Finally, time for Hawkeye to make his debut as a hero. He's going to be amazing.
Chapter 15- Hero Lesson #1: Plans never go as planned
Clint crawled through the vents that he had escaped only a few hours ago, though it felt like days. There were a few distinct differences than the previous foray, however. This time he knew where he was going and he had his bow and quiver with him. The long line of Princess was comforting under his hand as he inched through the tight space, but he had to be careful not to catch the quiver on his back against the roof of the vent. Though last time he didn't have to worry about being shot by Nazis, so there was that. Wow, his life had gotten weird, which was saying something for an orphan that ran away to the circus.
He counted the branches as he worked he way down. One, two, three, four, here it was: number five, with a drop that went down three levels, where the barracks were. He was supposed to make contact with the SHIELD agents that were locked up and see how many they could get into the vents to follow Clint to the armory. A couple of the women and younger agents should fit, since the ducts were all larger and stronger than normal since they had to supply the extensive underground complex with fresh air. If everything keeps to plan, the freshly armed SHIELD agents would guard the stairs so Wolverine and Agent Reynolds can evacuate the scientists, hopefully before they were forced to make a superweapon for Hydra. Sounds simple on paper. Logan had groaned when Clint said as much.
Hawkeye froze when he heard voices filtering through the vent in front of him. He shook his head in disgust when he realized the two men were talking in gruff German. Seriously? German Nazis? They were in the middle of Oklahoma! Most of these jerks had probably never been to Germany. Clint might have been putting too much meaning into the exchange but he couldn't help but remember Nightcrawler who was very proud of his native land. Clint shook his head at how disappointed the X-man would be. After a moment, the men moved on and Clint continued on his way. He reached the vent leading to the lower levels. He could see the fan spinning at the bottom of the foreboding pit. Thank goodness he didn't need to go that far.
Using a handy magnet grapple and pulley that Reynolds had provided, Clint repelled to his level and reentered the vents. His palms were sweaty and his eyes watered a little from the dry air. He preferred to focus on those minor inconveniences rather than the dangers. He was good at that, forcing himself to not think about something that bothered him. He heard more men coming down the hall, and he froze. In this section of the base, the air ducts were in the walls rather than the ceiling, with the vents along the top of the wall at regular intervals, so if he was careful, Clint could peek out and see who it was.
One of the men was the redhead behemoth from earlier. His expression was positively murderous as he rubbed his sore head. The other was a Hydra agent that Clint hadn't seen before. They were both dressed in their SHIELD uniforms and were fully armed but every SHIELD insignia was covered by the stupid octopus skull. Clint rolled his eyes but admitted that it made it easier to tell who the bad guys were. Hopefully they were all that stupid.
"Why the hell are we watching this room?" whined the unknown agent, who Clint mentally dubbed Dum-dum #1.
"Orders," snarled the red-head. He stopped poking at his head to run a hand over his rifle.
"I got that, but why?" Dum-dum #1 tried again to engage his companion. Clint stifled a chuckle and started inching forward again. He was passing one of the junctions into the room they were guarding when the idiot answered his own question. "I think the Commander hopes they'll come back for their gear. Stupid, if you ask me. That short guy, I don't think he's dumb enough to try coming back for a change of clothes. They'll be long gone by now."
Clint paused. This was their room, with their gear. The teen grinned as he pulled himself forward and took the turn into the officer's quarters that they had just vacated. He carefully removed the vent cover and hooked up another of his grapples so he could get back up before he lowered himself down. He landed lightly on his feet, freezing to see if the men outside had heard him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Dum-dum's wheedling voice and Red's grumpy tones. He looked around, grateful that someone left the lamp on, probably the same someone who dumped their bags out on the bed and floor. Clint glared at his trophy goblet from the fair which had been dented by some jerk. He turned away to go through the pile of his clothes dumped in the corner. Bullseye.
He dug through the tangle of clothes until he found his prizes. First were his moccasins. They were quieter and had surprisingly good traction. Next was the purple leather vest, though he kept his t-shirt. The vest was more comfortable and left his arms free from the confines of a jacket. He sadly set aside his hat as impractical but grabbed his mask from the circus. He held it for second before slipping it on. It made him feel like hero to wear it and maybe give the enemy a surprise. The thing was a little ridiculous, with the stylized purple "H" on his forehead, but the points were kinda reminiscent of Wolverine's. He stood and glanced at the mirror. He stilled looked like a kid that was out of his depth, but with the purple pulling everything together, he almost looked like he knew what he was doing. Or he was fooling himself, but it was better than nothing. He quickly scrambled back up his grapple and put the vent back before returning to his mission. He hadn't taken more than a couple minutes and the two goons were completely oblivious of him. Hawkeye was a super spy!
He continued on his journey and after only one close call from a stifled sneeze, he made it to the barracks. He peered into the large gloomy room. Apparently someone thought it was a good idea to fill the place with bunk beds in three rows, leaving very little room for moving around. Most of the SHIELD agents were sitting on the beds, whispering between themselves. The rest were caring for a handful of injured agents on the beds furthest from the door. As sad as it was to see the half dozen or so men and two women wrapped in blood soaked bandages, it was good to see them. It meant that he wouldn't have to convince them that something was wrong. He took a deep breath to gather his courage. He could do this. He was the Amazing Hawkeye, ward to Wolverine.
He tapped on the vent to get the attention of the agents closest to him. One was apparently Agent Brown, the jerk who hauled him before Commander Smith. That sucked but beggars can't be choosers.
"Who's there?" Brown hissed, moving into Clint's line of sight.
"Frances Summers," Clint hissed back. "Let me in."
Brown cursed but quickly complied, moving one of the bunks under the vent so he could reach, though he didn't need much help. "How'd you get here?" he asked harshly as Clint wiggled out of the vent and onto the bed. His quiver caught on the vent cover and it took a minute for the two of them to untangle him.
"Through the vents," Clint answered quietly, pulling is mask back to show his face. They were quickly getting an audience as the other agents moved to surround him. "My… um… guardian and I were trying to leave when the Hydra alarm went off. So we came back to help."
Brown crossed his arms. Clint noticed he had bandages wrapped around both biceps and he had an impressive shiner. "Who's your guardian that he sent a boy into a Hydra controlled base alone?"
Clint crossed his arms. "His name is Wolverine. You might have heard of him," he snapped. "And my name is Hawkeye."
"Chad, who is this kid?" asked one of the other agents, a gruff looking man with a scar across his cheek.
"He's that kid I caught in the armory earlier. Agent Coulson is coming to talk to his dad tomorrow," Brown answered but he didn't take his eyes off Clint. "So, Hawkeye, what do you think you can do with a bow and a couple arrows?"
Clint bristled at the condescending tone. "More than two dozen agents locked in their bedroom like grounded children," he hissed. "Look, we have a plan. Trust me."
"You said Wolverine," pointed out one of the others, Clint didn't see which one because of his staring contest with Brown, "The mutant, Wolverine, member of the X-men?"
Clint ground his teeth with frustration. They were wasting time! "Yes, the X-man. Short, hairy, three metal claws in each hand. And he's waiting for me to get you people mobilized so he and Agent Reynolds can rescue the R&D labcoats before Hydra forces them to mix up a chemical weapon. Now please, listen to me. We don't have much time."
"I believe you," said a big African American man from the back. "What's the plan, Hawkeye?"
"Johnson, you can't be serious," Agent Brown argued. "He's just a kid."
"He's with Wolverine," Agent Johnson said with a shrug. "I've seen the kind of kids he runs with. The X-men saved my life in Tennessee last year, when the Brotherhood of Mutants attacked that medical lab." He glared around the room, daring anyone to argue. There was some grumbling but everyone backed down. "Okay, kid, this is your show."
"Okay, first step is to get you guys armed," Clint said gratefully. "Agent Reynolds said he could do something about the cameras in here, so I'm supposed to lead anyone who can fit in the vents to the Armory then we'll see if we can bring enough weapons back here." He grinned at the agents around him. "Any volunteers?"
The SHIELD agents sorted themselves out quickly. They had been waiting for a chance to make a move, and they grabbed this opportunity with both hands. Now that they didn't have to worry about Hydra watching them, the covert attempts to make weapons and communication devices were brought out in the open while Clint led a little band of 8 people, five women and three men, back through the vents to the armory.
It was painfully slow going. Stealth training was standard for SHIELD, but vent crawling was more of an advanced course, mostly because it wasn't usually practical. Most ventilation systems aren't built to hold up people. They were finally getting the hang of it when the agent at the end sneezed. A second later a gunshot echoed though the vent. They all froze, waiting for someone to sound the alarm. Clint tried to look back, but he couldn't see past the bodies of the other agents to see more than the pin hole of light of the bullet hole. Clint peeked through a vent cover to see two Hydra agents. One was pointing a gun at the wall with a wild look in his eye.
"Damn it, Nate!" the other Hydra agent swore and they all heard the smack of flesh on flesh. "Stop being so fucking jumpy! You're going to make me start jumping at shadows next."
"I heard something," the other agent argued, his voice high and whiny. "I don't like this. We should just kill everyone else before they fight back. You know as well as I do that SHIELD agents don't just give up."
Another smack. "I'm not arguing this with you," the first man said. "They'll all be dead soon enough, now get moving. We're supposed to be setting charges not jumping at shadows."
Hawkeye and the agents held their breath as they listened to the two men continued down the hall, still bickering. "Everyone okay back there?" the archer hissed when they were alone again.
"Yeah," came the slightly breathless answer. "I don't need to shave my balls for a while though."
"Carlos!" chided one of the women.
"Good, move out," Clint ordered. He rearranged the quiver on his back, checking to make sure the arrows weren't going to fall out then he started crawling again.
They didn't have any more problems until they had almost reached their goal. The reason that Clint hadn't noticed the change in level during his first trip through the vents was because of the layout of the obstacle course and firing range. There was a gentle spiral around the open area that filled two levels before finishing in the armory and ammunitions area. It didn't seem as gentle now that Clint was looking for it and being followed by eight other people. They were all sweating like pigs by this time which made their hands slick so they kept slipping, bumping into each other like a gross set of dominos. After the third time the woman behind Clint lost her grip and slid right into his backside, he had had enough.
"Hold a second," he snapped. He took a deep breath, smelling all of them in the tight space. He wondered if this was how Logan felt all the time. No wonder he was always puffing on those stupid cigars. "We need to do something different; we're only about half way down."
"Let's space out more," suggested one of the men, based on his accent, Clint guessed it was Agent Lee, a tiny Asian man who held himself with the confidence of a much bigger man. He had been the first to volunteer to follow Clint. "Maybe we can cool down a little and even if we slip, we won't keep colliding."
"Let's do it," Clint agreed. As the point man, he didn't get a break so he kept going. His shoulders were starting to burn from pulling himself forward and his toes and knees felt raw. But he kept going. But he was rethinking the plan. There was no way they would be able to climb back up this incline without some kind of help. They would either need to figure out some kind of hand holds or maybe a series of those magnetic grapples to make it easier. He wasn't sure he could do it though. It felt like hours since he entered the vents and he wondered how much more he could take without collapsing. His arms started shaking just thinking about it and he longed to take just a minute to rest. The image of the dead men in the surveillance room flashed across his vision. He couldn't let that happen again. He was going to be a hero like Wolverine and do his job. He could collapse later when everyone was safe. He dredged up new reserves of energy and pushed himself forward. He winced as he bumped his head again. He bet Captain America never put up with this.
Finally he reached the vent that he had crawled out of last time. He could still see where he had kicked it out before. He gently jiggled it to confirm that it was still loose. It was which probably meant no one had figured it out, so they were in the clear. As he waited for the others to catch up, he peered out, looking for any sign that there were people about. At first glance, the storage room looked empty, but after the first two agents joined him, he saw a shift in the shadows that indicated a person. They were out of his direct line of sight, but now that he knew what to look for, he could see the shadow move every few seconds, like a bored sentry trying to keep from getting stiff. He could also smell cigarette smoke.
Clint blessed his flexibility and the wide vent that let him wiggle around to see the first agent. She was a mouse of a woman with short, dirty blond hair that looked grey from the dust and faint light. Clint hoped she knew ASL. He pointed out and made the sign for "man", then "maybe more". She squinted at him before nodding. She crawled forward, so Clint thought she misunderstood, but she moved close enough to whisper in his ear.
"One man, maybe more?" she breathed. He nodded. "Can you see him?" He shook his head. "Shadow?" she asked. He nodded again, glad that she caught on so fast. "Okay, help me move the grate as quietly as possible then let me down. I'll take care of the sentry."
Clint felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline. She was going to take care of the enemy alone? She didn't look impressed with his lack of confidence. He shrugged as best as he could in the space and moved to knock out the vent. It came off the wall easily and tipped it enough to pull it back inside, putting it beside him to make room for the female agent. She slipped out, head and shoulders first, before executing some kind of flip move that Clint was sure wasn't possible. She landed gently without a sound. She saluted Clint and the other agent that had moved forward to peer through the hole. They watched her slip around to a pile of boxes and out of their sight. Clint shifted his gaze down to the shadows. He saw the moment the guard saw the agent but with a quick shuffle and a pop that seemed a lot louder than it was, one shadow collapsed. The mousy agent who would be barely taller than Wolverine and at least 150 lbs lighter stepped back in sight with a smug grin and her hands on her hips.
"Coast is clear in here," she whispered. "Sounds like a celebration in Chad's office. They must have found his contraband tequila."
"Oh, he's going to hate that," said another woman as she slipped out of the vent. She wasn't as graceful as Agent Mouse and she needed help getting her feet out without falling on her face. Once she was right side up she smiled. "He's such a stickler for the rules so he hates getting caught at his one vice," she explained to Clint who was giving her a questioning look from his place in the vent. "You coming down, darling?"
Clint took the easier way of sliding out feet first and went to check the hall way as the rest of the agents crawled out. It looked clear, with only the emergency lighting on. Further down the hall, loud laughter and shouting showed the effects of top shelf tequila on a bunch of undisciplined traitors. Clint rolled his eyes and returned to the agents who were having a bit of a conference.
"Hawkeye," Agent Lee called softly, waving the archer over. "We were talking about our options."
"I can't do that crawl again," one of the agents said, rubbing a red mark on her temple where she had kept bumping it. "We need a new plan. What did Wolverine want us to do when we got everyone armed?"
Clint nodded in understanding as he checked over his bow and quivers again. "Wolverine needed us to secure the stairs so they had an exit for the scientists that Hydra had locked in the R&D lab," he explained. He pulled a tiny transceiver out of his pocket. "When we're ready, I activate this and he'll make his move. If he has to move sooner, he'll activate his to let me know."
Lee held out his hand and Clint reluctantly handed the electronic button over. The man turned it over a few times before handing it back. "So we can't talk to him, too bad," was all he said.
"Let's start the plan from here," Agent Mouse (Clint really needed to ask her real name) suggested. "We secure this floor and the stairs, then we break out the others."
"They might sound an alarm before we're ready," Carlos, the one who almost got ventilated, pointed out.
"We need to risk it," Agent Mouse pressed. "We don't have time to run that gauntlet again. It will take us twice as long to get back, at least, and we still could get caught, lugging heavy weapons through. We were lucky to get this far."
"Hawkeye, what do you think? This is your show," Lee asked, cutting through the dissension.
Clint blushed as they all turned to him. Eight fully trained special agents and they were looking at him for direction. That was kind of heady for a 14 year old carnie hick. He puffed out his chest and nodded decisively. "I agree with her," he said, jerking his chin at Agent Mouse. "We don't have time to go back, assuming we could make it back up. If the alarm goes off, we'll deal with it." He smirked at a sudden thought. "Honestly, the faster we do this the better. I bet Wolverine is getting agitated waiting."
They all laughed softly at the idea. Then they got to work. Leaving Clint to stand guard, the agents armed themselves with what was handy in the storage closet, which was filled with targets, both paper and 3-D, and office supplies. Clint tied not to laugh at Lee armed with a pair of staplers. Then, with Clint in the middle, they moved out into the hall to the armory. They slipped past the office with no problems. There was another guard at the end of the hall, but Lee knocked him out with a thrown stapler. The keypad that opened the door to the armory turned out to be the next obstacle. The traitorous Hydra agents might be stupid enough to get drunk after taking over the base, but they weren't incompetent enough to not change the codes on the doors.
While the SHIELD agents worked to override the lock, Clint watched their backs, arrow at the ready. He was really hoping no one came to check on the unconscious guard, who was bound and gagged against the wall. It took a few minutes but soon they had the door open. Without a sound the agents rushed inside and started loading up with as many weapons as they could safely carry. Agent Mouse and Agent Lee grabbed a couple silencers and slipped down the hall to deal with the men in Agent Brown's office before they even finished screwing them on.
"You ever shoot a gun?" the last man on the team asked, speaking up for the first time. Clint couldn't remember his name either, just that it sounded foreign. He was as short and thin as everyone who followed Clint with brown hair and bright blue eyes that never stopped scanning for threats.
"Shotgun, a couple times," Clint replied with a shrug. His mentors were more focused on his archery than anything else, but the one of the roustabouts took him bird hunting once. It was before Clint started training with Swordsman, and the man figured a small boy would work as well as a bird dog for finding and retrieving the dead birds.
"We'll leave you to your bow then," the man grunted before stuffing the pistol he was holding in his belt.
Clint and the agents turned to the door when they heard shots from down the hall. Even with silencers the gunshots sounded too loud on the quiet floor, easily carrying over the whispers of the agents still sorting through the guns and ammo. There were a couple cries of pain, a burst of automatic fire, then silence. Clint swallowed, putting just a little more pressure on his bowstring before he recognized Agent Mouse.
"We got one still kicking, who wants to do the honors?" she asked. The quiet man and one of the women stepped forward with grim expressions. As they pushed passed her, Mouse started her own search for weapons to load up with. She patted Clint on the shoulder as she moved past him but didn't say anything.
Down the hall, there were more screams and someone yelling in desperation before silence reined again. All of the remaining agents were loaded for war, looking like short exaggerations of Rambo, with belts of ammo stuffed with weapons crisscrossed over their chests. It was impressive, scary (because Clint know they could use every single piece of hardware with deadly efficiency), and hilarious. Though, thinking back to what he looked like in the mirror earlier, he wasn't much better, so Clint didn't laugh. The last three agents came back and Lee started loading up like the others.
"We need to move," the quiet agent said. "They plan to blow the base and everyone inside as soon as they get what they want from R&D."
Agents nodded all around and started sprinting to the stairwell. Somehow Clint kept up with them, staying in the middle of the pack, as they ran as quietly as possible. Surprisingly there was very little clanking or rattling; Clint's arrows made more noise than the agent's guns.
With a glance at Clint to make sure the archer had no issues with him taking the reins, Lee ordered pairs of agents to secure each level of the stairwell and guard it while the rest rushed up the stairs to the barracks to release the rest of the loyal SHIELD agents. Silently, they agreed. "Hawkeye, you stay with us," Lee ordered, "But stay back. I do not want to face Wolverine if you're hurt."
Without a word, the group started up the stairs. Two stayed at the Armory level, Level Six, while the rest of them continued upward toward the barracks. A Hydra agent came out on the next level, but Lee put him down before the traitor could even bring his weapon up. Two agents stayed on that level while the other four and Clint kept going to their goal. Lee held up a fist and carefully opened the door, peeking through a crack. He held up four fingers and pointed to the big gun he had strapped to his hip and held up six. The others nodded while Clint guessed there were four men with six big guns like Lee's. The agents arranged themselves like they were going to rush the enemy, the enemy with six big guns.
Before he could stop himself, Clint pushed forward. He held up his bow and held a finger to his lip. Lee shook his head, and waved the teen back but Agent Mouse held up a hand. She put a hand on Clint's shoulder and pushed, so Clint went down on one knee. Then she mimed something to do with triangles. Lee and the others thought about it before agreeing.
Clint moved so he was back far enough to not be in the way without messing up his line of sight. He pulled out six arrows, held two in his hand and had the others in easy reach. His focus was needle sharp, with nothing to distract him on the surface of his mind. It was just him, his bow, and his targets. He nodded at Mouse, who opened the door.
Standing guard in the hallway were four Hydra agents. They were all big, kinda brutish, and packing guns. Their attention was on a person on the ground who was curled up in the fetal position to protect their head from the kicks and abuse the guards were raining on him or her. Clint spared a split second to be grateful that he had spoken up. His plan could save that person. Then he was shooting. He let arrows go as fast as he could draw back, aiming for shoulders and knees. He took out the knees of the two closest Hydra, and then aimed for the shoulders of the other two so they couldn't fire those big guns.
Almost before Hawkeye finished releasing his six arrows, the SHIELD agents rushed the hallway. There was a flurry of activity and the ring of gunshots. Three more Hydra came around the corner and they were mowed down by SHIELD. Then it was over.
Clint dared to breathe again and he noticed his hands were shaking. He was also having trouble getting up off his knees. He sat there in the stairway for a moment before Agent Mouse noticed and came back for him.
"Good job, Hawkeye," she said as she helped him to his feet. "Your arrows made a big difference. Thank you."
"That's what I do," Clint agreed as calmly as he could manage. He was just glad his voice didn't crack. "Point and shoot, that's me."
"I'm sure your more than that," she said, but didn't push the point.
They walked to where Lee was helping the agent who had been getting the tar kicked out of him while the other agents got the door open. The freed SHIELD agents streamed out the door, accepted the extra weapons from the Vent team and quickly moved out to do their jobs.
"Well done, Hawkeye," Lee said. "Give us a few minutes to secure the stairs and I think you can trigger your transmitter."
Clint grinned, pulling out the device to check it. All eyes turned to it as it started making a quiet beeping sound. "Looks like we ran out of time," Clint said. He swallowed convulsively. He had taken too long and now the plan was in danger. He tried not to feel guilty, but his stomach had other ideas as it flipped flopped.
"Then we improvise," the battered agent spoke up. Until then Clint hadn't realized the man was actually Agent Brown. He looked pretty terrible with the extensive bruising on his face, but he tried to smile for Clint. "Remember, kid, plans always change. Don't let it bother you." He turned to yell at the agents milling in the hallway. "We're on borrowed time now, so move it!" he bellowed.