Brock Rumlow pulled a beer out of the motel mini fridge. It was a cramped room, the fridge over near the bathroom sink. As he stood up, he caught his reflection in the mirror and flinched. He felt his fist curl and a familiar wave of anger sweep over him. The skin, melted and mottled, declaring to everyone who cared to look that he was different, twisted. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the darkness crash down upon him, tempted to give way to it, tempted to let it take him-

There was a knock on the door.

He whirled around, beer bottle raised.

But all the people who would come for him…none would knock, surely?

Slowly, he advanced. He peeked through the peep hole. Clint Barton. Well, that didn't tell him much one way or the other. Except for the fact that if Barton wanted to kill him, he probably wouldn't knock on the door…unless of course he thought it was some kind of sign of respect for their past friendship.

Either way. Barton must know he was in here. He might as well answer.

Brock opened the door. "Well, well, if it isn't the fallen Hawk."

"Funny," answered Clint dryly.

"I try."

"Try what? Standup now that the modeling career is over?"

Brock snorted. "Funny yourself."

"Going to let me in, or keep me standing out here all day?"

Brock stepped aside. "Help yourself."

Clint entered the room and looked around. It was grungy and cheap and Brock hadn't done much to make it any nicer. There was a pile of dirty clothes on the extra bed, and a couple towels scattered on the floor.

"Want a drink?" asked Brock.

"Sure."

Brock handed Clint the beer he was holding and then went back to the fridge for a second one. He was careful this time to turn away from the mirror and not glance towards it.

Clint had pulled the chair out from the desk and was straddling the back of it, so Brock moved to the one, lumpy armchair tucked into the corner.

"So," asked Brock conversationally, "what are you here for? Have you come to kill me?"

Clint, who'd been halfway through a swig of his beer, chocked. "What?"

Brock shrugged. "It's not exactly a secret that straggling Hydra bases have been attacked. If you want to go incognito, you should be using a weapon a bit more common place than a bow and arrow. It's a bit of a giveaway."

"I don't usually knock on the front door when I want to kill someone."

"Then why are you here?"

Clint took another drink. "I'm here for information."

"On what?"

"Loki's scepter. Last I remember we handed it over to STRIKE team after the battle for New York. I'm trying to find it."

"And what are you going to do with it when you find it?"

"Put it back in the hands of people who can be trusted with it."

Brock laughed. "Ever the boy scout, eh? Rollins was right about you. The day you became an Avenger, you stopped being Hydra. If you ever were really Hydra to begin with."

"I was."

"Only because they got to you before Shield did. As long as I knew you, your heart was never really in it."

"I still did the job."

"Hydra's about a lot more than the job."

"What about you? Are you going to tell me that you believed in the job?"

Brock shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. The pay was a hell of a lot better than Shield." Clint rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't knock the pay Barton. We put our lives on the line we deserve to be rewarded for that. Now throw on top of that the fact that Hydra was trying to bring a little law and order to the world, it's not a bad proposition."

"Nothing about Hydra was about law and order. It was about control and power."

"Look around us Clint. This world is a messed up, twisted place. You're not going to get law and order without a bit of control and power."

"You really believe that?"

Brock shrugged again. "Who knows? Who cares? The world decided it ain't going that way and Hydra's done."

"Some of it survived."

"Yeah, and you're taking care of that bit. If it's all the same to you, I don't want to be taken care of. I think I've paid my price already," he gestured to his face, "not keen on paying more."

"Like I said, all I want is information."

"And if I say no?"

"We finish these beers and I go ask someone else. I started with you because I don't like interrogation. You, I just had to question, anyone else, probably I'm going to have to be more persuasive with. Plus you were in the best position to know where it ended up since you were the guy we gave it to."

Brock studied Clint thoughtfully. The two had been on a lot of missions together through the years. Everything else aside, Clint was probably the one person in Hydra he truly would have trusted if he needed help. He was certainly the only one there he'd actually viewed as a friend.

"All right. Look, I don't know where it is exactly. We delivered it to Strucker. I know he worked out of some off books, highly classified base in Sokovia. I did a job there once a long time ago. Not sure it's still being used or not, but it could be. Like I said, it was very off books. I don't think even Pierce knew much about it."

"Can you give me directions?"

"You're not going there! Clint going there would be insane. If it's still in operation it's going to be heavily guarded. I know you're good but come on."

"I need to do this Brock. I've got mistakes to make up for."

Brock swore. "You're really going to martyr yourself? For what? To make yourself good enough for your precious Avengers?"

"This isn't about them?"

"Isn't it? Isn't this about fitting in with your new friends? The ones who did this to me?" he snapped, gesturing to his face.

Clint for silent for a long moment and set his beer down on the table. "I'm sorry about that Brock. But they were fighting for their lives and they were fighting for the lives of a lot of other people. We've both done things far worse on behalf of Hydra."

Brock made of noise, anger, indignation, frustration: it wasn't clear which. "So easy to say that isn't it when you came out it without a scar, and I haven't heard anything about you being on the run? Where do you hang out when you're not killing your former colleagues? Wherever you've got Laura stored away? While me, look at my life. And it was your friends who did this."

"You know that's not fair. You know what Hydra was doing. The platforms, Project Insight. Brock what we did, was wrong. I get you are angry. But I am too. At myself. That's why I've got to do this. And that's why I really need your information."

"If you get yourself killed, don't expect me at your funeral."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Clint stood.

Brock let out a sigh. "Oh sit back down." He buried his face in his hands for a moment and then leaned back in the armchair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper at you. I've been on a short fuse for a while now. You're the first person I've had more than ten minute's conversation with since I've left the hospital. Blame it on the lack of recent practice."

"I know. It's not an easy time for any of us."

"I'll tell you how to find the base. But I still think you're insane to try it."