Chapter Four: Risks and Benefits
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A Few Months Later
Tony pursed his lips as he worked on hacking into files that were, officially speaking, none of his business. A lot of things were none of his business, but that never really dissuaded him. Hydra wasn't that great at teaching a person proper boundaries.
As he worked, Clint lay sprawled across the sofa watching TV on the other side of the room. Tony still wasn't sure how that kept happening. Initially, Clint had only stayed a couple of days before leaving, just as they had agreed. He had expected that to be the last he'd see of the man, but a couple weeks later, Tony had once again found him in an alley, dangling upside-down from a fire escape. The time after that, it was Clint that found Tony in a sticky situation.
Although the details they each shared were more vague than not, the two men had forged a camaraderie of sorts. The sofa had unofficially become Clint's on those occasions he was in town and in need of a place to crash, and Tony… Well, Tony learned that he actually rather liked having another person around to talk to and share ideas with.
The whole situation confused him, however. Were they friends? What precisely were the criteria to label something a friendship? He honestly didn't know. The closest thing Tony had ever had to anyone that might be considered a friend was the Asset and the man hadn't even remembered him most of the time.
So, perhaps, Clint could be his friend or he might simply be an occasional roommate who didn't pay rent. (Not that Tony paid rent, mind.) Either way, Tony felt ill-equipped to make any sort of determination on the matter.
"Dude," Clint spoke, "why do you look like this Stark guy?"
Tony's fingers froze on the keyboard. Then, he stood up and leaned right to see around his computer monitors to find that Stark was, in fact, currently on the news or something. It may have been one of those talk shows, judging by the loveseats people were seated upon. And the man had recently shaved, again. Bastard needed to make up his mind.
"Who says I look like him?" Tony asked, wondering whether Clint could even hear him at the moment.
The blond sat up to shoot him a look over the back of the couch, which answered that question. "Seriously?"
"Maybe he looks like me," he pointed out. It was a matter of perspective, after all. "Why are you only now noticing our resemblance? That's usually one of the first things people notice."
Clint shrugged a shoulder. "Don't really care about celebrities unless I have to," the man replied. "You really walk around with richy rich's face?"
Tony grimaced. "It's a challenge, sometimes. Seems he's well-known everywhere."
"That's gotta make things difficult." And they both knew that Clint was referring to the vocation Tony never told him about and didn't officially admit to having.
"I make do," said Tony. Clint watched him for another long moment, then flopped back down onto the couch.
This was why Tony was confused. Was that normal? Did conversations just end like that? What did it mean? Was it supposed to mean something? Was there some given way that he was supposed to respond in turn? Nobody had better ask Tony. Tony hadn't the foggiest idea.
After staring at the back of the sofa for a long moment, Tony finally returned to his chair and set back to his task. People were confusing. Computers and coding made sense - and if they didn't, Tony could just keep typing until they did. Really, Hydra ought to have considered socializing him better if they wanted him to be a full-fledged spy. (Though, maybe they didn't. Maybe they'd decided he was far more useful in a lab. His file didn't specify.)
"You really do look just like the dude," Clint's voice came from between his monitors. Tony might have yelped in surprise. He certainly did slam into the wall as he shoved his chair back. When had the guy even moved off the couch?
"Oh, my god, must you?" Tony exclaimed, pressing a hand over his heart. U trundled over with a concerned beep to see what was happening.
Clint rose to his feet and moved around the desk with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Tones," he offered. "You really do look just like him, though. Are you related to him or something?"
"No. Already looked into that. No relation, anywhere. Just a really odd fluke," answered Tony.
"Well, from what I can tell, you could be the man's clone. You could trade places with him and probably no one would be the wiser," Clint said, half-distracted as he held up different fingers for U's amusement, switching hands so the robot had to rotate its camera to follow.
"I'm sure the people that actually know him would notice if he suddenly started acting differently," Tony drawled.
The blond rolled his eyes without bothering to look away from his game with U. "Obviously, you'd have to study the guy's mannerisms and whatnot, learn about his personal relationships and all that jazz. Bet you could pull it off if you needed to. You're some sort of genius or something, right?"
"Or something." He'd overheard his handlers refer to him as a genius throughout the years but it never really meant much of anything to him. It was just part of what he was, a thing that made him useful. Tony had had no idea how unique a trait it really was until he'd gotten out into the real world. "Stark's a genius, too, they say. Regardless, it doesn't mean I could impersonate him."
"Maybe not," Clint agreed, shooting him a grin, "but it's fun to think about, right?"
Tony wondered again what precisely it was that Clint did for a vocation. He was certain it was about as legal as his own occupation. Probably a bit bloodier, considering the bow. Was he an assassin? A mercenary? Did he work for an organization or did he freelance? At the very least, he wasn't Hydra - Tony had been sure to scour every nook and cranny of their servers to make sure. That still left a lot of guesswork.
"Yeah. Fun," Tony murmured, watching as Clint patted U's claw and rubbed along the robot's arm. "Could also be a lot of trouble."
The blond smirked at him. "Well, yeah - who told you those things were mutually exclusive?"
Whatever it was that Clint did, Tony suspected trouble was definitely a large component.
#
They had done it.
They'd really done it.
Tony hadn't thought that they would again so soon after the last time, but they had. Hydra had activated the Winter Soldier. The Soldier was out on a mission. In New York .
He acted immediately, putting together what he had on hand in the way of weaponry. If there was one thing Tony knew, it was that Hydra seldom let their assets out without some sort of supervision. In order to even get to the Soldier he'd likely have to cross paths with a few goons. He did take a moment to briefly reconsider as he put together his supplies, weighing the risks against the benefits.
Risk: Hydra knowing where he was.
Risk: Hydra recapturing him and doing god-knows-what to punish him and make him subservient again.
Risk: Dying.
Benefit: The Asset could be free.
Benefit: Without the Asset, Hydra would be that much weaker.
Benefit: Tony could save him.
That reason alone was enough for him to try. Nevertheless, Tony was sort of hoping Hydra didn't have that many agents keeping tabs on the Asset. He was only one guy, after all, and even Hydra-training could only take him so far. In hindsight, he probably should have checked that particular detail.
"Where's the fire?" Clint asked as Tony rushed by in dark clothes, a pack thrown over one shoulder.
"Family emergency. I'll be back later," was Tony's vague response before hurrying out the door. There was little time to lose.
Tony hadn't even paid much attention to the Asset's mission - retrieving some top secret package from a warehouse. The details he had seen had been rather sparse. All Tony really cared about was getting to the man and trying to reach him.
He knew that the odds weren't really in his favor. Tony also knew that the Asset was just as likely to attempt to kill him or bring him in as he was to recognize or even listen to him. But he had to try. Who knew when he would next get an opportunity like this? He had to try to free him. He just had to.
The warehouse in question stood among a cluster of similar buildings beside an old tenement house. About one in three didn't seem to be in use anymore. It was exactly the sort of area Tony would expect to find a Hydra operation, really. (Someone really ought to teach them about cliches.) He carefully scouted the perimeter, the presence of people obviously guarding the various entrances proof enough that he was in the right place. They carried themselves like Hydra; it was a very distinctive posture.
Weighing his options, Tony concluded the side door in the alley behind an old dumpster would be the best point of ingress. Both the front and back of the building allowed too much space for additional agents to be watching from where they could not be readily detected. The alley, however, was dissected by a brick wall and a heavily chained gate. Furthermore, the two men standing guard there were visibly bored. In Tony's experience? Bored meant inattentive.
Tony approached from the opposite side of the wall. He avoided the gate entirely, choosing to scale the wall and drop in on the goons from above. Drawing in a slow breath, he vaulted into action.
The first man took a stun gun to the neck as Tony landed on top of him. Before he'd finished falling, Tony whirled on the second man, aiming a booted heel at his forearm as the agent brought his weapon to bear. Tony's elbow snapped back into the side of the man's head a moment later, his fingers tangling in the guy's jacket in order to yank him down as he slammed his knee up into his torso.
Relieving the agents of their weapons and radios, Tony bound them and stashed them behind the dumpster. Then, he made his way into the warehouse.
It was dim inside, that eery hush native to places a person didn't belong settled upon the space like the layer of dust upon the shelves. Tony crept along the aisles with near-silent footsteps. His senses were on high alert, ears straining to hear the smallest sound, eyes flitting about for any sign of movement, fingers shifting lightly against the grip of a handgun.
He was equal parts surprised and relieved when he came upon the Asset. The soldier stood before a large crate on a shelf near the middle of the maze of shelving units. His back was facing Tony, but the arm was unmistakable. Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, Tony cautiously stepped closer.
"Winter," he whispered.
There was no response.
Tony frowned. The Asset's enhanced senses were well-documented. There was no way the man hadn't heard him. And why wasn't he moving? If he had reached his objective, then he should be acting upon it, not just standing there. Tony cast his gaze around warily, but there was no sign of anyone else, no visible cameras.
"Winter!" he repeated more loudly, almost at normal speaking volume.
This time, the Asset turned his head enough to see him out of his peripheral. He was wearing the mask - muzzle, more like - but not the goggles. It wasn't much of an improvement in Tony's books.
"Hey," Tony said softly, moving closer, his gun held low. "Look, you probably don't recognize me, but you know me. I… I came to help you, alright? But to do that, I need you to come with me. So, if you would just-"
A man the size of the Winter Soldier had no business maneuvering with lightning-fast reflexes, but that had never stopped him. Before he'd fully processed the fact that his gun had been wrested from his grasp, Tony found himself with both wrists pinned to the middle of his back in a metal fist and a leather-clad arm around his throat.
" Target acquired, " the Asset spoke aloud in Russian near Tony's ear.
That was about when Tony acknowledged the possibility he hadn't really let himself consider before: Hydra had already known his whereabouts and he was the package. The entire scenario had been about recapturing him. Because they had known he was in their systems and they had known he would make a play to free the soldier. As much as Tony hated to admit it, Hydra knew him almost as well as he knew them.
"Winter, don't do this!" Tony pleaded, struggling as best he could in the man's hold. He could hear footsteps closing in on their position. "You have to let me go. Please, you know me. You've helped me in small ways before, remember? It's me. It's Anth-"
"Anthony," another's voice cut in, the sound sending ice down Tony's spine. The man to whom it belonged turned into the aisle, shaking his head reprovingly. "Anthony, Anthony… You know as well as anyone that your begging serves no purpose. The Soldier does as he is ordered. A lesson with which you've always struggled."
Leonard Braun had played a part in Tony's life for as long as he could remember. He was a professor, but of what precisely, Tony still wasn't certain. The man had been the one to teach him to read and write and do simple arithmetic before Tony had taken over most of his own learning. Then, he had returned periodically to track his progress and oversee various tests throughout the years.
Tony hated him. The man had never personally done him any harm, but many of the most painful moments of Tony's life had occurred at his direction. He had sat by and dispassionately observed time and time again as Tony had been made to struggle and hurt and bleed.
Too many of Tony's nightmares featured Leonard Braun's uncaring face.
"Maybe it wasn't a very good lesson," Tony gritted out, "or maybe it was just the teacher. Not everyone is cut out to teach, you know." Three more agents appeared, closing in from different directions.
"Oh, I'm inclined to agree," said Braun. "I advised the director that your handling was too lax and it would fail to engender any true loyalty in you. My suggestions were disregarded. Now that you have proved me right, however, we can finally remedy the flaws in your education."
"By which you mean brainwash me," Tony countered. "You know, I've seen Hydra's methods. Aren't you afraid of, I don't know, damaging my brain? I mean, you guys still want me to build stuff for you, right? Probably gonna need to do at least some thinking to be able to accomplish that."
Braun gave him an unpleasant smile. "Perhaps, but I am confident we will be able to ensure your obedience without causing too much damage. We won't know until we try, now, will we?" he smirked, then addressed the Asset, " Bring him. "
The Asset removed his arm from around Tony's neck in favor of grabbing him by the back of the jacket instead. He tightened his hold on his wrists and shoved forward. Tony did his best to dig in his heels, but it was about as effective as pushing back against a tank.
Still, futile or not, Tony wasn't about to just give up. He had to keep fighting. If he had just one ally-
One of the goons abruptly stumbled forward and fell, an arrow sticking out of his back. In the next instant, the Asset had shoved Tony behind him towards one of the other agents, left hand snapping out to catch another arrow from the air. Things quickly devolved into chaos and Tony did his part to contribute.
Tony took the momentum from the Asset's push to slam against the agent trying to grab hold of him, cracking the back of his head into the man's face the moment he was in range. His left elbow snapped back into the agent's spleen and Tony followed the movement around, snatching his sidearm from its holster. He shot the man in the leg for good measure, firing off several more shots at the others before he darted around a shelf and tore off down the aisle.
"Get him!" he heard Braun screaming. "Don't let him get away!"
More agents had entered the warehouse. Tony could hear them running and shouting, quickly converging on his location. It was only a matter of time before they had him surrounded. There was no getting out of this. Unless… He glanced up. Well, it had worked for Clint, hadn't it? Grabbing hold of the closest shelf, Tony started climbing as fast as he could. As he neared the top of the unit, a pair of goons skidded around the corner.
"There he is!" one of them shouted.
"Shit!" Tony cursed, scrambling for the next shelf.
A hand wrapping around his forearm startled him badly enough that he nearly let go entirely, but Clint held on tight and hauled him the rest of the way up. He was just in time, too, because the Hydra agents had started to take shots at him. They ducked away from the edge as a bullet ricocheted past.
"We get out of this, I'm getting an explanation," Clint informed him sternly. The man was dressed in his dark purple body armor, bow and quiver slung across his back. Tony had never been so happy to see a person in his life.
"Right, sure," Tony agreed a bit breathlessly, "can we get out of it, first?"
"Follow me."
The blond took off along the shelf, keeping low as he ran. Tony followed his lead. About halfway down the row, Clint peeked down into the aisle opposite the agents trailing along beside them. He slowed enough to turn towards Tony a bit.
" Jump ," he signed. He didn't bother waiting for a response, immediately taking two running steps before matching action to word. The archer landed lightly atop the other shelf then reversed course.
Biting back an expletive, Tony took a second to measure the distance against his jumping capabilities before deciding it was probably do or die, anyway, and made the leap himself. He landed near the edge of the other surface. It also felt like the thing swayed a little when he did so, but there wasn't really time to worry about that at the moment. He continued after Clint.
They hurried along as fast as they dared, trying to outpace their pursuers on the floor. Each jump became a little bit easier for Tony. Each new shelf-top brought them closer to the wall of the warehouse and therefore a window. Things were actually going remarkably well.
Until they weren't.
The thing about the Asset was that he was programmed to problem-solve. The thing about the Asset's problem-solving was that… well, 'creative' seemed too innocuous a word for how violent things often turned out.
There was the loud groaning of shifting metal and then a loud crash as a shelf several rows behind them tipped over into its neighbor. "Aw, shelf, no ," Tony saw more than heard Clint say.
With no time to reach either end of the unit they were on, the two men jumped straight to the next shelf, then the next, no longer having the novelty of doing things a little more safely. Tony was half-afraid his forward momentum would hurl him off the opposite edge of a shelf or that he'd miss a step and fail to reach the next surface entirely. Then, the toppling shelves had reached them and he was certain he was about to break an ankle and be crushed to death as they barely had time to jump onto a unit before it was tipping under their feet. A few more shelves and they would have reached the window, too - not that they could have safely jumped out at such a height, so it was probably just as well.
Only Clint had pulled his bow from his back, hitting a few buttons on his quiver before drawing out an arrow. "Grab on!" he shouted. Then, he fired, glass shattering as the arrow passed through it to lodge somewhere in the side of the brick building across the alley.
Tony reached out to grab hold of Clint's waist as they leaped from the final shelf. They sailed through the raining shards, ducking their heads to try to protect their faces. Just as they began to fall, the grappling line pulled taut and they swung forward until they collided with a fire escape.
Clint, obviously accustomed to such rough maneuvers, recovered first. The blond scrambled onto the landing before dragging Tony up over the rail and pushing him towards the ladder. "Go! Go! Go!" he urged.
He needn't have done so - Tony was going as fast as he could coordinate his hands and feet. Hydra would still be right on their tails and even if they now had a marginal lead on the ordinary goons, the Asset was fast. He was very fast.
God, what had Tony been thinking, believing he could actually pull off such a thing?
They tore across the roof and practically flung themselves down the opposing fire escape. After that, Clint proceeded to lead him along a disorienting route through alleys and abandoned buildings and sections of sewer that weren't nearly so vacant as they ought to have been.
By the time they arrived at their apartment, they were both filthy and exhausted and sore. They were both covered in cuts from the broken window. Clint was favoring his left leg again. Tony himself felt like one large bruise.
More than that, however, Tony felt like a complete moron. The Asset hadn't recognized him. Of course, he hadn't. He'd known that would most likely be the case. Yet, somehow, he still felt incredibly hurt by that.
The fact that he should have known it was all a trap made everything so much worse.
#
To be continued...
