The Hydra agent spotted Clint, and waved. Feeling exposed and at risk, Clint swallowed and waved back. The man came up with a smile. "You're Reinholdt, right? I'm your relief."

Clint couldn't bring himself to smile, so he just nodded. The man cocked his head, holding out his hand. "They told me you'd give me binoculars. Fork 'em over. Are there really polar bears out here?"

Realizing the man was new, Clint made a guess. "You just got here?"

The man waved toward the massive cargo jet. "Yeah. Forty new recruits, and I'm the schmuck they picked to come out here. I didn't do anything, but this sure the Hell feels like punishment to me."

As the man whined, Clint sized him up. Deciding that the guy's clothes would not fit any better than the ones he already had, Clint dismissed him, handing off the binoculars as he headed across the ice to the base. "Keep your damn eyes open, or you'll find out what real punishment is."

"Hey! Geez. Jerk." Clint heard the guy call after him. He ignored the insult, instead working hard to move easily and not give away the fact that he was about ready to fall on his face.

He almost stumbled when he reached the level ice at the bottom of the rise. He could feel the vibration through his feet. He kept moving forward, trying not to appear to be surprised by the faint hum he could hear. The Hydra base was obviously more extensive than the little village. As he moved closer to the houses, Clint estimated that the underground area of the base extended at least the half mile to the base of the rise.

As he got closer to the first of the buildings he noted security cameras everywhere. He was not going to be able to sneak up on anybody here, and even if he could, there were guard dogs. Dogs were dangerous. They didn't make the mistakes their handlers did, and Clint had a healthy respect for their abilities.

Most of the people outside seemed to be coming and going from one building near where the hoverjet stood. The hoverjet itself was heavily guarded, probably due to the large crates that were being unloaded. If he'd been in better shape, Clint would probably have headed that way to see if he could figure out what was going on.

As it was, he had noted that closer to the other end of town there were fewer people, but still enough activity that a lone man in an ill fitting uniform would not immediately stick out. He headed that way.

As he reached the first of the houses, he realized they were not just set dressing. He could see bits and pieces of real lives. A few plastic buckets here, a series of sled dog shelters there. Clint couldn't help but wonder where the original inhabitants were.

He sauntered past the first house he came to, and casually climbed the steps of the second one. Seeing a plastic jungle gym on the porch made Clint uneasy. These homes had held families with children. Where were they all now?

The door of the house had a card reader and security lock. Clint ran his victim's security card, and punched in the code the man had written on the back of the card. The door lock clicked, and Clint released a held breath. He opened the door, and slid into the darkened home.

Clint gently closed the door behind him, and stood still for a moment. The interior of the house was not what he expected. He could tell the room had fluorescent lights overhead, but they were hard to spot because the room was filled with cardboard boxes. Clint faced a wall of the boxes stacked from floor to ceiling.

In the dim light, he could just make out what seemed to be an passage through the stacks a bit to his left. As casually as he could, Clint moved to that pathway, and took a few steps in, his eyes darted around looking for the security cameras that he knew had to be there.

Clint found it very disturbing that he could not spot any security measures at all. This was obviously a major Hydra base. As many times as he had run up against the whacked out organization, he had never found them to be sloppy, or anything thing less than paranoia grade security conscious.

In his mind there could only be two explanations for the seemingly lax security in the building. Either this was not a Hydra base at all, or their geek squads had come up with security devices that were so camouflaged that Clint was missing them.

Given their past record, Clint was convinced it was the latter. Sure that the game was up, Clint couldn't quite bring himself to just wait to be taken. He moved down the passage pretending that he belonged there.

The passage wasn't actually all that long, maybe ten feet. He came to the back wall of the room, and like the front wall, offset a bit from the passage was a door.

Feeling like he was being drawn into a trap, Clint pulled open the door and slipped through. The second room seemed much larger, and Clint could see where some walls had been knocked down to open up the space.

It was much brighter here simply because the stacks of boxes did not reach the ceiling. To the left, they were within two feet of the ceiling, but to the right, they were barely waist high. Clint could see a space near the back of the room that seemed to be totally clear. And he could hear a faint hum.

Curiosity drew him on. His eyes still jumped around looking for the security, and after a moment, they settled on a security camera in the corner. He frowned when he could see that it was not even plugged in.

Feeling more and more like a rat caught in a trap, Clint fought the urge to turn tail and run. Instead he moved forward to the empty space. His eyebrows rose as he discovered the empty space was a large vent, a good six feet square.

He moved to the edge of the vent, and looked down. The vent disappeared into the darkness below. Clint estimated it was at least 100 feet to the bottom. He realized his hands kept flexing. He wanted very badly to open up the wire grate and climb down into that vent, just to see where it would lead.

After a few minutes of scrutiny, Clint was sure that he could use the vent to get into the base, but his hands and his feet were both starting to sting with return of sensation. His left hand in particular was starting to ache fiercely. He'd shoved his hands up into his armpits, and it seemed to be working.

Sighing, Clint looked over to the left side of the room where the omnipresent boxes were stacked almost to the ceiling. Knowing he couldn't use his hands for the moment, and that he desperately needed rest, he moved over to where a few lower stacks of boxes made a stairway of sorts.

With less than his usual grace, Clint climbed up and crawled to the back of the stacks. Looking out, he was confident that he would not be visible in any casual examination of the room.

Reluctantly, he pulled off his boots and socks, and checked his feet. He sighed with relief when he realized that only two of his toes looked frostbitten.

Suddenly too exhausted to even think, he flopped down on his back. All his fears and thoughts flowed away as he sank down into sleep.