This time, he woke up to an argument. "You really are incompetent, aren't you? Aren't you?" gas station guy yelled.
Hawkeye screwed his eyes shut, trying to clear his blurry vision. His head now throbbed in tune with his shoulder, every heartbeat sending a spike of pain through both injuries. I should've waited for someone to find me…
"You couldn't do one simple thing without screwing it up! It's the same as it was in the joint."
"He surprised me, all right?" Longmore defended himself. "I had no choice."
They were in the gas station's small garage. The floor was concrete, the lighting shadowy at best, the walls lined with rusty shelves and work tables, every single one chaotic and cluttered and therefore seemingly useless as actual work areas. And Hawkeye was duct taped yet again, this time to a chair via his waist and ankles, his hands pulled behind his back.
And now there was a chamois taped to his shoulder. Outside of his shirt. And not covering the exit wound. What good was that supposed to do?
"Yeah, but then you couldn't just get him here, huh?" gas station guy challenged. Longmore threw his hands up, turning away with a huff. "How the hell do you escape from the trunk of a car?"
Hawkeye spoke up, his words slurring together thanks to what was probably a concussion on top of the blood loss. "In his defense, I think I'm the only kid whose father taught him how to kick out a taillight from the back of a trunk."
"Shut your face," gas station guy snapped. Ok, he really needed another name – no nametag, so maybe… Snape. Yes, Snape seemed like a good fit, with the pale skin and greasy hair and bulbous nose.
Hawkeye cleared his throat, letting Snape cow him into silence. It almost hurt, but for once, he was in the mood to care more about his physical wellbeing than his ego's wellbeing. Plus, if was going to try sweettalking one of his captors into helping him, he would have a better shot with Longmore, who was currently huddled defensively under his partner's glare.
"What if I didn't make it back here in time after having to go pick up your car you just left on the road, huh? Idiot! Did you at least get the truck set?"
"It's ready, jeez, give me some credit," Longmore muttered.
"We're this close to the money, and you're screwing it up. We don't need this distraction, not now," he said, looking to Hawkeye. "I say we just shoot him in the head and dump the body and get on with this."
Oh, waiting to sweettalk was definitely not an option now. "Uh, guys, if I could interject briefly here – and this is me speaking from my own experience – this feels a little rash. You're both under a great deal of stress, and I don't think now is the time to make important life decisions."
He had their attention, dubious and irritated and potentially deadly though it may be. "Now, I'll tell you what works for me, and maybe it's- maybe it's just me: Draw a hot bath. It doesn't matter who goes first-"
Snape grabbed his gun, advancing quickly towards Hawkeye. "You got a smart mouth, huh?"
Longmore rushed forward. "Whoa, look, I got it under control! You want me to shoot him right now myself? I will, I'll take him out-"
Please don't shoot me. Again. "Not to be a stickler, but you did- you did shoot me once already."
Snape bent in closer, hitting his gun against Hawkeye's uninjured shoulder. "Are you listening to me?"
"I'm having a hard time concentrating on anything but the gun," Hawkeye pointed out. Please don't shoot me again, please don't, I really don't wanna die in this dingy garage. "Could be my A.D.D. acting up."
Snape moved the gun, pressing it up underneath Hawkeye's jaw. "I want you to imagine a bullet coming from that gun, penetrating your skin, and lodging in your brain. You know how easy that would be for me?"
"Physically, yes," Hawkeye rasped. His heart was pounding, the pain of his concussion and gunshot wound suddenly nothing compared to the icy metal digging into his neck, and he knew he should shut up, but damn it, he never did, he had to try. "But I would imagine that it would give you some pause emotionally…"
Snape cocked the gun, digging it in deeper.
"No?"
"You don't know how lucky you are," Snape hissed. "My idiot partner screwed up big-time. But that's par for the course. Now… I pull this thing off, and we're outta here. But if Einstein here screws up again, you're gonna be my ticket. Now I got a hostage in my back pocket, just in case. But know this – one stupid move, and I got more than enough plastic bags for your body parts. Got it?"
"I got it," Hawkeye whispered.
After a long moment, Snape stormed away.
Rather than let out a breath of relief, Hawkeye just mumbled, "Note to self: Call Hefty with commercial idea."
Longmore set to work, reaching for some tools and setting to work on a red car. Hawkeye took a breath, trying to make sure his voice wouldn't wobble or waver or shake or anything that would give away just how terrified he truly was right now. "Thanks for duct-taping my bullet hole with a chamois. Maybe if you could mail me to my dad's house now, that'd be- that'd be awesome."
Dad.
Was he out looking? Was he with Winny and Margaret, or had he been forced to go it alone? Was B.J. all right? Had he even woken up for the 4am message, or were they all hours behind his kidnapping? Or, if B.J. had gotten the message when he sent it, and if his dad was working with the cops…
Could he have avoided this by just staying still?
Longmore just eyed him disdainfully, then returned to his work.
"So, uh, what do I call you? Mr. Blonde? Mr. Pink?"
"Shut it!" Longmore snapped, though he was more frustrated than threatening. "God, what is your problem?"
Hawkeye glanced around, spotting a sheet of metal leaning against the wall. A square had been welded into it, along with something else – and the markings matched the downed ice cream truck. More practice.
"You know, I, uh… I've heard people say that with gunshot wounds, it's- it's really all about the shock, you know? That at some point, you know, the bullet wound itself just goes numb, you can't feel anything." He shook his head. "Well, it's not true. I can say, without a doubt, that this is the most pain I've ever been in in my life. So if you wouldn't mind turning the other direction, I would very much like to weep, if that's ok."
"It's a flesh wound, all right?" Longmore said. "You're fine. Stop whining."
Hawkeye groaned, looking away. Flesh wound shmesh wound, it still hurts.
He would need a different way of sweettalking Longmore. There was a bulletin board on the wall, covered in cards and pieces of paper. But there were some photos, and they caught Hawkeye's attention – first, an unfortunately shirtless, younger Longmore in a military camp with a massive rifle.
But wait… If Longmore was a sniper, then why…
He closed his eyes, remembering.
Hawkeye parked his motorcycle in the storage yard, then made his way to the ice cream truck. But before he could investigate it further, the armored truck one space up caught his attention – or, more specifically, the distinct flare of welding coming from underneath it.
Carefully, he moved forward. He had only taken a few steps, though, when it stopped without warning. Perplexed, he hesitated, wondering if he should run.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" someone demanded.
Too late.
Hawkeye spun around, spotting the gun pointed at him just before the flashlight blinded him. He threw his hands up. "Man, it is the darnedest thing! I, uh- the, uh- the Yelp application on- on my iPhone here told me that there should be a Starbucks, uh, right where we're stand- standing."
The gunman was entirely unconvinced.
Hawkeye chuckled nervously, trying to shuffle backwards. "And unless, uh, you can make caramel macchiatos with that- with that pistol, then Yelp is- is dead wrong."
"Stay where you are," Longmore ordered.
Hawkeye stopped shuffling. "Ok, easy man. Wait a minute," he said, squinting past the flashlight. "I know you, man – you're Garth Longmore. Though I'm beginning to suspect that's not your real name, is it? By the looks of you, I'd say it's probably something preppy, am I right? Maybe Ryan, or Geoffrey with a G."
"I will shoot you."
"Just relax," Hawkeye said, calmly as he could despite his racing heart. "I mean, it's creepy enough out here without the whole gun-and-flashlight routine, don't you think? We can talk. We're just- We're just two guys talking, we're rational men speaking. I mean, I know what's going on here, and I get it. And- and- and it's an ingenious plan, to be honest. Of course, if it was me, I'd- I'd just be happy stealing the ice cream, you know?"
Too far.
Longmore pulled the trigger, the bullet flying straight for Hawkeye's shoulder.
He opened his eyes.
Longmore was a sniper. A sniper who hadn't killed Hawkeye from pointblank range. That's what I'll use.
"So, uh, what was it like over there?" he asked. "The jungle?"
Longmore looked up slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"Combat. Must've been hell, huh?"
Longmore straightened up. "How did you know?"
"Oh, I'm a psychic," Hawkeye explained as Longmore came towards him. "Yeah, that's what I do."
"Huh," Longmore said, his interest definitely piqued.
"I think between the gunshot and- and the head bashing, my visions are coming in kind of-kind of crazy, but I can see them. They're clear. They're sharp. I see you. Were you, like, special forces, or a- or a sniper?"
"Oh yeah, yeah, I was!" he said eagerly – Hawkeye got the feeling he wasn't really allowed to talk about his life with Snape. "I… I was with L.R.R.P."
"L.R.R.P.?"
"Yeah, Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol! Yeah. It was a long time ago, though."
"My skills have no time clock," Hawkeye boasted. Literally, my dad's been making me hone them since forever. "So, you could probably take a target from… what? 800 yards?"
Longmore scoffed. "Eh, 1,200, if the wind conditions are right, 1,500 possibly."
"That's impressive," Hawkeye praised.
He played it off. "Some- some people get pretty good at that stuff."
Hawkeye tilted his head, looking straight up into Longmore's eyes, hardening his tone. "It does beg the question – why didn't you kill me from three feet?"
Longmore tried to harden his expression, licking his lips nervously.
Hawkeye pressed the advantage. "We both know you could've, but you didn't. I suspect it's because you're not really a killer, are you? At least… at least, not anymore."
"I think it's time for you to stop talking," Longmore warned, turning away, eyes darting aside to check for Snape. "No more talking."
Hawkeye watched him return to work, then let his head droop. Sweettalking wouldn't work – Longmore was too scared of Snape. He wouldn't be ditching the plan, or turning on Snape, or trying to sneak Hawkeye out. But. He'd also made no threat to shoot, not even a fake reach for a gun, despite Hawkeye's insolence – Longmore had just confirmed he wasn't a killer. As long as he was the only criminal in the room, Hawkeye wouldn't get shot. He had time, then.
Just… time for what, he didn't really know.