Balancing His Ledger
Chapter 10 – Debt Collected
I own nothing from the world of the Avengers and receive no compensation other than reviews. Warning- cussing, torture, and Clintasha (no M). Definite references to Captain America - The Winter Soldier so spoiler alert!
Video 00:00:02
An anonymous female voice speaks. "Agent Barton. Do you know why we brought you here?"
Clint Barton is dragged into view of the video feed. He is slumped between two burly men in black uniforms. His head hangs down against his chest. One of the men grabs him by the hair and lifts his head. Clint's eyes are open but he clearly cannot focus them. His eyelids droop; he shakes his head trying to wake up but it's a losing battle. He collapses into unconsciousness again. One of the men punches him in the stomach, but there is no reaction.
"How much did you give him?"
"We shot him with the Fentanyl dart you gave us. He dropped about three miles outside of headquarters but was still conscious so we gave him another dose."
"You idiots. That could have killed him. That's not the plan." She sighed. "We can't get started until he wakes up. Leave him."
The two men drop Clint; his arms are bound behind him, and he hits the ground hard. They exit off screen and a door is heard to close.
Clint listened carefully. He waited to make sure all had left the room he was in. He tensed his arms. His wrists were bound together by plastic wrist ties. Sitting up, he twisted and compressed his torso until he was able to bring his hands to the front. Putting his palms together and interlocking his fingers, he forced his wrists apart. He was free. Ignoring the stinging across his wrists, Clint stood up and went to the door. Footsteps echoed outside the room getting closer and closer. Crouching down, he allowed the first man to enter and come into the room. He grabbed the second around the chin and forehead and with one quick movement, snapped his neck. He threw the body at the first man and went for the third. An uppercut that came from the ground and his pent up anger snapped his opponent's head back so far that C3 was compressed, and he dropped bonelessly. Clint turned towards his first opponent and used an elbow strike across the man's nose that broke the bridge so that blood spewed down his face. He shoved the man far enough away so that he could drive his heel into the throat crushing his windpipe. He was turning towards the door when he was hit by over 50,000 volts. He fell to the ground as his muscles contracted. He could do nothing but writhe until the person on the other end released the trigger. He was rolling to his feet when a foot kicked him in his chest knocking him back down again. A kick to the temple stunned him long enough allowing a few more well-aimed kicks to strike his ribs and his stomach. While he was gasping for breath, his arms were seized and he was dragged to his feet and over to the table holding the laptop.
Clint blinked in surprise to see the laptop. The light at the top of the opened screen indicated that the video camera was on; he was not surprised to hear a voice. It just wasn't what he expected to hear.
Video 00: 04:28
"Agent Barton, if you kill one of us, more will take his place. If you weren't already under a death sentence, you would pay for those murders that you just committed.
Clint speaks. "I wouldn't call that murder since they were going to kill me."
Ignoring his rejoinder, the voice continues, "You are responsible for the prolonged death of several…friends when you allowed yourself to be taken over."
It is easy to see anger in Clint's eyes. Two men restrain him tightly. He cocks his head to one side when the pause before the word "friends" is occurs.
The voice continues, "Through your actions, many of us were taken from positions of need. Two of us fell to their deaths from Helicarrier 64. They had 120 seconds to realize what was happening and realize no one could help. Four were buried at the Joint Dark Energy site. They were not crushed immediately. No, they struggled to find a breath in a space left when the buildings caved in. They lasted almost 45 minutes before the CO2 overwhelmed them." The unseen speaker's voice had risen until she was almost shouting before she gathered herself and spoke again more calmly. "You will suffer as they did. For each second of terror and pain and suffering, you will suffer twofold." A man comes into the picture pickup and hits a key. Clint glances at the screen and then directly at the camera. His stare is broken when he is dragged to a chair and confined to it. His captors use hospital-type restraints on his wrists. They leave him there with no further word.
Alone in the room, Clint stared at the computer readout. It read 07:00:58. He had a little over seven days to escape or let Natasha know where he was so she could extract him. He started running through his options. Luckily, he'd been wearing his uniform which had several small surprises stashed around his person. He doubted they'd found them all. Not all were regulation. He allowed a part of his thoughts to worry at how his accuser had phrased her comments. She implied it was her companions in SHIELD but he thought there was something else going on as well. Something bad. Her phrasing reminded him of something but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Video 01:18:17
Clint stares straight ahead ignoring the taunts coming from the two men on either side of him as well as the disembodied voice emanating from the computer. His head rocks from buffets until they are told to desist.
"Do you know what it is to be unable to breathe?" Not waiting for an answer, the voice says, "Begin."
Clint's chair is rocked back onto the floor and a thin piece of fabric is placed over his nose and mouth. A pitcher is brought over his head and water soon pours out onto the cloth. After 40 seconds, the cloth is lifted giving Clint a chance to breathe. He coughs and inhales as deep as he can before the cloth descends on his face again.
Video 01:20:29
"Enough. I think we'll leave him to recover a bit before the next act." Plucking the wet cloth off Clint's face, the two men lift his chair upright so his face is visible again to the camera and exit the pickup's view.
"You know you deserve this. Traitor."
Clint struggled to calm his breathing, but his lungs were burning. Unlike other SHIELD agents, Clint had also been taught by the Black Widow. She had taught him how to calm his mind during various tortures to sort of disconnect so that he really couldn't realize what was happening. The self-hypnosis had kept him from having nightmares over the years. He was even able to reduce his body's reactions to stimuli so that he hadn't vomited as water trickled into his lungs. Slowing his breathing had also reduced the risk of hypoxia. However, he could tell that some water was in his lungs. He didn't want to cough hard enough to expel it, however, since his ribs were already aching. He looked at the countdown clock on the computer. These people were just getting started. Shifting in the hard chair, Clint slowed his breathing and went inward to escape. He heard a little voice in his head asking if this wasn't exactly what he deserved. He shushed it and sank deeper.
Video 02:08:52
One of the guards clamps Clint's mouth and nose closed and watch until his struggles to breathe weaken. Before he passes out, the thug removes his hand and releases him from the restraints. They jerk off his jacket and toss it on the cot behind them. Clint is held upright between them. A third man comes over with a loaded syringe. He prods to find a vein and injects the fluid into Clint's arm. A fourth, a woman, tosses a set of manacles connected by a long chain over an exposed pipe in the ceiling.
"You're being injected with a synthetic form of TRPM3. This is mixed with artificial hormones and Benzodiazepine that together will short circuit your brain's ion channels. It will also cause akathesia, a need to move, hallucinations, loss of mental and physical control. In layman's terms, it amplifies and ramps up the perceived pain by several factors of 10. A pinprick will feel like you've been stabbed."
The manacles are placed around his wrists and Clint's arms are forced up. He can barely touch the floor with the balls of his feet. He pulls against the restraints but grimaces. Out of his field of vision comes a fist. He twists to get away from the pain. Again and again, he is hit. He cannot keep silent; the pain is exploding throughout his torso. Sweat pours down his face, his arms, his body. He screams. His face is twisted in pain and his body tenses until all his veins are prominent. It continues. He collapses, unconscious.
"Stop. It's pointless if he cannot feel the pain." They wait. Clint wakes up and struggles to find his balance. He twists to try and avoid the fists of the men but does not succeed. The sound of flesh impacting against flesh is loud in the room. The beating continues until he passes out again. He wakes, and again, he is beaten. He has lost all sense of time. Pain is the only marker he has and it is all consuming when he is conscious. Finally the speaker seems satisfied. She directs that Clint be removed from the chains and dropped onto the pallet. The others leave.
A nasty smell filled Clint's nostrils as he regained consciousness. He realized that he was lying face down on a wool blanket that had been left on the floor. Every muscle is screaming in agony. He cannot control the shudders and tremors shaking his body. His thoughts move through molasses as he realized that he was shivering from cold as well as the drug's residual effects. Lifting his head, he spotted his jacket not a foot from him. He pulled it on not realizing that the moans he heard were coming from his own throat. His jacket had a liner that retains his body heat; soon, Clint warmed up. He looked at the computer and saw that three days had passed since he was brought to this unknown site. He had less than four days to figure out an escape. He slumped against the wall. Exhausted, Clint sank into the oblivion of sleep. The last thought was that during all that had been done to him, no questions about SHIELD, its agents, or even the Avengers had been asked. They seemed to not care about that. What was their second agenda? They had one that he knew.
Video 03:21:24
Clint is strapped into the chair and blindfolded. One of the guards has a gun to his head pressing the barrel against his temple. Clint's lips are pressed tightly together.
"Yesterday was very interesting," says the disembodied voice. "In all our tests, we've never given anyone such a high dosage. It almost makes me want to keep you alive longer to see if there are any residual side effects."
Clint doesn't answer her taunts. He tilts his head to one side as though listening for something.
"Shall we play a game of Russian Roulette?"
The guard cocks the gun and pulls the trigger. Clint barely reacts. The gun is pulled away from his head and the other guard, pulling a second gun, pulls the trigger. The gunshot echoes in the small room. He hands the gun over to his partner who places the warm barrel against Clint's head.
"There are two more bullets somewhere," the voice gloats.
Clint swallows visibly but doesn't say a word. Once again the trigger is pulled back and released. Once again, no bullet.
"Again."
While the gun pushes Clint's head over against his shoulder, the other guard aims his gun at Clint's thigh. Both pull their triggers at the same time. One bullet goes through Clint's right leg and into the floor. His mouth drops open in shock as they remove the blindfold. He blinks rapidly and then stares down at his leg. They remove his wrist restraints and leave him.
When the door shut behind the two thugs, Clint clenched the wound with both hands. His hands were quickly covered with blood but it wasn't arterial bleeding. When Clint was able to get on top of the pain, he levered himself out of the chair biting his lip to keep silent. He figured that the unseen tormentor was probably still watching. He shuffle-hopped around the chair using the back as a support. His goal was the pallet about five yards away. Gathering his draining resources, he hopped forward before dropping onto his hands to let himself down all the way to the floor. He needed to make a compression bandage. Bending his left leg up towards his chest, Clint removed his boot and then his sock. He knew he was out of sight of the computer's camera; he wasn't sure that there wasn't another one somewhere else but he'd have to risk that. Using a fingernail, he separated the lining from the outer leather of the boot and extracted a four-inch-square HemCon Bandage. The chitosan it was made of would staunch the bleeding in 30 seconds. He had a second in his other boot but wanted to save it in case he needed it later. Once the bandage was in place, it would adhere to the wound and not be reusable.
Clint ripped the hole in his pants a bit wider so he could see the wound. The gun had been so close, there were powder burns on his leg. Clint wiped as much blood away as he could then lay the bandage on the wound. It bonded with the blood and formed an instant clot. He wrapped his sock around his leg and set the knot on top of the bandage. Hopefully, they wouldn't see the bandage. He looked up at the countdown clock. He was running out of time. He had to send a message now. Staying below the level of the table, Clint crawled over to it and rose to his left knee. The right leg stuck out to the side. Using a shortcut, he opened a window that would not be seen by the video feed and logged onto one of his dummy accounts. With a few keystrokes, he quickly sent the email, logged off, and closed the window. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and using the table's edge, pulled himself to his feet and over to the wall. Looking down, he saw that he'd not left a bloodtrail. Hopefully, he could distract them enough that they would not realize what he'd done until it was too late. He braced himself and when they opened the door, attacked.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Do you have anything?" Natasha Romanov's voice was tense with stress as she turned away from the window looking out at the Potomac. She had not relaxed since they had found Clint's wrecked bike four days before. Director Fury had just come back into his office; he'd been upstairs with Defense Secretary Pierce. He slammed the door shut behind him causing Agent Hill to jump in her chair. Both women turned to face him.
"The Secretary believes that since we have no specific intel, we should not send out agents everywhere looking for Barton." His disgust at his superior's decision obviously rankled. He could not understand why his superior was so resistant to finding Barton. Agent Sitwell had tried to block Barton from coming close to Project Insight, but since he'd already known about it, they had been ordered to keep tight tabs when Clint was on site. Fury listened to his gut, and his gut was telling him that something was hinky. Time to get help. He'd stopped Natasha from contacting Stark or Rogers to keep them out of what was going on at the Triskelion. "Maybe you can ask your friends to help." He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head to one side. Natasha nodded as she caught his meaning. "If you find out anything more, I will send what is needed to extract him." He didn't tell Natasha all that the Defense Secretary had said. Months ago, Secretary Pierce had said he was convinced in Thor's proclamation that Barton was free from Loki's influence once the cleanup of New York was under way. Now he'd said that they were still not sure that Barton was clean and that this might be some kind of reaction to what had happened to him as a result of Loki's meddling. Fury was certain of Barton; he would trust him at his back no matter what. In fact, this room contained about a third of the people he trusted in the world. He'd just left another who he had once believed could be counted on to back his call. Guess he was wrong. This was indicative of a lot of things that he'd noticed off inside SHIELD. He just couldn't put a finger on what it was connected to. He'd already briefed Hill about his suspicions; he'd bring in Natasha and Barton as soon as he could. SHIELD was their life and the ideals it claimed. Of course, he had his secrets too. Like Coulson walking and talking and alive again. Romanoff and Barton would kick his ass when they learned the truth. First things first. They had to find Barton.
In her L.A. office, Pepper Potts was going through her email when she spotted one from an unknown sender. It was titled with a request for materials for a research project; she opened it confident that Tony's malware programs would handle any viruses. It read: "I need more than potassium this time to fix things. Use your former assistant's connections. Reference PO 636250600." There was no signature. She almost deleted it but refrained. She tore it apart piece by piece. Once she identified Natasha as her former assistant, she remembered Clint collapsing that time due to a lack of potassium. But why did it come to her? As far as she knew Clint and Natasha were at the Triskelion in D.C. While she and Natasha were not best friends, they had become a little close since the creation of the Avengers. Since the two assassins had settled into the tower on occasion, the two women had had many conversations over morning coffee. She speed-dialed. "Natasha. I have a funny email that I think is meant for you. Is there a reason Clint would be sending you a coded message through me?"
Natasha sagged slightly. She had almost not responded to Pepper's call. Clint had found a way to contact her. "What does it say?"
Pepper read her the email. "What does it mean?"
"I can't explain over the phone. Where's Stark? New York?" At Pepper's affirmative, she continued, "Forward it to him and give him a heads up that I'm on my way."
"Natasha." Pepper was hesitant to ask but she needed to know. "Is there something wrong?" She hadn't seen either assassin in weeks. She had thought Clint was finally relaxing a bit; that Clint would stop the self-loathing and forgive himself for what he hadn't been able to control. Lately, he had seemed more relaxed even joking around a bit and smiling. He'd even gone so far as to tease her about her choice in men.
"I've got to go," said Natasha and hung up. Pepper stared at the phone. She knew that Natasha would fill her in with what she could later. Luckily, Pepper was very patient; she had plenty of practice is learning that skill. She dialed Tony and gave him Natasha's message.
Tony blinked several times as he listened. He wondered why Barton had gone through Pepper. He hoped that she wouldn't be drawn into anything dangerous, again. He went to his workstation, opened his email, and found the message. The words seemed pretty straightforward. The message must be in the numbers. "Jarvis, see if you can decode these numbers." He did a double take. Maybe he could beat Natasha at her own game. "Jarvis?"
"Yes, sir."
"I need you to track down the IP. Find out where the email actually originated from." He went to the bar to pour himself a whiskey while he waited. It would take Natasha about five hours to drive. If she got a ride, much less.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"What took you so long," Tony asked as the elevator opened. She must have gotten a ride. "I expected you…Hello." He stopped talking when not only Natasha but Rogers and Fury also stepped out of the elevator. "I'd have baked a cake if.."
"Cut the chatter, Stark. Did you track the IP?"
"How? Never mind." Tony should have realized he couldn't outplan Natasha when it came to espionage. Giving his trademark smirk, Tony said, "Jarvis?"
"Yes sir. Agent Romanov, the location that the email was sent from was McGowan Mountain near Elkins, West Virginia. It's about a four hour drive from D.C."
"Are you going to explain what's going on?" asked Tony. He looked from Fury to Natasha to Steve. "Come on! Don't you trust me? Is this a SHIELD only thing? I'm not a member of the club so I…"
"Hold on a minute," said Fury. "There's some hinky stuff going on but we're not sure where it starts or where it ends.
"The P.O. number 636250600 is just a simple code from Clint to me. Clint knew we could track the IP and come close to finding him. We can get within a 25 mile radius of his location with this information. If he still has his uniform, he's wearing a tracker which will allow us to pinpoint his exact location, and I can extract him."
"We," said Tony and Steve together. Natasha nodded at the two men, grateful that they would help. It seemed the Avengers were the only ones who cared about what happened to Clint besides Fury and Hill.
Video 04:14:13
Clint now has a black eye and blood has stiffened the hair on the left side of his head. He is suspended once again from the manacles thrown over the pipe. He is only wearing the black Underarmor shirt and fatigue pants. His jacket is discarded on the floor behind him. He is ignoring the men in front of him by staring at a point beyond them.
The voice speaks, "Your body is not completely broken, you do not yet feel my people's pain, you do not yet know what torment is."
At an unspoken order, one man goes behind Clint and draws a rope around his throat. He slowly began to tighten the rope. Clint keeps his gaze over the other's shoulder as he stands in front of Clint. His struggle to breathe is obvious. Suddenly, Clint's eyes widen and his lips part and a strangled gasp emerges. He blinks several times, quickly. His face pales.
The figure steps away and the cause of Clint's reaction becomes clear. Blood is clearly visible on the knife in the man's hand. It is not clear at first where he was stabbed until Clint shifts position. A glint of something wet on his shirt shows he's been stabbed in the lower abdomen. They leave him hanging and exit the room.
This was not the first or even the tenth time that Clint has undergone torture in a job gone sideways. However, it was the first time anyone had tortured him with no purpose other than the torture. Loki had not been very patient; those he did torture died quickly compared to this. This reminded Clint of stories that Rogers had told them of the Germans during World War II. He was losing ground fast. Natasha needed to get there soon or it wouldn't be a rescue; it would be a massacre since he knew she'd exact revenge. That made him feel a little better, but he had learned over the past few days that he really did want to live. That realization came as a surprise. He had thought he felt he deserved to die. But now, now he wanted to stop people like this from hurting others and that required him to rejoin the fight as an agent and as a member of the Avengers. But first he would have to live.
Video 05:22:27
Clint Barton is no longer trying to stand; he is sagging between his arms which are suspended via chains from the pipe above. Sweat is dripping down his face; his hair is saturated.
"You begin to understand what those who died by your actions felt. Their agony. Their despair."
Clint looks toward the computer from under lowered lids. He looks down again. No emotion shows.
"Teach him!" screams the voice. "Teach him what it means to thwart us!"
The largest of the men steps behind Clint and grabs his hair forcing him to look up. Another slowly waves a knife back and forth like a snake about to strike. His elbow moves back and then quickly forward. Clint's eyes close, and he sags. A cough.
"The ninth circle of hell is reserved for traitors. It is ice. You will feel that burn until you die."
Clint is left alone again.
The room's temperature has dropped significantly. He wishes he had his jacket on. Clint tried not cough any more. He heard the ugly moist slurp of a sucking chest wound. He had to act fast. He realized that his lung would soon collapse. He had to decide which wound to bind—the abdomen or the chest. The chest wound was the more immediate danger. He slid out the second HemCon bandage and slapped it over the hole in his chest. The bandage would stop the external hole from letting air into the chest cavity but there was nothing helping the internal hole leaking air into the chest cavity. He coughed but didn't produce any bloody sputum. If he was bleeding into the lung, it was a slow seep.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Steve, Natasha, and Bruce waited in the Quinjet for the word. Iron Man had gone to scout the area. He'd reported picking up the transmission from Clint's uniform beacon and was homing in.
High above the building, Tony hovered. "JARVIS, scan for bodies."
"Scanning, Sir." A pause. "Sir, I believe I have located Agent Barton."
"Give me visual." Tony saw what looked like an IR reading in his heads-up display. One figure was in a room by itself. It looked like he was chained standing up. "Vitals?"
"Agent Barton is still alive at this point, sir. He appears to have several wounds. Two are life-threatening."
"Can we break in without caving the ceiling in on top of him?" Tony didn't want to admit even to himself how worried he was. It didn't seem that Clint would be able to help in his own rescue.
"Here are the roof supports, sir."
Tony scanned the display and then turned and headed back towards his companions. The Quinjet's ramp was open waiting for his return. Once he landed, Steve shut the ramp so they could hear each other. Tony opened his faceplate.
"He's alive," was Tony's first words. He knew that was what they needed to hear. "But he's hurt badly. I'm glad you're here, Bruce, because we're going to need you. I'll have JARVIS download his scans into the diagnostic computer."
Bruce nodded. "That will help a lot to know what I need to work on first. How are you going to get him?"
Tony turned to Natasha. "How are we going to do this? He can't stand on his own and I think he's lost a lot of blood."
"Is he conscious?"
"I don't know."
Natasha turned to a locker and pulled out a harness she'd brought with her. She buckled half of it on herself; the second would hold Clint. Next, she took out a rope with loops on either end. She also took out two loaded syringes and placed them in a thigh pocket. "Tony. Can you get us down there on a rope."
"What, you mean like dragging you through the air?"
"Yes."
He blinked and thought for a moment then stomped over to his storage box. He'd brought along a range of tools that might help. Digging, he pulled out two rings and a welder. Turning to Steve, he said, "Weld these to my hips. Try not to make me look too fat." He couldn't resist the last statement. "While Steve pulled on the welder's goggles and started to attach the rings, Tony explained. "I'll run a cable between these two rings for you to hang on to. I need my hands to shoot since I'm sure they're going to shoot at us."
Natasha looked up from her weapons. "What do they have as defense there?"
"I didn't seen anything on the roof and no tanks in the yard, but they surely have machine guns. If you're holding on to Barton, Rogers and I are the only ones who can fire back."
Steve picked up a machine gun and slung the strap over his shoulder. He set his shield on his arm. He'd use the gun if it came to that. Until then, he'd trust to Stark handling offense.
They spent a few more minutes getting everything together. Natasha ran the steel-cored cable through the cooling rings and added a carabiner to the rope and connected it to another on her harness. She stepped into the loop at the end. "Let's go." She demanded. Bruce dropped the back hatch and stood back.
Steve didn't have a harness but he placed his foot into the other loop and firmly grasped the rope. He was used to jumping out of planes, but this time he needed to control his descent and time it to theirs.
Tony walked to the opening and slowly rose into the air. He grasped two sides of the rope to help his teammates into the air and headed towards their target.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Clint was dropping in and out of consciousness. He only had hours left according to his captors' timetable. He was afraid that if Natasha didn't come while he was conscious, she wouldn't take the proof that there were enemy agents in SHIELD. His head dropped down again so he didn't see his rescue arrive.
Video 06:08:28:
A loud crash is followed by a wave of dust as the side of the room vanishes. Captain America is the first through, but he is followed by the Black Widow. Iron Man is the last to enter.
Natasha's first goal is Clint. "Help me!" she hissed to Steve.
"Hold him up," Steve said as he reached towards the chains. It would be easiest for him to break them rather than try to open them.
Natasha ducked under Clint's arm and grasped his side. "Я убью их (I will kill them)," she muttered. Clint was unconscious. Steve pushed her gently out of the way and scooped Clint up and laid him on the table before going to the opening in the wall. He pulled off his rifle and lay down some covering fire. She did a quick triage and discovered he'd used the HemCon patches. She was trying to decide which shot to give him when Clint stirred.
Clint became aware that he was laying flat on a hard surface. He heard gunfire and at first couldn't remember where he was. He tried to sit up and the various points of pain helped him remember. He opened his eyes and saw the blue eyes of his partner. "Hey," he croaked.
"Hey," she said. "We're in a tight situation, and we need to exit fast. Do you want a painkiller or adrenaline?"
"How are we getting out of here?" He could hear Iron Man's repulsars flaring somewhere behind him and heard Rogers shout something.
"Stark is going to fly us out on ropes and harness."
As much as he wanted that painkiller, he knew that Natasha could not hold him upright by herself. "Give me the harness," he said as he struggled to sit upright. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. When he did, he pointed at the computer. "Get the hard drive."
"What?" Natasha wasn't sure why he was delaying his own rescue.
"We need that hard drive. There is bound to be stuff on it…stuff we can use…stuff that can explain all this and other…things." Clint had to keep pausing to take a breath. Talking was becoming difficult. Breathing was becoming difficult. "Just please get it."
Steve had pulled a pipe from the ceiling and was using it to jam the door shut. He could hear pounding on the other side, but the door seemed to be holding.
"What's going on? We need to leave now!" Tony had come over to the two SHIELD agents to see what was taking them so long.
"Smash that computer and get the hard drive. Don't ask questions, just trust me. We need it."
Tony was surprised that Clint was thinking. JARVIS' scans showed that his blood pressure was dropping; the man had to be in some serious pain. If he wanted that hard drive, then he'd have it. He turned to the computer and with one hand smashed the computer and then yanked out the hard drive. He handed it to Clint who tucked it into his shirt. By then, the two agents were standing. Clint shoved his foot into the loop and Natasha stood on his foot. She clipped the two of them together.
"Adrenaline."
She'd known what he'd choose; he needed to be awake to help with his rescue. She stabbed the needle into his bicep and depressed the plunger. "Let's go," she yelled.
Checking to see that Steve was also ready to go, Iron Man entered the hole in the wall. "Hang on! I'm going to go straight up." He flew out level with the hole in the wall then fired up and behind him as he rose into the air pulling the three behind him. He took out the men setting up a machine gun on the roof.
His passengers clutched the cable and shut their eyes as the wind tore past them. Steve swung around to see if his shield could offer any protection to the others, but it didn't seem necessary. Tony had lifted them too fast.
Natasha clung to Clint helping him stay upright. He wouldn't fall since he was belted in, but he might injure himself if he collapsed in the harness. Clint shouted in her ear, "You need to check the hard drive. All this was from inside SHIELD."
She pulled back to look at him and then leaned forward. "Are you sure?"
"They knew too much. I don't know if it was just me or what but that drive might have some answers to some things we've noticed these past few weeks."
Tony had reached the Quinjet and was trying to figure how to get them on board. Steve yelled, "Swing me over so I can help!"
Once Steve was on board, he helped to catch hold of and draw in the other two before Tony flew in and shut the hatch. By the time he'd taken off his helmet, Steve had picked up Clint and laid him on the bunk. Bruce took a knife and slit Clint's shirt; the hard drive fell to the floor. Natasha picked it up and carefully laid it to the side. It was important to Clint.
Clint was now unconscious; his face white. Bruce examined his patient. There were numerous contusions and bruises that indicated internal damage in addition to two deep wounds-one low and one high in the torso. The lower one in his abdomen seemed to have been sealed off. "What is this?" he said pointing to the patch.
"It's a bandage that bonds with blood cells to form a clot. It is standard issue for when we go into the field," informed Natasha. "Clint was in uniform when he was taken; he carried some in hidden pockets."
Saddened at the agents' need to carry such materials with them, Bruce started working with Stark to determine all of Clint's injuries and doing triage until the Quinjet reached the Triskelion.
Clint gasped as he regained consciousness again. Natasha, who was sitting on the bunk at his head, saw his lips were turning blue. "Черт (G** damn) Bruce!" she said, "He's not getting enough oxygen."
"Scan his chest, Stark"
Tony did and projected the scan into the air above Clint. Bruce interpreted what he saw and gave orders all around. "Natasha, find me a water bottle and some duct tape. Steve, I need a ballpoint pen with the ink cartridge removed and the plastic end removed." Bruce had brought a medical kit he'd put together himself. Digging through it, he found alcohol, tubing, and scissors. He looked at Stark's projection again. Systopic BP showed 103mmHg and dropping. Heart rate was 125 bpm. His breathing was very labored and shallow. He reached out to check Clint's skin; it was cool to the touch. They would have to hurry. He clenched his teeth together. He had to stay on top of the anger he felt at the torture his friend has obviously gone through.
"Is this okay?" asked Steve holding up a Bic pen's cylinder.
"Perfect. Pour alcohol over it to sterilize it. Here, wear these gloves."
While Steve put on the latex gloves he was handed, Natasha returned with the water bottle. "What do.."
Cutting her off, "Pour out about a fifth of the water."
Without hesitating, she dumped the water out onto the decking and handed the bottle over.
By this time, Clint was making an appalling gasping sound, his mouth gaping in a search for air. Bruce swabbed Clint's side with a pad soaked in alcohol. He took out a scalpel and made a small cut into the first intercostal space. He grabbed the pen cylinder and inserted it into the hole and pushed. There was a small pop as it pierced the cartilage and on through to the pleural space. Dark blood sprayed out of the cylinder briefly before turning into the sound of escaping air. He looked up at the scan still playing in the air then at Clint. The lung had partially inflated once again and while still pale, his lips now had a pinkish tinge.
"Tear off two strips of tape about four inches long and two strips at eight inches."
Steve did, taping each one to the bulkhead near Bruce.
"Hold this still," he directed Natasha. He eased the tubing over the end of the pen and taped the two together to create a seal. He put the other end of the tube into the bottle of water explaining as he taped the tubing to the bottle while leaving a gap. He taped the bottle to Clint's arm. "The air will escape through the tube but it can't get back into the chest cavity. It'll have to do until we can get him into surgery."
Clint struggled to keep his eyes open. There was something he had to tell Natasha, something important. The drive. Clint twisted his head around until he saw Tony. "The drive? Make a copy of it now!" he demanded. "Can you do that here?" He needed a copy made before it was turned over.
"Sure but.."
"Just do it, please." It was clear that this was important to Clint so Tony picked up the hard drive from where Natasha had placed it. "JARVIS. Copy all the data into storage please."
"Yes sir." After projecting a laser to read the drive, JARVIS soon pronounced the job accomplished.
"How much longer?" Bruce asked. He set up an IV and once he was satisfied with its flow, he leaned against the bulkhead.
Steve went to ask the pilot their ETA. He felt powerless right now. He returned with the information that they would be there in less than ten minutes.
"Can he…?" Natasha asked Bruce.
"I don't know." Bruce scrubbed his face with his hands. "He's strong-willed but will only gets you so far. I've got him stabilized right now. I need to…" he headed toward the cockpit to ask for a radio connection.
Natasha sat on the edge on the bunk and grasped Clint's hand. In the background, she heard Bruce talking to the medical bay in D.C. explaining what they'd need for when they arrived. Steve had sat down on a jump seat and was staring at the opposite bulkhead while Tony seemed to be talking to JARVIS. She reached out for Clint's hand and whispered, "мой ястреб Оставайтесь с нами (My hawk stay with us)."
They couldn't get to the Triskelion fast enough for her.
There was a flurry of activity as they landed on the helipad. Steve didn't wait for the medical staff; he just picked up Clint and carried him down the ramp before placing him on the gurney that they had brought. Bruce half-ran beside the gurney making sure that the tube was not dislodged. Although Natasha wanted to follow with all her heart, she had another duty to Clint. She picked up the hard drive from where Stark had left it. He answered her raised eyebrow with a small nod. Satisfied that Clint's wishes had been followed, she stepped out of the jet and through the halls to Fury's office carrying the hard drive.
Director Fury was standing next to the video wall. "We successfully extracted Agent Barton with no injuries to our team," she stated flatly. She could see the image of Sitwell on the monitor behind him.
"What's that?" Fury asked.
"It's a computer hard drive recovered from where they were torturing Agent Barton. He insisted that we take it. He thought it might have some information we could use." She handed it to her superior.
"How is he?" Fury asked. Natasha was only this formal when she was furious.
"Not good, sir. Dr. Banner was able to stabilize him on the flight here and is with him in surgery now. Am I dismissed?"
"Keep me updated on Barton's condition," he said as he turned away.
An agent was standing at his shoulder. "Agent Reeves from comm. You have something sir?"
"Now how did you know…"
Sitwell's voice came from the screen behind him. "I overhead Agent Romanoff and contacted comm. I assume your techs can decipher whatever it is that Barton seemed to think important on that hard drive." His tone was dismissive.
Clenching one hand surreptitiously, Fury's voice was calm, "If Barton believed that there was usable intel on that drive, then there will be." He handed the drive over. "Do you have anything else for me, sir? If not, I have things to take care of."
"That is all, then."
Fury sneered at the dark screen. He really was developing a dislike for that ass.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
It was many hours later before he was able to join the team in the sick bay. Everything was fubared*. First, the mop-up team reported that the building where Barton had been held was completely abandoned with nothing left behind. Then Hill had told him the techs had found nothing usable on the hard drive; it seemed some type of radiation had scrambled it. Now, he had to go down to see about the nurse Captain America had just killed. And Agent Barton was now dying.
I will leave you with this, but rest assured the next chapter will be uploaded soon. This chapter was the actual genesis of the entire story. Please let me know what you thought; constructive criticism is welcome as well. About breaking the plastic ties, actor Christian Kane did this move while filming an episode of Leverage. They really can be broken with the right leverage (no pun intended) and muscle strength.
Footnotes: (I used a Google app to translate the Russian so sorry if it's inaccurate.)
* F… up beyond all recognition