Chapter 37: Pirates of the Raft

October 31

Howlett Manor

Coulson called the kids in — at least the ones that he knew were able to get out and away from the place — for what he hoped was a quick mission. All intel suggested that Osborn was pushing to take control of whatever SHIELD facilities he could, and though he'd obviously commandeered the Triskellion, he still couldn't access almost half of it.

But the Triskellion was the least of his worries. Particularly when news came in that Osborn had his sights on the Raft, SHIELD's most premier prison situated well off the coast. It held the very worst that Marvel had to offer, and Coulson had the sinking feeling that should Osborn take the Raft, every single creep there would be released into the general public wearing SHIELD uniforms.

It sounded like an Osborn move anyhow. And he didn't want to give him a chance to do exactly that.

"So, what's the deal?" Peter asked with a grin as he dropped into a seat nearby.

Coulson looked around the room and frowned. "Is this everyone?"

America waved her hand. "Fall flu bug," she said.

"Right, of course," Coulson said distractedly. "We have a situation. Osborn has a group heading to the Raft. We need to keep them from taking it over."

"Yeah, he does not need to have a prison full of bullies," Peter said, making a face. "Figures he'd get along with 'em."

"It's not just bullies," Coulson clarified. "It's the worst of the worst. We keep them on the Raft because even if they broke out, they'd drown trying to get to shore."

"I was there for a while," Natasha said softly. "The security was… intense. I doubt his aim is only to set people free. Anyone who he gets his hands on…" She shook her head.

"Which is exactly why we need to stop him," Coulson agreed.

"I'm in," America said. "I haven't gotten to hit anything in a while anyway."

"I hate to ask it, but considering how many are down and out for various reasons … this is an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation," Coulson admitted, looking specifically at Clint, who had really only come with Natasha because he didn't want to be left out of the loop.

"When do we leave?" Logan asked.

"I'd like wheels up in twenty minutes," Coulson said.

Most of the kids in the room were nodding, but Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "You sure about this, boss?" he asked.

Coulson looked up at him and let out a sigh. "If Xavier and Natasha think you're okay, then I believe them."

Clint nodded, though he glanced at Scott. "Um. I'll... stick close just in case," he muttered Scott's way.

Scott nodded but was sure to reply quietly. "Whatever you want — but I doubt you'll need it."

With that decided, the group of kids headed to the jet in twenty minutes flat — with Peter, Logan, Natasha and Clint as well as America, Scott, and Betsy. Quill and Remy met them there too to round out the group — a pretty decent group, all things considered.

They flew down to District Four, touching down at the base that Coulson had negotiated with Odin so that they could borrow a boat, since Natasha was quick to point out that the facility had a good security system set up against aerial attacks. This late in the year, the seas would be a bit rougher, at the end of hurricane season, so their better bet was to come by sea if they wanted the element of surprise.

Clint was a bit subdued, still trying to convince himself that he was alright to come out on a mission — until Peter very quietly spoke up. "Does anyone know how to drive a boat? Do ... do you drive boats, or is there some special word, or…?"

"Navigate. You navigate boats," Logan said.

Clint let out a soft grin. "I'm great at boats," he said.

"Good. You're at the wheel then," Logan said without any hesitation. "Though I ain't gonna ask how the hell you got to be good at boats, comin' from the desert …"

The trip out into the ocean facility lasted for well over a day, and while the tropical storm that was building further out wasn't due to hit them yet, the seas were definitely rough. Peter turned a horrible green color early on, and America was so miserable that Betsy was half fighting her just to try and help her at least keep some water down.

By the time they got close enough to the metal island in the sea, the waves were tall enough to hide their craft entirely, and Peter had already declared five times that morning that they were going to die in the middle of the ocean and no one would ever know.

Clint got them pretty close to the little man-made island, enough that they could tie down and rappel up the long legs extending into the ocean — with Peter and America half-clinging to Natasha and Betsy respectively, though both were looking better once they were on more relatively solid ground high above the rising seas.

The group of them made their way carefully through the black metal facility, the gentle groaning as the waves hit below them much more muffled inside than out. Scott kept nearly his entire attention on Clint, who looked a bit spooked as they wandered the place, but it wasn't until they were much further in that they finally found who they were looking for.

It was obvious Natasha had been right about the place being a trap, as the surrounding halls and doors slid shut the second the group of them stepped toward the much larger, central room, where not only Osborn but his new 'Avengers' were waiting, with plenty of backup.

"What. Are. They supposed to be?" Quill asked, almost laughing to himself as he took in the group of them — five dressed-up heroes in old parade outfits.

"Knock-off versions of us, looks like," Logan replied. "Which one are you supposed to be, Quill?"

"I didn't get the memo that we were supposed to bring costumes," Quill said. "I could have dressed up as one of the Spidermen."

"You could have dressed up as Groot," Logan replied.

"Not tall enough," America said, her fists raised. "Let's just pound 'em. I have a fiance to get back to, and in the meantime, I'm more than willing to knock some heads if they're asking for it."

"You sure you ready for dat, petit? Still look a lil' bit green 'round de gills," Remy said.

She shot him a look. "If nothing else, I'll make sure I barf all over Norman."

"Might be better to jus' hit him. He go down jus' like de rest of us."

"I'll do that too."

Osborn looked absolutely delighted as he turned to face the group of them, grinning maliciously as his soldiers and mercenaries alike started to file in. "It's rude to keep your hosts waiting," he all but cackled. "With your reputations, I was expecting you fifteen hours ago."

"Well, you gave real crap directions," Logan grumbled.

But Osborn looked past Logan to Peter and kept right on cackling. "Spidey's looking a little green," he called out. "That's my look, Spiderman — unless you're interested in joining up?"

"Yeah, no, that isn't my kind of thing. You're a bad guy," Peter replied. "I'll stick with the good guys, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Osborn was still looking gleeful. "You can all die together. Your replacements are waiting to get their new titles anyhow," With that, he made a motion with his hand, and the 'Avengers' and soldiers rushed forward to fight.

America and Remy both rushed forward to take on the guy in the war armor — Osborn called him 'Ares' — with both fists and staff swinging to meet his rather intimidating-looking axe. The black-clad spider-knockoff rushed for Peter, but before he could get there, Clint tackled the guy, leaving Peter to deal with the purple-clad knockoff archer instead.

"We'll tag-team," Clint called out Peter's way. "Guy can't match my aim anyway. No way."

Peter nodded at that, glad to see that Clint was at least feeling a little more like himself with the fight, though Quill and Scott had the false archer, as well as a blonde girl in Carol's old suit, well in hand.

Across the room, there was a small group of young girls dressed in military fatigues, no older than fourteen or fifteen — probably the very last of a decrepit Red Room, just ripe for someone to scoop them up and fill them with new orders — and on Osborn's word, the half dozen or so of them went right for Logan.

He had been fighting soldiers, but when he saw the angry girls headed his way, he pushed the soldiers back and immediately retracted his claws before the army of girls swarmed him. He simply couldn't bring himself to hit little girls, even as they came at him full fury with fists and knives.

Natasha had been looking out for Clint when she saw the group of girls as they descended on Logan. She called out to Betsy, and the two of them ran to help Logan. They were reluctant to use deadly force, but that didn't mean they were reluctant to fight, and once they'd made an opening, they pushed Logan out of there so that Betsy and Natasha could really go to work putting the girls out of commission.

Meanwhile, Norman had gone right for Peter while Clint took on the guy in the spider suit. At first, Norman managed to get the drop on Peter, knocking him flat with a running tackle, though Peter was able to scramble out and to his feet before Norman could start wailing on him.

"You were never supposed to get out of that lab alive, Parker," he snarled out. "You or that simpering little blonde."

Peter ducked out of the way again, his eyes narrowed behind his mask as his clenched fists shook the slightest with rage. "Yeah, well, that plan didn't work so well for you, did it?" he growled out. "You leave Gwen out of this."

Norman cackled. "Oh, have I hit a nerve?"

Peter let out a shout and launched himself at Norman, laying into the guy with everything he had. Norman stopped cackling for a moment as he scrambled back and away from Peter, though he regained a bit of his sneer as he managed to put a little distance between himself and Peter and reached out to snap his fingers and in a clear, loud tone, said, "Heel, boy."

In an instant, Clint's head came up so that his gaze could find Norman, and he completely abandoned the fight with the faux Spiderman to come at Peter with a flying tackle, clearly intent on tearing the younger boy to pieces. When he saw it, Scott had to take just a moment to break free of the fake Hawkeye he was fighting to come after the real Clint, and the dark-clad Spiderman tried to tackle Scott as well — until Remy got in the way.

"Don't worry 'bout dese here dime store fighters," Remy called out his way. "You jus' take care o' de real t'ing."

With Remy working the bo staff, Scott had the opening he needed to run and pull Clint off of Peter, the two of them falling into a wrestling match as Scott tried to put him in an arm hold or knock him out.

After Natasha and Betsy had subdued the girls, it was clear to Betsy that the other girl was furious, glancing constantly over at Clint and Scott, who were fighting hard. Scott was slightly hampered by the fact that the soldiers around them were actively working to try and get him off Clint, though Quill was doing his best to help.

The problem was that with Scott and Quill both trying to help Clint, the fake 'Avengers' had the advantage, so Betsy and Natasha were knee-deep in fighting off Osborn's crew. Natasha tore into the fake archer in particular — probably letting off a little steam — while Betsy pulled the black-clad spider off of Peter and laid into him as well. But they were barely keeping their heads above water, and they knew it.

Logan, meanwhile, had been cutting through soldiers headed his way to try and help America when the soldiers pulled back and he found himself surrounded by black-clad mercenaries with all sorts of nasty weaponry — everything from throwing stars and nunchucks to sai and tanto blades. He retracted the claws quickly and drew the katana he'd brought along with barely enough room to block the first of many blows as the mercs began to push him further away from the battle.

It took him a lot longer than it should have before he realized that he had been separated from the rest of the harder he fought to get back to them, the more expertly they diverted him and pushed him away from the other ex-tributes until they were outside.

Logan knew he was in trouble as he dodged yet another attack from the idiot wannabe in his stripes holding the chains. The railing outside the complex hanging over the rolling waves was slippery, and the grated catwalk wasn't much better, not to mention the deafening sound of the ocean waves battering the pylons holding the island high over the sea.

When he slipped and nearly lost his footing, Logan used the opportunity to kick the legs out of the guy that was causing him the most trouble, and he almost didn't hear the clunk as the merc hit his head before tumbling into the water below. From the grated catwalk, he fought back against the men attacking him as they forced him into a corner and then out over the waves to avoid a killing blow that would have taken his head off neatly.

He found himself with his katana sheathed as he hung from a soaked rope, with mercenaries on one side and a sheer drop to the sea on the other. The way the waves were crashing against the pylons was all the evidence he needed that falling into the water was not the way to go. Instead, he began to climb the rope as the creeps shot at him.

They were unable to correct for the wind, though, and most of what they were lobbing or shooting his way caught in the gale as Logan tried to ignore them. When he got to the top of the rope and clambered over the railing, he only had a few moments to breathe before the 'Dark' Wolverine started the offensive.

The two of them didn't need to speak — which was good, because the wind was howling as they faced off in the middle of an incoming storm. A flicker of movement at the rail caught Logan's eye, and as he drew the katana again, he swung it around to hack the rope in half, sending the mercs that had been following him straight down into the water.

By the time he'd raised his blade again, Daken had already lunged forward and was pushing Logan further away from the massive center of the island, out onto the thin railing that was soaked with seawater. It was bad enough that the wind was pushing both of them, and simply keeping the swords on track with their path was hard enough, let alone trying to land a hit. But neither of them moved in any direction but further out.

Daken had tried to shout something at Logan, but Logan simply couldn't hear him over the wind, and it was a lucky hit when Daken's katana glanced off Logan's blade to slice through Logan's left bicep nearly to the bone.

He was out an arm — or the better part of the strength behind it — as Daken pushed him farther out still to where the railing became more flimsy-looking. Before long, he had Logan in a crouch, trying to push back the katana that was aimed to slice through his neck.

In a desperate move, Logan kicked out and pushed up at an angle, and the taller Daken tumbled right on top of him, though he didn't miss the opportunity to strike Logan in the throat and try to disarm him. The two of them wrestled a bit — and the newcomer used dirty tricks to try and push Logan off the catwalk, though his action worked against him too, and both of them found themselves dangling from the catwalk with the sea and the remaining ninjas boiling angrily below them.

Logan tried to simply climb up, but of course Daken didn't miss the opportunity to try and take a cheap shot, and it wasn't too hard for him to reach out across the short expanse to kick him where his arm was injured.

Dangling from one hand, Logan shook his head at the situation. Ropes billowing in the driving wind and rain, high seas, swords ... and he only wanted out of it and onto dry land. He gave up trying to do this the way Daken clearly wanted, and instead, he popped the claws on his injured arm and shoved them through Daken's throat, drawing down and slicing through bone, muscle, and sinew before the fake Wolverine's grip failed — finally — and the cocky creep fell into the sea below.

Logan tried to pull himself up, but he simply didn't have the strength in his arms. Instead, he found himself trying to catch one of the rain-soaked ropes to slide down to the railing below and force his way back inside if necessary. But when he found himself on the catwalks again, he still had the mercs to contend with. Before they slipped away, they were sure to empty their guns — and though some of them hit their mark, it only allowed Logan to slide down to the grated pathways and simply sit. He was wounded, worn, and in a state of sensory overload as the rain intensified and the wind continued to blow.

The fight inside the facility was still raging as loud as the storm outside. Natasha and Betsy had come to help America and Remy, as the hulking Ares was holding his own against attacks from America that would have been devastating, especially with her brass knuckles. And while America was pounding on Ares with both boots and fists, he had managed a few solid hits that had her favoring one side and wincing with every breath. Though Remy was fast with his bo staff, the soldiers seemed to have concentrated on him after he knocked out the blonde girl on the Dark Avengers team with a wink and a thump.

Peter had recovered from the surprise attack from Clint long enough to run and help with the fight against the black Spiderman, though that was derailed quickly when there was a crash, and anyone who could afford to look up did so to see that part of the Raft had caught on fire. The soldiers in that area had paused to fight the flames for a moment, but their work was quickly derailed when Norman returned, this time on a glider and with those familiar, beeping bombs.

"Oh no," Peter said, turning to aim his wrist shooters. "I am not sinking in this rusty tin can."

He took a couple shots at the glider that Norman ducked and dodged until, at last, Peter was able to shoot it down. In the smaller space of the facility, the glider didn't have far to fall, and Norman used it as momentum to launch himself Peter's way, two more bombs in hand. Peter had to throw himself sideways and flatten himself against the ground to keep from being blown to pieces. Part of the wall crumbled and sank, and those inside could hear the wind and waves shrieking through the hole Osborn had now created, some of the spray of rain and sea hitting Peter's neck as he stood up.

"Are you really gonna take this whole place down with us just to win?" Peter shouted.

Osborn cackled at the question. "It would be a fitting end, wouldn't it? You and me, the raging winds, the open ocean. Think of it!"

Peter shook his head. "You really are insane," he mumbled out quietly before he ran forward to tackle Osborn.

He was building up a good rhythm to pound Norman down when something hit him across the shoulders and sent him flying, and he looked up in time to see that Clint had managed to wriggle free and was holding his bow like a staff, Scott was running to catch up to him with a slight hitch in his step as he held his side. This time, when Scott tackled Clint, Peter ran to help, and Natasha called out to them both. "The arrow with the purple and gold tips!"

Peter and Scott glanced at each other before Pete pulled the arrow out of the quiver and recognized the needlelike tip. He pushed it into the side of Clint's arm, and the archer stilled, but by the time both of them looked up again, Norman was gone.

It looked like Venom and Ares has followed their boss's retreat, though both Scott and Peter were surprised to see that the 'other' Wolverine was missing entirely. The combined forces of the lady assassins in the group as well as Remy and America were simply too much for Norman's forces to handle, and Peter winced as Betsy cleaned her sword and sheathed it.

Still, they were vulnerable. Clint was unconscious, and Scott was holding his chest and wincing every time he moved. America was a matched set to Scott, though she favored the other side, and her uniform had been torn under the ribs so that the others could see the deep purple bruising.

But Osborn's forces has retreated, whether because of the fight or the storm or both. And the little group of Tahiti fighters made their way outside, with those who were relatively uninjured helping the others.

They found Logan outside in the rain, lying on the catwalk with one arm dangling over the edge. Quill simply reached down to pick him up and carry him down to their boat as the rain finally started to subside, though Peter and America both were eyeing the ocean with deep suspicion.

As they got settled into the boat, Scott started calling out directions. "Natasha, make sure Clint is restrained. We don't need him trying to shipwreck us in the middle of this," he said, and though Natasha shot him a look, she also started to pull rope out of a grappling arrow. "Betsy, America's ribs are going to need your attention. I'll take care of Logan."

"And then I'm coming after you," Betsy warned before she went to help America, who already looked green.

Scott ignored the jibe and looked around the group. "Does anyone else know how to navigate?"

"I can." Natasha looked up from her task. "But someone will need to look after Clint."

"I'll make sure he's okay," Peter promised, and the two spiders shared a quick nod before Natasha moved to the wheel.

When they got back to dry land and immediately loaded up on the blackbird, Scott was quick to report back to Coulson in surprising detail what had gone on and what the general outcome was — including his personal opinion that everyone that had been cut on the mission would need serious antibiotics after all the sea water and dirty soldiers and blood.

To Scott's surprise, no one argued with him on anything when they got back, and those that needed medical intervention all seemed ready to go to sleep as Henry and Simmons worked them over. As soon as he himself was attended to, he went straight to Charles and Coulson — to share a word with them in private away from the rest of the team so he could inform him of the obnoxious trigger phrase Osborn had used on Clint.

"We didn't get all the triggers, professor," he said quietly, the frown obvious even before he started.

"What happened, Scott?" Charles asked, the concern lining his features. "How bad was it?"

Scott sighed. "Clint turned on Peter, but I don't think it was targeted. It was more like he was trying to protect Osborn, and Peter was the one fighting him," he explained. "But he was doing his best to kill Peter before I got there — and he tried to take me and Quill out, too, once we got in the way."

For a moment, Charles just watched Scott, though Coulson was already frowning, since he knew this from the radioed report. "Did you catch the phrase?" Charles asked at last, quietly.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Scott said, sighing out all his breath as he fell into a bit of a glare. "He… well, snapped at Clint, and … then he said, 'heel, boy.'"

Coulson let out a noise that sounded like he couldn't hold it back, but Charles simply stared at Scott for a moment, the frown on his face deeper than anything Scott had seen before. "Heel?" he finally breathed out. "He told him to heel?"

Scott nodded slowly. "That's what he said."

From there, Charles got incredibly quiet, and the only outward indication that he was beyond angry was the way that his face had started to partly morph between rage and disgust. Scott was sure that he'd never seen Charles at a loss for words like that, but the irritated tapping of his fingers as he clearly ran through it in his head was a dead giveaway.

"Be prepared for a hard day when you are healed from your injuries," Charles said in a dangerous tone. "We will finish this and remove that … idiotic trigger one way or another."

"As soon as you need me," Scott agreed, frowning Charles' way. "Are you alright, Professor?"

"Far better than what Norman Osborn will be should I get a hold of him," Charles replied with a hard look in his eyes before he let out a sigh and looked up at Scott with his usual kind, understanding smile. "I'm just a bit angry, that's all, Scott. There isn't much I can do about it right now, though, I'm afraid."

"We'll get started working as soon as we can," Scott said quickly. He paused and looked Charles' way for a moment. "I didn't want to tell you over the radio. It's… not a phrase anyone should use, and I wanted to keep the circle small."

"Beyond that, it's entirely possible that it could have triggered him again," Charles said. "You did the right thing."

Scott nodded thoughtfully, then looked up at Charles. "I'll see you soon, professor."