not a geneticist, so I really don't know the complications of it all, but I do know that it really should have been fatal to a mammal, to a human being especially."

Everyone rotated to study Clint, like they were examining some rare exhibit. He kept his eyes glued on Bruce and his face impassive.

"I think," Bruce suggested, "we should alert Director Fury and he can find someone qualified – "

"No."

Clint spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

Bruce looked surprised. "We don't know – "

"No," Clint repeated, his face revealing nothing. "I refuse to be poked and prodded and turned into some science experiment, locked in a lab."

No one knew how to argue that. Each conceded that it was a valuable point. The sad fact was that it was the most likely scenario.

Natasha reached over and touched Clint's arm. He shook his head. "Fury can't know about this either. He'll pull me off duty. I can still do my job." His hands curled into fists and he locked eyes with each Avenger in turn, as if daring them to argue.

JARVIS' polite interruption ended any discussion. "Sir, Director Fury is on the line."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Tell him I'm not home."

"He insists, sir."

With a large exaggerated sigh, Tony said, "Put him on."

Fury's voice rang through the room. "I need the Avengers," he said by way of greeting.

"Where, sir?" asked Steve, already jumping to his feet.

"Several blocks east of the tower. There's a group of aliens, race unknown, creating all kinds of shit. They're blowing up everything in site. Put a stop to it, any way necessary."

"Yes sir," Steve confirmed and Fury ended the call.


Whatever race of aliens these guys were, Clint thought, they seemed to have military-like training. They didn't blunder around or shoot wild; they had high-grade weapons and knew how to use them and weren't afraid to jump into hand-to-hand combat.

Clint shot down as many as he could from atop a rooftop. He called out the stragglers as he went to ensure that his team-mates on the ground knew where the enemy was at all times.

Unfortunately, they got wise to him.

The rooftop door slammed open behind him, and he spun, loosing an arrow in the same second. Without aiming, it slammed into the first alien's throat, taking him down.

Clint didn't even wait to see it go down before he sent another arrow flying at the second alien. It buried itself in its chest.

There was still one more, and Clint was already reaching back for another arrow…and grasped air. In the precious seconds it took him to realize he was out of arrows, the third alien was upon him, pointing its weapon at him.

Clint reacted instinctively. His arm shot out, knocking the gun to the side as he lashed out with his foot, delivering a powerful kick to the alien's face. It reacted in turn, throwing punches that Hawkeye dodged and ducked. He heard the squawk of his comm. come to life in his ear.

"Hawkeye! Come in, Hawkeye!" Rogers shouted.

"Uh, a little busy here," Clint grunted just as the alien's fist connected with his face, sending him staggering back a few steps. He unsheathed his knife and dashed forward again. "I'm out of arrows. Engaged in hand-to-hand."

"Do you need assistance?"

"Negative." Hawkeye dropped to the ground as the alien's leg sailed harmlessly over his head. He fell back on his hands and pushed his body out, slamming his boots into the alien's chest.

The alien recovered faster than Clint expected. It came at him quickly, getting in a few hard blows to Clint's abdomen before he plunged his knife into its side. The alien howled and jerked away, ripping the knife free. Twirling it expertly in its hand, it rushed him once again.

The blows were fast and calculated. Hawkeye found himself on the defensive, taking several steps back as he blocked each swipe. His uniform and arm guards took most of the damage, but he felt the knife nick him a few times.

Suddenly, the alien broke inside Clint's defences, slamming its foot into his chest. Clint grunted and stumbled back, straight into the edge of the roof.

He audibly gasped as his back connected with the raised edge, and the alien, obviously sensing that it had cornered its prey, seemed to smile. It kept its foot pressed on Clint's ribcage, and held the knife to his throat.

"Uh, Rogers," Clint croaked as his body continued to be shoved up and over the ledge. His hands and feet scrambled for purchase or to get the alien off of him. "How about that backup now?"

The alien seemed to consider Clint falling to his death much more satisfying than cutting his throat, because with a firm push, it shoved Clint the last few inches he needed to fall off the roof.

Gasping, Hawkeye desperately scrambled around in the air, looking for something, anything, to grab a hold of to stop his descent.

There was nothing.


Captain America looked back up at the rooftop, hearing the sounds of Hawkeye's struggle. He saw the back of the man, leaning precariously backwards over the edge, with an alien looming over him.

"Hawkeye!" he yelled.

A second later and the archer was falling through the sky, unable to stop his fall.

"Stark!" Rogers yelled, knowing he himself would be unable to stop the marksman's descent.

"On it." Tony sped towards the falling man, his thrusters on high. Just as he reached him, however, he saw something that made him stop short. "Son of a bitch," he swore, staring bewildered into the sky. "Please tell me someone else saw that."