Brock aimed down the sights of the handgun, checked the loading mechanism, and then placed it back on the bed next to three other guns. He pulled the weapon's case out from under the bed and began to pack the guns into it.

There was a knock on the motel room door and he froze. His contact wasn't supposed to be here for another five hours?

Picking back up the handgun he approached the door and looked through the peephole. He relaxed.

Holstering the weapon, he opened the door and said, a tough dryly, "Seriously Barton, you just can't get enough of my company?"

"I always was drawn to your sparkling personality."

Brock stepped aside to let him in and moved back towards the bed to continue packing the guns.

Clint glanced towards the duffel bag on the other bed. "Going somewhere?"

Brock shrugged. "Got a job."

Clint propped his shoulder against the wall. "Where?"

"Africa. Some military coup."

"Mercenary work?"

"Yeah, what else? It's not exactly like I have a skill set in graphic design or plumbing."

Clint frowned. There was a sharp edge to Brock's voice that hadn't been there at their last meeting. "Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just time I get out of this damn motel and do something."

"When do you leave?"

"This afternoon."

"Looks like I caught you just in time then."

"Lucky me." Brock packed the last weapon and shut the case. He turned to Clint. "So what do you want?"

"Ran into some...complications, in Sokovia. Strucker got away with the scepter. But he was doing experiments with it and I think he's going to want to continue. Which means he's going to want another base. Figure he's going to go for another off book one. I was hoping you might have an idea where he'd head or at very least some places I can check?"

Brock snorted. "If he's left Sokovia, I haven't got a clue. Those bases were off book for a reason. And who knows. You may have already killed anyone who does know. Wouldn't that be ironic? I only knew about the Sokovia base because I delivered the scepter. Hydra was clever about making sure very few people knew more than they had to. Typically if you weren't assigned to those bases long term, you didn't even know they existed."

"You must have an idea though. If not where than who would know."

Brock rolled his eyes. "I don't even know whose still alive. Even the people at the top, Pierce for instance, wouldn't know where every single base was located. I'm not saying you can't find Strucker. You might get lucky. But it ain't going to be easy."

"There's got to be something, someway...that scepter is dangerous and powerful. In the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of damage. There has to be a way to find the bases, or where Strucker might go."

"And I'm telling you there's not. Finding even one base is going to take time. The only person who was ever allowed inside most of them, was the one person Hydra could be sure would never remember it."

"What? Who-," Clint stopped. "The Asset."

"Yeah. The Asset. So, sorry to disappoint you, but you're out of luck. And if that's everything-"

"You didn't disappoint me," said Clint, straightening. "You gave me exactly what I needed."

"What? The Asset? Clint are you crazy or just purely suicidal? Other than the fact he will kill you on sight, he doesn't remember anything. Hydra made sure of that with the chair."

"There's got to be some part of him that's not wiped. Or else he wouldn't be on the run. He'd be with Hydra."

Brock rolled his eyes. "A few fragments of memories, maybe. Jostled free by Captain bloody America. That is a very, very long way from being able to get useful Intel out of him even if he didn't kill you before you got one word out."

Clint remembered being in that chair, and Wanda reaching for him, inside his head, calm and peace washing over him. What else could she do in there? "I might have an idea. A way to help him jostle the memories a bit more."

Brock stared at him incredulously. "You can't actually intend to go after him. How many ways do I have to tell you that he will tear you apart?"

"You're the one who just told me there's no other way to track down Strucker."

"So get a clue and drop it."

"I can't do that."

Brock took a step forward, fist clenching and then stopped, instead throwing his hands up. "Fine. You want to get yourself killed, be my guest. Who knows, with your bloody luck, you might even survive the encounter, no matter how little you deserve to."

"Thanks," Clint grinned, "but my odds are a little better than you might think. I won't be going after him alone."

Brock stared. "The Avengers?"

Clint's smile vanished. "No. But I've found some friends."

Brock shook his head. "Of course you have. Clint Barton always makes friends wherever he goes, doesn't he? I forgot."

"I can't help but feel that I've done something to tick you off? What I could have done between now and my last visit, I'm not sure though."

"You want to know what I'm ticked at? Why I'm bloody furious at you and the rest of this damn world." Brock grabbed a days old paper and shoved into Clint's hand. "Look at that."

Clint frowned and stared down. The picture grabbed his attention first. It was the Avengers. All of them, at a press conference, with a picture of himself inserted into the corner. And then he took in the headline: Clint Barton: The Triple Agent. Quickly, he read the opening paragraph. It staggered him. He stared up at Brock.

"Yeah. Your precious heroes," said Brock. "You stab them in the back. You work for the very people that tried, and got this close, to killing every last one of them, and they, they go in front of the entire world and they lie for you without missing a beat. We both know you were never working for Fury. You never told him or anyone else about Hydra. But you, you get away it. You don't get a building falling on you and your face turned into this. No. You get your back covered for you. You get countries saying they won't press charges and people on international TV defending you. You get to keep your face, and knowing you, you probably get the girl too don't you? Right? You do have Laura stashed away somewhere? Yeah." Brock shook his head. "And you know what really, really gets me angry about the whole thing? You didn't even believe in what we were doing. And yet somehow, that makes you the good guy. You killed and maimed and tortured because you were scared of the consequences if you stopped. I did it because Hydra was right."

"No. They weren't. Hydra wanted power."

"Hydra wanted order."

"At what cost?"

"At any cost! Look around at this world Clint. People are dumb. People are worse than dumb. They tear themselves apart because they can. They'll never listen to reason. The only thing they will listen to is pain. Order comes with pain."

Clint studied him for a long, several seconds. The man's left hand was shaking, he was breathing heavily. Clint's eyes flicked to the bedside table, noticed the tube of pain killers, and flicked his eyes back to Brock. He tossed the paper onto the nearby side table. "You're right. It's not fair all the things I got to walk away with still intact in my life. I don't deserve to have the Avengers lie for me. And you're right that I was a coward and that doesn't make me the good guy. I should have done something. And I didn't and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. If you really believe what you say, if you really believed in Hydra…I envy you. Because I have to wake up and live everyday with the knowledge that I betrayed everything I believe in…because I was weak. If I could trade places with you Brock, trade the deals we got, I would do it in a heartbeat. Because there are some days that waking up with this guilt is so damn hard I don't think I can do it. But I don't get a choice. I have to live with it. And I have to live with something else too. I'm sorry. I…let down the Avengers. But I guess I also let down some people in Hydra. I am sorry that I let you down." He paused. "Come with me."

Brock blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You know the Asset a lot a better than I do. I had one mission with him my entire time at Hydra. You worked with him a lot more often. You'll know how he thinks. How he's likely to hide. Help me."

Brock actually laughed. "Your idea of an apology is to help get me killed along with you?"

"I don't think it's going to come to that."

"Well like you said: you don't know the Asset like I do."

"And like I said, we wouldn't be doing this alone. I have some people who I think might just tip the scales in our favor."

"Thanks. But I have a job lined up. One that actually pays and I might live to the end of?"

"You really want to fight for money?"

Brock shrugged. "Why not?"

"Wouldn't you rather having something to fight for?"

"Fight for what? Keeping the scepter out of Strucker's hands? Not exactly a cause close to my heart."

Clint smiled. "How about for a friend?"