Bad Aim Chapter 8
By: Cadet Deming
I don't own the rights to The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Please read and review. It's much appreciated. Sorry for the longer wait on the update.
A.I.M. Headquarters
Clint tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he strode through the hallways of A.I.M. He wasn't as good at outright spying in plain sight of the enemy as Natasha was. He was more used to being the sniper or spotter in the shadows.
More people in yellow beekeeper suits walked through the halls. It frustrated him that he couldn't see their faces to see if they paid him any mind.
Clint feigned casualness when he opened the door to Dr. Rappaccini's office. He locked it behind him and went to her desk.
Her computer was a slim laptop. It was less than 2 inches thick, but could be holding immeasurable wealth and information. Clint had noticed that as technology became more advanced, it also seemed to be getting progressively smaller.
With a gloved hand he turned it on. It was password protected, so he took out one of his arrows. The tip had been modified to crack almost any computer code. He inserted it into an opening and the password area flashed with "x" marks to show it had been cracked.
The A.I.M. network was available to him. Clint typed in a search for Doctor Victor Von Doom. The only entry that came up was a rejection to an employment application from 3 years ago. Clint clicked on it, and it brought up that he was rejected for lying about having a doctorate.
Clint smiled about Doctor Doom not even being a real doctor. It seemed odd that he would be working with A.I.M. now after being turned down for a job here.
Clint focused his attention on the network and entered a search for Draken X. It required another password, so he let his arrowhead work its magic. It pulled up a file on gene bombs. Clint skimmed its contents. He couldn't understand some of the technobabble jargon, but phrases like, "genetic warfare targeting" and "ethnic bioweapon" stood out. He downloaded the information, wondering how quickly he could send it to Natasha.
He thought he sensed movement in the room, but when he zoomed in the only thing he saw was shadow. The thought that he was spying on the company he worked for with the eyes they had given him unsettled him. Could he trust his own eyes?
He searched for artificial sight. It brought up schematics for his eye implants. References were made to classified files. If A.I.M. was a private company, how could it possibly have "classified" files?
Clint waited to crack the password on the additional information. It took longer than usual, but finally opened a section in a foreign language. He identified it as German.
Clint didn't know German, but his eyes went to the word "HYDRA" which was repeated several times. Could "HYDRA" be the same criminal organization that Steve had defeated? How were HYDRA and A.I.M. connected?
Clint copied the data and pulled his arrow-tip out. He heard a crunch and quickly pointed a gun in its direction.
Norbert "Fixer" Ebersol stood behind him, holding a remote control in his hand. His expression seemed glum.
Clint tried to save face. "Oh, hey. Sorry I didn't see you there. Monica told me to make some copies."
Fixer stared at him. "Don't insult my intelligence. Just…don't."
Clint hesitated. He could shoot him, but for all he knew Fixer could be innocent. Bullets could also bring unwanted attention from the rest of the building.
Fixer said, "Please put the gun down, before I have to hurt you."
"No can do."
"I warned you."
Fixer pressed a button on the remote. Searing pain erupted in Clint's body. It felt like being electrocuted from the inside out. He fell over, dropping the gun.
He curled into the fetal position. The pain finally stopped. Humiliating as it was, Clint drooled onto the carpet.
He moaned, "What the hell did you do to me?"
Fixer smiled. "Do you remember those vaccinations I gave you in the beginning? They had nanomites in them. They're microscopic robots that give me control of your nervous system."
"Mind control again? You're using mind control on me?"
Clint flashed back to when he had been under Loki's mind-control. It was like being unmade from the inside out. He thought he would never feel as violated again as when he was forced to work against his will by magic. He couldn't believe it was happening again.
Fixer said, "Again? You've had some tough luck in life. Technically it's more in control of your body. You can choose to resist, but it will be agony. I suggest you stop fighting it."
He picked up Clint's gun and took the bullets out of the chamber.
Clint tried to think of what Natasha would do. SHIELD agents were taught to not get caught, unless that was part of their plan. Being captured was definitely not part of Clint's plan.
He looked at his bag of trick arrows. One contained a tip that could disrupt electronic pulses. He wondered if he could use it to disrupt the nanomites. It rested on the desk, so near and yet too far.
He tried to get Fixer to talk more. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you're making me, after all we've done for you. You should have just done your job, put in a good word with Tony Stark, and not spied on your own employer. That's just…rude."
Clint sat up, bracing for a shock of pain. Fixer's hand rested on the button, but he didn't press it. He didn't seem to be a sadist like Loki.
Clint asked, "Can I please stand?"
"As long as it isn't near the remote control or your arrows. Who designs them for you?"
Clint stood. His legs still felt wobbly from the earlier burst of pain.
"I design most of them myself, and SHIELD does the rest." He tried bluffing, "SHIELD already knows about what A.I.M. and Doom are doing."
He watched Fixer's expression to see if he touched any nerves. His opponent didn't give anything away.
Fixer asked, "If that were true, you wouldn't still be here. A.I.M sees what you see. We've got our eyes in you. "
Clint squeezed his eyes shut. His own senses had betrayed him to the enemy. He wanted to blind himself, like a character in a Greek tragedy.
Clint was angry, but could only blame himself. He wanted his vision back so much he had sold his soul to a devil corporation, and now the true price was coming out.
He felt Fixer put his hand in Clint's pocket and pulled out the arrowhead with the data.
Clint asked, "Are you going to kill me now?"
"Kill you? And throw away the millions of dollars' worth of cyborg enhancements? You're a walking experimental prototype with Avenger training. You're too valuable. But since you've proved your lack of loyalty we'll have to keep you on a shorter leash."
He waved the remote control in front of Clint as a warning.
Clint tried a last ditch attempt to get more information. "Does A.I.M. really think HYDRA won't screw it over?"
Fixer blinked several times. "You haven't figured it out? A.I.M. is HYDRA. Didn't SHIELD teach you the motto: 'We are HYDRA. Cut off a limb and two more will take its place.' We're one of the limbs that survived."
To be continued
