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Chapter 35

When Hydra Calls

New York

Sharon arrived to find Hawkeye already at their improvised headquarters. He said nothing as she entered the command center; his attention was riveted on the television news reports of Cap's battle with Hydra. Hawkeye's hands knotted in white-knuckled anger as he watched the news, his face a portrait in frustration. Sharon positioned herself by the doorway, as the reporter recapped the events.

"…As seen just moments ago, Captain America, accompanied by an unknown masked hero, defeated the Hydra forces before the police arrived. There are reports that the vigilante known as the Punisher also took part in the raid. The Governor has declared a state of emergency, warning of further Hydra attacks. In national news…"

"That's enough of this crap," Hawkeye said, shutting off the television. He snatched his bow off the table and slung it over his chest, storming towards the door. Sharon was waiting for him, not exactly barring the way, but close. Hawkeye stopped and glared at her.

"Outta my way, Carter."

"Hawkeye, cool off and think it over. We need you here."

"He needed backup today! Only I was too busy playing tiddlywinks with Jane Bond! That's not going to happen again."

Sharon's expression and tone of voice were cool. "We have a plan. We need to stick to it."

"Your plan blows, Blondie! And I'm done with it." Hawkeye shouldered his way past Sharon. She turned to him.

"If you walk out that door, you're doing it for yourself, not him. Just be clear on that."

Hawkeye's hand froze on the door. Sharon went on.

"It would feel good to get out there and vent your anger on those Hydra scum, I get it, believe me, but today was only the preliminaries. The main event is when Schmidt goes after Steve. If we aren't ready when that happens, we'll have failed him when he needed us most. Is that what you want?"

"No! No, damn it, of course not."

"Look, you're right, my plan is terrible. The only thing worse is every other option. We've got to stick together."

Fuming, Hawkeye ripped his mask off and tossed it onto a side table, scattering a stack of intelligence reports. He ran a hand through his hair.

"I just feel so frickin useless. I'm not built for waiting around like this. I need a target, it's the only thing I'm good at."

"That's not what Steve says."

Hawkeye kept his back to Sharon, his voice quiet as he spoke. "What does he say?"

"That you're better than you think you are. Not with this," she said, laying her hand on his bow. "He thinks you're a born leader, only you don't know it. He says you have it in you become one of the best…if you can get over yourself, and learn to put the mission above your ego."

Hawkeye let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like the big boy scout."

"He's no boy scout."

"I know. I just talk that shit, I don't know why."

Sharon was startled; Hawkeye's voice was choked with emotion. He kept his back to her, and went on.

"I was in a bad way when I first met him, a stupid punk kid with a chip on his shoulder a mile high. I'd made some bad life choices. I was on my way to prison, or the grave, I didn't care which. Cap saw something in me I didn't see in myself. When everyone else said throw the bum to the curb, he gave me a second chance."

Hawkeye turned around, revealing red eyes, brimming with tears. "I won't let him down. You either, Carter. I'll stick with you."

Sharon reached out, laying her hand on his shoulder. "You're all right, Clint. I'm glad he has a friend like you."

Hawkeye started to speak, when they saw Falcon soar into the open bay down below. Hawkeye wiped his eyes and quickly retrieved his mask. Seconds later, Falcon walked through the door. He wasted no time.

"Did you hear the news?"

Sharon nodded. "We just watched the mop up on CNN."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"We sit tight, and wait for Schmidt to make his move."

Falcon lifted his mask, his eyes dark with concern. "That's getting damned hard to do. Steve needed back up today, we should have been there."

"He had Union Jack with him. Chapman is a top operator."

"He also had the Punisher, and Castle's a loose cannon. I don't like leaving Cap vulnerable this way."

The sound of squealing tires in the bay interrupted the discussion, and a black SUV appeared on the monitor. Seconds later, Hank Pym and John Jameson burst through the door.

"Did you hear the news?" Pym asked.

Sharon put her hand to her temple. "Yes, but let's not—"

Just then, a series of beeps sounded. Hawkeye, Falcon, Pym, and Jameson all pulled out their com-links.

"It's an Avenger's general alert, all members are being called in," Jameson said, reading from the screen. "What should we do?"

"We stick to the plan," Hawkeye said, raising his voice to get everyone's attention. "We can't get distracted—that's just what Schmidt wants. Johnny, all of you, let's turn them off," he said, deactivating his com-link. The others followed suit. "We have to stay focused on the big picture. The others can deal with Hydra. Our mission is Cap."

Falcon looked at him askance. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Hawkeye?"

"Funny Sammy, funny. Now if you're all settled down, Carter here has some news to share." Hawkeye turned to Sharon. "Blondie? The floor is yours."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Okay, here's the latest. SHIELD is in the process of breaking Hydra's codes. When they do, we'll have the inside track on their plans. Hydra's made their opening move, but like Clint said, it's only a distraction."

"It's a pretty big distraction," Pym said. "They've launched dozens of attacks across the nation, all over the world."

"Hydra has millions of troopers. So far, they've only committed a few thousand. If they win a victory, they'll take it, but trust me, they're just testing our defensive posture. The main strike may only be hours away, but this isn't it."

"Any clue on Schmidt's location yet?" Sam asked.

"No. Hydra guards that secret jealously—they don't refer to the location of their bases even in code. But I have someone working on it."

"Who?"

"I'll let you hear it from him," Sharon said, nodding at the monitor.

The monitor showed a heavyset man piloting a small, underpowered Vespa scooter into the bay. Its motor sputtered to a stop, and the man bounded up the stairs, heavy footsteps reverberating. Sharon turned to the team with a sheepish look.

"Go with me on this. We need him."

Sharon opened the door. "Everyone, I want you to meet our computer specialist, Melvin Kirkshank. The Evil Boll Weevil."

Melvin walked in, sweaty, out of breath, and eyes wide with wonder. Dressed in khakis and a black tee shirt a size too small, he had a bandolier across his chest, its compartments jammed with computer cables and memory sticks. An army surplus belt circumnavigated his wide belly, pouches overflowing with electronic devices and candy bars. To Sharon's immense relief, he wasn't wearing a cape.

"Oh…my…God. Falcon, Hawkeye, it's really you," Melvin said. He walked up to Falcon, examining his suit. "That's your original costume. Classic. I once designed a version for a cosplay convention."

"I'm flattered," Falcon said, suppressing a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Hoobastank," Hawkeye said.

"Kirkshank," Melvin corrected.

"Whatever."

Melvin turned to Jameson. "Which one are you?"

"I'm not an Avenger. I'm the pilot."

Melvin instantly turned to Pym, taking his hand and pumping it vigorously. "I can't believe I'm meeting a founding member of the Avengers. You are my sixth favorite member of the team."

"Thanks. I think," Pym said, prying his hand free.

"You aren't wearing your Ant-Man suit. Personally, I prefer the Yellow Jacket design, black and gold, very strong visual…but the Ant-Man look is classic. I have suggestions on combining the two—think Boba Fett meets Ghost in the Shell. I have numerous illustrations." Melvin pulled a cell phone from his belt, crowding shoulder-to-shoulder with Pym. "Can I take a selfie with you?"

"Um…Sharon?" Pym said, inching away.

"Maybe later," Sharon said, ushering Melvin away. "Right now, why don't you fill us in on what you've learned?"

"Yes. Well, Hydra has excellent programmers. Their firewall is impressive…but not impervious."

Melvin sat at the computer array and brought up a schematic. The others gathered around, seeing an immense flow of data scroll down the screen. "This is MODOK. He's our ticket to the Hydra mainframe."

"He?" Hawkeye said. "You're talking like he's a person."

"I believe he is. MODOK is an advanced form of A.I. That means Artificial Intelligence."

"I know what it means, but what does it do?"

"He hasn't told me yet. But when Hydra activates him, MODOK eats up huge amounts of memory. It creates an data pulse, like a bomb going off in cyberspace. Hydra tries to disguise it, but I can spot their subterfuge. Rather clumsy, actually. The next time they activate MODOK, I can triangulate the signal. Give me five minutes, and I can tell you exactly where the signal originates."

"What if they don't activate it? We don't have time to waste, Fishtank."

Melvin flushed. "I'm aware, but those are the facts. Look, not every problem is a supervillain you can punch out. It's not like I can just shoot an…arrow…into…"

Melvin's eyes went wide, and he stood gape-mouthed, staring into space. Hawkeye turned to Sharon.

"Carter, I think fats just had a stroke."

Melvin snapped into action. "Everyone out. I cannot work with distractions. Sharon, I shall require a large pepperoni pizza—and a carton of Red Bull." Melvin sat at the computer, mumbling to himself. "Shoot an arrow into it…brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?" He looked up, seeing the others staring at him. "Are you still here? Out!"

"Let's take this downstairs," Sharon said, shooing the others to the door. As they filed out, Sharon turned to Melvin. "Happy hunting, Weevil."

"Yes, yes," Melvin muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He did not look up as Sharon closed the door, his entire focus directed at the computer monitor. He hammered out a line of code, entering the Hydra database. "Okay, MODOK, let's play..."

. . .

Downstairs, Hawkeye grilled Sharon.

"Where did you find that flake anyway?"

"Ten years ago Melvin hacked the Pentagon, the White House, and the IRS. Nothing malicious, just wanted to see if he could do it. I've had my eye on him ever since. He's a bit much, I know, but when it comes to computers, he's the best."

"He better be, if he's going to hack Hydra. Seems like a nut to me."

"He's…quirky. You know how it is with those genius types."

Hank Pym huffed. "As a Nobel laureate with an I.Q. of a hundred-and-forty, I resent that remark. We're not all oddballs."

Hawkeye smirked at Pym. "Come on Doc, you're a little on the nerdy side."

Pym looked at him, genuinely surprised. "What?"

"Hey, you're not a spazz like Kirkshank," Hawkeye said. "I mean hell, you've got a hot wife, you even drink a beer once and a while. Still…you're kind of nerdy. No offense. Nerds are cool these days."

"I'm not nerdy! I'm a superhero, for God's sake!"

"Yeah, so are Reed Richards and Hank McCoy. Let's face it doc, you braniac types are all about half-a-Poindexter."

"Not Tony Stark," Sam said, grinning. "He's a playa."

"Hey, you're right. Stark's rich, good looking, smooth with the ladies…" Hawkeye turned to Pym. "Boy, the rest of you egg-heads must hate Stark. He really blows the curve for you guys."

"Yes, as opposed to guys like you."

"Touché, Doc. You're still a nerd, though."

It went this way for a few minutes, friends playfully ribbing one another, relieving, if only a little, the tension hanging over them all day. Inwardly, Sharon breathed a sigh of relief. As an intelligence operative, she understood the necessity of being prepared for action, but part of that preparation was knowing how to relax. This reprieve was like medicine on Hawkeye's demeanor. Earlier, he was ragged, on edge. Now he was relaxed, even laughing. This was a good thing.

Jameson's SUV pulled back into the bay door, his headlights lighting up the factory floor. He parked and then jumped out, carrying a stack of pizza in one hand, cartons of soft drinks in the other. Sharon took Melvin's share up to him, while the others gathered around a large workbench, and dug in. Sharon rejoined them, and soon the talk returned to the mission. The tone, while not as heavy as before, was nonetheless serious.

"What's our plan once we locate the Hydra base?" Pym asked.

"We find Hydra before they move on Steve," Sharon said. "And the Avengers take them down before they launch their attack. That's the best case scenario."

"And the worst case?"

Hawkeye answered for her. "We don't find them. They take Cap. And all hell is unleashed." He scrutinized Pym's expression. "What is it, Doc?"

"You said earlier we have to stay focused on the big picture. Are we doing that? Look, Steve is my friend, I'll risk my life to save him…but he'd be the first to tell us that stopping the Skull is our top priority."

The room grew quiet. Sharon spoke first. "And what are our chances of defeating the Skull without him?"

"Sharon…I love him too, but—"

"I'll go it alone, if I have to."

"You won't be alone," Hawkeye said. He turned to Pym. "Doc, Cap's the one man who's ever defeated Schmidt. He knows his mind, tactics and weaknesses. This isn't emotion talking. We need him. If we go in covertly, hard and fast, we have a chance."

"Which brings us full circle," Pym said. "We keep assuming Hydra will take Steve. It may not play out that way."

"I hope you're right," Sharon said. "But every major Hydra offensive has centered on isolating and defeating Captain America. Steve won't hesitate to take whatever bait Schmidt lays out."

"She's right," Sam said. "I've watched Cap battle the Skull, up close. In his own way, Cap is just as obsessed with defeating the Skull as Schmidt is with him. Steve will be there, I'm sure of it. And I'm going to stand with him."

"I'll be with you," Pym said. "Unfortunately, Giant Man won't. Shrinking's the only trick I can do these days."

"We know, Hank," Sharon said. "Don't take this wrong, but your greatest asset is your medical expertise."

"Doc has a point, though," Hawkeye mused. "We're all damned good at what we do, but we're a little light in the power department. We could use some muscle."

"I've taken care of that. In fact," Sharon said, looking at her watch, "I expected him to be here by now."

"Who'd you line up, Carter?"

A voice called out, deep and resonant, colored by an accent found nowhere on the surface of the earth. All eyes turned to the bay doors, as a man walked in from the gathering darkness.

"In her wisdom, she called me."

The owner of that voice stepped into the light, and walked over to Sharon. "I was detained by affairs of state, but you now have my full assistance."

He folded his arms across his chest, over a tunic as blue as the depths of the ocean. His cloak, midnight black and trimmed with glimmering green and gold, rippled like the sea. Golden bracelets adorned his wrists, symbols of his royal station. He stood in silence, radiating power like a force of nature, given human form. When he spoke, his voice crashed like waves upon the shore.

"Prince Namor, the Avenging Son, is here…and woe betide those who incur his wrath."

Namor turned his intense gaze to Clint Barton, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "The muscle, Hawkeye, is here."

Avengers Mansion

Cap was headed to the game room to join the others, when his phone began to vibrate; not his Avengers com-link, but his personal phone. Only a select few people had this number. He considered letting it go to voice mail, but pulled it from the compartment on his belt. He checked the caller I.D., surprised to see Emily Falsworth's name. She rarely called, unless it was an emergency. His mind instantly went to Jacqueline. He should be with the others, this was a critical time, but this call could be critical as well. Stepping into the now empty parlor, he pressed answer.

"S...Steve?"

"Emily?" There was fear in her voice. "Is everything all right?"

"Steve! They made me call, I'm sorry—" Her voice was cut off. Another voice came over the line, making Cap's blood go cold.

"Hiya, Cappy. Hope you're not sore about me throwing you off that building?"

"Rumlow, if you hurt that girl, I swear—"

Emily screamed in pain. A second later, Crossbones was back on line.

"Interrupt me again, please."

Cap stayed silent.

"Good. I got 'em both, Cappy. Do what I say, or I'll kill them. I'll start with the old one, give you a chance to think about it before I kill the girl. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"There's a city park about four blocks south of your little playpen. You know it?"

"Yes."

"Get there, Cappy, alone. If any of your super-buddies show, if even a plain old beat-cop wanders by, you can kiss your English girls goodbye."

"I'll be there, alone."

"Good. There's a ship leaving in ten minutes. If you aren't on it…"

"I said I'll be there."

"That's fine. Can't wait to see you, Cappy."

"Bones? I'm hanging up now, but I'm coming. And if you've hurt either of them, I'll just have to kill you. That's a promise."

Crossbones started to reply, but Cap stabbed the button, ending the call. For several seconds, he stood in the darkness, trying to master his anger and fear. He slipped the phone back into his belt, noticing the slight tremor in his hand. He made a fist, squeezing until the shaking stopped... but the pain and exhaustion racking his body remained. He was ill, nowhere near fighting strength. And people he loved were in the clutches of ruthless killers. Steve bowed his head.

"God…please help me to save them."

He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and then quietly slipped out of the mansion. Seconds later, he was on his motorcycle, heading towards the park, and the waiting Hydra ship. Trailing behind, unseen, the lights off, another cycle shadowed him. Union Jack was on the move.