Chapter 3: Clint Barton and Clear communication
Clint had a conundrum. Well, a conundrum, paranoia, a hefty dose of survivor's guilt, a brunch of self worth issues and the fact that he, unwillingly or not, had just lead a mostly successful invasion of a major base belonging to the organisation that gave him purpose. And may have contributed to his handler's death. You know, small things.
But his current issue was something his unconscious mind had notices and exploited during the aforesaid invasion attempt and was only now bringing to his attention. It sounded insane, even inside his own head. If it wasn't for the fact he had picked up on it when his higher brain functions (like choice) had been stripped away he would have dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.
If he was wrong, if they didn't believe him he would be sectioned or least brought under heavy investigation from the pysch wing. Even if he was right but the wrong people heard, that might still happen.
"Hello, hi, excuse me, are you -are you okay?" Clint stared at the young man- what was his name – who had interrupted his reverie.
"It's just that your eyebrows are doing a frowning thing, like Mum and Martin and Douglas do sometimes and I thought I might be able to help?" Clint stared pointedly at the rubble which still had yet to be cleared.
"Oh, right you were here when, so that's why, of course you're not happy with... everything." The boy continued seemingly oblivious to Clint's now incredulous stare and somewhat hostile body language. Had he no preservation instinct? Did he even realise he was talking to the person who had murdered a large number of his colleagues?
"Its just that I wasn't there when it all happened, I was with Mum on Gertie and I kind of feel weird about it 'cause I'm glad I wasn't here because there were explosions and things but now I want to help make things better. And I thought you might have a problem what with all the staring at nothing and I wondered if I could help. I mean if its to do with crazy golf or otters on aeroplane or polar bears on, well anything really – I'm your man." He beamed at Clint with what honestly seemed like hope on his face.
"No, it's nothing like that."Clint finally replied, then on seeing the disappointment in his eyes "sorry".
"Oh. Well, what is it then, if you don't mind me asking? I'm quite good at listening too."
Blow it, Cling thought, it's not as if they aren't waiting for me to go crazy anyway.
"Something I noticed is bothering me but I don't know who to report it without sounding" insane, mad "odd."
"Oh that's easy" the boy responded with relief "I know how to do that- I went on a course..."
Clint took a deep breath before stepping into the room, that he managed to get a meeting with Fury on such short notice was a little surprising but he wasn't turning back now.
"What is this about, Agent?" Fury's voice was flat and tense,he wasn't taking Coulson's death well either some distant part of Clint noticed. Stick to the plan Barton. He inhaled slowly and began.
"Hey, Chief, I might be wrong-" he held up his hand to halt Fury's interruption.
"But I think Shield may be compromised by an unknown enemy organisation. This" he took another shaky breath, Arthur – and who had recruited that man to Shield!- had been quite vehement about this next bit.
"this makes me feel... concerned" That wasn't the start of it. "How about we investigate this issue?" Clint paused and took another careful breath. "How does that sound to you?"
"It sounds like you have a lot of work to do Agent Barton."