The next morning, Clint is woken roughly and shoved into a wheel chair. The IV remains in place, much to his dismay. He had ripped it out once Hayes was done with her little speech last night, but it was quickly reinserted into his other arm. So that plan is a bust.
Clint is wheeled out into the hallway, and toward a set of large, sliding glass doors. He blinks against the sun when he's pushed outside. After that, he is helped into a black car. A nurse does something with his IV. Exhaustion hits him hard. He gives up fighting.
Clint wakes in yet another hospital bed. He remains still, slowly opening his eyes. He quickly scans the room. It appears to be a regular hospital room until he sees the door. It has a special key-swipe lock, with a number code and a retinal scan. Hydra desperately wants to keep him locked up.
He turns his head, finding another bed beside his. Henry lays in it, appearing to be asleep. Clint is about seventy percent sure Henry is faking it.
Clint is a little relieved that he is not alone. It means that direct torture won't be on the menu – at least for today. He completes his scan of the room, finding a small security camera in the corner. His captors are waiting to see if the two prisoners will talk to each other. Maybe they would divulge some classified intel.
Like hell, Clint thinks. He settles back into the bed, closing his eyes. He pictures a possible plan of action.
Whenever a nurse or a doctor comes in through the door, he would put them down and use their card to get through the door. From there, he would need to find a place to contact Natasha. He needs help from the outside to escape Hydra. Right now, she is his only hope.
His mind rushes back to the Hydra files. His eyes snap open.
"Hey, Henry," he says.
"What?" Henry grunts.
"Garrett is Hydra." Clint didn't think this would be news to anyone listening in.
Henry nods. "Thanks."
Clint nods in return and they both settle into their beds.
He ponders over his own file. Hayes had recommended that he "be made to comply." What the hell did that mean?
Did they want to torture him into submission? Turn him into a Hydra sniper?
The word "comply" haunts him. It rings a bell deep in his mind.
Loki. Compliance was his game.
Hydra wants to brainwash him. No way in hell is he going to let anyone fuck with his mind again, alien or not.
He needs to find a way out. And fast.
Clint and Henry make it through three meals without speaking a word to each other. The food trays were pushed through a slot in the door. No one had entered the room yet. Clint keeps rolling his discoveries around in his head.
Coulson is alive. Fury lied to him – to everyone. Where was Phil now? Is he still with SHIELD? Or is he a civilian now?
Maybe Fury finally sent him on vacation, Clint muses.
After he finds Natasha, he'll look for Phil.
But, once again, he would have to escape first.
"You know," Clint says, turning to Henry. "I think they're gonna try to brainwash us."
"Sounds fun," Henry replies. "Think they were inspired by your experience?"
Clint knows he is referring to Loki. There is no one in SHIELD or Hydra that didn't know what happened. He shakes his head.
"Nah. Sounds like they have their own way."
"Awesome."
"Totally."
"Tell us what you know about Loki."
The voice is deep, robotic. Not human.
Clint starts. The room is dim. His hands are chained above his head. He is staring at a screen filled with patternless colors. He closes his eyes. Freezing water blankets his head, pouring down his body.
He gasps, shivering. He yanks on his restraints.
"Describe how Loki took control over you."
"What?" his voice is hoarse. His throat aches.
His skin lights on fire. His joints seize.
"Everything is going to be alright, Clint."
Clint wakes in the faux hospital room. Henry lies on his bed.
"You okay?" Clint asks.
Henry nods. "You?"
"Fine," he replies. "Weird dream."
"Lucky you."
"Tell me about it."
Clint looks toward the door, then the security camera. He hopes someone would come by soon. His entire escape plan hinges on having access to a card and an eyeball.
"Just waiting for this to turn into a party," he says.
Henry smiles and nods. "It is getting a little monotonous."
"Well, we could always starve ourselves. See if anyone comes in to force feed us."
"That would get messy fast."
Clint looks at the camera. "Seriously," he says. "We know the game you're playing. It's not going to work."
They sat in silence, waiting for a visitor.
None arrives.
Bright purple assaults his vision. His hands are numb, his arms tingling.
"How did Loki lose control?"
His head lolls against his shoulder.
"Who are you?" he murmurs.
The colors start to swirl, making his vision swim.
"Describe your experience."
Blue and green intersect and collide. Purple emerges again, then fades slowly into yellow and orange.
"I…don't know," he breathes, enthralled in the light.
"Everything is going to be alright, Clint."
Clint jerks awake, panting.
"What was it this time?" Henry asks.
He rubs the back of his neck. The dream was fading fast. "Don't really remember."
"That's okay. Everything feels real when you're dreaming."
"Yeah. That's what worries me."
Another pair of food trays are pushed through the slot. Henry stands to collect them.
"Maybe they're trying to drive us to insanity," Clint muses.
"If that was their plan," Henry replies. "why would we be in here together?"
He gives Clint his tray and settles in to eat his own.
"You have a point there." Clint sighs. "Think they forgot about us?"
"I can only hope."
"Are you ready to comply?"
Clint gasps, his body stinging and throbbing.
He groans and closes his eyes.
White and black flash alternately, forcing him to close his eyes. His head is pounding.
"Describe your relationship with Loki."
"It was just a…one time thing. No strings attached, really."
Bright red blinds him. He pulls against the restraints.
"No, stop. Please. I don't know anything. Just…let me go."
Suddenly, his restraints fall apart. He crashes to the ground, grunting.
A warm hand lightly rests on his.
"Everything is going to be alright, Clint."