Chapter Nine
To the Gates of Hell
Clint entered the Helicarrier's armory with written orders from Director Fury, along with a list of weapons and equipment that he had drawn up himself. Receiving his gear would be one of the last steps before he flew out for his first mission since New York. In less than two hours, he would be on a Quinjet with Natasha and Captain Rogers. He found it hard to concentrate though, despite his impending departure.
"Here," he said as he handed his papers to the clerk at the desk. The man looked them over for a minute, before he went through a door to the storage room in the back.
Get it together, Clint told himself. He was stupidly torturing himself again, over something that he shouldn't even be thinking about. It wasn't just his concern about being rusty, or even the nature of his mission, that bothered him. It was what he had said to Natasha in his room two days ago.
He wasn't satisfied with where they still were after all their time together, but that shouldn't have mattered. Natasha had received anything but a normal upbringing. He knew that, and he should have respected how her experiences had shaped her. For years, he had provided the understanding that she needed. Up until two days ago, when he had chosen to hurt her like no one else could.
"What's the matter with you, Barton?" someone asked.
Clint turned and exhaled in frustration as he saw Agent Hill walking into the room.
"You've been quiet, even for yourself."
He looked at her for a few seconds, uneager to say anything in response. Not having Hill around to bug him had been one of the few bright spots over the past month. "I'm fine, okay? Just getting ready for the job." She had been back for less than a day, and she was already getting on his nerves.
"Alright," the clerk said. The two of them turned toward the desk as he returned with a cart full of equipment. "Here's everything." The clerk placed the items on the counter one at a time, making sure to take down each of their serial numbers.
The most noticeable of the items was the M24A3 bolt-action sniper rifle. Clint picked it up and began to examine each of its parts to ensure that it was in perfect working order. The M24 was a modernized but traditional sniper's weapon; very accurate but slow to fire. The rifle had a bolt where the barrel met the buttstock, which he would have to turn and pull back after every shot in order to load the next round.
Clint was willing to live with that though, because there weren't many practical semi-automatics that could fire something as big as a .338 Lapua Magnum round. With a .338, he could punch through body armor or take someone out from more than a mile away. He had requested four five-round magazines of those.
"I know what you're doing," Hill said. "You're trying to lose yourself in the details."
"They're important, aren't they?"
He finished checking the M24 and moved on to his other gear. That included a night vision sight and a sound suppressor for his rifle, as well as a handheld weather meter that could measure wind and air conditions that would affect the trajectory of his shots. One shot, one kill was the usual requirement, and it would be no different on this mission. A single miss and he could lose everything that he cared for...
The most important item though was the custom binoculars, with night vision, laser, and GPS capabilities. SHIELD engineers had worked hard to cram all of those technologies into it, making for a compact package only a little bigger than standard binoculars. The binoculars could determine ranges, generate coordinates, and even guide smart bombs to their targets.
"Any problems?" the clerk asked.
"No," Clint replied. "Everything's fine." He could see Hill shaking her head in the corner of his eye.
"Okay, just fill this out and you're free to go."
"Yeah, I know the drill." He took a pen from the clerk and began to fill the equipment sign-out form.
"There's something bothering you," Hill said.
"Yeah, there is," he said as he turned to look at her. "Still kinda ticked you told everyone I was crazy."
"I didn't say you were crazy. I said you might have needed some help."
"Well I got that help. Now they say I'm fine."
"I know," Hill replied. She would have said more, had she been the one in charge of this mission. Clint's orders had come from Director Fury though, and she was powerless to change that. "Just remember," she said as she pointed to her head. "If things aren't good up here, they won't be good out there."
A few moments of sound came as the Quinjet hit some turbulence, breaking up the silence in its cabin.
Clint stopped adjusting his rifle to look up at Natasha. She was sitting on the bench on the opposite side of the cabin, grimly staring off to his right. He didn't hide the fact that he was looking at her, but she didn't say anything or even move to acknowledge him.
Next to her was Captain Rogers in his star spangled costume. Cap was sitting up straight, uncomfortably aware that something was wrong between the two of them. His eyes drifted to the floor, which he pointed to in an attempt to break the ice. "You ever ride one in the field?"
Lying on the floor of the cabin were three small personal gliding vehicles, locked in place on a sliding rail that led all the way to the ramp at the back. Officially, these were called PHASST gliders. Their name was an overlong series of words that had been cobbled together to make an acronym that would sound cool. Everyone just referred to them as "Switchblades" instead. With folded swing-wings and V-shaped vertical stabilizers on their tails, they looked like miniature fighter jets.
Riders were supposed to lie right on top of them, hugging the gliders as they cruised at nearly two hundred miles per hour. The Switchblades were tiny on radar, offering a much faster and stealthier alternative to high-altitude parachute openings. Once the riders had infiltrated close enough to their targets, they would jump off and parachute the rest of the way down while the Switchblades followed a preprogrammed route to the surface.
"A few times," Clint replied. "Why, you nervous?" Okay, that was petty.
"This will be my first time," Cap said. "Just got qualified last month."
"You'll do fine, Steve," Natasha said.
The conversation died right there. Natasha had not sounded mean, just assertive enough to give the hint that she didn't care to hear them chat.
Don't wanna talk that much anyway, Clint thought.
With a sigh, he pulled his arms in and shifted in his seat. He was sandwiched between three of the aircraft's crewmen, with the loadmaster on one side and two assistants on the other. Each bench could accommodate up to four people, but just barely. The men hadn't said anything, but they were clearly annoyed with him as well. They must have expected him to sit on the other bench with his teammates, instead of plopping himself down in the middle theirs.
"Glad you're with us, Agent Barton," Cap said, still trying to ease the mood. "I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this."
"Agent Barton will do his job," Natasha said.
Damn right I will. Clint checked the pistol in his side holster, before he began to wrap up the vital components of his rifle. Everything needs to work right, he told himself. As he fidgeted, his mind turned to their mission again.
According to their briefing, Jane Foster had identified an area deep inside the Amazon rainforest as the most likely place for the enemy to open their next portal. It would be far easier to create and sustain a portal there compared to the enemy's facility in Rome. Knowing that, SHIELD directed its spy satellites to photograph the area. The pictures that they took were eye opening.
Hidden between several forested hills was a clearing, which contained an ancient and previously unknown settlement. At the center of it was a magnificent five-tiered pyramid, with a series of broad staircases leading up its sides. Other aged stone structures surrounded the pyramid, but there were also grass huts that suggested that people still lived there as their ancestors once had.
Most surprising of all was the modern technology there. Six heavy lift helicopters were parked around the town. Lights had been set up on several of the buildings, and a long-range radar unit stood atop the pyramid. Something was definitely going on over there.
SHIELD had been unwilling to send a large force into the settlement without first gathering more intel. Because of that, Natasha and Captain Rogers were to infiltrate the pyramid and report on what they were up against. The two of them would parachute down shortly before sunset, make their way to the town, and sneak inside under the cover of darkness.
As usual, Clint alone had been assigned to provide overwatch from a distance. Director Fury trusted his eyes and his aim, even if he hadn't picked up a rifle in several weeks. No one shoots like I do, Clint thought. His skills had set him apart once again, in more ways than one.
"Five minutes!" the Quinjet's flight officer yelled.
Everyone got up from the benches to prepare. The loadmaster checked the Switchblades, while his assistants helped Clint, Natasha, and Rogers secure their weapons and equipment.
Clint had brought the most equipment of anyone there. He kept most of it inside a utility vest with several cushioned pouches, which he slipped on. After fastening the vest, Clint wrapped his rifle's sling around his shoulder so that it would rest at his side. Then he put on his parachute harness and allowed an assistant to tie his rifle sling to it so that his weapon wouldn't fly loose.
He and his teammates then began to put on the gear they would need to survive the trip down. At thirty thousand feet, the air was thin and the temperature was well below zero.
Cap and Natasha's form fitting suits were composed of advanced materials that made them well insulated. Clint however, had come with a jumpsuit over his normal sleeveless uniform. He would have to ditch the jumpsuit after making it down into the sweltering jungle, but to leave the jet without it would be suicide.
All three of them donned helmets with transparent visors that would keep their eyes from freezing shut. They finally put on oxygen masks, which they connected to small air tanks that they attached to their belts.
"Approaching enemy radar coverage," the flight officer said.
Clint went to his glider and lay on top of it, gripping the hand controls at the front. His glider was the closest one to the ramp, and he would be the first one out. From his position, he could see Natasha getting on the innermost glider. Captain Rogers lay down in front of him a moment later, blocking his view of her in an almost symbolic way.
The loadmaster walked over to a control panel on the wall. "Alright, you rock stars. Let's get this show on the road." With that, he pushed the button to drop the Quinjet's ramp.
Clint tightened his body around his glider, as loud, frigid winds blasted him from behind.
Moving quickly, the crewmen lined up and crouched beside the Switchblades. Taking hold of the gliders, they unlocked each one and shoved them all out the back within a span of several seconds.
The gliders' wings popped out moments after they left the aircraft. Clint clenched his teeth as he felt the subzero air seeping in through his suit and helmet. It chilled him to the bone, despite all of his gear. Focusing himself, he pulled on his glider's controls to bank and steer toward his destination. As he did so, he turned his head to get one last look at Natasha. A tuft of red hair flapped behind her as she sped off in another direction with Captain Rogers.
"Why am I even here?" Bruce muttered. Shaking his head, he began to ponder that question as he walked alone through the halls of the Helicarrier.
Just yesterday in New York, he had almost torn down Stark Tower in a battle that he hadn't even anticipated. Yet here he was aboard a nuclear-powered warship, several miles above South America.
He recognized the section of the hallway that he was in. It was near the middle of the ship, at the curve in its "wishbone" section. The doorway to the lab that he had worked in appeared on his right, and he looked in. The place was still a wreck, more than a month after the Hulk's rampage. It wasn't easy to renovate that kind of damage.
After all that, they still want me on their stupid team. And by "they," he meant Fury and Stark. The two of them had a reputation for risk taking that could be downright reckless. Bruce could see that the others aboard the ship weren't as enthusiastic about his presence.
He wasn't enthusiastic either. It had been a long day since he had woken up in Stark Tower yesterday morning. After the battle and several hours with Agent Sitwell, he and Tony had flown across the country to pick up his Mark VII battle suit. Then it was another long flight to their rendezvous with the carrier, with Stark talking all the way through.
Upon their arrival less than an hour ago, they had been told that Captain Rogers was out on a recon mission. Depending on what he found, Bruce and Tony could very well be joining him.
It doesn't stop, Bruce thought. Since yesterday morning, he had probably gotten less than three good hours of sleep. Now with a possible mission hanging over him, he found it impossible to rest.
A few young crewmembers approached. Each one of them looked down as they passed him, careful not to make eye contact. They were treating him like a freak, and he didn't like it even if he agreed with their point of view. Those kids can see it. Why can't Stark?
It was a mistake for him to be there. Bruce knew that he had surrendered control of his decisions just by agreeing to come along. Fury and Stark didn't know what it was like for him. No one did, which was why he didn't like to work with others. I can deal with my own crap, he thought. He hadn't become a scientist by being stupid.
His intelligence, not his condition, was why he was so good at helping others. If only they would let him choose how to help. But they didn't really want Bruce Banner this time. No, they wanted the Other Guy.
This is insane. He had to get away from all the crazy, which was why he was headed down to Dr. Selvig's laboratory. The two of them had worked together several years ago, before his radiation accident had derailed his entire life. Bruce knew Erik to be a good, levelheaded man. He was probably the one sane person on the ship.
Bruce hoped that he could help with some lab work. Science had always been his refuge, and a little time in the lab could prove to be a relaxing diversion for him. Anything was easier than controlling the Hulk.
Bruce arrived outside the lab where Dr. Selvig was supposed to be. Hearing voices inside, he stopped and leaned near the open doorway to listen.
"I already triple-checked these numbers," a young woman said. "This is the spot. I know it."
"With all respect," Selvig said, "I've been a physicist longer than you've been alive."
"I'm not a little girl anymore."
"I didn't say that, Jane."
"No, you're only treating me like one. And I'm serious about that therapy."
Therapy? Bruce thought. The word made him uneasy, but he found himself wanting to hear more.
"What are you talking about?" Selvig asked.
"I met with your psychologists. They told me you haven't been cooperating."
"Why should I listen to those arrogant shrinks? They talk to me like I've lost my mind!"
Bruce heard Selvig throw a stack of papers into the air before he stomped to the other side of the room. The lab suddenly became silent. Yeah, I'm outta here, Bruce thought. He didn't need any more problems.
"Hey, over there," another girl said from inside the lab.
"What, Darcy?" Jane asked.
"That shadow by the door. Someone's listening."
"Hey!" Jane shouted.
Hearing her rapid footsteps, Bruce turned and tried to walk away.
"Were you spying on us? Or were you just listening for your entertainment?
Great, Bruce thought as he froze in his tracks. He took a breath, before he eased his facial expression and began to turn around. "Sorry, I –"
Jane gasped. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you, Dr. Banner."
Typical, he thought, before he gave her a friendly smile. "Please, call me Bruce."
"I've heard a lot about you...Bruce."
"You must be Dr. Foster, right?" He watched as she nervously nodded in response. She doesn't want me here. Good.
"Bruce?" Selvig asked. "Bruce Banner?"
"Yeah...I'm here."
"Come in, Bruce. It's been too long."
Jane gave him a wary look, before she walked back into the lab. Bruce felt obligated to follow.
"Whoa, is that really –"
"Yes, Darcy," Jane said as she quickly made her way to the middle of the room.
"You look better than I expected," Darcy said as Bruce sat down at her table.
"Thanks...I try."
Jane glared at Darcy to shut her up.
"I'm glad you're here," Selvig said. "No one knows this stuff better than you."
"Dr. Banner didn't come here to help you," Jane said. "You're not even supposed to be working on this."
"Why not?"
"Because they want you to take it easy. Instead, you've been isolating yourself with all this work."
"I have to!" Selvig said. "I'm not useless, even if all of you think I am!"
How the hell did I get myself into this? Bruce thought. He felt an urge to get up and go, but he stopped when he heard Jane's next sentence.
"Erik...your hand."
Looking down, Bruce saw Selvig's right hand shaking at his side. Noticing it as well, Erik quickly reached over to hold it still with his left. This is nuts, Bruce thought as he turned to Jane. He saw her raise a hand to her mouth, looking like she was about to cry. Darcy got up to console her.
"I'm okay," Selvig said. "I'm okay!"
"You're obviously not," Bruce said. Selvig's stubbornness was beginning to annoy him. He had always known Selvig to be a man of reason, so unlike what he was seeing now.
"How do you know? How do any of you know?" Selvig threw his arms up and turned away, pacing for several steps before he stopped and looked at everyone again. "You have no idea what this is like!"
"Stop it, Dr. Selvig." Bruce pushed his chair out and got up to face him. "Can't you see what this is doing to her?"
"I can still hear his voice..." Selvig said. "He was making me do things...more than a year before he came. I know that now."
"Stop it."
"I can't! It's not that easy! Do you know what it's like to have something inside of you? To doubt your own thoughts and feelings?"
Bruce tensed up and swallowed, unable to reply. Selvig's behavior had shattered one of the few positive images that he had left. He saw so much of himself in his fellow scientist, and it wasn't pretty.
"You do, don't you! Then you know I have to do this alone!"
"Please, Doctor..." Bruce said. "There are people who care about you. Don't push them away."
"I have to fight this myself," Selvig said. "Because if I don't, if I tell myself I can't, that's when I lose control!"
"That's enough, Selvig!" Bruce screamed. He stepped forward, knowing how easily he could make himself heard. "Look at yourself! You need help!"
Dr. Selvig stumbled back and fell into his chair, looking pale and at a loss for words.
Oh God, Bruce thought as he turned to Jane and Darcy. The women were holding each other tight as they stared at him with fearful looks on their faces. Bruce looked down, gasping as he realized how uncertain he actually was. "You need help, Erik. We all do."
Natasha stalked through the night, careful not to rustle the leaves too much as she proceeded between several bushes. Any sound that she made was drowned out by the chorus of birds and insects around her. Stopping before she went all the way out, she reached up to pull apart the leaves before her face.
The two roving sentries that she had heard stopped nearby, just inside the edge of the forest. A full moon shined down from the clear sky, casting down enough light for her to see them clearly.
Simple enough, Natasha thought as she gauged their ranges. The man farthest from her was about twenty-five feet away. His partner was half as far and facing the other direction. Just need to keep it quiet. Natasha reached for her utility belt with both hands. From it, she removed a combat knife and a garrote.
"Mosquitoes are pissing me off," the nearest man said. "How'd we get stuck out here?"
"This ain't so bad. Those caves –"
The man dropped his rifle as Natasha's knife tore into his larynx. Clutching at his throat, he fell to the ground unable to even scream.
His partner froze up, watching in horror as Natasha pounced on him from behind.
He's tall, she noted as she reached up to seize him with her garrote. It wouldn't be easy for her to throw him and break his neck. Instead, she kicked the back of his right knee to bring him down in front of her. Crossing the ends of her garrote, she tightened her grip to squeeze the life out of him. This was a slower method, but it would still work.
Natasha planted her foot on his calf to hold him in place as he struggled. Die already, she thought, sneering even though his resistance was to be expected. This was a normal experience for her, but she was angrier than usual that night.
Steve suddenly came out from the bushes. Her rage left her immediately, replaced with self-consciousness.
As he approached, Steve watched the first man writhe on the ground in his final moments of life. Stopping in front of her, he looked on as she strangled the other. Steve didn't say anything, but she could tell that he didn't like what he saw.
Killing these men was necessary. They were terrorists, who probably had quite a bit of blood on their own hands. And of course, Steve had seen far worse during the war.
Despite that, he clearly hadn't grown accustomed to the killing. Not in the way that she had. Steve longed for something better, and Natasha felt guilty for dragging him into the ugliness of her world. She wanted to leave and take him away from all of the horrible things that still lay ahead for them.
They had to go on though. It wasn't a choice, and she had known that going in. What she hadn't known was how she would feel right now.
Steve was different from everyone else whom she knew. Her life had been filled with evil people, and people who accepted that evil things could be done for the greater good. Even Clint and her teammates on the Avengers had their dark sides. They were men who scared her sometimes, with their power but also with their similarities to her. Almost every one of them fought in part because they had something to make up for. Not Steve though.
For years, Natasha had been working off of guilt and obligation to SHIELD. Trying to balance her ledger despite the continual compromises that she had to make. She had spent so much time in the shadows that she no longer believed that she could succeed.
That was until she had met him. He was someone who had taken it upon himself to help others. Someone who always did the right thing, no matter what. Steve was a hero. A real one who set an example for others and showed that there could be a better way. He made her want to be a hero as well. It felt strange for her to want a better tomorrow instead of always looking back at her past...
The man stopped struggling and hunched over. Natasha finally loosened her grip as she felt him hanging limply from her garrote. "That takes care of it," she said, trying not to seem completely unmoved by the deaths. She realized, however, that her choice of words would hardly give that impression.
Steve looked down and nodded. "I suppose it does."
"I'll tell Clint we're ready," Natasha said, looking at him as she reached for her earphone.
Where are you guys? Clint thought. Tasha and Cap were supposed to be in position by twenty-one hundred hours. So far, they were seven minutes late. Clint wasn't supposed to call them though, not unless they fell way behind schedule. His job was to stay put and observe the enemy. A lot of work went into a successful operation, which the others would never see.
He was lying among some bushes on top of a hill, half a mile south of the town. His sniper rifle stood on a bipod in front of him, most of it hidden as he was between the leaves.
Clint left it there, scanning the town with his binoculars instead. They allowed him to keep both eyes open, and they had a wider field of view than his riflescope did. He could zoom in and out with it too, without worrying about messing with the settings on his gun. The weapon had to be ready to shoot at a moment's notice.
From his elevated position, Clint could monitor most of the town. That included the side of the pyramid that would be hidden from his teammates as they approached from the north. His binoculars cast everything in shades of green, and he would usually have to put up with plenty of shadows. However, the enemy's lights helped him see almost as well as if it were day.
There were trees throughout the town, surrounding the pyramid along with dozens of stone structures. Guards were gathered inside several of them, including four of the taller buildings that they turned into makeshift watchtowers.
What Clint hadn't seen were any of the natives who had lived in the ring of huts on the outside of the town. They must have been rounded up inside the pyramid, if any of them still lived at all. The only people on the ground were guards. Most of them were inside the town, but several of them patrolled the fields outside with night vision goggles on.
It's hot, he thought. Monotony had caused a lapse in his concentration, and he remembered how wet and sticky he was. At seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature wasn't actually that high compared to what one would guess when thinking about a tropical rainforest. The damn humidity was just too high, as confirmed by his weather meter. With the air so saturated, it felt far hotter than it actually was.
"Black Widow to Hawkeye. We're in position."
Clint blocked out his discomfort and reached for his earphone. That was the first time Natasha had spoken to him since they had flown out. He wanted very badly to clear the air with her, but he knew that there was business to take care of. Now was not the time.
"Run into any trouble?" he asked.
"Just two guards in the jungle. They're dead."
"Alright, proceed south toward the town..." Clint trailed off as something in the air caught his eye. He turned and zoomed with his binoculars to follow it as it flew over the town. It was Bruno Horgan and Nathan Garrett, whom he recognized from his briefings. They were riding Garrett's strange winged horse as they carried Loki's scepter to the pyramid.
"You see something?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah, two of Stark's new friends. They've got the scepter."
"Then we need to go."
"I'll call out any patrols."
"Copy."
Be careful, Tasha.
Through his binoculars, Clint watched as his teammates emerged from the rainforest. They had four hundred yards between them and the grass huts at the perimeter of the town. The clearing wasn't completely bare though. Numerous trees in the field provided cover for them as they went along.
"Hold it," Clint said as he saw Cap leaning out from behind a tree.
Cap quickly ducked behind the tree again. "What is it?" he whispered.
"There's a guard at your ten o'clock. Twenty yards."
He watched as the man neared the tree. All of the sentries had established patterns, which Clint had already memorized. This one was supposed to walk on by, but he came to a stop instead. Clint held his breath as he saw the man turn around and look at something in the general direction of the tree.
Thirteen sixty. Clint estimated that to be his distance from the guard in yards. More than three-quarters of a mile. Bullets dropped the further they flew, and he'd have to adjust his aim accordingly if he were to make the shot. Clint had prepared beforehand by pointing his laser rangefinder at numerous spots in and around the town, but this guard stood in a gray area between several landmarks.
It wasn't a question of whether Cap and Natasha could take this guy. What mattered more was the man's unsuppressed assault rifle. One burst was all it took to give everything away.
Eight-mile wind to the right, he assumed, judging by the way the leaves shook on the tree. He had to guess the range and wind, because there wasn't enough time to consult his instruments again. Clint held his binoculars up with one hand, mentally calculating the adjustments he'd have to make as he leaned forward and reached for his rifle...
Fortunately, the guard looked away and resumed his usual course. Clint breathed a sigh of relief, before he contacted Captain Rogers again. "You're clear to proceed."
"Thanks, Barton. Good to know you're watching over us."
"It's my job."
"You remind me of a friend I had during the war."
Clint paused, as he felt conflicted about those words. Captain America was reaching out to him, praising him and calling him a friend. But at the same time, Cap had also shown himself to be the better man again. Just can't hate this guy, Clint thought. He shook his head before he resumed his scanning.
His teammates reached the huts and looped around to the western edge of the town so that he could see their entire approach to the pyramid. Clint swept his binoculars over their quadrant of the town one last time, before he checked the wind against his weather meter and switched to his rifle. This was clutch time, and he wasn't going to be unprepared again if an enemy were to pop out from one of the buildings.
Sure enough, one did. Cap was still hidden around the corner of a building, but Natasha was further up just a dozen feet from the guard. All he had to do was turn his head and he'd see her. Tasha made a snap judgment and darted left before Clint could even say anything. Had he been able to, he would have said, "Turn right."
No, he thought as she ran into a watchtower's line of sight. Instincts took over, and he exhaled to steady his body as he took aim at the guard up there. Nine hundred fifteen yards. He pulled the trigger just as the guard saw Natasha, sending a bullet straight through his chest. Unfortunately, the man stumbled and fell toward the ground below.
Clint pulled his rifle bolt before the body even hit the dirt, knowing that someone much closer would be able to hear it. Swinging down and to the right, he saw the other guard turn in the direction of the tower. He fired again and nailed him as well.
"Got him, Tasha. You're good."
"I knew –"
The ground quaked before she could get another word out, shaking Clint off of his rifle. Though they only lasted several seconds, the tremors were still enough to bring down several buildings in the town.
"God damn," Clint said. "Where'd that come from?"
"They must have opened a portal," Natasha replied. "Gamma readings are through the roof."
Great, just what we need, Clint thought. He quickly blocked out that concern and refocused himself. It was useless to worry about what his teammates might face, when there were threats in their immediate vicinity. Looking back through his riflescope, he saw enemy troops pouring out from the buildings.
"You guys better move."
"Agreed," Cap said, before he and Natasha sprinted toward the pyramid.
Clint watched the enemy with his finger hovering just outside of his rifle's trigger guard. They were panicked and too concerned about the quake to notice his team. Lucky you. Moving on, he checked the wind on the nearby trees as he turned to look up the first set of stairs on the pyramid. At the top of those stairs was a big opening. He held steady there, as Cap and Tasha ran up pyramid. Almost there, he thought.
A blast of flames burst out from the opening, just as his teammates reached it.
"Look out!" Cap yelled as he pulled Tasha behind his shield.
Clint froze up for a second as he saw something emerge from the pyramid. What the hell...
His words fit the situation perfectly, because what he saw looked like the Devil himself. The creature was muscular and more than seven feet tall, based on a quick comparison with Cap. It stood on backward-bending legs with a slightly hunched posture, as a long, thick tail swayed behind it. Claws extended from its hands and feet, and there were two curved horns on its head. It was holding a sword, which it raised as it closed in on Cap and Tasha. Grinning, it revealed a mouthful of dagger-like teeth.
One thousand twenty yards, Clint thought as he tried to concentrate on the creature's demonic face. Wind, six miles to the left. Seizing control of himself, he forced the breath from his body as he aimed above and to the right of the demon's head. Do it. He pulled the trigger and hoped for the best.
His bullet struck his target dead center. Blood spurted out from the demon's forehead as it rocked back, before it fell and rolled down the stairs.
"Ha," Clint said. "That wasn't so tough."
The pyramid wall above his teammates exploded without warning. Something bright flew out from the hole, and Clint swerved to follow it. It looked like a fireball, leaving a trail of flame as it flew into the sky and began to circle around the town.
What now? Clint thought as he turned back to his team.
"You hear something?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah," Cap said. "Sounds like –"
A swarm of creatures flew out from the hole above them. Clint fought to keep his cool as he studied their features. They looked somewhat similar to the first demon, but with wide bat-like wings.
Flightless demons of all shapes and sizes rushed out from the entrance of the pyramid. These ranged from tiny creatures that lacked horns and tails, to huge brutes that dwarfed the demon that he had shot. Many of them were armed with spears and swords.
"There's too many of them!" Natasha shouted. Several demons took hold of her, and she struggled against them as she raised her guns and fired back.
"Get off of her!" Cap yelled. He tried to free her, but he was taken down as well.
The demonic horde swept over them, blocking them from Clint's view.
Good God, he thought he leaned away from his rifle. He could do nothing more for them but call for help.
"There he is," Tony said as he looked up from the conference table. "Grab a seat, big guy. Let's get this party started."
"I don't see any beer or chips," Bruce said. He walked into the bridge and sat down before he turned to Jane and Darcy. "Sorry for yelling before."
"That's alright," Darcy said. "No biggie."
"We should actually thank you for getting through to him," Jane said.
"Glad I was able to help," Bruce said with a frown.
"Cheer up," Tony said. "You still want those chips?" He turned toward Agent Hill, who was working with the technicians down in the pit. "Hey, you got any snacks around here?"
Hill rolled her eyes and looked back at her computer monitor. Several minutes passed, during which she informed everyone that Rogers and his team had infiltrated the town. When the communications tech told her that Barton had fired shots, she took his headphones and sat down to listen to her agents directly.
This can't be good, Bruce thought as he saw the look of concern on her face.
"What's happening?" Fury asked. He stepped forward and leaned down from his spot in the middle of the bridge.
"There's been an earthquake. Romanoff thinks that a portal's been opened."
The bridge became silent. Everyone was sitting attentively, waiting for Hill to report more.
"Slow down, Barton! You're not making sense!" Hill leaned forward with her mouth hanging open.
"Talk to me," Fury said.
"Sir, he requesting air support."
Fury turned and pointed to the air control officer. "Send a flight out. Tell them to link up with Barton and let him do the targeting."
"Yes sir."
"Use small munitions. I don't want any friendly fire."
"Negative," Hill said. "Barton's calling for cluster bombs and two thousand pounders. This is big."
Bruce didn't like the sound of that at all. "Looks like we'll have to suit up."
"Yeah," Tony said. "Just let us take a crack at it first."
"Hold up, Stark." Agent Hill said. She was sitting in the flight officer's seat of a Quinjet, controlling the mission even as she followed behind with Banner, Jane, and Darcy.
"I like to fly at my own pace," Tony replied. Checking the HUD in his Mark VII armor, he saw that her Quinjet was thirty miles behind him. The F-35 stealth fighters that they had launched with were closer at just ten miles back.
"Yeah, and how has that worked for you? Now slow down."
"Sir, you've had quite a few close calls in the last few days," JARVIS said. "You really ought to be more cautious."
"Fine," Tony said as he slowed down. Drawing data from his suit's infrared sensors, his HUD projected images of four F-35s arriving near him. The images were photorealistic, showing the planes as they would have looked if it weren't pitch black outside.
Fury had launched an entire squadron of twelve F-35s, which comprised a full half of the Helicarrier's fighter aircraft. The entire force was linked together, with several fighters scanning ahead with their radars while digitally sharing their information with everyone else.
A box on the bottom right of Tony's HUD showed him what the fighters were seeing on radar. The entire front half of it lit up with white dots.
"That's some crazy jamming the enemy's got," a pilot said. "Can't make sense of all those false returns."
"Hey Stark," his wingman said. "Any chance you can design new radars for us?"
"Sorry boys, I'm outta that game...Does your boss even have an extra billion lying around?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him."
"Just make sure he doesn't take it out of your pay." He smiled as he heard several of the pilots chuckle. The banter was a good distraction from their mission.
But as the laughter died down, Tony quickly felt a sense of apprehension sweeping over him. Barton hadn't contacted them in several minutes, and Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff were still unaccounted for. For all Tony knew, he could already be too late. Hang in there, guys.
He kept flying with the squadron, plowing through thick clusters of clouds until their radars showed the dots to be just a few miles ahead of them. As they came out from the clouds, Tony's HUD lit up with a mass of contacts detected by his infrared sensors.
"We have incoming enemy fliers," JARVIS said.
"How many?"
"Over four hundred, sir."
Tony's eyes widened as he swallowed and found it hard to speak decisively. "Uh, guys?" he said to the pilots.
"Yeah?
"Your radars are working just fine."
"Shit."
The bogeys came closer, and Tony's sensors were finally able to discern their demonic shapes. Barton had mentioned that some of the demons could fly, but Tony hadn't thought that they could move so high and fast. Now he wondered why he had assumed anything at all. He was a man of science, and demons and magic were far beyond his understanding. The only thing he knew about the incoming force was how much they reminded him of the Chitauri as they had poured out from the portal over Manhattan...
"Stark, are you there?" Agent Hill asked.
Tony shook his head to clear it, and he realized how hard it was for him to breathe. His body tensed up as he gasped and felt the fear washing over him. What's wrong with me? More than a month had passed since New York, and this was the worst that he had ever been. He felt helpless at how little sense that made.
"Stark!"
"I can hear you!"
"Then open up with everything you've got. Cut a path for the fighters."
"On it!" He accelerated as he saw missiles from the F-35s race toward the demons. SHIELD hadn't anticipated any aerial resistance, and each fighter had been armed with only two air-to-air missiles. The number of kills that they could achieve was paltry compared to what was coming at them.
Tony waited until the demons swarmed over him before he activated the weapon pods on his shoulders. The eighty missiles that they housed were an achievement in miniaturization. Though tiny and short-ranged, they packed a punch for their size and were capable of independent guidance. Tony watched as the missiles streamed out, swerving off to wipe out dozens of demons around him.
"Sixty-seven targets destroyed," JARVIS said.
"Nice," Tony said. He was afraid to ask how many more there still were. Flying on, he spun to dodge the onrushing demons as he picked them off one at a time with his repulsors.
Several demons crashed against the F-35 to his left. They slid over its body as they dug in with their claws, before they began to tear the plane apart. The pilot ejected, but more demons flew in and grabbed him.
"No! No! Oh my God! Aaaaaah!"
"I'm coming," Tony said. He banked and began to turn in the pilot's direction.
"Don't!" Hill yelled. "Keep going! He's already dead!"
Damn it, he thought as he turned back around. Another F-35 exploded on his right before he could even realize that it was in trouble.
"They're turning around, sir," JARVIS said. "More than thirty are chasing you."
"Flares!"
The burning flares knocked several demons off his trail, but many more began to flock to him.
"They seem attracted to the heat," JARVIS said.
"Like moths to a flame," Tony said. He stopped and closed his eyes as he felt another wave of anxiety. Keep it together. Breathing slowly, he tried to suppress his feelings. You can do it.
"Your heart rate is extremely high, sir. Are you alright?"
Tony opened his eyes, determined to take control of the situation. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? Now keep launching flares at regular intervals. Let's see how many we can get."
He turned and flew across the paths of the remaining fighters, pulling demons away from each one of them.
"You're taking on a lot," Hill said. "Sure you can handle it?"
"Yes, mother." Tony clenched his teeth, aware of his own bravado. He was drawing danger away from the squadron, but he had to admit that he didn't have any plans beyond that. A demon tackled him from the front, and he turned and threw it away. He flew on even as he used one hand to blast it, not daring to stop for a single second. "Keep your guys back," he said to Hill. "I'll think of something."
"This is Hawkeye. Is anyone there?"
"Barton!" Tony said."Why didn't you warn us?"
"Sorry. There's a lot of interference here."
"Well I hope you have a plan, 'cause I don't." Tony looked back at the legion of demons he had amassed behind him. His infrared sensors rendered the nearest ones in frightening detail, and he could see their wild eyes and gaping, fang-filled mouths.
The demons hadn't gotten him yet, which suggested that they were probably flying at their maximum speeds. The Mark VII could outrun them with another burst of energy to its repulsors, but Tony chose to maintain his speed. This was the closest he had come to "controlling" the situation. He just hoped that the demons wouldn't surprise him with any sudden acceleration of their own.
"You said you'd think of something," Hill said.
"I say a lot of things!" Tony looked up as another swarm of demons appeared from the clouds in front of him. In less than half a minute, they would close in and trap him in a pincer. "Alright, Barton. I got a squadron of F-35s and way too many demons on my tail. Call it."
"Loop around the town and descend from the north. Have the fighters follow about twenty miles behind."
"Okay," Tony said. "You hear that, Hill?"
"Just go, Stark!"
Tony dived a moment before he would have collided with the demons. He turned in a wide arc around the town as his HUD showed both groups merging into a single monstrous mass behind him. The demons slowed for several seconds as they hit each other, before they all sped down to intercept him. "They dive faster than they fly," he said to JARVIS.
"Of course, sir. That is simply the law of gravity."
"Thanks for the refresher. Now give me some extra thrust."
The auxiliary thrusters on his back and legs fired with additional energy, pushing him forward as the demons came down behind him.
Tony continued toward the town, coming close enough to see it. Or what remained of it, underneath the thousands of demons teeming over its surface. "I see the town," he said to Barton. "What I don't see are Rogers and Romanoff."
"I'll handle the targeting," Barton said. "See that spot over there?"
With his infrared vision, Tony saw a laser beam appear from the hills. The beam swayed back-and-forth over a spot in the fields about four hundred yards south of the town. "Uh huh. What about it?"
"I want you to drop to fifty feet and pull as many demons there as you can. And Hill?"
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Transmit these coordinates to the pilots. Tell them to drop their cluster bombs ASAP."
"Gotcha."
Tony slowed as he came down over the town. He turned and flew backwards, shooting his repulsors in self-defense as the winged demons swept over him. Several of them seized his arms and legs, halting his primary thrust. "Back off!" he yelled as he instinctively swung and kicked at them. The repulsors on his back strained to keep him in the air alone while he tried to suppress another onset of panic.
Coming to his senses, Tony fired all thrusters and twirled several times to shake himself loose. The fliers were still all around him, and the only way to keep them off was to push his way through.
He shot several repulsor blasts down to his sides, as JARVIS launched their last set of flares. Their efforts achieved the predicted effect of exciting the demons on the ground. Several of them leaped from the buildings and tried to grab Tony as he flew by. As if there weren't enough already, he thought.
He continued to the field, leading a trail of demons behind him like a high-tech pied piper. "Okay, what now?" he asked as he reached the spot that Barton had lased.
"Just hold there for now. The bombs are still on their way."
"Nice of you to use me as bait." He circled around the spot for most of the next minute, fighting off fliers as the demons on the ground continued to march out from the town.
"Bombs should be here right about now," Barton said. "Get the hell outta there."
Tony straightened himself and blasted out of the area at maximum acceleration. "Don't have to tell me twice!" He looked behind, and his HUD highlighted several cluster bombs as they split up over the field. Each bomb distributed over two hundred bomblets, blanketing the demonic horde with explosives.
The demons on the ground disappeared under thousands of explosions, and even many of the fliers were torn apart as shrapnel flew up from below.
"Nice fireworks, Barton," Tony said. He blasted several remaining fliers, before he dived and launched the air-to-ground missiles in his thighs. "It's still a few months till the Fourth of July, but I'm not complaining."
Crap, Clint thought as he yanked back the bolt on his rifle.
Several follow-up airstrikes and a laser sweep from Stark had devastated the remaining demons. But after taking so many casualties, they had finally figured out that all of their problems stemmed from one lonely guy on a hilltop.
He fired again, sending his last rifle bullet into the big demon just fifty feet away. Clint immediately stood up as four more jumped up on the hill nearby. His hand went straight for the pistol on his belt. It held fifteen rounds, and it took him twelve just to take down two of them.
Cursing, he turned to engage the next one. He emptied his last three rounds into its chest before it tackled him. The demon snarled, before it lowered its mouth and tried to tear his face off. Clint struggled to hold it back with one hand as he went for his knife. Pulling it out, he reached up and plunged it into the demon's neck.
It slumped over dead, and he strained as he pushed himself free from its three hundred pound body. Clint gasped as he stood up, before he saw the final demon staring at him with a murderous look in its eyes. Well that's it, he thought.
The demon suddenly exploded from a repulsor blast.
"You owe me ten thousand bucks," Stark said as he landed on the hill.
"That all I'm worth?"
"That's how much I bet Agent Hill you could take four more."
Feeling the down blast from Hill's Quinjet, Clint turned to watch its descent. His hair fluttered like the grass and the bushes around him, but it was fine because the air felt so good against his sweaty face and arms.
The aircraft settled down nearby and dropped its ramp. Hill walked out with a familiar bow and quiver. "Put this on, Barton," she said as she tossed the quiver to him. "We're just getting started."
"You hate it when I use my bow."
"I'm not fighting that battle tonight."
Clint nodded as he slipped on the quiver.
He had just gotten it on when the ground shook again. The quaking was so strong this time that everyone fell to the ground. Turning north, Clint watched in horror as the pyramid and most of the town collapsed into an enormous sinkhole.
"Where's your team?!" Hill asked.
"Down there. I hope."
What's happened to Steve and Natasha? Who's behind this all? Find out in...
Chapter 10: Masters of Evil
