Clint's hand tapped against the wooden armrest of the chair as his muscles spasmed from the last jolt of electricity. The second the tremor stopped the guard jabbed the wand against the metal chain strung over Barton sending another wave of electricity throughout his already aching body.
"H-how's this s-suppose to prove my-my loyalty and th-threat level?" stammered Barton.
A small smile graced Mason's lips. "We want to see what kind of extreme circumstances might reinitiate Loki's control."
"Y-you're en-enjoying this-s."
"I always enjoy it when justice is served Barton."
Time had little meaning anymore; all that mattered was getting from one pain filled moment to the next small respite between shocks. It wasn't the first time Clint had found himself in a situation like this; his life with SHIELD had provided the enemy with many opportunities to strap him down and electrocute him amongst many other, equally horrible, acts. The difference between this and all the other times was this was his own people doing it for reasons that were rather vague. There was nothing concrete that Mason wanted, nothing Clint could say or do that would end his torment; it would simply continue until Mason grew tired.
The archer's emotions were a jumble long before the council decided to make their move. The guilt he felt over the things he did under Loki's control had been eating him up, slowly and silently, and no one seemed to notice him drowning right in front of them; not even the Avengers. That wasn't the worst fact in the world because, just like a drowning man, Clint knew he would inadvertently take down anyone that tried to help him, so he did his best to hide his inner turmoil from anyone that might feel the urge to help. There were no words that he possessed that would erase the horrors he had been party to, or the evil he would have done had Romanoff not stopped him.
Most nights he wished that Natasha had been kinder and just ended things, instead of granting his freedom from the blue prison that Loki had resurrected in his mind. Perhaps that was his punishment; to have to live every day with the knowledge of what he did, what he'd been going to do. It was this belief the fueled the resolve that this action being taken against him now was somehow just and deserved.
Clint had failed to stop Loki in New Mexico, failed to resist the god's control, failed to prevent Pepper from being in that horrible situation at the bank; and his most recent failure of trying to kill Stark, Steve and Natasha all screamed that he was a black cloud of death and destruction to his friends. Simply put, he was a failure – completely and utterly, 100%; no excuses. He deserved to be punished, and almost felt a sense of relief when he'd woken up to find the council had sanctioned action against him.
Another part of Clint was terrified, not at the treatment he was receiving or what tortures might lay ahead, but of what they could find. What if Loki could still control him? What if all it took was a stressful situation or a certain word and he became the mindless slave again; what if he tried to finish what he started with Natasha?
Despite Nick Fury's rough exterior and a steadfast belief that good must be upheld at all costs, Clint felt the Director had been overly lenient after Manhattan. Somehow he had expected more of a better guarantee that Loki could not reclaim him as his own. His whole betrayal of SHIELD had been dismissed rather anticlimactically. The Director had told Clint that he wasn't to blame and that no one could punish him more than the archer could ever punish himself, as undeserved as it would be.
Anger rose in Clint; Natasha had kept him alive and so had Fury. Couldn't they see the threat he was to his friends? Even after fighting alongside the Avengers, he had put them in danger. Why did they all still want to keep him round? Agent Mason was a certifiable ass, but at least when all was said and done and the council's trials and tests were complete he would put Clint out of his misery; do what the archer and the Avengers could not do - keep the world safe from Hawkeye.
The sense of relief that replaced the anger lasted but mere moments as a final jolt of electricity tipped the scales from consciousness to nothingness and Clint passed out.
Agent Mason watched the prisoner go slack "is he still alive?" he asked with only mild interest.
The doctor that had been lurking by the door shuffled forward and checked Barton's vitals on the computer; a small nod confirmed the archer was still with them.
"On to phase three then." At the flick of his wrist, the four guards moved forward to untie the prisoner and carry him to their next room of 'fun'. Mason waited behind as the doctor handed over a file.
"There is no trace of Keres in his blood; the initial report filed by Dr. Banner was correct. There is also no indication that the agent is under any kind of outside control," reported the physician.
"That's very unfortunate," replied Mason, "I was assured that this would work."
"It's all been theoretical at this point. This is the first time we've had a subject."
"We need this to work; take another blood sample and run more tests." Mason took the folder and walked out of the room with an irritated sigh; he wasn't looking forward to reporting these recent findings.
"You know I would expect this kind of behaviour out of the Hulk but not you. Well in light of recent events maybe out of Stars and Stripes, but not you Thor" stated Tony as he watched the god of thunder continue to smash the couch in half. Steve was sitting at the bar beside the billionaire who conveniently missed the glare when referencing Roger's complete loss of control during the Keres situation.
Rogers scoffed. "Really? You don't expect this out of Thor?"
"Ok, I do kind of expect it out of the guy but I always pictured him pummelling someone and not my ten thousand dollar couch!"
The tension and frustration had built up so much for the Nordic god in the last few days since Clint had been taken that most of Stark Tower looked like a war zone. Unable to express his displeasure any other way that was equally as satisfying as smashing in the faces of the council members, Thor had been forced to turn that energy on various pieces of Stark's furniture.
"Seriously, Thor, stop destroying my shit," snapped Tony as the god of thunder continued his rampage undeterred by Iron Man's earlier statement.
"Tony," cautioned Pepper. She had watched them all start to self destruct with the absence of the archer and one was actually no better than the other; they simply had different ways of venting. Where was a bad guy when you needed one? She would have to agree that the tower was taking a beating ; but if they didn't vent, the remaining Avengers were beyond difficult to deal with or even control. "You've drank enough to put a liquor store to shame these last few days. Besides he's not hurting anyone, nor is he destroying anything that can't be replaced."
"Yeah Stark, the answers aren't at the bottom of that bottle," retorted Rogers. His normally take it all on the chin attitude had disappeared behind a moody, irritated demeanour; one reminiscent of Tony on his off days.
Stark glared at Steve and held up a nearly empty bottle. "I know the answers aren't at the bottom of this." He slammed back the remaining drops and grabbed a new one. "That's why I have to look in another."
Pepper rolled her eyes. The first day after Barton was taken, the team had rallied together to try and find some loophole to rescue the archer from the council's clutches. Day two, their spirits had dipped slightly and they moved on from loopholes to different cases and situations similar to Barton's, to find procedures and possible situation outcomes. Day three had been fraught with squabbles, fraying tempers and trying to find blackmail material. Day four they began to pull away from one another; and today, day five, they'd been reduced to smashing furniture and drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
Bruce had locked himself away in his room and refused to come out for fear that his only way to vent would be to release the beast. Natasha had headed back to the helicarrier on day two and remained there checking in twice a day to see if the team found anything useful. Pepper almost felt sorry for the council members. If they returned Clint in anything less than pristine condition, heaven help them; for the Avengers would not be pleased.
The only light in the room came from the twelve television screens that were displaying various security camera angles. She knew the agent in charge of security was aware she had entered but neither said a word to break the silence.
After a few moments of watching their fellow agents move around the helicarrier, Natasha spoke. "I want the name of the agent that flew the nuke into Manhattan."
"You know I can't give you that information Romanoff. That mission was sanctioned by the council and thus the agent was disciplined by the council," replied Agent Gracen.
"We both know there were no disciplinary actions taken; besides I'm not here for some sort of payback for almost killing millions because the council got cold feet. I'm simply looking for information that the agent in question can provide."
Gracen raised an eyebrow but didn't take his eyes off of his screens. "And what if you don't get your way; you're going to kick my ass right?"
Her voice was eerily calm. "I'm not going to lay a finger on you. You're family, friends, neighbours, dry cleaner's family pets... they won't be so lucky."
"Asking nicely works too you know," said the head of security as he slipped a piece of paper towards Romanoff.
She picked up the paper and smiled. Gracen was always reasonable and willing to help out Barton; she didn't know what her partner had done to endear himself to Gracen, but right now she was thankful.
"Honestly I thought you would have been here two days ago for that," said Gracen; but when he turned around for Natasha's reply, she was gone.