Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I do own the OC in this chapter, however.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this crazy ride. So everyone's in a bit of trouble at this point, lol. Fennhoff's got his hand in a lot. So it's not good for anyone from here on out. Once again, much, much thanks to CoffeeRanger for working on this Clint storyline with me! It wouldn't be as angsty and depressing without you, lol. Also, from here on out, there will also be more clues as to what Fennhoff's up to, and what he wants with the Avengers. So keep an eye out for those. And with that, I won't keep you guys any longer! Enjoy!
Chapter 24- Taking the Queen
"I'm right here, Clint."
The archer's head snapped up at the quiet voice that brought him out of his racing thoughts. It sounded so familiar... The tones – hell, even the words – were ones he had grown up hearing. Almost every time he'd been upset – hiding from their dad, crying in his hidey-hole in the space between the wall and his bed, quivering in fear that the other kids or even the adults at the orphanage would find him, raging at yet another slur from one of the Carnies being directed his way – Barney would find him. His presence was almost always heralded by those very words, promising safety and security... but this time they were also not exactly right...
He clenched his teeth, fighting back the cry that threatened to escape. This couldn't be real... it couldn't be possible.
There was no way...
Yet there he was, kneeling in the middle of that fateful hospital hallway. Clint slowly pushed himself to his feet with his bow, his left leg nearly giving out from underneath him before he reached out and grasped at the wall for support. His body shaking, he took a moment to collect himself before he turned to face the figure in the hall with him. His breath caught in his chest as all the color drained from his face. Though it shouldn't have been a surprise to see the tall, broad-shouldered man with his brown hair tied back behind his head, revealing his silver earrings, wearing a familiar red and black tank top and black pants, the sight still caused him a sharp stab of pain.
But there was one detail that was able to ground him.
"Close, but near miss," he muttered, allowing himself a small chuckle as he looked at the other figure... the hallucination… or rather the android or the cosplayer Fennhoff had either created or hired, as the arrow in his leg definitely wasn't created by the gas... up and down. "Barney would never carry a crossbow."
The bow his older brother had carried while he'd been alive had been a homage to Buck Chrisholm. He knew it well, as it had even been carved similarly to the one he'd made under their mentor's guidance. That first one his brother had owned had been fashioned similarly to Buck's, though Barney had ensured to add his own personal flare to it. Buck had chuckled when he'd seen it for the first time. Even though Barney had been entirely too old for it, their mentor had ruffled his hair as he'd walked away. It was a rare gesture of affection that they hadn't been used to. To use anything else would have been a mockery to what they'd both been trained to do. It was a detail that someone who hadn't known the other man well... Fennhoff, he had to remind himself... wouldn't have necessarily known. It was a mistake, an oversight. The gas, the doctor's efforts... they'd only gone so far here.
The Barney knock-off looked down at the crossbow he held. Clint knew he was probably imagining it, especially since it was a little harder to tell since most of the other man's face was covered by a black cloth mask, but he thought he caught a flicker of distaste in his steely eyes.
"I'd consider it an upgrade," he said instead.
Clint grit his teeth, swearing under his breath, when his leg pulsed in agony and started to collapse underneath him. A quiet whimper broke through his lips as he fought to stay upright, refusing to show weakness. The other man laughed.
"You deserve that and more," the Barney rip-off muttered, nodding to Clint's wounded leg before looking at the hall around them. "Judging by how you were just screaming, I'd guess you're where you left me to die."
The archer looked back at him for a long moment, attempting to make sense of his words. He had to keep reminding himself that none of this was possible... none of this was real... As convincing as this fake Barney, or this android, could be, it wasn't his brother.
It's the gas it's the gas it's the gas it's the gas it's the...
... Right?
"But... you are dead..." he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "I... I saw you... I saw you die... I went to your memorial... It... it wasn't my fault... we all would have died if..."
Barney crossed his arms, casually picking at the string on his crossbow. "I'm sure that's what Fury, Coulson, and the others told you to make you feel better about what happened that night," he said, more to himself than the other man. "Takes the blame away from you. You do what you have to do to cope, I suppose..."
"No... no, this isn't real... this can't be real..." Clint rested his burning forehead against his arm where it was leaning against the wall, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes. It couldn't be... not Barney... "It... it's... you're not him..."
It was an android. It had to be an android or cosplayer. Because the alternative – that Barney had been alive; that he'd just left him on that hospital rooftop, walked away just when Barney needed him the most, walked away when they were finally possibly going to have a chance to fix everything… he couldn't stand to think of it.
"Am I not?"
There was something in his brother's tone that he didn't like, and Clint quickly looked up to see Barney was reaching for an arrow. His muscles tensed, prepared to do the same. He could beat him on the draw... He'd always been able to beat Barney on the draw…
But he hesitated, forcing his body to relax. He was tired, he was lost with no way out, his leg was shaking so badly it was going to give out on him at any second... He stared back at the steely eyes, full of light, unlike the last time he'd seen them. He knew them so well, definitely better than he knew his own. He was surprised that they'd been replicated so accurately even if some other details were off.
Barney...
If he were going to die here, it only seemed fitting that it would be by his brother's visage. A life for a life. This was the way it should be. It was the only way it should have been.
Laura... I'm sorry...
The Barney knock-off drew the arrow and notched it on his crossbow, raising it so it was lined at the younger man's chest. Clint took a deep breath, setting his jaw as he dropped his own bow. Then he raised his hands in the air and sank to his knees as slowly as his leg would allow in surrender.
"If you wanna pull that trigger, go right ahead," he murmured, giving the other archer a small, resigned, almost sad smile. "But I'm not gonna fight you, Barney. I never could, and I'm not gonna start now."
A moment stretched out between them where neither man moved. Then, something quickly flashed through Barney's eyes, something he hadn't expected. Uncertainty. He was hesitating.
Androids didn't show those sorts of emotions. Androids didn't hesitate.
But the momentary slip didn't last long, and Barney's- the cosplayer's- eyes narrowed as he tightened his hold on his crossbow. "The Clint I know wouldn't dare die without a fight," he said, trying to keep his voice firm and steady. Though he could hear the slightest shake in it.
Clint sighed. "Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you did," he replied quietly. "But if you want me dead because it's my fault you died, and you're not a coward, then go ahead, Barney. Take the shot. End it."
What he could see of Barney's face darkened, and he raised the crossbow again and fired. Clint didn't flinch, though his brow furrowed when the arrow barely missed his head, feeling the wind of it brush against his cheek before striking the wall close beside him. His gaze lingered on the older man, surprised. Barney had always been a very accurate shot, he remembered from the times he'd seen him use a bow and arrow. Much like he was. What had made him falter?
It's not Barney. That's why he missed. He had to keep reminding himself of that, he had to stop talking to him like he was. If he didn't, he'd get lost in the illusion...
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "What's wrong, Barney? Get nervous, or-!"
Suddenly, the archer screamed in pain as the arrow emitted a sharp, sonic pulse, the high-pitched sound ripping through his skull. A sonic arrow... he'd used a sonic arrow...
… he hadn't missed after all...
He quickly covered his ears when he felt something in them pop, closing his eyes tightly as he felt something warm and wet trickle through his fingers. His screams grew fainter as a deafening ringing filled his ears until he wasn't even sure if he was still screaming or not. Clint attempted to move to his feet but was too dizzy. The hospital hallway swirled around him as he wavered on his knees, almost tipping over, wincing as his head pounded in agony.
His vision swayed and faded as he looked up at Barney, who had approached and was now towering over him. The older archer kicked his bow out of the way from where he'd dropped it as he shakily started to reach for it before drawing another arrow. A quick look at the arrowhead told him that it was just a regular arrow this time. The first had been meant to make him suffer; this one was meant to end his life.
It's not Barney...
He wasn't going to lie down and die without a fight. Not this time.
It's not Barney…
Clint grit his teeth as he staggered to his feet, biting back a cry as his left leg nearly buckled beneath him as he almost lost his equilibrium when the world moved too quickly. Barney's eyes widened as he took a step back, not expecting the sudden motion, and the younger archer reached out and managed to weakly grab the other man's wrist as he stumbled forward.
Just as the sudden rough motion caused his brother to accidentally fire.
At first, the pain didn't even register as the arrow tore through skin and tissue and muscle, the force enough to knock him off his feet if he hadn't been holding onto Barney. Clint's eyes widened, the color starting to drain from his face, as he looked down at where the weapon had burrowed deep in his chest.
The arrow had hit him in almost the exact same spot his arrow had pierced Barney all those years ago. It was fitting. Now Barney…. no, the cosplayer… would be able to leave him exactly as he had left his brother to die.
His rapid breathing grew raspy as he moved his gaze back up to those steely eyes that were once so familiar, wishing he could see the rest of the man's face that he kept covered. Though he wasn't sure what he'd rather see- how the rest of the cosplay had failed, or how his brother had somehow miraculously come back from the dead, only to stand against him.
Though if anyone should have taken the fatal shot, it should have been Barney. That right belonged to him.
But what surprised him was that those familiar eyes were wide with what could almost be horror. Why... why would a henchman that Fennhoff sent to kill him be afraid of accomplishing his own mission...?
"... Ba... Barney..." Clint managed to gasp out. His shaking hands briefly tightened around the other man's wrists, able to feel the racing pulse under the warm skin, before he began to weakly sink to the floor.
Barney reached his other arm out, getting a secure hold behind his back, before easing him to the hard ground. He lingered for a moment longer than necessary, simply looking down at him, before his eyes narrowed. While his vision still swayed, the younger archer could make out that his mouth was moving beneath the dark cloth mask he wore, though he couldn't hear what he was saying over the incessant ringing in his ears. A moment passed before his brother rested his crossbow over his shoulder and stood, a look he couldn't quite read flickering in his eyes- regret?- before he turned and walked away from him.
"You… you promised you… wouldn't let them se-separate us, B-Barney... That's what y-you said..."
Clint couldn't quite hear the words as they left his mouth over the ringing in his ears, but he felt his lips form them as they vibrated through his chest… those words, that promise the older man had made from when they were children, that he knew by heart.
The knock-off Barney paused, hesitating ever so slightly as he glanced back at him over his shoulder, before he continued on his way. Just like that, he was gone.
A tremor ran through Clint's body as he coughed forcefully, the movement spreading fire and agony through his chest as it jostled the arrow. He could feel the blood, the life, flowing out of him with each ragged, desperate gasp for breath. The pain and numbness in his leg was all but forgotten; it didn't matter since he wasn't leaving the hospital... no, the warehouse... The pounding in his temples increased as the ringing in his ears finally began to subside, replaced with what could only be described as a rushing sound. It was all he could hear as his vision continued to sway precariously. Darkness appeared at the corners of his eyes, threatening to grab him and pull him under. He let out a shuddering breath as his body continued to shake, almost ready to allow it to claim him.
... Laura...
His wife's name flashed through his mind, the first thing to be louder than the rushing that was swallowing him whole. He knew he couldn't just lie there and give in. Laura's pretty, smiling face lingered above him, giving him something to reach out for and hold on to...
The hospital... the warehouse... shook around him, down to its very foundation. It could crumble around him, burying him inside, for all it mattered now.
He should have called Laura... how he wished he could hear her voice tell him she loved him just one more time, how he wished he could hear his children's laughter as he drifted off... But it was too late. The darkness, the rushing, were surrounding him, drowning him, as his body tried and failed to fight them back. He took one more gasping breath, his hand reaching out for something- for someone- that wasn't there. His body slowly stilled in its trembling. His chest shuddered.
... Laura... I'm sorry... I... love...
The world fell away around him, and Clint allowed his eyes to fall closed as the shadows pulled him under.
Tony watched with wide-eyed horror as the mysterious man walked away from where he'd left Clint lying on the floor on the security feed. He leaned closer to the screen, resting a trembling hand against it, right next to where he could see the archer was gasping for breath. He let out his own harsh, shaking breath as he looked closer at the arrow deep in his chest. No doubt it was a fatal wound if no one got to him in time. Scott and Wanda were both too far gone in their own heads due to the gas… and if no one else knew he was there or that they'd been ambushed…
"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"
Steve's question from what felt like another lifetime, from when Phil Coulson had died, resurfaced amid his racing thoughts. He'd been so adamant then to say that they weren't soldiers. Though with the Accords, those who'd signed were a little closer to being them, he realized. Though looking back on it, what else had really annoyed him about that question was how… detached the Captain had been from the words he'd spoken. And it'd made him realize just how much death the other man had witnessed in his life. His own parents, Edwin Jarvis, Peggy and Daniel… the kid in Sokovia and countless innocents while he'd been an Avenger… that was all one thing. But to see death so up close and personal, to watch over someone in their last moments like this in a time of war… Steve was stronger than he could ever be, he knew. It was a responsibility he wasn't sure he could shoulder. He couldn't even begin to see how the Super Soldier could do it.
And now…
At least there was a television screen between them. Though at the moment, Tony wished there wasn't. Tears filled his hazel eyes as he wished with everything he had that he could be in that warehouse right next to Clint, doing whatever it took to save him if he could. Not trapped in God knew where with no way to get to him. Both of them, helpless. He may have never lost a soldier, not in that sense… but he'd never thought of losing one of his own… someone he'd considered a friend, despite all that had happened between them…
A frustrated, pained cry broke through his lips as his hand curled into a fist before it connected solidly with the screen. Admittedly, the hit was weaker than expected- he blamed it on a mix of having had the gas in his system, lack of food, and the beatings he'd already endured along with still recovering from his gunshot wound from when the building by the ferry port had exploded- so it didn't have nearly the satisfying result as he'd hoped it would. Plus he'd forgotten how damn durable those old televisions were. Either way, instead of smashing the screen, the billionaire cursed loudly as he brought his sore hand back to cradle against his chest, whispering another heated expletive as a couple tears leaked from his eyes.
Clint… hang in there… please…
"Do you feel better now, Mr. Stark?"
Tony slowly looked up at where Fennhoff was standing just behind him, leaning on his cane as he watched the security feed with rapt attention and the shadows of a triumphant smile. The archer… who had been trying to find him… was dying, and the old man was watching it like an entertaining movie. Like he was just waiting for the breath that would prove to be Clint's last. It made him sick.
"No. I think I'd feel better if this fist were to break your face," he hissed, shaking his hand out a bit as he furiously tried to blink his tears away.
The doctor allowed himself a chuckle at the retort. He briefly glanced at where Arsen and Bao were sitting across the long chessboard from each other. "Yes, well… I believe we saw how that went last time you attempted it," he muttered.
Tony had no response for that. His cheek and stomach were still sore from where Arsen's metal hand had connected with them.
Then, a broad smile spread across Fennhoff's face. "The queen's been taken."
Bao grinned triumphantly as he reached across the board and took one of Arsen's white pieces- the one with Clint's name- and set it on his side. His eyes gleamed.
The queen who moves across the board like a knight… That's how Fennhoff had described the archer.
Dread pierced Tony's heart as he hesitantly turned back to the screen, seeing that Clint was now lying very still… too still. It was difficult to tell from the feed, but the doctor seemed confident that he was either dead or would be in only a matter of moments…
… No… Clint… please, no… You'd better fight… fight for your wife and kids… Clint, please…
His own heart nearly stopped. If the other man died, it would be on him… It'd be all his fault… He could have saved Clint had he just accept Fennhoff's offer to join him in time. But he hadn't. He'd been selfish. And the other man had paid the price for it….
The billionaire slowly started to reach out for the television screen again, but he paused when it switched back to black as the old man turned it off before he could get there. He lowered his shaking hand to his lap and dropped his gaze.
The queen's been taken. That was a critical piece in a game of chess. Without it… He had to wonder what else the mad doctor had in mind for him… for all of them, since they were all just pawns…
What was his endgame?
"Is this all just… one big game for you?" Tony whispered, not expecting a response.
But yet, Fennhoff still somehow heard him. "Why, yes," he answered, hist one light and chipper. "And we are moving along quite nicely, if I do say so myself. You are being stubborn, although I am not concern. Your father was, too." He grinned when he noticed his captive flinch ever so slightly. "Hopefully you have learned from your misstep. We will get you to move yet, Mr. Stark."
The billionaire glared up at him. "And what… what do you gain from all of this, exactly?" he snapped. "The Avengers are already done. What more do you want from us?" He paused, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. "All right, I get that you want me to join your merry little band of criminals. You wanted to kill Clint because he… what… took something from you? Where do you go now? Where does this all end? What is your grand prize if you win this game?"
Something in the back of his mind, something that the fake Obadiah Stane had said, was nagging at him now… but he couldn't quite remember… What was it? What had he said that had been so important…?
Why couldn't he remember anything he'd read about the doctor in the Hydra files he'd pored over so often? Anything that could help him figure out his plan, to figure out how to stop him…
"When I win this game," Fennhoff corrected tersely, almost seeming a bit annoyed. But then, a grin spread across his face, a look that caused chills to run through his captive. "There are pieces in play that you do not even know about yet, Mr. Stark. We are just getting started. We have not yet brought our second player into this game. But he will be soon."
Second player? Tony grit his teeth as the other man slowly walked past him toward the door. Deep down, he felt like he knew who that was supposed to be, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of it…
Damn it all…
Arsen and Bao rose from their seats, leaving their chessboard where it was, before they followed Fennhoff out of the room. The door locked behind them.
Tony remained kneeling where he was on the patterned rug, simply staring at his bruised and battered reflection looking back at him from the dark television screen. Where he had possibly just watched Clint die.
Your fault your fault your fault your fault your…
His own voice echoed in his head, taunting him. But it was right. The archer's death was his fault since it was something he could have prevented…
He stumbled to his feet, holding onto the television for balance for a moment when his equilibrium nearly betrayed him. His eyes remained solely on the chessboard in front of him, and he walked around the device until he reached the game board. His gaze passed over the pieces, his breath quickening and his heart pounding in his chest as he read all of their names where they were strategically placed on the checkered squares…
A loud cry of frustration broke through his lips as he reached out and flipped the board over before falling to his knees in scattered pieces. He reached out a shaking hand, picking up a few to see what they were.
Steve… Pepper… Rhodey… Natasha… Wanda… Happy…
Tony let them drop back to the floor as he let out a long, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes tightly and covered his head with his arms, gasping before a broken sob escaped from him.
"So. You first saw this android at homecoming?"
Peter flinched where he was in the passenger seat next to the head of security as they drove toward the Tower. Michelle and Ned had gotten picked up from the diner by the latter's mother. "Uh, yeah... that's where I first noticed him," he mumbled. "He was asking Toomes about me."
Happy let out a heavy sigh as he turned onto a side street with not much traffic. "Why didn't you say anything about it then?" he pressed, traces of frustration in his voice. "That's an important thing to tell us, kid. It could mean you're on who took Tony's radar. Natasha and Sam were right there to help look into it. And it isn't the first case of androids we've had."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry," the teen replied. "I should have said something. I…" But then, he paused, his eyes narrowing. "Wait. There have been other androids around? Why didn't someone tell me?"
The head of security appeared uncomfortable for a moment. "There… nothing came of it," he finally said with a quiet clear of his throat. "They're taken care of, it was overall a non-issue. Unlike yours. They attacked Rhodey down by the ferry port when he and Vision were helping with clean-up efforts the night that body was discovered. Clint and… I don't know, that ant guy… took care of them."
Peter looked away, hoping the man couldn't see the disappointment that crossed his face. He'd been under the impression that he was part of this team, part of this mission to find Tony and bring him home. Why hadn't anyone trusted him with that important detail? It could have made a difference with his situation. Besides, he'd taken care of his android without too much trouble. He was more than capable to help out with this mission.
"So. Your android?"
The web-slinger was brought out of his racing thoughts before he looked over at him. "What?"
Happy sighed again. "Your android. How'd it find you?" he asked.
"Oh. I… I don't know, exactly," Peter answered. "It disappeared pretty quickly when Black Widow and Falcon showed up. And I haven't seen it since. Not until tonight."
"So… it just randomly found you at the diner?" the older man continued, arching an eyebrow. "You sure it hasn't been following you?"
Peter's stomach dropped. Admittedly, he hadn't considered that… Even though there'd been a couple times where he'd felt like he'd been being watched on his way to and from his place and the Tower. And just because he'd never seen the android those times didn't mean it hadn't been there. What about May? Had he put her in danger? Maybe… maybe Steve had made a mistake with accepting him to the team, after all… He'd just been so wrapped up in what the android had represented, and in what was going on, that he hadn't thought…
"I… I guess it's possible…" he conceded quietly.
Happy drummed his fingers against the wheel as he stopped at a quiet intersection. "See, kid. That's why you should have said something about this right away. It could have been taken care of sooner. And you weren't just putting yourself in danger, but those around you, too. You could be in some real trouble here, kid."
"I know, and I said I'm sorry, okay?" Peter snapped. He sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean that, either…"
A moment of silence dragged out between them as Happy kept driving. "Look. I know you're under a lot of stress, kid. We all are," he muttered. "But that's why it's important that from now on, we're all on the same page. We all look out for each other. And we'll figure out what's happening. Agreed?"
The teen nodded, swallowing the lump that had begun to form in his throat. "Yeah," he agreed, passing a hand over his face. "I guess I didn't say anything about the android sooner because… I don't know… it was so personal…"
The head of security's brow furrowed. "Personal how?" he asked.
A thin line of tears formed in Peter's eyes as he looked over at him. "Can we just keep this between you and me for now, Happy?"
"Yeah. Sure thing, kid," Happy told him. "You've got my word. What's going on?"
The web-slinger took a deep, shuddering breath. "I haven't had these powers too long," he explained quietly. "But before I did… my Uncle Ben and I were out spending the day together. He and my aunt raised me after my parents died when I was little."
Happy simply nodded, encouraging him to continue. He thought back to when shortly after the explosion had happened, to when Peter had been calling out for his uncle in his sleep on their way to the hospital.
"And some guy was robbing this lady. My uncle and I went after him, but… the man shot him before running." The teen paused as a couple tears leaked from his eyes. "It's why I do what I do, y'know? Help those who deserve it, help out the little guy…"
"Right. That's commendable, kid," Happy said. "Sorry to hear about your uncle. What happened to the other guy?"
"He was hit by a car as he was running away," Peter told him. "Died on sight."
Happy was silent for a couple more minutes as he mulled this all over. "So this android," he pressed. "It wasn't made to look like your uncle, was it?"
Peter shook his head. "Like the man who killed him."
The older man nodded. Either way would have been cruel. "So, I'm guessing that this story was public knowledge?" he wondered. "With the guy and everything?"
"Yeah," the web-slinger confirmed. "It was all over the news. My uncle was pretty well-known in the community for the charitable stuff he was involved with."
"So it wouldn't take much for someone to find out about who had taken his life." Happy frowned. "But still, that's too personal for it to not mean something… Cap and everyone are following up on some possible leads as to who's responsible for what happened at the harbor. I'll run this past them, too, to see if it fits in the MO, though I don't see how it couldn't be connected…"
Peter perked up a bit. He remembered when he'd been on the phone with Steve how he'd heard them talking about someone named Fennhoff in the background. He still wasn't sure why they'd been talking about his school psychologist, if it was indeed the same person, even though the man was a bit strange…
He was just a frail old man. He couldn't have possibly been responsible for everything going on… could he?
"Cap also wants to have a word with you."
The teen's train of thought was derailed by the head of security's simple statement. He was aware the Super Soldier wanted to discuss the android attack with him, but he didn't think he'd feel this nervous if that was all it was. "About what…?" he asked quietly.
Happy shrugged slightly. "About their suspicions, to catch you up to speed, tell you to be careful, things like that," he answered. "That was the impression I got, anyway."
Peter slowly looked away again, absently watching the lit streetlamps and traffic go by. There was a feeling deep in his gut that it was more than that, and he couldn't shake the impression that the Captain was going to inform him that he was in trouble for something.
"Did the android say anything to you?"
"Uh, yeah," the teen muttered. "It… it said it could bring me to where Mr. Stark is."
The car jerked roughly as Happy nearly slammed on the brakes. "It what?"
"I… I don't know if it was telling the truth," Peter mumbled as he readjusted his seatbelt. He figured it wouldn't be the best idea to mention the threat made against his life. "But it's my guess that it was definitely sent by whoever took Mr. Stark. It had something that I think belongs to him."
The head of security attempted to keep his face impassive as he slowly eased up to the speed limit again. "What was it?" he wondered.
"Oh, here. I can show…" But Peter's words slowly trailed off when his senses suddenly started to scream at him that something was wrong. That they were in immediate danger. He quickly looked at the night around them with wide eyes, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary… He just knew that they had to get out of there.
"Kid?" Happy prompted impatiently. "Earth to Peter? You there, kid?"
Peter's breath caught in his chest as the hair on his arms stood on end, and he looked back at the head of security with fear. "Happy, stop the car!"
Happy's brow furrowed. "Why? We're not even near the Tower yet…"
"Just stop the damn car!" Peter was already beginning to undo his seatbelt. "Hurry up! Just… wherever you can! We have to get out! Now!"
Though he looked incredibly wary and perplexed, Happy pulled into the large, not-too-crowded parking lot of a Taco Bell near the back away from everyone else and slowed the car to a stop. He put the car in park as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "You're acting really weird, kid, we're gonna have a long talk about this," he muttered as he reached for his keys.
"No! Don't bother." The web-slinger slapped his hand away before he all but pushed him out of the car and scrambled out of the driver's side after him. "Just move! Come on, come on, go! We have to call for help!"
Happy stumbled a little as Peter shoved him roughly forward as he hurried toward the brightly lit building. "Okay, that's it." He planted his feet, nearly causing Peter to fall on his face with his own momentum before leveling him with his best glare. "What the hell do you think you're doing, kid? We don't have time for this right now. I-!"
But the teen grabbed his arm and yanked him after him a few more feet. "Happy, please just trust me," he said anxiously. "I know it's weird, and I can't explain it, but I-!"
Suddenly, a loud boom shook the night around them. A tremor ran through the ground, causing both Peter and Happy to fall and hit the cracked asphalt roughly as a blast of heat rushed over them and an intense flash of light lit up the area.
Car alarms in the lot around them went off, beeping out of sync with each other in an awkwardly annoying melody. Raised voices of concern came from nearly every direction as people ran out of the restaurant to investigate. A few surrounding streetlamps had been blasted out by the impact of the pulse.
Happy coughed a few times from where he'd had the wind knocked out of him after he'd been thrown off his feet. He pushed himself up on one arm, looking up at where Peter was already sitting up next to him, shaking. "You… you all right, kid?" he managed to ask, reaching out and grabbing his arm.
The teen only nodded, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes.
The head of security followed his horrified gaze, and his stomach plummeted at the sight.
His trusty black car was in flames, thick smoke billowing out of the trunk. Where the android was.
They had nearly been in that car…
"… Holy shit…"
"Are you feeling calm? Relax your breathing… In. Out. Yes, that's it. Ease the tension out of your body with each breath. Good, good. Close your eyes. That's it… Now."
A pause.
"Let's discuss your experience with Project Rebirth."
Steve took a deep breath, clenching his jaw as he stared straight ahead and tightened his hands around the controls of the quinjet. Ever since Zemo had told him that it had been Fennhoff who had sought him out, since he'd figure out that it was Fennhoff who had taken Tony, since it's been clear that the doctor was trying to drag him back in… when he'd been able to get away…
No, he couldn't let himself get distracted now. He had a mission to complete. And the mission came first.
He couldn't afford to let the doctor get in his head. He would deal with his personal issues with the man later. When people on his team weren't at risk.
Natasha glanced at him with concern from where she was sitting in the seat behind him before glancing at where Sam and Vision were standing near the door at the back of the jet. "We're approaching the warehouse," she informed them.
The abandoned area was still and silent as they drew closer to their destination. Though there were intense bursts of scarlet light visible in one sector of the warehouse as a couple of the windows there shattered.
Vision's eyes narrowed. Sam nodded once as he turned to the controls that operated the door. "Okay, give me a sec, and I'll-!"
But before he could finish, the android phased through the side of the quinjet and flew straight toward the warehouse. Sam nodded slightly with a quiet tsk. "All right, that works, too…"
"Do you have your mask, Sam?" Steve asked over his shoulder.
"Yup, got it." Sam slipped the face mask over his head, making sure that it was secure over his nose and mouth. He then hit the control that opened the door, and he rolled out his neck before he turned back tot hem with a thumb's up. "See y'all on the ground."
Natasha watched as his metallic wings unfurled as he leapt from the jet, diving down toward the warehouse as he followed the AI. She then unbuckled her seatbelt and got up to shut the door again before returning to the front of the jet. She sighed, setting her hand on Steve's shoulder lightly.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"I'm fine," the Captain told her, his tone quiet and even.
Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna try that one again?"
A defeated smile passed over Steve's face as he glanced over at her. "Can't get anything past you, can I?" he wondered lightly.
"Afraid not," Natasha murmured, lifting her hand from him before leaning against the seat with her arms crossed. She hesitated. "I know… bits and pieces of what you went through with Fennhoff. What you both did." She paused when a dark look passed over the Super Soldier's face.
"Don't, Nat."
"I won't." The former KGB agent's gaze faltered, a bit taken aback by the ferocity behind the calm in his quiet voice. She raised her gaze to the windshield in front of them, her sharp gaze lingering on the red pulses of light in the warehouse windows.
A moment of silence passed before Steve sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too." Natasha looked back at him with concern. "All I was gonna say is be careful. Don't let Fennhoff get in your head. You can't afford that."
The Captain kept his gaze straight ahead. "I won't," he assured her.
"He already might be." Natasha noticed him about to protest and pushed ahead before he could. "He's already called you out twice, Steve. Have you even stopped to consider that what he wants is-!"
"Right now, I'm more concerned about getting Clint, Wanda, and Lang out of there," Steve told her in a tone that was clear he was putting an end to the conversation. He passed a hand over his face. "He won't be there, Nat."
"But someone who works for him is," Natasha countered. "Clint wouldn't have shot himself in the leg, no matter how far gone he may be. And someone released that gas…"
"We're taking precautionary measures."
"I know." Natasha set her hand on his shoulder again and squeezed it gently. "I'll do the same, but promise me that you won't let your emotions involving Fennhoff and what he did control you. Our team's lives depend on it. Promise me, Steve."
The Super Soldier flinched ever so slightly, her words almost a slap to the face. But he knew that she was right. And he knew that he could keep himself in control while stepping into Fennhoff's snare. He had to. He had to for Clint, for Wanda, for Scott. He had to for the rest of his team. He had to for Tony. He couldn't let the mad doctor in his head, not again. Not like last time.
It was with a renewed confidence that he was able to respond to her request.
"I promise."
Author's Note: So Clint's really not good, Tony's not in the greatest of spots, Peter's in a bit more trouble now, and Steve's remembering his time with Fennhoff. All these threads do tie together as far as what Fennhoff wants, and here's where they're going to really start weaving as we keep going. Just what's he up to? We'll find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Until next time, guys!