Avengers

From Time to Time

Chapter 13

Clint and Alston had gone about a quarter of a mile before Alston asked, "You've got a plan, right?"

Adjusting his grip on the taller man, Clint said, "Yeah."

When Clint didn't follow up, Alston was forced to ask, "So what's the plan?"

"To not get killed."

"Besides that."

Propping Alston against a tree, Clint checked the time. "Working on it. We've still got eleven minutes to get as far away as we can, hide and wait for rescue."

Sliding down to sit on the ground, Alston grimaced in pain. "Or…"

"Or we take the hunt to them." Crouching next to Alston, Clint examined the wound. The left pant leg was soaked with blood though the bleeding had slowed. The bullet had missed the bone so the only surgery needed was to remove the bullet and repair the damage.

The FBI agent jerked when Clint probed the area. "Ow! We? How much help am I gonna be?"

"It's just you and me so the we is us." Listening intently, Clint got to his feet. "I'll be right back." Being as quiet as possible, Clint searched the general area. He'd been all over while watching the compound and he'd recognized a group of trees. About twenty yards beyond it he found a huge log with a hollowed out area underneath. Vines and weeds had grown to cover it enough that Alston could hide while he took out their pursuers. "Come on. I got an idea."

Before they could move, one of their trackers was on them. Alston did what he could until his leg gave out and he fell. Clint couldn't be concerned with him as he fought with the bearded man. The guy had five inches and thirty pounds on him, but Clint was fast and agile. They were evenly matched in skill until Beard bent at the waist and charged Clint like a linebacker knocking them both to the ground. They rolled around in the underbrush, Beard using his greater mass to pin Clint face first to the ground with a hand on the back of his neck while using the other hand to punch him in the kidneys.

The pain in his ribs caused a flash of memory to surface, only he wasn't on the ground. In this memory, Clint was strapped to a chair as he was systematically beaten. He pushed the memory aside even as his head began to throb. Getting his hands under his shoulders, he lifted himself just a few inches off the ground, but it wasn't enough to give him leverage.

And then just as suddenly, the weight was gone. Panting, he rolled over onto his back to see Alston standing over Beard holding a small log. Beard shook his head and started to get to his knees. Alston held the log over his right shoulder like a Louisville Slugger and hit him again, this time knocking him out. He tossed the log aside as Clint sat up rubbing his head over his left eye.

Alston got down next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just…" Clint was suddenly overwhelmed with images, frightening visions of being repeatedly beaten and tortured. They came at him faster and faster, filling his head with the sights and sounds of another time.

He saw himself hiding in the woods watching another building, similar yet different than the Consortium's current location. So intent on getting as much intel as possible that he'd stayed too long in one place. When he moved on, the patrol had been closer than he thought and he ran right into them…literally. With his hands held high in the position of surrender, he'd given them what they wanted: his name and reason for being there.

Marlow Fenwick from Abilene, Kansas. Been travelin' around lookin' for work and this guy tells me you're hirin'.

At first, his story had been accepted at face value and he'd been taken into the compound where he was brought before the captain of the guard. The man had looked him over and asked questions, mostly about his ability to handle weapons. His cover as an unemployed construction worker had been expanded to include a short stint in the military so he rattled off the names of several weapons currently in use by the Army then was taken to a firing range to be tested where he'd passed with flying colors.

Clint's good fortune hadn't lasted, and one night while patrolling the perimeter, he'd been taken into custody and charged with being a government agent. He'd been thrown in a cell and had spent the next several weeks enduring physical and mental abuse that would've broken most men. Somehow, he'd managed to hold on despite the pain and humiliation with which Tiny and George had assaulted him.

For twelve years, that time had been a blank slate just waiting for someone to write on it. But now it all came back to him in vivid larger-than-life color, bringing with it the pain of his injuries. A hand touched his shoulder and he covered his head with his arms, curling into a ball to protect himself. The hand was removed and the words that came through the ringing in his ears were soft and soothing, like a parent comforting a child after a nightmare, assuring him that it was all a dream.

But it hadn't been a dream. Everything he'd experienced had been all too real. The voice continued to speak, the anxiety and concern so vastly different from the harsh commands of his captors. The hard concrete changed into leaves and grass and the sharp pokes of twigs. And the voices of Tiny and George turned into another, familiar voice as the memories where overlaid by the sounds of birds chirping and small animals scampering through the trees.

Slowly, in case this was the dream, Clint uncurled his body, every muscle and bone aching as he rolled onto his back and sat up. Blinking to clear the last vestiges of his worst flashback ever, Clint dropped his head into his hands. Alston touched him on the shoulder again making him jump.

The FBI agent pulled away as if he thought Clint would hit him. "You okay?"

Moaning, Clint got to his knees then to his feet. Holding his hands out in front of him, he wasn't surprised to them shaking, though with adrenaline, fear or a combination of both, he didn't know. "Yeah."

Sitting on the ground, his injured leg straight out in front of him, Alston exhaled loudly. "S***, Barton! You scared the crap outta me. What the hell was that?"

Forcing his eyes to focus and his breathing to slow, Clint used the tail of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and neck then helped Alston stand. "Later. Let's go."

Going as fast as they could, the two men returned to the dead tree and Clint helped him down into his hiding place. "Now what?"

"We get weapons and start taking them out. Stay here."

Alston made a smartass remark, which Clint ignored. Too much was going on inside his head for him to care at the moment. He cocked his head listening then moved off toward the sound of footsteps. Most people wouldn't have heard it, but to Clint it sounded like an elephant stomping through the rain forest.

When he got close, he crouched behind another dead tree and waited for the biggest to pass by his hiding place. Clint stepped out behind him and got him in a sleeper hold before he knew what hit him. The man sagged to the ground and Clint relieved him of his weapons.

Using the man's belt, he tied his hands, took the headset and hooked it over his left ear so he could hear when the others were talking to each other. At the moment, it was quiet. Clint then went after the guy's partner, leaving him tied up as well and adding more weapons to the arsenal.

Keeping one Sig and two of the K-bars, Clint gave the rest to Alston. "If I don't come back for you in one hour, the main road is that way. Head for it, get to a phone and contact Fury. Until then shoot at anything bigger than a raccoon."

"What if I accidentally shoot you?"

Clint grinned. "You won't hear me until it's too late."

Alston shook his head and grinned as well. "You'll have to tell me your backstory one of these days."

"Lookin' forward to it." Now that they were armed, their chances of getting out of this alive had gone up dramatically. He passed the second headset to Alston and headed out.

The hunted had just become the hunters.

~~O~~

The monitor split into more than a dozen screens, each showing a different part of the woods surrounding the compound. And though she searched frantically, she couldn't see Clint or Alston. That meant they hadn't been caught yet.

Off to the side, Dietrich had his head down listening to chatter from his men. From the set of his shoulders, the news wasn't good.

Clint had said, You're one of the bravest people I know. Maybe it was time to start showing it. Relaxing her features into an attitude of calm, Naomi let one side of her mouth lift in a half-grin. "Lost contact with any of your men yet?"

"Quiet."

"You do know that you've sent over a dozen men after a man who hangs around with superheroes and not six months ago, helped repel an alien invasion that nearly destroyed New York City."

Dietrich turned his head just enough to speak over his shoulder. "I said be quiet."

"Or what? You'll hit me? Kill me? That's been your plan all along, hasn't it?"

He faced her now, the self-assurance dimmed. "My plan is to have you sit here and watch the man you love hunted down and killed like an animal. That hasn't changed."

"You don't sound very confident. Did something happen?" Naomi injected an innocent tone into her voice.

Turning his back on her, he continued to confer with someone over the headset. "What?! Five? How could he…" Remembering too late that he wasn't alone, Dietrich shouted at the guards, "Get out! Both of you."

From past experience, she knew one of Troy's biggest faults was that he hated appearing weak in front of people he considered his inferiors. It undermined his authority and he couldn't bear the humiliation.

While his back was turned, Naomi bent forward and used her teeth to unbuckle the restraint around her right wrist. With a hand free, she unbuckled the left wrist, and her ankles. But she didn't try to leave. Instead, she got to her feet, her shoes making almost no sound on the hard floor.

After giving the medical instruments an inspection, she shuddered and turned back to watching the monitor. A gasp escaped before she could stop it drawing the attention of Dietrich.

He started toward her, but she wasn't looking at him. His eyes followed hers, both of them zeroing in on the lower left corner as Clint came into view. He stood looking up at the camera before jumping up to hang by one hand from a branch, his feet planted on the trunk and knees bent. Reaching around to his back pocket, he drew out one of those big knives he always carried, using it to pry the camera loose. He stuck the knife between his teeth and jumped down. Holding the camera up in front of him, Clint gave it a wink and a jaunty salute just before he smashed it against a rock turning that panel to white noise. Naomi clamped her lips together to keep from laughing out loud as he systematically did the same to the others as well.

Dietrich's forehead crinkled in irritation. "How did you get out of your restraints?"

She sauntered around to the front of the chair and sat down again. "I'm more resourceful than you thought." He snorted at her, but didn't call the guards. It wasn't like she could get away. She'd been unconscious when she was brought in and hadn't the slightest inkling of the layout of the building. She didn't even know what floor she was on. Only that there were no windows. "Could I get some water, please?"

He didn't respond to her directly, but a few minutes later, one of the guards came in carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses. He set it on the shelf with the medical instruments and left.

Naomi poured the water then handed one to Dietrich. The startled look he gave her made her smile sadly. "Despite what you might think, I don't hate you, Troy. I just never loved you."

Something crossed his features, and just for a moment, it seemed as if the "old" Troy was back then his expression hardened again. One hand went to his headset as he listened to what was being said by the men hunting Clint and Alston. The look he shot her was filled with rage. "What the hell is he doing to my people?"

She wanted to take a step back at the vehemence in his tone, but refused to show fear. "What he was trained to do. Did you really expect anything else?"

"I expect him not to kill my men."

Naomi took an angry step forward, hands clenched at her sides. "Clint doesn't kill indiscriminately or for pleasure. But that's something you wouldn't understand. He has ethics, a moral code. If there were any doubt that a target was guilty, he wouldn't take the shot."

"So what you're saying is that when he kills people, he does it in the nicest way possible? He's serving a higher moral purpose?"

She didn't rise to his baiting. "They're probably unconscious and tied up waiting for someone to come collect them." A flash of light caught her attention, her eyes going to the monitor. All but two of the cameras had been disabled. The ones that were left were aimed at the main entrance and an open area. No movement could be seen on either one.

The door opened and a guard came in. Naomi didn't recognize him and he didn't spare her a glance. He went to Dietrich, the two men conferring in urgent whispers. Dietrich was already angry, and what the guard said amped it up even higher.

"What's going on? Troy?"

He ignored her and left the room. The guard came back a few minutes later, taking her by the arm and dragging her down the hall to another room. Dietrich was inside just tucking in his shirt. He strapped on a thigh holster, shoved a handgun into it then attached a K-bar to his belt. Lifting his pants leg, he shoved a smaller gun into the ankle holster, pulling his pants leg down over it. He thrust ammo into the remaining pockets and picked up a nasty looking gun that she assumed was an automatic or semi-automatic assault rifle. It could even have been a sniper rifle, but she doubted it. She'd only fired handguns, so she really had no idea, but she kept thinking about guns to keep from thinking about why Dietrich might be arming himself so heavily. Then he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her after him. "You're coming with me. I want you to be there when I kill Barton. Make even one move to interfere, I will put a bullet in your heart and stand by while he watches you bleed to death. This is your only warning."

~~O~~

Adjusting his injured leg made the pain worse, but Alston endured. If Clint could survive being tortured for weeks, he could do this. Turning his wrist over, he saw that the one hour time limit was nearly up. He hadn't heard much of anything except small animals and maybe the raccoons he'd been warned about, but no people. It aggravated him to be stuck here while his friend was risking his life though there was little he could do about it.

A sound off to his right put all his senses on alert. Something big was moving through the underbrush. Alston took out the Sig, released the safety and waited. Sure enough, one of Dietrich's men came into sight about thirty yards away examining the ground for tracks. And naturally that would lead him here.

Alston didn't want to kill the man, but would if he had to. It just wasn't his first choice if he could talk his way out, but he sensed that wouldn't happen here. Shoving the Sig into his waistband, he took a deep breath and climbed out of the hole. As quietly as possible he positioned himself behind the trunk of a large tree. Having palmed a rock, he tossed it once in the air then threw it to get the guard's attention.

There was the rustle of footsteps in the underbrush coming closer. Alston waited until the man passed him then delivered a punch to his kidneys. When he swung around, Alston grabbed his weapon arm pushing it toward the ground, turned on his good leg facing away from his opponent. Drawing his right arm across his body, he drove his elbow back and up into his face several times. Finally, the other man released his hold on the MP7, grabbing Alston's shoulder and spinning him around.

Gritting his teeth at the pain, Alston forced himself to ignore it as he engaged in a rapid-fire hand-to-hand. The guy got in a lucky shot making Alston see stars briefly, but when his opponent came in for the final blow, the FBI agent dropped into a boxer's stance. Right cross, left cross, jab, jab, jab, hook. And the pièce de résistance, upper cut. The man swayed on his feet, Alston hopping to the side to let him fall on his face.

He spent a few minutes tying him up then gagged him as well as removing his headset and throwing it as hard as he could. Another check of the time told him it was now past the deadline Clint had imposed. However, there was no way he'd be leaving the other man behind.

After changing the bandage on his leg, he headed back toward the compound, stopping at his former hiding place to pick up the rest of the weapons. Then, armed to the teeth, he set out to find, and if necessary, rescue his friend.

~~O~~

Hiding in the woods, Clint waited for Dietrich to show up certain that he'd gotten the message. He'd taken out his men and all but two of the cameras leaving this and one other in operation to force the former FBI agent to play by his rules.

The main door opened and Dietrich came out dragging Naomi with him. That was a wrinkle he hadn't anticipated, but he could work with it. He followed Dietrich and Naomi through the woods to the place he'd chosen and removed all the weapons he'd been carrying. This thing would go down hand-to-hand or not at all.

Dietrich ordered Naomi to sit on a stump, and Clint was glad to see her comply, though her eyes glowed with the desire to tell him off.

"I'm here, Barton." When Clint didn't immediately step out, Dietrich took out a handgun, chambered a round and held it to Naomi's head. "Show yourself now or she dies!"

Without making a sound, Clint stepped into the clearing. "I'm here, Bishop."

"What did you do to my men?"

Shrugging, Clint held his arms away from his body so Dietrich could see he was unarmed. "For guys who belong to a crime syndicate, they don't know how to fight. They actually thought I'd stand there and let them shoot me."

"Like you're doing now?" Dietrich raised the muzzle of the MP7, sighting on Clint's chest.

"You won't kill me. Not without trying to humiliate me first." Relaxing his stance, Clint waited.

Going to a clump of bushes as far from Naomi as he could, and with deliberation, Dietrich divested himself of every weapon and the ammo for them, including the knives. He rotated his head and flexed his arms then faced Clint who'd already moved out into the clearing. "Just you and me, Barton. Let's do it."

~~O~~

Natasha kept conversation to a minimum as she strapped on her Widow's Bites. Banner sat beside her tapping a heel on the floor. They wouldn't need the Other Guy, hopefully, but Banner's medical expertise would come in handy if there were injuries.

Clint hadn't answered his comm since Fury had gotten the message that his daughter had been taken, and that worried Natasha just a little. If Clint already knew that Naomi had been kidnapped, he was more than likely mounting a solo rescue right now. She didn't give him much of a chance against the overwhelming odds, especially in light of the fact that he might be captured by the same group that almost killed him twelve years ago. He still didn't remember being a prisoner and Natasha didn't know how it would affect him to be one again. But Clint was strong in mind and body, Loki's influence aside. He had his friends and now Naomi to help him through, just in case.

Stark took a set of what looked like magnetic bracelets from his pocket slipping one around each wrist. "Open the back when we're about ten minutes from the landing site. I'll do a flyover. Get the lay of the land and report back."

Fury didn't respond, but she knew he'd heard and debated if she wanted to go with Stark or approach the facility on foot. A few minutes later, the decision was made for her when the hatch opened, Stark jumped out and the Mark X took off after him.

Going to the edge with Banner, Natasha watched Stark fall, the suit opened and wrapped around the billionaire, the propulsion system engaged and Stark was out of sight. Hitting the door control, they returned to their seats as the hatch closed again.

Turning in her seat, Hill pushed the headset off one ear. "We'll be landing as close to the main entrance as possible."

Banner fidgeted with his collar then rubbed the back of his head. "What's the plan? Or did you bring me along so the Other Guy could open a few doors?"

"Only as a last resort. For now, we need you here to treat any injuries Alston, Barton or…" she glanced at Fury and away, "…Dr. Marks may have sustained."

"If we go by Barton's previous experience, it could be very bad. How do you expect me to treat traumatic injuries with what we have on board?"

The turbines whined as Fury throttled back in preparation for landing. "If it comes to that, we can fly them to the nearest hospital."

Natasha checked her handguns then took out one of her boot knives, examined the point and replaced it just for something to do to keep from pacing.

Fury spoke into his headset. "On approach, Stark. Once inside, we need you to download their database then destroy it."

"Copy that."

The quinjet circled the benign looking building locating a clearing just big enough to set down in. By the time the engines shut down, Natasha had opened the back, Fury and Hill on her six. When they neared the building, Fury put a hand up to bring them to a stop. "Let's wait here while Stark opens a few doors for us."

Right on cue, Iron Man flew into sight, hovering above the ground. Using his repulsors, he blasted the doors open then settled on the ground though they didn't immediately join him, taking their cues from Fury.

Hill came to stand next to her boss. "Director?"

"It shouldn't be this easy." With a huff, he led the way. Natasha and Hill flanked him with Stark watching their backs. "What's the inside look like, Stark?"

"Just your basic crime syndicate hideout. The computer room is on the second sub-level, the detention cells are on the third with the head honcho's office on the ground level. How about we split the difference. You guys do the rescuing while I do the genius work?"

Nodding, Fury pulled his weapon, chambering a round. "I'm on the leader. Hill, Romanoff, get our people out." He received nods of agreement from each as they quickly followed Stark.

Stark clomped through the opening leading the way to the elevators. Without warning, a squad of armed men and women burst out of the door at the far end and another came around the corner that intersected. With a hiss, Stark's helmet covered his head and both hands came up, the repulsors glowing.

Fury dropped to one knee, his weapon spitting bullets as Hill ducked behind a corner. She popped out a moment later and, between the two of them and Stark, they sent their opponents flying, stunned, unconscious, dead or dying. The hostiles landed in a heap after slamming into the concrete walls and reinforced door. One managed to maintain consciousness, but Natasha took care of him with a well-placed kick to the head.

As they rounded the corner, more guards engaged with them, some coming from behind. Natasha didn't know where they'd come from and didn't care. With a growl, she performed a jumping spin kick and sent the first man's weapon soaring through the air and Stark blasted it. Flexing her wrists activated her Widow's Bites. Sparks leapt from the impact site in the middle of his chest, every muscle in his body pulling taut and a moment later, he was on the floor.

~~O~~

Deep within the compound, a lone figure sat at a computer keying as fast as he could. It had taken a while to break the encryption on the financial records, but he'd done it. Now he commended himself for downloading the Consortium's database to an offsite digital storage where he could access it at any time. He also set a trap for anyone who tried to access the information without the proper security codes. When the trap was sprung, every last bit of Consortium data and money would be automatically transferred to the new accounts he'd just set with the offshore banks and data storage, and anything that was copied would be corrupted.

His head came up sharply as the sound of fighting reached him. Taking a flashdrive from his pocket, he inserted it into the USB port, typed a few commands and let the computer run. Scooping up his weapons, he rushed to join his squad in fighting the invasion.

~~O~~

Over the next few minutes, Hill watched Natasha methodically throw the men around, some twice her size, beat them senseless, step on them, and wipe the floor with their dignity and self-respect. And she did it all with a proverbial smile on her face.

Hill got into a standoff with the lone woman in the group, swaying back and forth for a beat, battling for possession of the MP7. The blond guard slammed Hill against the wall. She grunted, but didn't let go. The other woman twisted the weapon side to side breaking Hill's grasp and shoving the stock against her throat, grinning nastily. Hill tried to break her hold, but the lack of oxygen sapped her strength. Dark spots appeared in her vision as her body weakened and began shutting down.

TBC