And here we are, back for chapter 3! Thank you to everyone that has read, favorited, alerted, and reviewed to this story so far, the amount of support I've received for this story already is mind-boggling. This chapter is a small bit shorter than the others, but the next one's probably going to be a bit longer to compensate. I would like to apologize that this chapter jumps around a bit in the beginning though.
Someone asked me in a review how long I thought the story would be, and to answer, I'd have to say somewhere around the ten chapter mark.
That taken care of, and no other issues looming over my head to address, I'll let you get on to the chapter. Please enjoy, and if you are so inclined, leave a review with any comments or concerns you may have. And I apologize ahead of time for my use of an online translator for the small bit of Russian in this chapter.
As always, I own nothing.
As the week went on, Clint steadily got into the rhythm of training. Walker and Maxwell had managed to simmer their animosity and as a result the entire class was able to run more smoothly, and Clint actually found himself enjoying it more than he thought he would. Of course, he understandably looked forward to his one-on-one training with Flynn far more. The dark haired recruit was dedicated, if he had to say the very least. He threw himself into the training, pushing himself to get better every day, no matter what discipline Clint had him focusing on. By Wednesday, Clint had him out on an unused runway to practice marksmanship, and in the city itself for parkour.
The archer picked a civilian or two at random and followed them through the city, letting Flynn take the lead after a few minutes and instructing the recruit on how to get the most information out of his surveillance; what to pay attention to, and what to dismiss. He seemed to catch on fairly quickly, and aside from almost breaking his neck on a slippery drain pipe, he kept up well. Clint was actually impressed with his progress; able to see how determined Flynn was to not only do well, but to excel. That knowledge made Clint breathe a little bit easier, knowing first hand just how hard this job was.
By Thursday, Clint found himself once again seated in a secluded corner of the mess hall for lunch, alone. He usually didn't stay long, preferring to get some practice in with his bow before marksmanship training. At the moment though, he felt someone approaching and he looked up, eyes flashing, only to blink in surprise when he saw Steve walking towards him, though the fact that he wasn't carrying a tray said he wasn't there to eat.
"Hey." he greeted, head tilting to the side as he took in the super soldier's small frown and his strained expression. "What're you doing here? Something wrong?"
The distance in Steve's eyes said his mind was elsewhere as he took a seat beside him, but the Captain just gave his head a quick shake and looked over, twitching a grin that was forced as hell.
"Nah. The director's just got some stuff he wanted my take on." Steve said, but Clint just raised an eyebrow, leaning his elbows on the table and looking over his friend critically.
Something was clearly wrong, no matter what he said. Steve almost looked shaken, or stunned maybe, and not much could evoke that kind of reaction from the man.
"Steve." he said pointedly, tone lowering, and the super soldier gave a sigh, recognizing the tone that said the archer wasn't buying it. He started to open his mouth to give an honest answer, only to pause with an almost apologetic expression.
"What's your security clearance?" he asked and Clint couldn't help a small grin at Steve's perpetual concern for making sure everything was by the book as possible. And it also peaked his interest considerably.
"I'm level 7, Cap. As high as you can go." he assured, before tilting his head slightly to the side with a raised eyebrow. "Course, that's also what they told me when they raised my clearance to level 6, so I'm not really holding my breath on this one."
Steve snorted a chuckle to that statement, but looked relieved, which Clint took to mean that that had been what he wanted to hear.
"Well this is only level 6, so I guess it's okay to talk about it with you." the super soldier reasoned, and Clint gave a small nod for him to continue, eyes narrowing slightly when Steve gave another small sigh and shook his head, leaning in on his elbows. "It's just... Director Fury brought me in for my take on a HYDRA sect that's been found near Prague, in the Czech Republic,"
Clint's eyes brightened with understanding as soon as Steve started and he relaxed slightly, expression becoming more sympathetic. Steve paused as soon as he looked up and saw that, his own expression morphing into one that was almost sheepish. Of course Steve, who had worked so hard, and given so much to put down HYDRA seventy years ago, would be an unhealthy combination of angry, worried, and confused that fragments of the organization were still being rooted out today.
"You get where I'm going with this." Steve prompted as more statement than question and Clint gave a small nod, watching as the other man scrubbed a hand across the back of his head and lowered his gaze. "I mean... I guess I just didn't think that HYDRA'd still be a problem you know?"
"There's been a couple little ripples, mostly in Eastern Europe, but never anything big Steve, nothing like before." Clint assured him, and was able to because he'd been part of some of the teams taking out those little ripples. His eyes narrowed again when Steve snorted.
"This' starting to look pretty big." he said, giving a slight shake of his head. "That's why the director wanted me involved, but... I have no idea what I'm doing." he gave a derisive chuckle then, which made Clint frown. "This isn't the HYDRA I dealt with. Not by a long shot. What makes it even better is that they seem interested in me."
That caused Clint to straighten quickly, now much more concerned than he had been before. If anything even remotely having to do with HYDRA wanted at Steve, he considered that a serious cause for concern. A seventy year grudge wasn't pretty no matter how you looked at it.
"What do you mean by interested?" he asked, but the Captain was quick to wave off his concern, not that Clint was inclined to let that sway him.
"From what we know, it looks like they're just looking for information right now. Nothing anyone needs to be worried about."
"Yet." Clint countered, eyes narrowing. Steve gave a small grin and actually looked a little grateful as he responded.
"Trust me. The director's got people keeping an eye on it. If it seems like they're going to be more of a problem, I'll know about it."
The archer still wasn't fully satisfied, but there was nothing he could do about it, not having been read in or having any of the actual intel for himself. Instead, he looked back up to Steve and considered him carefully again. Part of him wanted to ask if the man was alright, but he knew that the Captain in him would keep up a strong bravado, especially in the SHIELD mess hall. So he didn't bother; not here anyway.
"You wanna take a walk?" he asked, jerking his head towards the door and not missing when Steve's eyes gave a quick relieved flash before he stood, Clint following his lead and dumping what remained on his tray before they both started out of the mess hall.
"How long do you have before your next class starts?" Steve asked, but Clint just shrugged.
"Plenty of time. And the range is already empty so we can talk there if you'd like." he said, and Steve gave a small grin to that, following his lead.
Clint talked with Steve until the recruits arrived, the Captain then leaving to go meet with Fury again. The rest of the archer's day was uneventful; Flynn's training once again talking them out into the city to do some practicing.
Friday was evaluation day. One by one, he had each recruit run the obstacle course by themselves, watching their progress carefully and marking down each of their times, mentally noting what he wanted to point out on the forms later. He smirked when he realized that all but two of the recruits had above average times, Flynn's being the fastest of his class at 5:32. That didn't surprise him, considering how much extra practice he had had in the form of their parkour training. Jones, however, wasn't far behind him at 5:47.
Overall, Clint was happy with the progress they had each made since the beginning of the week. Everyone had shaved at least a minute, in some cases almost two, off their original times. Considering that, he'd obviously done something right. After lunch, he gave their marksmanship evaluations, giving a series of targets that tested everything he'd taught them that week. They used actual pistols as opposed to the pellet ones, as they had been for the last two days of training.
After the last of the recruits had finished their evaluations, Clint took the daunting mountain of paper work he now had to complete and took to the catwalks above Hanger 2. Without his own bunk room, it was the closest thing to solitude he was going to get. And he wanted to get this done quickly, so he could finish setting up an assignment for Flynn over the weekend. The recruit was doing well enough with him that he wanted to send him off on something simple by himself. A little bit of surveillance and scouting.
Setting him on a random civilian, however, could lead to some issues if the recruit got himself caught.
Shaking his head to clear it and focus back on the task at hand, Clint twirled his pen in his fingers once before giving a slight sigh and starting to fill in the first form, which happened to be Maxwell's. The most obstinate of his recruits hadn't done as terribly as he'd been wary of, and even more surprising, he'd managed to keep himself out of the infirmary. Between Walker, and Clint himself, that was a feat.
Of course, he still made sure to note that the recruit was a nightmare to work with due mostly to arrogance.
His solitude managed to last for an hour and a half, but the quick, sure footsteps that crossed the metal grating were almost welcome at this point, seeing as his eyes were starting to cross, and words were running together.
"Director, I'm beginning to think that this paper work is more the punishment than the training itself." he remarked dryly, not needing to look up to recognize Fury's gait. The snort that he received in response only confirmed the director's presence, and Clint finally looked up as he sat the second to last of his reports to the side with the others that he'd completed.
"I'm just shocked it's actually getting done, Barton. You normally need to be hounded for weeks to turn in a mission report, much less ten recruit evaluations." Fury returned in a tone mirroring the archer's, which just made Clint twitch a slight smirk before he took to twirling his pen again as Fury leaned on the railing across from him.
"What can I do for you, sir?" he asked, ignoring the dig.
"I wanted to see how everything went." Fury said, nodding down to the last paper in Clint's hands. "Particularly with Recruit Flynn."
"He did well." Clint said matter of factly. "He's pushing himself, and he's getting better. I was thinking about sending him out on a little surveillance assignment for the weekend. Let him get a feel for it without me hanging over his shoulder. You know any agents that are going on leave, but staying in the city?"
"As a matter of fact," Fury thought for a moment, before giving a slight nod to himself. "I know just who to assign him to. Agent Newell is on leave for the next two days, and as far as I'm aware he's staying local. He's also going to be Recruit Flynn's handler."
Clint nodded to that, eyes narrowing slightly as he ran the name through his mind but didn't come up with anything. They hadn't crossed paths before, which could prove interesting.
"He still on base?" he asked, and Fury gave a slight shrug, before raising an eyebrow in question. "If this guy's going to be his handler, I want to tell him, so he can keep an eye out for Flynn, see how he does. He's going to need to get used to being able to spot him when no one else can anyway."
"If he is, we can have him meet us in my office." Fury said, not arguing with that logic and taking a step to the side, and giving Clint room to stand, which he did after gathering all the completed forms back into his file. "And I also wanted to let you know that you've got a mission briefing on Monday. Recruit Flynn will be shadowing you."
"Already?" the archer asked with a slight frown, casting a sideways glance at the director. The kid was barely out of general training, had only been working with him for a week, and Fury already wanted to put him in the field?
"Unless you don't think he's ready." Fury said, starting forward across the catwalk as Clint fell in at his side. "You'll get all the details Monday, but the mission's fairly simple."
Clint gave a shrug to that, but didn't verbally respond. Fury wasn't an idiot; and he sure as hell wouldn't want a mission compromised. That still didn't keep the thought that the director was keeping something from him from itching at the back of his mind.
The two of them walked back to the director's office, Fury calling over his radio to find Newell and get him directed there as well. And thankfully, after waiting for only five minutes or so, the man joined them. Clint considered him carefully with a blank expression at first, noting that he was middle-aged and hazel-eyed, with cropped blonde hair. He greeted Fury with a slight air of confusion, before realization sparked as he turned and looked at Clint.
"Agent Barton," he said lightly, turning to better face the archer, but wisely not offering his hand. "I don't believe we've met. Ben Newell."
Clint gave him a slight nod of greeting, before he snorted and twitched one corner of his mouth into a sarcastic smirk.
"Well apparently I need no introduction." he said lightly, catching the quick glance that the agent sent to Fury, as well as the dismissive wave the director gave before sitting behind his desk. Newell looked almost grateful as he did the same in one of the chairs across from the director's desk, but Clint just leaned his elbows on the one he stood behind.
"I assume this is about Recruit Flynn?" Newell asked, voice still pointedly professional, and Clint gave a nod.
"I wanted to send him on a little training assignment this weekend, to see if he can use the skills I've taught him this week effectively on his own. Surveillance mostly. Director Fury tells me you're going on leave this weekend."
Newell nodded understanding, evidently seeing where Clint was going with the conversation. Even so, he didn't comment himself until the assassin continued, which he did smoothly.
"As far as he's going to be concerned, you won't know that he's following you. If you spot him, and it's not overly blatant, don't draw attention to it. Watch what you can; it'll start to give you a feel for how he works in the field."
"Understood." Newell nodded again, before he gave a small smirk and asked a question. "How hard am I supposed to make this for him?"
"Don't act any differently than you normally would. Don't actively try to lose him, or make it obvious you know he's following you, unless he's made it obvious first." Clint responded matter of factly, and once again Newell nodded. "What time were you planning on leaving base?"
"0800 tomorrow." the handler said and this time Clint gave the nod.
"Thank you, Agent Newell, we'll see you Monday." Fury spoke up then, effectively dismissing the man. His words, however, caused Clint to frown as Newell stood and moved to leave the office. As soon as the office door snapped shut, the archer spoke.
"He's coming to Taiwan."
The words weren't a question. And Fury knew better to take them as such. Clint's tone of voice alone said volumes about what he thought of the idea, and the director met his gaze steadily as he responded.
"Yes, Agent Barton, he is." Fury said pointedly, continuing before Clint could voice whatever protest that his scowl was almost definitely going to lead up to. "He's been made aware that he's there in just as much of a learning capacity as Recruit Flynn is. He's an experienced handler, and he knows what he's doing, but he doesn't pretend to understand the intricacies of a distance mission, and he'll be looking to you for advice on how he can best be the support that Flynn needs on an operation."
"So help me God, director, if he tries to change how I operate in the field..." Clint trailed off ominously, snorting coldly when Fury just sighed.
"Barton. No one I try to assign you to is going to be Coulson." the director said heavily, and for a moment Clint's eyes blazed before they shuttered completely, making the older man give a slight shake of his head. "You know I miss the man just as much as you do, but I'm running out of options here. You. Need. A. Handler. It's like you're blatantly trying to piss off every single agent I try to set you up with."
Clint pointedly didn't respond, keeping the cool, emotionless mask across his expression. Every agent the Fury tried to put him with on a mission was either: A) too scared of him for Clint to be able to take seriously, B) too much of a controlling jerkwad to allow him to conduct his missions the way he needed to, even when he wasn't breaking protocol, or C) treated him like a dog on a leash, worth no more than the weight of his arrows. There had only been one of option C. And it wasn't even something Clint had done that had gotten him reassigned.
No, that had been a combination of Natasha and Steve, after Clint had come home from a mission not having slept or ate in at least 48 hours and acting bitter enough to worry Tony.
Fury's gaze searched him critically, before scowling when it was clear that Clint wasn't going to respond to him.
"Damn it, Barton, if you won't tell me what's wrong, I can't fix it." the director growled, and for a few moments Clint didn't respond. And when he did, it wasn't at all in the manner Fury wanted.
"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd like to go inform Recruit Flynn of his assignment." the archer said coolly. Fury's eye twitched and he started to open his mouth to likely ream his ass. Instead, he almost seemed to think better of it and forced out a single terse word.
"Dismissed."
If the recruit seemed daunted by the task that Clint had given him, he tried really hard not to show it, he listened intently to the parameters Clint gave him; to spot his mark when he left base at 0800 and follow him from there, to keep on him mostly from above unless it was impossible, to keep track of where the men went at what time and any routines he seemed to have, and be able to identify the best place and time for him to take his shot if he had to make one. It was clear that he wasn't comfortable with the last one, thinking of a fellow SHIELD agent as a mark, but Clint simply informed him that if he could have the shot, so could any other potential assassin.
Even if you're running a protection detail, you think like the would-be assassin so you know how to best protect your mark.
Flynn had warmed up slightly to the idea after he pointed that out, and agreed to meet him back at Stark Tower at 2100 Sunday night so Clint could walk him through a proper debrief. Even if he wasn't a handler, Clint knew how one worked and what questions were typically asked, seeing as he'd been through more than his fair share. After making sure the recruit understood, he had finished up his last report, dropped them off at Fury's office without a word, and went home.
Clint, for his part, really enjoyed doing completely nothing for the weekend. He played video games with Steve, sparred with Natasha, somehow got talked into a Disney movie marathon with Thor on Sunday morning that ended up with everyone sitting around the couches arguing which movie was the best, but by far the most enjoyable was probably pestering Tony down in his lab. The billionaire was far too easy to annoy for it not to be hilarious. Of course, he had a sneaking suspicion that Tony acted annoyed more than he actually was, but that wasn't an issue for him.
One thing he had discovered though, was that Tony was in no way comfortable with him sitting perched up on the platform above the lab. It didn't matter what either of them were doing, or who else was in the lab, he just constantly seemed to fidget and cast quick, unreadable glances up to him. And Clint could take the hint. He didn't know what caused the little quirk or what exactly it was about - somehow he wasn't convinced that it was just his presence - but his friend was uncomfortable and that was enough. Tony hadn't commented when he'd perched himself on the edge of an unused lab bench instead, but Clint could have swore that the flash in his eyes when he had turned back to his suit was one of gratitude.
Sunday night, Clint was in the common area and waiting for Flynn half an hour before he was supposed to be there, watching Steve hand Tony his ass in Mario Cart. It was amusing, to say the least, and Tony's cursing got infinitely more creative as time went on.
'Sir, the security team would like me to inform you that there is a Jacob Flynn here to see Agent Barton.' JARVIS' voice sounded two minutes before nine o'clock, and Clint gave a slight grin when Tony was too enthralled with his game to respond.
"Go ahead and let him up JARVIS." he responded, standing smoothly and going over to snag a Gatorade from the fridge for the recruit. He was bound to be tired, and probably starving.
'Of course sir.'
It took less than two minutes for the elevator to ding its arrival at the floor, and Clint grinned when he saw the recruit step out almost hesitantly, looking around himself in what almost looked like awe. Relief flashed in his eyes when they landed on him, and he started forward at the archer's waved invitation, giving a slight nod of greeting.
"Recruit Flynn. How'd it go?" he asked, motioning for the dark haired man to take a seat at the table and sliding the Gatorade towards him, which was received with a nod of thanks.
"Pretty well, I think. He didn't act like he saw me at any rate, and I only lost him once, for an hour or so." Flynn said, looking up to him then for approval, which Clint gave in a slight nod.
"For your first solo assignment, that's good." he assured, before leaning forward onto his elbows and continuing. "Now, walk me through everything you learned about Agent Newell that would be mission-relevant."
It took a little more than thirty minutes for the mock-debrief, but that wasn't unusual even for a two-day op, especially seeing as Clint kept throwing in questions asking why what Flynn was telling him was relevant, or how it could be used to further a mission. Overall, he was impressed by the recruit's performance, and he was feeling decidedly less edgy with having the kid shadow him on a mission than he had been when Fury had proposed it.
By the time they had finished, Flynn looked even more worn and exhausted, and Clint clapped him on the shoulder as he stood, going over to the kitchen.
"You hungry?" he asked, snagging the now empty Gatorade bottle as he went and shaking Flynn out of the thoughtful, somewhat amused expression he had been wearing as he had been watching Steve and Tony playing the video game.
"Definitely, sir." he said empathetically, and Clint grinned, dropping the empty bottle into the trash and instead grabbing a plate, and the pan of leftover chicken potato bake that hadn't yet be put up.
Sure, he could take Flynn back to base and let him hope that the mess hall was still serving something edible, but they both had to be at SHIELD for the same reason the next morning, so it made just as much sense to let the recruit that looked dead on his feet bunk here for the night.
"Oh Featherhead, you've got the poor rookie deluded into calling you sir." Tony sniggered, before he yelped in protest as Steve obviously did something to impede is progress in the game.
"Laugh it up, Stark." he said with a slight roll of his eyes, depositing the plate, along with another unopened Gatorade in front of Flynn. "Meanwhile, I'll be laughing at the fact that you - genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist - still can't beat a guy that was born in 1920 at Mario Cart."
Flynn snorted into his plate to hide his amusement, while Steve didn't bother, laughing almost smugly. Clint grinned and returned to his seat as Tony started pouting. He was the only one that could dish the borderline insulting banter back to Tony effectively enough to have the billionaire bowing out, a fact that amused everyone else to no end, especially Pepper.
He seemed to get over it fairly quickly as always, getting back to soundly cursing Steve under his breath within minutes. It was then that Clint looked up again, directing his words back over in his direction.
"Hey Tony, you got a guest room Flynn can bunk in for the night?"
"No." Tony returned instantly, still sounding a little bitter. Flynn raised an eyebrow at that, looking almost cautious, but before Clint could wave it off, Tony was continuing. "I've got a guest floor though. Guest room; psh. What kind of self-respecting eccentric billionaire do you think I am, Barton?"
"My mistake." Clint said dryly with a roll of his eyes, and waving for Flynn to follow him once he'd finished eating. "JARVIS, what's an open guest floor then?"
'Floor 62 is the closest, sir.' the AI returned, while Flynn looked up with a sharp gaze.
"Stark's AI." Clint said as way of explaination, pressing the button for the elevator, and stepping aside when the doors opened and revealed the vibrant red flash of Natasha's hair.
Thor was with her, both looking worn from training. Natasha's eyes flicked over Flynn, body tensing in a way that was unnoticeable to anyone else before they flashed to Clint just as Thor spoke.
"Friend Hawk, may I ask who accompanies you?" the demi-god asked with a slight tilt of his head out of curiosity.
"This is Recruit Flynn." he introduced, before jerking his head toward his two team mates. "Flynn, this is Thor and Agent Romanoff."
"Pleasure." the dark hair recruit nodded to them quickly to cover his shock, especially when Thor reached forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder as they both stepped out of the elevator.
"The Hawk speaks well of your progress, young agent of SHIELD." Thor praised with a wide, beaming grin, which Flynn returned hesitantly.
"Thanks." he said, looking to Clint quickly, and the archer just grinned.
"If you'd excuse us guys, he probably wants to find the closest bed after 36 hours of surveillance." Clint pointed out, and Thor patted Flynn on the shoulder again before moving past them, calling out to Steve and Tony.
"Вы принимая его обратно в базу?" (Are you taking him back to base?) Natasha asked as Clint and Flynn stepped into the elevator, and Clint turned back to face her and respond.
"Нет, мы оба получили, чтобы вернуться завтра утром так или иначе, он просто собирается двухъярусная здесь." (No. We've both got to be back tomorrow morning anyway; he's just going to bunk here.) he responded, and she gave him a short nod, and Flynn a piercing glance before she turned and stepped away from the elevator as well.
When the doors slid shut, the recruit at his side spoke, shifting almost uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"Sir, I can just go back to base, I don't want to-," he started, trailing off when Clint gave a quick shake of his head and an easy smile.
"It's no trouble. I need to be on base tomorrow with you anyway." he said, before responding to the curious glance Flynn sent him. "We've got a mission briefing."
"What?"
Clint chuckled at the sheer shock in his voice, before he spoke again as the elevator doors opened on the right floor.
"Relax, you're just shadowing me; you won't be doing anything by yourself. Your handler's coming with us. Just get some rest, we'll get all the details tomorrow."
"Yes sir." Flynn huffed out a long breath, before looking around himself with clear appreciation. "And thanks."
"Get some rest." Clint repeated, before stepping back into the elevator. He needed to make sure his go-bag was packed and his weapons were cleaned.
By seven the next morning, Clint had led Flynn into the briefing room that the receptionist in the lobby had directed him to with the comment that Fury was waiting for them. Again, Flynn looked nervous by the director's presence, but that had mostly been hidden by the time Clint opened the door and strode in, dropping his duffle carefully in the back of the room before taking one of the seats across from where Fury and Newell stood watching them enter. Flynn took a seat too, though Clint saw his eyes widen in shock when he looked up and recognized Newell. He then rounded on Clint.
"He's my handler?" the recruit hissed, and the archer chuckled before nodding to Newell who was grinning and stepped around the table to offer his hand.
"Recruit Flynn. It's nice to actually meet you. I was impressed by how well you did this weekend; I only spotted you twice, and that's because I knew to look for you." Newell said, and Flynn glared at Clint for a moment before accepting the other man's hand and returning his grin.
"Thank you, sir." he responded, and Newell gave a slight nod before retrieving the two files Fury offered him and passing one to each Flynn and Clint.
"Any more reservations, Agent Barton?" Fury asked gruffly, and Clint glanced up to him as he flipped open to the first page of his file.
"No sir. What d'we got?" he asked smoothly, turning his eyes to the face that stared up at him from the file. The man was surly looking and scowling, eyes cold and dangerous. He didn't look like he was originally from Taiwan in any sense; more likely South America.
"This is Emilio Mancilla, a four year veteran of talking people into loyalty towards various drug cartels. Lately he's been getting bold enough to garner our attention, responsible for the deaths of three staff members of a South African diplomat." Fury started, tone completely cool and emotionless as he outlined the target. "He's no assassin, but he's dangerous. Which is why we want this distance, as opposed to putting our people face to face with him."
Clint nodded understanding, expression hardened as his eyes flashed. This man tortured people for a living; he didn't want agents on the ground either. Mancilla couldn't torture what he couldn't even see coming, like him and the deadly point of one of his arrows.
Fury continued to explain that Mancilla would be in Taiwan securing the safe passage of a cartel-run cargo ship through the port of Xiaogang on the southeastern coast of Taiwan. The ship was due to dock in three days, but they didn't know exactly when Mancilla would be arriving. It would be their job to track down Mancilla and take him out as cleanly as possible. Clint could see how Fury considered it simple. Ideally, he'd just have to set himself up somewhere near the docks and wait for Mancilla to show himself. An in and out that should just involve a bunch of sitting and waiting.
Of course the ideal wasn't always what he got handed in a situation, but he could hope.
By the time Fury had finished with what he wanted to present personally, Flynn was looking more than a little overwhelmed.
"Any questions?" the director asked gruffly, speaking almost solely to Clint. The archer flipped his file shut, knowing he'd look it over much more thoroughly on the jet, and help Flynn make sense of everything. Just as he looked up to assure the director that he was good, Newell spoke up with a slight frown.
"Is there going to be a language barrier with the locals?" he asked, and Clint snorted as he stood, going to collect his duffle from the back of the room.
"I speak Mandarin." he responded matter of factly before Fury could. Newell blinked at him but nodded acceptance. Clint then looked back up to Fury. "Jet?"
"Leaving here in twenty." the director informed him matter of factly before he twitched the ghost of a grin and nodded to Flynn. "I figured you'd have your hands full so I got a pilot to fly you into Xiaogang. Happy hunting, Hawkeye."
Clint gave a quick, two-fingered salute in response as he fixed the shoulder strap of his duffle and jerked his head for Flynn and Newell to follow him out.
"You've probably got to get a bag packed," he started looking to Flynn who nodded as he continued. "Don't be late; we'll meet you in the hangar bay."
"Yes sir." Flynn said, turning off and jogging down another hallway.
"And I've got to get him assigned a service pistol before we leave." Newell muttered mostly under his breath, before looking shrewdly at Clint. "Not that you probably have your own small armory anyway."
Clint gave a small shrug but didn't verbally respond, watching as he too peeled off down another hallway while the archer continued on to the hanger. Within ten minutes, Newell had rejoined him at the jet they were assigned to, and not five minutes after that, Flynn jogged up, slightly out of breath and carrying what looked like an almost new black SHIELD duffle.
"Agent Flynn." Clint smirked when he could hear the grin in Newell's voice, and he turned back around, leaning against the side of the Quinjet just inside the ramp to watch as Flynn accepted the pistol and its holster with wide eyes.
There we have it; I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review, but other then that, I'll see you again next Monday.
~Dogstar