Clint's head was reeling as he slowly regained consciousness, his vision blurred. But one thought was clear in his head: whatever had been done to him, he was still control of his own mind.

It took a moment to remember why that was so important or so prominent in his thoughts, or to remember where he was.

He was lying on a hard ground, but why or nor he'd gotten there...

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His vision swam, for a moment he thought he might black out again, and then it cleared, slowly, and leaving a sick headache behind, but he could look around himself at least.

He was in a cell and a barren one at that. Not so much as a bed graced it. Clearly his captors had no wish to keep him comfortable. The floor was concrete with iron bars making up one wall of it.

How did he end up here? Where...oh. Sokovia. Yes.

Now it was coming back. The scepter, the roof, that young man who moved impossibly fast. He recollected the crack as his own head had hit the roof and reached back to feel. There was definitely some dried blood there. But whether his headache had come from that or whatever had been done to him that knocked him out...

For he could still remember the presence and the horror as he'd felt a stranger once again invading his mind.

What or who had done that? And how had the man moved like that? It was impossible.

Of course, he'd encountered a super soldier who'd been frozen in ice for decades, a staid and serious scientist who turned into a smashing inclined great big green rage monster when he got angry, and he'd fought an alien wizard. Impossible seemed rather unlikely any longer.

He stood to his feet, his vision blurring again, and he reached out to grab the wall.

This wasn't good.

He considered making his way over to try the bars and decided against it, instead sliding back down to the ground. He doubted he'd find a weakness in them. He would try later for form's sake but once the world stopped spinning.

It was going to take all his training though to remain calm and access the situation dispassionately. He knew he was in trouble. Serious trouble, and there'd be no backup on the way.

Not that it was the first time he'd been captured, nor the first he'd had to manage his own escape. But he had to acknowledge how badly he missed having a team just now.

"We captured him. We're ready." Pietro crossed his arms, glowering at Strucker. Wanda reached out subtly and placed a soothing hand on his arm.

"You both did an impressive job against one lone man," said Strucker drily. "That is a long way from going against the Avengers or the countless enemies that face your country."

"We're ready!"

"I will be the judge of that."

"Yout made us promises!"

Strucker frowned at him. "And I have kept them! But you need training if you hope to go against a team like the Avengers. I grant you, you both have advanced a great deal in your control of your abilities but you are still inexperienced and, as this display of temper shows, immature!"

Pietro took a step forward. The guards around the room subtly shifted but Wanda had already stepped forward.

"If Hawkeye is here, surely it is only a matter of time before the other Avengers appear."

Strucker chuckled. "I think not. Unless I much mistake the matter. I know one or two things about Barton which would make me very surprised if the Avengers know or care where he is. They might even thank me. Now enough of this. I have work to do and if you are both so eager to be mission ready you should be training."

Without waiting for either twin to answer, he left the room.

With an oath, Pietro turned and in a blink was out of the room. Wanda signed and went after him.

Clint's headache had died down somewhat and he could stand now, without the threat of blacking out, so he made his way over towards the bars and inspected them. The lock was sturdy, pick-able if he'd had anything on him to use, but an investigation of his person had revealed that he'd been well searched and divested of all secret weapons and hidden tools.

He was just checking the sturdiness of each bar, when there was a whoosh of air, and the man from the roof was there, leaning against the wall on the opposite the bars, watching him.

Clint paused for a one moment, and then went back to checking the bars as he said conversationally, "Run any marathons? I bet you'd do rather well."

"You're not getting out," said the man, ignoring the comment and watching him at the bars.

"Probably not. But you've got to try. Tell me, how do you move like that? Science experiment gone wrong or science experiment gone right?"

"And why do you think I would answer your questions?"

Clint shrugged. "You're the one who showed up here. I was just making conversation."

"It doesn't matter how I move like this, it was enough to beat you."

"I hate to contradict but," said Clint, pointing at the cut along the man's left arm, "I got a pretty good hit in. And I don't think you were the one that really beat me."

"We did it together." The voice came from the doorway leading into this hall of cells. Clint leaned a little to one side to see who had spoken.

A young, red haired woman crossed over to the man. She was studying Clint.

Looking at them both, they seemed so young. They suddenly, horribly reminded Clint forcibly of himself, when he was first recruited by Hydra. They had to be about the same age. He wondered what lies they had been told. He wondered how lost they had to have been to believe them.

"You're the one that got into my head?" he asked.

She tilted her head a fraction of an inch. "You were terrified," she said coolly, "I could feel it."

"Yeah I've had my head messed with before. Wasn't eager to go through that again."

She raised a hand, red energy sparking and jumping between her fingers. "I could do quite a lot to your head if I chose." Clint refused to show even a flicker of the fear that suddenly shot through him. And he refused to step back as she moved forward, the energy crackling. "I could make you experience your worst fears."

"Could you? For what? Do you even know," he asked, "the kind of people you're working for?"

He was surprised at the flash of anger in her eyes. She surged forward, reaching for him. He swerved, grabbed her upper arm and pulled, twisting her around, his other arm going for her throat. There was the woosh, his wrist was gripped, twisted. He let out a grunt of pain and released her. A second woosh, and she was across the room, the young man holding her.

Clint heard the him murmur, in soft low voice: "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, shaken, her hand at her throat- the door burst open and armed guards surged in. A man, matching Brock's description of Strucker, stalked into the room after them. He barely spared the Clint a look, but instead rounded on the other two.

"What do you think you are doing here? I did not give you authorization. And look what nearly happened!"

"We had it under control," the young man growled.

"Under control? You call your sister being attacked having it under control?"

"I protected her!"

"Enough! This is just further evidence of everything I have said! You will return to your quarters and not leave them unless I say so!" Strucker turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

The young man shifted.

"Pietro, no!"

But Pietro ignored the girl and stormed after Strucker. She let out an exasperated sigh and hurried after him.

As the guards left and the door was shut, Clint retreated to the corner of his cell and sat down, massaging his wrist but his mind only half on the pain.

There'd been an antagonism in those two towards him, it had felt…personal. He recollected the expression on the girl's face when he'd asked if she knew who they worked for. It didn't make sense. Even sheer loyalty for Hydra wouldn't account for anger at that question would it? Unless perhaps she knew he'd been wiping out the remnants of Hydra. It was possible…and they were young, it was possible they were idealistic, fed on lies and half truths as he had been when recruited. And yet…he wondered. It had been a strange look. And the interaction with Strucker did not imply the complete loyalty that that explanation would have expected.

Instinct told him there was something there. What it was and if it would actually be something he could use or exploit to get out of this mess, it was impossible to say. But with his limited options, it was at least worth exploring. If he was given the chance and he ever saw them again.

It seemed, at the moment, the best he could do was wait.

"He's an Avenger!" Pietro snapped, following Strucker down the hall.

Strucker stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Pietro, cold disdain and fury etched into his face. "I gave you an order."

Wanda had caught up with them both by now. She stood by her brother tense and alert, watching Strucker warily.

"He will know about the Avengers!" continued Pietro. "He will have information we can use on them. Their strengths, their weaknesses. He can tell us how to get to Stark."

"You think I don't know that?" asked Strucker coolly. "He will certainly be made to talk. And if he knows anything of use, we will certainly get it out of him. But you two, if you wish to help your country, if you wish to succeed in getting to Stark, you will listen to me and learn to follow orders! I promised you the power to help your people and earn your vengeance. And I followed through with that promise didn't I? So when I tell you, ignoring my orders will earn you nothing but an early grave, believe me when I say it! And I for one would hate to see my hard work wasted! So go to your quarters and stay there as I told you! Do not make me say it again."

This time, as he stalked off, neither twin followed him.