Loki startled awake, grasping at the hand over his mouth and thrashing beneath the blankets. Who has me? What's going on? Panic dragged him from the soft realm of slumber into painfully acute awareness, sending his heartrate through the roof. What's happening?
"Shh!" Clint shook him hard and pressed down on his mouth and chest, glaring Loki into submission. "Not a sound," he whispered. "Understand?"
Loki nodded slowly, not at all comforted by the order.
Clint gave a single nod in return and slowly uncovered Loki's mouth, stepping away from the bed. "Clothes. Durable. Quick."
Loki took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, choosing to ignore the pounding in his chest and focus instead on being as quiet as possible. He slipped out of bed and walked to his dresser, thinking about its contents for a moment before picking a single drawer to open. Thankfully, it didn't squeak.
Loki pulled a pair of dark jeans from the drawer and grabbed a forest green turtleneck from the dirty laundry. He left the drawer hanging open and quickly stripped off his t-shirt and pajama pants.
"Shoes," he whispered, shoving his head through the sweater.
Clint inched toward the door and looked both ways before disappearing around the corner. Loki took no more than thirty seconds to don his jeans and grab a couple jackets, following Clint out into the hall immediately after.
Where are the alarms? Where are the other Avengers?
Loki turned to watch their flank, slowly putting on his sweat jacket followed by his denim one. Hopefully, the combination would be durable enough without making him overheat.
Fingers twitched anxiously at Loki's sides, longing for a weapon of some sort to grab onto. His eyes darted back and forth between Clint and the corridor stretching out behind them. For a moment, he considered taking a couple of Clint's arrows, but he ultimately decided it was unwise. He couldn't explain his reasoning given their situational silence, and he didn't want to do anything that might provoke or startle Clint into attacking.
He has plenty of reasons to stick an arrow in my head without me grabbing him from behind in the midst of an emergency.
Clint came to a stop and reached a hand back to keep Loki from going further, pressing the down button on the elevator panel and waiting. Loki waited with him and then watched in perplexed curiosity as Clint stepped inside, pressed every single button, and stepped back out.
"Stairs."
Despite his rapidly increasing confusion, Loki said nothing, trying to keep an eye out for any sort of threat as they made their way down the corridor to the stairwell. Clint seemed to think the danger was lessened once they were inside, seeing as he put his bow away and took the steps three or four at a time, but Loki wasn't so quick to lighten up.
What if Clint is the danger? No one else is here, and there aren't any indications of an emergency outside of what he's told me.
Loki shook the thought off as quickly as it came, not wanting to entertain such an idea until there was more proof. From the look of things, they only had each other as allies for the time being. Loki didn't want to oust the one person he had on his side.
"Others?" Loki whispered, glancing around for any sign of a microphone or camera.
Clint shook his head, confirming Loki's suspicions. It was just them.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs took longer than either of them would have liked, and Clint threw the door open with an urgency that hadn't existed at the top. Beckoning Loki into the room, which appeared to be a weapons vault of some sort, Clint continued over to the far wall and began to sort through a crate of arrows and small projectiles.
Loki shut the door behind them and approached quietly, glancing over the contents of each box he passed and trying to find something he was actually somewhat familiar with. Granted, he didn't imagine it would be very hard to fire a gun, but daggers or swords or even a staff would be more his area of expertise.
Click.
"Hands where I can see them."
Loki froze for half a second before the demand registered, and he slowly lifted his hands up above his head. "Barton? What—?"
"Quiet." Clint's voice was hard and cold, sending a chill up Loki spine. "Face the wall and get down on your knees. Slowly."
Wetting his lips, Loki took a deep breath and made a quarter turn to the right, slowly lowering himself onto his knees and keeping his hands where the archer could clearly see them. "Barton, you're making a mistake. Just—"
"I said quiet. Do as you're told."
Loki tensed, feeling the barrel of a gun against the back of his head. He had seen what the fire-spitting weapons could do to a mortal skull. Back when he was still a god, it was mildly amusing but of little interest. Understandably, things were a little different when he was the one with the mortal skull.
"Put your hands on the wall and keep your head down."
Denying the shudder that threatened to tear through his frame, Loki flattened his palms against the cool metal surface and bowed his head, licking his lips as his nerves ran amuck.
Why is he doing this? He can't go against orders, and I haven't done anything to deserve execution—at least, not lately, I haven't. He tried to turn his head, but Clint's hand came down and pushed it back into place, fingers curling through his hair and gripping relentlessly. He can't know. It's impossible. I unlocked the second seal last night, certainly, and my magic is stronger because of it, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has no way of tracking or identifying magic, and I've been so careful.
Loki hissed as fingers dug into the back of his neck, prodding every vertebra with mild but unexpected pain. "Barton—" after all, Clint hadn't threatened to shoot him for speaking, "—can you at least explain what's happening?"
Clint pulled Loki's head back and leaned down, whispering harshly beside his ear. "I told you to be quiet. You don't need to know any more." Both hands were removed, but the sound of a switchblade took away any sense of comfort the action may have caused.
Loki held his breath, waiting to see what Clint would do. For a moment, there was nothing, but then he felt the blade sliding across the back of his neck horizontally, warm blood slipping down into his collar a moment later.
What is he doing? I don't understand. I don't understand. Loki swallowed, forcing himself to keep his hands on the wall and not resist whatever it was Clint was doing to him. He has one hand on my shoulder, and he's cutting with the other, which means he doesn't have the gun anymore. But Loki didn't move. He didn't know what to do or think or trust, but he didn't move. He can't go against orders. Even if he could, he wouldn't. Not like this, not unprovoked.
Clint's knife continued to move, quickly cutting another line parallel to the first and then up the sides, forming a crude rectangle. Then the tip went back to the bottom, pressing into the wound while two fingers pushed down from the top.
Loki yelped in pain, the sound entirely involuntarily, and he bit down on his lip in the hope that Clint would understand he wasn't trying to cause trouble.
Clint sighed irritably, but his voice softened somewhat. "Hang in there."
Pain shot up the back of his neck again, and Loki flinched, feeling only mild relief as something was pulled out from beneath the surface of his skin. There was a moment of no contact, and then Clint was pressing what felt like gauze or some soft fabric against the wound. He held it there for a few moments, and then Loki felt an adhesive strip on his neck.
"There." Clint dusted his hands off. "Piece of cake."
"I'm glad you think so." Loki glared over his shoulder, anger masking the confusion and fear still coursing beneath the surface. "What were you doing back there?"
Clint motioned for Loki to get to his feet. "I had to remove the chip in your neck." He dropped the little metal square into Loki's hands and continued. "Remember when those agents were killing themselves because of the staff? You said they probably had a big secret they didn't want getting out?"
Loki gave a single nod, disturbed by the knowledge of being chipped at some point, and yet so incredibly relieved to find no one knew about his magic that it almost didn't matter.
"We've been investigating your theory, and after months of evasion, we got our answer. H.Y.D.R.A. has been growing inside S.H.I.E.L.D. for who knows how long. We must have been getting really close, because they dropped their cover and decided it was time to go for the throat." Clint began to speak with more urgency, moving around the room and grabbing various weapons and supplies to take along. "Stark went to a convention in Germany and fell off the map, and Romanoff and Rogers are on the run, Thor is still on Asgard, and Banner was gone when I woke up this morning with no signs of Hulk activity. It's just you and me, pal, and I needed to know there was some level of trust between us."
Shaking his head, Loki tried to process the sudden onslaught of information. "So, Anthony and Dr. Banner are likely captured, we have no way of contacting Thor and relaying the importance of him returning to Midgard, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are presumably fighting the battle from their end, and you and I are supposed to do… what, exactly?" He shook his head. "Furthermore, what makes you think I trust you at all?" He glanced down at his hand. "And when and why was I implanted with this—this thing?"
Clint pointed towards the opposite end of the room. "Look for weapons and shoes while we talk, and don't put the chip down yet." He threw a second quiver over his shoulder and then patted himself down as if looking for something. "We chipped you because, on the off chance you managed to get through all three hundred and twenty-five levels of security, we needed to be able to track you. If you had known the chip was there, you would have removed it as soon as you escaped, so we did it while you were unconscious. But H.Y.D.R.A. has access to everything S.H.I.E.L.D. does, including tracking devices, so it just became a huge disadvantage, and I had to remove it." He tucked a few knives and a pistol into various holsters and pockets in his clothes. "You and I are going to fight H.Y.D.R.A. because they are a mutual enemy, and I know you trust me to at least some extent because I made sure you had more than one opportunity to overpower me, and you didn't."
Loki said nothing for a moment, pulling an assortment of daggers from the box in front of him and frowning at the odd handles. Still, they should work. He tucked them in between his jackets, along with a handgun and a few small explosives, filling the lining of his coats with a smorgasbord of weapons, both familiar and foreign.
"I still don't understand how we are going to fight H.Y.D.R.A." Loki gave a bottle of what appeared to poison a long, hard look before shoving it into his pocket. "They are an organized group of international terrorists, and we are two men. Unless I'm missing something, and I don't think I am, we are severely outnumbered."
Loki found himself unable to stuff anything else in his clothing without it becoming apparent from the outside that he was concealing weaponry, so he grabbed one final knife to hold in his hand and sat down to put on the thick socks and boots he had found. He set the chip next to him and started to fight with the leather and laces, waiting for Clint to explain the mission.
Clint only shrugged, testing the mobility of his arms before deciding he was satisfied with his own level of weaponry. "It doesn't matter. They'll destroy anyone and anything they get their hands on. We have to at least try to stop them." He walked over and took the chip from the floor next to Loki, moving it closer to a crate full of weapons. "That'll have them thinking we're down here for at least a little while longer." Clint turned and headed for the door. "We need to get back to ground level. We're going to headquarters, and we're going to do anything and everything in our power to get that building back under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s control." Stopping at the door, Clint turned to face Loki fully and gave him a hard stare. "If you want to back out, do it now."
Loki thought about doing just that, but the idea was short-lived. If H.Y.D.R.A. took over, they would no doubt strap Loki to a table and spend the rest of his limited lifespan cutting him to pieces in the name of science. Dr. Banner, too, and as much as Loki had been rebelling against such softness, he couldn't deny Bruce had become something like a friend to him. He didn't want to see Bruce reduced to a drooling, brain-dead mockery of an experiment.
Or Steve. Or Tony. Or anybody, really. Loki knew what H.Y.D.R.A. was capable of thanks to the research he had done when he first got his hands on the Tesseract, and it was a tad crueler than anything even he had ever planned for the human race.
Given his actual plans for the human race, that was saying something.
Most of all, there was Clint. Clint was by no means a friend or ally, but he was a skilled warrior with noble intentions. He fought for his people and his home, which was something Loki admired. Despite their history and stark differences, Clint had earned Loki's respect, and Loki knew Clint wouldn't have reached out unless Loki had, on some level, earned a bit of Clint's.
"You can't get rid of me that easily, Barton."
If he got lucky—and somehow, he doubted he would—Loki thought he might actually live long enough to regret those words.
"Put your hands where I can see them." Clint pulled the bowstring back and narrowed his gaze at the young agent, driving her away from her desk with the tip of his arrow.
Moving slowly, the woman stepped away from her computer and did as she was told, raising her hands above her head and staring at him with an expression of confusion mixed with horror. "Agent Barton? I… I don't—"
"No one did. That's what made it perfect." Smirking, Clint let the arrow fly across the room and then looked at the computer screen to see what she had been up to. "What do we have here?"
She looked between him and the shaft pressed snugly up against her throat, struggling with her words for a moment before wetting her lips and setting her jaw. "If you can figure it out, be my guest."
"Oh, I can." He loaded his bow and drew the string back once more. "But I think it would be easier for the both of us if you just told me."
"Go jump off a bridge." There was no hesitation, her body pressing back against the wall out of heavily suppressed survival instincts and fear, none of which she allowed to show on her face.
"Now, now." Clint shook his head, clucking his tongue disdainfully. "You really should be more cooperative. If you swear allegiance to H.Y.D.R.A., you might actually walk away from this. You could walk away from this with benefits, even. If not…" He let his voice trail, allowing a cold smirk to finish the sentence for him.
Her eyes turned to ice, her body language defiant and unwavering. "I'll take the arrow."
"You sure?" Clint arched a brow, an innocently questioning expression crossing his face. "It can take more than one of these to kill you if I do it right."
"I hope it does." She swallowed, shaking her head with a bitter laugh. "Fewer arrows to hit the others with."
"Have it your way." Clint pulled back just a bit more and stared her down, taking in every aspect of her countenance in deadly silence.
Her determination, despite its accompanying fear, was a refreshing sight. She was prepared to die—suffer, even—for her cause, and she had chosen the right side to fight for. She was afraid, but she would be crazy not to be, and he didn't fault her for it.
"Loki." Clint lowered his bow, relief surging through him. "We found one."
"Oh, good." Loki sauntered in the room, twirling a blood dagger between his fingers. "For a moment, I thought we would have to kill everyone in the building." He flashed one of his classic smirks in the agent's direction. "Congratulations. You're the first person we've found who hasn't sworn loyalty to H.Y.D.R.A. You get to live."
"Don't get discouraged." Clint quickly cut in, not wanting Loki to completely destroy the morale her loyalty had created. "This is only the first floor, and we're working our way up, not down."
She blinked, hands still over her head, and looked between the two men. It took a few more seconds for the situation to sink in, and then she allowed herself to breathe again, groaning as the anxiety and adrenaline was flushed from her body. "Oh, I hate you. I… hate you." She inhaled deeply and ran her hands through her hair, letting the air back out in a long stream. "Uh, alright, so it's just the three of us, then? You don't have any of the other Avengers?"
Loki shook his head, using his silver tongue to make quick work of the explanation. "They're either running or missing. We've started our own little rebellion by trying to reclaim the building and hack into the systems so we can see what H.Y.D.R.A. is up to. What is your name, and would you like to help?"
"Agent Elaina Byer. Yes." Moving away from the wall, Elaina returned to the computer she had abandoned and pointed to the screen. "I was trying to hack into a database and a frequency; the database to try and figure out if either side has a plan, and the frequency to send out a warning to any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were either on a mission or taking time off when H.Y.D.R.A. revealed themselves."
Clint looked over her shoulder, skimming the limited information on the screen. "Smart thinking." He frowned. "Would H.Y.D.R.A. get that warning, too?"
Elaina nodded. "I figured it was better to alert everyone than to leave our agents in the dark, and H.Y.D.R.A. can't use a warning about their own actions against us."
"Agreed." Clint paused and then shook his head. "We don't have the power we need here. These are basic computers for paperwork and filing. We need to get to the top floor, hopefully into Director Fury's office, and use one of the systems there."
Loki snapped his fingers in front of the screen to get their attention, still fully facing the door. "I hear footsteps. We need to go."
That was all Clint needed to hear. He pulled two grenades from his belt without a second thought, ushering his two companions toward the door and following close behind. "Go right and don't stop running!" He threw one bomb to the far end of the room and tossed the other just a few feet away, bolting out the door and chasing after them. He sent a volley of arrows down the hall in the direction they had come from, the shafts spitting nets in every direction to block the path.
There was no going back, anyway.
"Loki, take the lead. Byer, use this to do whatever hacking you can on the way." Clint tossed her his StarkPhone followed by a handgun, still running behind them. "If you know someone is H.Y.D.R.A, shoot to kill. Only hesitate if you think they might be S.H.I.E.L.D."
Elaina grabbed the gun and disengaged the safety, holding it close to her side and using her free hand to navigate the glorified smartphone as they went. "What's my priority?"
Clint huffed, unsure of how to answer. Both missions were important, but which one was more important, and which one required more urgency to be of any use?
"Send the distress call." Loki grabbed a guard by the throat and stabbed him twice in the abdomen before dropping him to the ground. "Even if we don't have specific orders to give those agents right away, they will at least know what they're walking into when they return to their base. They can do damage to H.Y.D.R.A. with or without orders; chaos has more power than you know, I assure you."
Elaina looked to Clint for confirmation, a bewildered expression on her face. She probably didn't expect Loki, of all people, to be helping her and Clint Barton take on H.Y.D.R.A.
But Clint nodded. "Do what he said." He fired a trio, a double, and another trio, watching the soldiers fall one by one, bodies stacking up in the hallway. "Loki, your priority is protecting Agent Byer. She needs to be able to focus on hacking with as few distractions as possible—the most important thing is that we get into those computers yesterday."
"Understood," was Loki's only response.
Could today get any more ridiculous?
Clint fired another arrow, knowing that it could and almost certainly would.
Loki hissed softly, using the pain in his shoulder to fuel his adrenaline. He slashed the agent's throat and held onto her corpse just long enough to ensure she was dead before he dropped the body to the floor, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the tender joint with a grunt.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side." Elaina barely glanced up from the phone Clint had given her, fingers dancing across the screen with a certain precision and accuracy that could only come from experience.
"We do not have guns on Asgard. Battle is bloody by default, and if you want to survive, you cannot hesitate." Shrugging, Loki moved down the hall a little further and motioned for her to follow. "It would be foolish for me to try and use a gun in a situation such as this. I am best with knives, and we can't afford many mistakes, so knives are what I intend to use, as long as they are capable of accomplishing the task at hand."
Elaina gave a soft, almost cynical chuckle. "Trust me, I wasn't suggesting you use a gun. You're doing great. I just…" She shrugged, never taking her eyes off the device in her hands. "I don't know."
Loki glanced over his shoulder, feeling an odd mix of sympathy and vexation. "It's doubt. How can we be the good guys when we're justifying such a brutal slaughter? It's an excellent question, one that has crossed just about every mind in the history of the universe. I don't believe there is an answer."
Elaina didn't say anything, but she didn't ignore him, either. She was giving his words a copious amount of thought in between commands and keystrokes. Her silence gave him time to sort out his own thoughts and prepare for whatever was next, so he didn't press her for a reply.
We're on the seventeenth floor, and Barton said he would meet us in the stairwell outside the door to the eighteenth. We have to be getting close to the top, but the amount of people in this building who were loyal to H.Y.D.R.A. is overwhelming. Barton is trying to utilize what resources we have right now, but there couldn't have been more than two hundred men when we last saw him. I have to wonder, even if we do manage to get things under control here, will it really matter in the end?
Loki grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, heading into the stairwell with cautious steps. There was no one on the same level as them, and a quick look up and down told him they were alone.
"Agent Barton said to wait if we got here before him."
"I know." Loki scowled, making his way up the flight carefully. "But we can only wait so long. We have no way of knowing whether he's late or dead."
Elaina nodded, burying her face in her phone again. "I'm trying to get a secure line up, but H.Y.D.R.A. is actively blocking the attempts."
Loki scowled. "They must have extra manpower on hand. We might be winning here, but I doubt the same can be said of every facility they've attempted to overthrow." Chewing on his lip, he peered through the stairwell door window. "It looks empty. They're bound to be coming up behinds us." Sighing, he pressed his back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "It's almost been a minute already, and a minute is a precious thing in battle. Barton gets four more, and if he's still not here, we're moving on. We can't afford to wait."
Elaina gave a quick nod and continued to tap away at the screen, an expression of frustration quickly overtaking her features as the seconds ticked by. Blue eyes darted back and forth, following numbers and codes Loki couldn't begin to understand, but it seemed whatever she was doing wasn't having the desired effect.
"Three minutes." Loki sighed. "Is there something else you can try if the secure line isn't working right now?"
She shook her head. "The secure line was my something else. Originally, I was trying to hack into the database, then I was trying to send the S.O.S. Now this." She stuck the phone in her mouth for a moment and pulled her hair back, tying it up before returning to the device. "It's not that I can't get in, they're just waiting for me when I do. Honestly, even if we do manage to get to Director Fury's computer, I don't know what good it will do as long as they're policing the servers."
Loki nodded his head. "Two minutes." He paused, thinking over the hacking situation and trying to decide the best way to go about removing that extra manpower. "We need to know where they're hiding Dr. Banner. They can't kill him, so he must be heavily sedated, but I would imagine they still have a lot of men on site. That's where we need to attack next, and hopefully if we cut off those heads, they'll be spread too thin to be focused on keeping you out."
Elaina nodded. "I'll see if I can find correspondence about Dr. Banner. It'll be easier than trying to break into an entire database, for sure."
Loki gave a slow nod, still thinking over the situation. "Once we have Dr. Banner, we'll be up to four people. I don't know if it would be wise for him to engage in battle, but we would at least have that option. Such an attack would certainly do damage, spread them thinner. Thor should be back fairly soon, and electrical storms as well as water are not the friends of technology. Perhaps he could throw out some interference…"
Elaina looked up at him, a crease in her brow and a look in her eyes he didn't understand.
"What?" he snapped. "What is it?"
She immediately looked down at her phone. "Nothing."
Loki scowled, not believing her but knowing he didn't have the time to argue. "Hmph." He shook his head and grabbed onto the door handle. "Time's up, Agent Byer. Let's go."
"I told you to wait for me."
"Really? You're still going on about that?"
Clint fired a smoke bomb arrow into the hallway behind them, gray fumes billowing into the passage as they continued to run. "Yes, I am."
"Don't be childish. Agent Byer and I were able to get Dr. Banner's location and secure Director Fury's office without you, and you were able to eliminate far more H.Y.D.R.A. agents because things were under control." Loki looked down at the StarkPhone in his hands and made a sharp left, following the directions that would hopefully lead them to Bruce's holding cell.
"I know. It was a smart move." Clint fell in step beside Loki, firing two sets of three arrows to deal with the group of agents up ahead. "But I told you to wait."
"Are you pouting?"
"No."
Loki shook his head with a sigh, and Clint cracked a small smile. If not for the part where Loki was a genocidal war criminal that couldn't be trusted for even a fraction of a second outside of situations that directly benefitted him, he would make a good ally.
"You're rather quick to fire. Aren't you concerned you might be killing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?" Loki asked, pointing out a path up ahead and to the right. "That way."
Clint shook his head, following closely behind and sending seven more arrows down the option to the left. "No. If they're firing at me, they're H.Y.D.R.A."
"How can you be so certain?" Loki questioned, slightly out of breath.
Clint looked at him, but Loki's gaze was still on the phone, so Clint turned his attention back to their surroundings. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is more than my occupation. S.H.I.E.L.D. is my home—my family. No one here would think I was part of H.Y.D.R.A." He paused to collapsed his bow and throw a grenade out behind them, not liking the volume of the approaching footsteps. "Even Byer didn't believe it at first, and I was pointing an arrow at her head."
Loki pursed his lips, wincing at the explosion behind them and the subsequent pain in his ears. "I see. This must be… difficult for you."
Clint's expression darkened. "I've done worse things to them."
Loki must have sensed the danger because he immediately fell silent, not uttering a single word in his defense.
Good.
They came skidding to a halt outside the door that allegedly held their companion behind it.
"Why would they put him on a hellicarrier?" Loki wondered aloud, stepping back and allowing Clint to work on the keypad by the door.
"I have two theories. One, they don't have anywhere else to contain him until the fighting is over. Two, they intend to drop him in the middle of a populated area and let survival instincts bring out the Hulk. Or both." Clint took a step back and readied his bow, muttering under his breath. "I hope he's still Bruce when we get in there."
The door hissed as the seal was broken, pushing inward slightly and sliding away into the wall, thick metal creaking and whining with the movement.
"Dr. Banner?" Loki called softly.
Clint ran into the room but bypassed the hospital bed with Bruce strapped to it, going straight to the computers and trying to figure out exactly what was keeping Bruce unconscious.
Loki continued toward the center of the room, going to the side of the bed that allowed him to watch both Bruce and the now-open door. "Can't we just remove the mask and intravenous drip feeds?" He reached out, fingers tugging lightly at the restraints. "Once the drugs wear off, he should wake up, yes?"
"Yes, but I don't know if they set any traps. It could be rigged so taking him off the sedatives will trigger the Hulk." Clint's fingers flew across the keyboard, a frown creasing his brow. "Loki, what do you know about the human body?"
Loki snorted. "I believe we've established it is next to nothing."
"Right. Stupid question." Clint ran both hands through his hair. "I have no idea what this means. I'm just going to shut the whole thing off and see what warnings pop up."
Loki walked a little closer and peered at the screen, arching a brow. "So, you're going to do what I said to do two minutes ago?"
"Shut up, Loki."
Trying to get a better look at the screen, Loki took a few more steps and leaned over Clint's shoulder, effectively sending a chill up Clint's spine.
"What you said earlier…" Loki started, articulating slowly, "…about S.H.I.E.L.D. I truly am—"
"Don't." Clint kept his gaze forward, jaw tight, unable to breathe with Loki so close to his exposed back. "Not now. I'm too angry, and I wouldn't believe you. If you think about it for a while and still want to say it—preferably when we're not in a life-or-death situation—then by all means, go right ahead. But not now." He didn't spare a single glance in Loki's direction, and with a final keystroke, he turned around in the opposite direction to look at Bruce. "He should wake up any second."
"Should," Loki echoed.
Clint poked his head out into the hall. "And H.Y.D.R.A. should realize we're here in about two to three minutes."
Red lights flooded the room and adjacent hallways, alarms screaming up and down the corridors with the sound of thundering footsteps rumbling underneath, the entire base submerged in a haze of emergency as their presence was broadcasted throughout the ranks.
"Should." Loki gave Clint a devilish sort of grin and drew his knives, approaching the door cautiously. "I see two good ways to do this. One, we each take one half of the hall. Two, which I believe will be more successful, you shoot the ones in the back, and I kill the ones that get past you."
Three arrows found themselves lined up against Clint's bow. "I like option two."
The first of many agents rounded the corner, and Clint released the string, readying three more before the previous set found their mark. Anytime you want to wake up, Banner. Any time at all. He didn't expect Bruce to listen to him, however, so he kept firing at the black and gray swarm in the distance.
"Agent Barton," his earpiece crackled. "I'm in the database, but there's nothing in here about Stark's location. I found a transcript of a phone conversation saying he was 'obtained,' but I don't know where they took him. I'm trying to contact Jarvis, and I'll give you an update when I do. This line is secure, and I extended the frequency to Agent Romanoff."
Clint made brief noises of comprehension in between her sentences and his attacks. Loki was an excellent cover, somehow able to distinguish between Clint waiting for a closer target and Clint actually needing help.
"Captain America is on Hellicarrier No. 3," she continued, "and we have no Bifrost activity in the United States within the last twenty-four hours. I'll do a global search as soon as I can."
"We have Banner, but he's still unconscious. We're still on Hellicarrier No. 2. What is our next course of action?"
"Clint," Natasha's voice broke into the conversation. "Steve is taking down the hellicarriers, and I can't reach him to tell him where you are. You need to get off the hellicarrier and find Tony."
"We don't have any idea where he is. Agent Byer couldn't find a location. He could be anywhere." Clint started walking backwards and let Loki cover the door while he returned to Bruce's bedside. "Banner is still unconscious. Tell me how I'm supposed to carry him out with dozens of H.Y.D.R.A. agents trying to attack when it's just me and Loki."
"Be amazing."
"That doesn't help me."
"Good luck, Clint."
"I hate you."
The line went dead, and Clint let out a frustrated growl, collapsing his bow and quickly—albeit sloppily—maneuvering Bruce over his shoulder. Thankfully, Bruce wasn't all that heavy, despite the immense weight of his other half, but there was still no way Clint could fire arrows.
"Loki! I need you to cover me. We're going to the hanger." Clint stepped into the hall and placed himself directly behind the god of mischief. "It's all you. Good luck."
"Gee, thanks," Loki drawled, dropping another body to the floor. Sliding his knife into his holster, he grabbed two pistols from the bodies on the floor and began firing down the hall, evidently understanding their need for long-distance damage.
"Huh." Loki fired a few more rounds. "Seems I'm not so terrible with a gun, after all."
Clint watched the soldiers fall like dominoes, a haughty grin curling his lips. "Your aim could be better." It really wasn't a joking matter.
Loki sighed and fired the last two bullets, returning to his default weapon as the hall started to clear. "Everyone's a critic." Shaking his head, he turned the conversation back to business. "You said we're going to the hanger. I assume we're going to steal a jet, but then what?"
"That's a great question," was Clint's winded reply. "When I have an answer, I'll let you know."
"Fat lot of good you are."
It really shouldn't have been funny. It really shouldn't have been funny.
But it was. Fighting side by side with Loki was almost as entertaining as fighting alongside Stark or Natasha. The bantering, the remarks, the sarcastic wit—it was all so casual, flowing naturally as if things were supposed to be that way.
But he's going to betray us.
For the moment, however, they were on the same side, trying to achieve the same goal. So, Clint tucked away any thoughts about Loki's long-term loyalty and started forming a skeleton of a plan in his mind.
Where would I take Tony Stark? Where would I be able to contain him and keep him away from electronics? Where would I try to hide one of the most famous men in the world?
"Barton, is this what we're looking for?"
Clint stopped by the door and looked in the window, muttering a quick word of confirmation and stepping back to allow Loki to open it up. He put one foot through the door, and in the split second it took him to lift the other one, he had assessed the layout of the room and determined that H.Y.D.R.A. had not expected this move. His next step took him into open space, and the third put him a good yard or so from the door.
Loki fell in step behind him, occasionally sending a projectile through the air towards an unfortunate agent who happened to turn their head at the wrong time, but for the most part, their transit remained unseen.
Clint picked a small jet—fast and adept at maneuvering through violent airspace—and he darted up the ramp, pulling one of the collapsible beds from the wall and dropping Bruce rather unceremoniously. "Keep this plane empty until I can get the ramp shut."
Loki nodded his head without a word, drawing two of his knives and focusing all of his attention on the broad opening at the back of the aircraft. It wouldn't take long for someone to find the fallen guards, and once they did, it would be Hallway Ambush: The Sequel.
"If we could get this thing in the air immediately, that would be superb." Loki glanced over his shoulder. "Or at least let me borrow your gun so I don't wind up throwing all of my knives away."
Clint sighed, twisting in the pilot's chair and tossing one of his unused handguns at Loki's head. "Here. But ammo is limited, too. Don't forget that."
Loki grabbed the weapon and trained it on the doorway. "I am aware of that as well as the fact I am firing from a longer distance and increasing my chances of missing. It's worth it, in the long run."
"Don't forget to take off the safety, genius."
"Barton! Get this jet in the air!"
Clint didn't need to be told a third time. He started the engines and flipped half a dozen switches, one of which instigated the slow raising of the ramp. I've got about three minutes before they figure out we're rogue and try to shoot us down. He put the plane in drive—for lack of a better, more accurate term—and began rolling down the strip.
"Lo—"
Three shots were fired in quick succession, a small intermission filling the craft with silence before two more rang out.
"Loki, hold on to Banner!"
Loki dove for the unconscious man, grabbing onto both him and the bed he was laying on.
Wheels hit the end of the runway, and then they were suspended in midair, nothing to keep them up but wings and jet fuel. Bullets rained down on the metal frame, but no significant damage was done, and they were out of range in less than a minute.
"You can let him go now," Clint called. "I don't think they'll be scrambling their jets. They've got bigger things to worry about." His lips twitched into a light smile at the sight of the compromised hellicarrier sinking toward the ground. Go get'em, Cap.
"Right. Good." Loki's voice filtered up from the back, and Clint spared a glance in the rearview mirror. "We stole a jet." Loki ran his hands through his hair, relief showing on his face as a long, steady stream of air passed through his lips. "We stole a jet from H.Y.D.R.A., and we're still alive."
Clint smirked. "Feels good to do the impossible as a human, doesn't it?"
Loki gave him a dirty look, but he didn't deny the truth in the statement.
Clint said nothing, but he was certain his face showed enough to satisfy. Unfortunately, given that they were still in H.Y.D.R.A. airspace, the tension was just as palpable as the relief. It was an odd mix, but it was certainly better than the overwhelming chaos they had experienced for the majority of the day.
"Dr. Banner is waking up." Loki shifted closer to the bed, a frown darkening his features. "I only hope he's in control of himself. If he unleashes the Hulk, we're going down for certain."
Clint nodded sharply, looking into his mirrors. "Try to keep him calm, and bring him up to speed gently."
"Why do I have to do it?"
"Because I'm flying a jet." Clint smirked over his shoulder. "And you've got the silver tongue."
Loki snorted and rolled his eyes, kneeling beside the fold-out bed and placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Dr. Banner, can you hear me?"
For a moment, there was nothing, but then Loki spoke again. From the sound of things, Bruce was conscious but still too drugged-up to know what was going on.
"Dr. Banner, this is Loki. Hawkeye is here, too. You're safe. Do you understand?"
"Hmm…" Bruce opened his mouth, but nothing coherent came out. "Uhh…"
"It's alright. Don't push yourself. Just relax and let us handle everything."
Bruce inhaled deeply, slurring his words. "S'cold…"
Loki sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I don't have anything to help with that. This jet wasn't exactly designed for comfort."
"Here." Clint switched on the autopilot for half a second and shed his uniform jacket. "Tell him to ignore the blood stains."
Loki gave Clint a curious look but walked up to the front and retrieved the coat, taking it back and draping it over Bruce's body carefully. "Better?"
Clint shut the remainder of the conversation out, speaking into his comm in the hopes of receiving good news in return. "This is Barton. Loki and I have Banner, who is regaining consciousness. We stole a jet, and we are currently going southeast. Any update on Stark's location?"
For a moment, there was nothing but static, and Clint's heart dropped to his stomach, but then Elaina's voice cut through.
"This is Agent Byer. I hacked the Iron Man suit, and I can confirm that it is functioning; however, Jarvis is not responding, and there are no life signs in the suit."
Clint sighed heavily and shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. "Any sign of H.Y.D.R.A. running the suit or containing it?"
"Without Jarvis, I have no way of knowing. I'm going to try and hack into the GPS and visuals, but I can't guarantee anything."
Growling, Clint took one hand off the controls and tried to navigate the onboard computer systems. "Where is the signal coming from?"
"Twelve different locations around the globe."
"Probably H.Y.D.R.A. then."
"Or Stark trying to keep H.Y.D.R.A. off of his scent," she countered.
Clint sighed. "Can't we just keep things black and white so I have a clear target to shoot at?"
"No." Elaina exhaled into the mic. "I'll narrow it down somehow. For now, you need to go to the Castle. It's been completely taken over by H.Y.D.R.A. It's unlikely they left any members of S.H.I.E.L.D. alive, and we need to cut our losses there."
Clint frowned, glancing in the rearview at the two battered men under his command. "And what would you like me to do about that?"
"Something. Anything. I don't know, but we're losing this fight, and without Director Fury, I'm making up my own orders as I go along."
"What do you mean without him?" Clint abandoned his attempt to operate the computer, placing both hands on the sticks again. "What happened?"
"Agent Barton…" Elaina's voice crackled through the speaker, sympathetic tones mildly distorted by the static. "Director Fury is dead. I'm sorry, I thought Romanoff would have told you. She was there when he flatlined."
Clint didn't say anything for a moment, pushing through the shock only to find himself torn between anger and logic. He can't be dead. Natasha wouldn't keep that from me. She has to know something we don't. He can't be dead. He can't be.
"Agent Barton?"
"Right, got it. We'll do something about the Castle. Let me know if you find out anything about Stark. I'm guessing the global Bifrost activity scan hasn't revealed anything yet?"
"No, sir."
"Keep me posted."
"Will do."
Clint dropped the connection and let out a deep sigh, brow creased with frustration and—as much as it burned him to admit—doubt. She would have told me. Byer and I don't know all the details, and Natasha couldn't afford to communicate the truth through the wire. She would have told me. Fury isn't dead. He can't be. She—
"Barton, is everything alright?" Loki's voice filtered up from the back.
"Yeah." Clint responded too quickly, he could feel it. "We're going to Canada. There's a S.H.I.E.L.D. base there that isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore and needs destroying." Trying to focus on the task at hand, he turned to look over his shoulder. "Bruce?"
"Yup, I can do it." Bruce slowly sat up, leaning against the side of the jet and holding a hand to his head. "If you wanna drop me over the area…"
"Are you sure?" Clint flipped on the autopilot and turned his chair around. "If you're not comfortable unleashing the Hulk—"
"Of course I'm not comfortable, but my comfort isn't exactly the most important thing in the world right now. If we need to take down the base, we need to take down the base." Bruce shrugged his shoulders, his acceptance of the situation only half-genuine. "It's the Battle of New York all over again. We're going to do what needs to be done. Period."
The three men stood in silence for a few minutes, and then Clint turned back toward the controls. "It'll take at least an hour and a half to get there. Try and rest until then."
There was silence from behind, so orders were presumably followed, and then Loki appeared on Clint's right.
"Still no sign of Thor?" Loki pretended to be fascinated by the blinking lights and buttons despite the obvious tension stretched across his features.
"Nope." Clint heaved a sigh.
Loki scowled. "That's not right. Heimdall would most certainly have seen the mayhem by now and reported on it." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Barton… are you certain it's, ah, wise to unleash the Hulk?"
Clint gave him a brief smirk. "He was able to control himself last time. I don't see why this should be any different."
"Oh. Well then." Loki sniffed, crinkling his nose with an expression of disapproval, the former tightness replaced with a childish, bratty attitude. "Good to know."
Clint snickered to himself, shaking his head.
"It's not funny," Loki mumbled.
"It's a little funny." Clint didn't try to hide his smile. "You totally deserved it."
Loki glared at him, but the expression didn't last, quickly dissolved by slouched shoulders and a sigh of resignation. "Yes, I suppose I did."
Clint's grin expanded, another chuckle rising in his throat. "You should have seen the look on your face when you turned around to see us all standing there." He really did try to stop smiling at that point, but every thought lead to one that was more amusing than its predecessors. "'If it's all the same to you… I'll have that drink now.'"
Loki folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot impatiently. "Are you finished yet?"
Clint grinned, color slowly returning to his knuckles as he eased up on his hold,. "Ehehe. I guess so."
"You weren't there to see how I interrupted his 'I am a god, you dull creature' speech."
Both men turned to look at Bruce, who was sitting up on his bunk with a sleepy grin.
"What was it you said?" Bruce tilted his head to the side. "Something about not being bullied?"
Loki glowered at him. "I thought you didn't remember what you did as the Hulk."
"I don't." Smiling, Bruce leaned against the side of the aircraft and scooted closer to the end of the bunk. "But I wanted to see what I did to you, so I looked at the security footage."
Clint huffed. "And you didn't share it with the rest of us because…?"
"You would have killed the humor by watching it one hundred times the first day," Bruce retorted dryly. "But I do still have it. If we survive this, I'll let you watch it. For a fee, of course."
Clint held up his hands in total surrender. "Name your price."
"Oh, joy." Loki rolled his eyes. "Do be sure to let me know before you watch it so I can have plugs permanently glued into my ears."
Clint glanced at the screen, watching the time tick down as they drew closer to their destination. It was flecked with blood, red speckles and smudges leftover from when he had grappled with the controls.
"Did Cap ever tell you about his first internet experience?" Breaking the silence rather abruptly, Clint cast a toothy grin over the group, trying to ease the weight on his chest.
Bruce frowned. "No, I don't think so."
Loki shook his head. "He did not, no."
So, Clint told another funny story, which led to another tale from Bruce, and eventually, with much pestering and blackmail, one from Loki as well. That was how they passed the time. Three men, stained with blood and flying a stolen, armored jet to a location where they would spill more blood and steal more weapons, all in the name of the greater good. Three men—no, Clint thought, three monsters pretending to be men pretending to be heroes—trying to smile a little while longer, the world below them fading away until it was just them and a jet.
And a lot of stupid stories.
Ugh… seriously? Who set an alarm? It's Saturday.
Probably Steve or Bruce—those crazy morning people—and one of their stupid group projects that required everyone getting up at the buttcrack of dawn.
"Jarvis, turn off—" He stopped, caught off-guard by the pain in his throat and the hoarseness of his voice. "Jarvis?"
There was no reply, and after a few moments spent in silence, he decided it was time to get up and find out what was going on. Except he couldn't. He couldn't move at all.
What?
He tried his legs first, but they were strapped down. There was a strap across his stomach, his hips, and his chest. He tried his arms, but they were even worse, restrained and tangled in a mess of what felt like tubes and wires.
Felt like.
He couldn't see—couldn't even sense light versus dark—and as the situation finally sank in, he panicked.
I'm in captivity, I can't move, I don't know where I am, it's happening again, it's happening again, it can't happen again, I can't do this, I can't—
The alarm, which he now realized was a heart monitor, got faster and more erratic as his panic escalated. Visions of a dark cave and a car battery flashed before his unseeing eyes, a flurry of languages he didn't understand meshing together to form angry words and plots against innocent lives, lives they wanted him to take.
"Mr. Stark, it would be wise of you to calm down. We wouldn't want to have to sedate you again, now would we?"
He flinched at the unfamiliar voice, quickly slipping beyond the reach of reason as fear escalated. I can't go back there, no again, never again, please let me out, let me out, let me—
"Hood, what's going on in here?"
"I was just about to sedate him again, sir."
"Good. Make sure he's completely unresponsive before you leave him unattended."
There was a pinprick in his arm, and he was taken over by a numb, lucid feeling moments later. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out; whatever had been left of his voice was completely gone, his tongue turning to rubber in his mouth.
"Bring the arc reactor down to the lab. We're ready for it."
"Yes, sir."
"Hail, H.Y.D.R.A."
"Hail, H.Y.D.R.A.!"