Authors Note
Story Timeline. End of July 2013
The re-emergence of an evil from the past begins a chain of events that may have dark consequences for the team when Thor and Clint are attacked and Clint goes missing.
Thor questions his motivations and Clint shows what he's made of.
Homo-eroticism, strong language, violence, torture and recreational drug use; just another average weekend for the Avengers.
Thor broke the surface in a shower of spray, shaking the water from his hair like a dog as he waded towards the rock where Hawkeye lay sunning himself
Damn! He should be doing shampoo commercials. 'Asgard by L'Oréal; for a shine the Gods will envy'
The pool had been a real find at the end of their first day's hiking; fed by a mountain waterfall, deep, cool and clear in the bottom of a narrow valley. They'd made camp on the ridge above and spent the morning splashing around. The day was fiercely hot, even under the shade of the trees, and showed no sign of letting up. Neither of them had much inclination to pack up and move on, instead enjoying the heat of the sun on their naked bodies and the refreshing chill of the water.
Clint had stuck to mucking about in the shallows. He'd never been that great a swimmer and even though his hearing aids were supposed to be waterproof it was a risk he didn't like to take. Sneaking them out at night and in again first thing in the morning without Thor noticing was a big enough challenge.
At times, he thought it would probably be easier just to come out and tell the Big Blond; but he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets from the team. Maybe because of growing up with Loki, anything that smacked of deceit towards his friends made Thor miserable. He'd had a difficult enough time with the surprise party they'd thrown for Steve's birthday. The archer laughed quietly to himself. Doc was going to have great fun trying to explain Secret Santa.
Thor spread himself out on the warm rock beside his friend, letting the noonday sun dry him naturally.
"You should come in and swim properly" He said, rubbing the archer's thigh "The water is very pure. You can see fish at the bottom."
"Nah, it's fine! I'm not big on swimming" He grinned "Doggy-paddle is about my limit. I'll stick to working on my all-over tan".
Thor ran an appraising eye over the man lying beside him
"You are looking very brown. It is attractive"
His hand was still massaging its way up the inside of Clint's leg. That, combined with the heat of the sun on his body and the proximity of the big blond warrior was having an obvious effect. Thor brushed his hair back and leaned over the archer, smiling.
"I do not think it has ever just been you and me together" He bent down and began kissing his chest. Clint gave a slight grunt as Thor's long, agile, fingers wrapped around their target and began stroking.
As his mouth began to move further down, Clint ran his hand through the warrior's wet hair
"I didn't bother to pack any lube, and you know I kinda prefer to be in the driving seat…"
The Asgardian looked up and grinned, then licked the small scar just beneath his friend's navel
"There are still many other things we can do"
Clint moaned as Thor's warm mouth closed around him.
"Hell yeah, Blondie!"
###
This was turning out to be a great idea. At first Clint hadn't been keen on the thought of a long weekend in the mountains with Thor, but he figured he owed the Big Blond for bailing on his welcome home party and for being so cool about the time he was spending with Doc.
He'd only ever been camping once as a kid. Uncle Dom had taken him, Barney and their cousins up into the woods for a week one summer. It was one of the few happy times he could remember from back then. Uncle Dom had been real good at hunting and fishing before he'd had his accident and couldn't work or walk much anymore.
The closest he'd come since had been SHIELD wilderness survival training. That tended to be less marshmallow roasts and more 'which wriggly, crunchy, bugs are edible?'. Luckily, dinner this evening was the rabbits Thor had snared; diced and stewed with some foraged wild herbs.
"You can eat all these? Clint had asked as he shredded them into the pot "Don't want you going full Linda Blair on me."
Thor's intolerance to shellfish had been discovered one notorious night out, to the surprise of the team and everyone else within blast radius. They had never dared venture back to that restaurant since and there was now a slight nervousness about introducing him to any unfamiliar foodstuffs.
Thor laughed. He had given up trying to understand Clint's references. They were usually to do with a film or television programme he liked. He would remember to ask Ainsley when they got home.
"Dr Banner has done tests. I can safely eat most of your foods, except for the fish with shells. And pistachio nuts."
Bruce had been happy as a pig in shit the day he got Thor into his lab. He'd been looking for the chance to run any kind of tests since the day he came back from London but the Asgardian didn't like the idea of being treated as a specimen and it wasn't wise to push him on the subject.
"Sucks for you, man! Pistachio ice-cream is the best. Anyhow, smells like dinner's almost ready."
The stew was hot and tasty, and there was plenty of beer to wash it down. Clint drained his second bottle. This might not be as fancy as the stuff that Doc and Tasha turned out in the kitchen back home but it was good and filling. Maybe they should take a couple of rabbits home with them and rustle up a pot of stew for the others. Fresh wild meat always made him a bit 'frisky', another beer and he'd see if the Big Blond was up for round two
"So, is this the kinda stuff you're gonna get up to on those wilderness courses at the Academy?"
The survival exercise Thor lead for some of the senior cadets earlier in the month had been an all-round success. He'd been asked to do more and there was already a waiting list; a lot of the female cadets seemed particularly eager to sign up.
"Not all of it" grinned Thor, winking at him "But the hunting and woodcraft, yes. Many of your people do not seem to learn these things in their youth. It pleases me to be able to teach them."
He picked a bit of rabbit meat from between his teeth and chewed it thoughtfully. This was something he wanted to speak about.
"You have many useful skills. Perhaps you should join me at the Academy to share them. It would be good to work beside you there as well as in the field"
Clint shook his head
"Thanks for the offer, but teaching's never been my thing. Always been more of a stand-alone guy"
Thor glanced up at him. He must not be too direct or Clint would close himself off. Ainsley would be better at this than him, but he was already helping Clint with the sadness in his heart. It would not be fair to place an extra burden on him.
"You do not stand alone; you are with us"
Clint winced at the slight hurt in the Big Blond's voice. He hadn't meant it to sound like that, but the idea of being around Field Ops any more than necessary gave him the shivers. Only so much cold-shouldering he could deal with in any one day.
"Sorry Blondie, you know that's not what I meant. 'Course I'm part of the team. Just can't see myself standing up in front of a bunch of students laying down the facts."
Thor grinned and squeezed his friend's shoulder
"That is what Ainsley does. Can you see me standing like that in the attire of a scholar, saying all those words that only he can pronounce?"
Now that would be a laugh, Thor in collar and tie lecturing on psycho-pseudo-schizo-whatever. The Asgardian tossed him another beer
"Come with us the next time we go out into the woods. We can hunt for food together and show the young ones what true warriors can do."
Clint prised the cap off with his belt-buckle, chuckling
"Now you're making it sound like fun, Blondie. That's just unfair!"
Thor chugged his beer down with a sense of satisfaction. He had got Clint thinking about it now. That was a start. Perhaps when Steve told him about the plan he and Ainsley were working on the archer would become less reticent. He laid the empty bottle aside and started to pull off his shirt
"I know something else that would be fun"
###
"So, do you think they've decided yet?" Tony poured himself another Margarita. It had been a heavy, humid, day in Manhattan. At street level it was sticky and unpleasant, but up at the Penthouse there was a light breeze coming in from the sea; perfect for after-dinner drinks on the terrace and a bit of good weed.
"Decided what?" asked Ainsley, accepting the joint that Natasha offered and taking a long hit. One of the many advantages of working at the Sci Ops Academy was the abundance of excellent grass to be had if you knew the right person.
"Who gets to be Heath and who's going to be Jake" He laughed at their expressions "Too soon?"
"What are you talking about, Stark?"
Steve was pointedly downwind of the others, playing checkers with Bruce. The scientist rarely joined the others in the evening but the Saturday night get together was a bit of a ritual now, besides it was too nice to be stuck indoors. Thor and Clint had made a good choice in heading to the mountains for a few days, perhaps they all should consider a holiday while the weather was like this.
He smiled at Steve's mild disdain for the often self-indulgent atmosphere of life in the penthouse. There was something a bit forced about it, as if the boy from Depression-era Brooklyn felt compelled to express disapproval for the lifestyle of the idle rich even while sharing in most of it. To be fair the only things he really felt uncomfortable with were the drug use and overt discussions of sexual behaviour, which unfortunately tended to go hand in hand when Tony was in chill-out mood.
Tony took the joint from Ainsley in exchange for the Margarita pitcher
"I'm talking about Goldilocks' and Pidgeon's little Brokeback Mountain bonding party. Do you think they'll flip a coin and see who gets tails, or will Clint just have to man up and bite the arrow?"
Ainsley laughed, almost overfilling Natasha's glass.
"Unless they've packed a quart of KY and a six-pack of poppers I think they'll have to keep it to heavy petting for the most part!"
"Guys, is this really appropriate?" Steve sounded annoyed but Bruce was trying hard not to break into the giggles "There's got to be other things we can talk about"
"Oh, I disagree" declared Tony, waving his glass and dripping Margarita over himself in the process "The great unasked question around here is exactly how this game of Human/Asgardian Tetris works out in practise. Natasha, I'm sure you've wondered as well?"
Natasha was laughing so hard she was in danger of spilling her drink.
"Don't bring me in on this, as far as I'm concerned Barton's sex life should have Level 10 classification!"
Tony started to roll another joint
"Well, Sherlock? Going to spill the beans about who fits into whom?"
Ainsley stood and picked up the almost empty pitcher
"I think we need a refill, and I think Tony needs to ask himself why he's more interested in what three men do in bed than he is in where to take Pepper for their forthcoming anniversary."
Tony continued holding forth as Ainsley poured Tequila and Triple Sec into the blender
"Actually, I think we need to be more concerned about what Thor's intentions really are. I'll bet $100 he's planning to bop Hunger Games on the head then be all 'He was devoured in battle with a mighty bear. I gave his remains a warrior's burial. Now let us feast and compose sagas in his memory!'"
The doctor laughed "I'll take you up on that. Thor's nowhere near that good a liar!"
Thor landing awkwardly on the terrace was a sudden shock to them all; the Asgardian's face was scraped and bloody and he was having trouble with his shoulder. His voice was unsteady, as if speaking caused him physical pain.
"We were attacked… I cannot find Clint."
"You may owe me $100, doctor." Despite the attempt at levity, Tony's voice was as shaky as Thor's. His eyes were fixed on what he had with him, a projectile weapon of some sort. It's power cell glowed with a crystalline blue light, unpleasantly familiar to the veterans of the Battle of New York.
###
They had heard sounds nearby just after dinner, enough to make them wary but not cause concern. It was not impossible that they would run into other hikers or hunters, even this deep into the forest, and they had quickly pulled their clothes back on just in case. Within moments, however, it became plain to them that the noises were around them; men moving into a pincer formation. They had placed themselves back to back, Thor with hammer in hand and Clint with bow ready, prepared to challenge any hostility.
Thor had not expected the blast of energy that hit him square in the chest, throwing him through the air. He did not know how far it had been, but he had felt himself crashing through tree branches and smashing hard into a rock face, knocking the breath out of him and dislocating his shoulder. Even in battle armour such a blow would have been debilitating. Forcing his shoulder back into its socket he drew on the training instilled in him since childhood, channelling his pain into the warrior frenzy. He needed nothing so crude as a Beserker Rod to call on the concentrated battle-rage of his ancestors.
There had been only three men, all armed with similar weapons, and lacking any great skill in their use. Aware of what to expect he had used Mjolnir to deflect the wild shots aimed at him and dispatch them with speed and ruthlessness, relishing the terror in their faces as the Asgardian's fury was the last thing they saw. It was only once the immediate danger had passed he realised he could not hear or see Clint. He hunted around the campsite with no success, calling his friend's name until the trees around him shook with the thunder of his voice.
With evening fading towards night he had no choice but to return to the Penthouse and seek the aid of the others. After one last look around he began to spin Mjolnir by its strap, until the momentum of the great hammer carried him up and forward in the direction of New York.
###
Bruce had completed tending to Thor's injuries by the time he finished speaking. They were mostly superficial but a couple of his ribs were cracked and his shoulder was sore and swollen. Even though his superior constitution meant he would be mostly healed in a less than a day, the thought of a weapon being able to injure the mighty warrior like this with a single shot was intimidating and he could feel his hands shaking. He glanced over at Natasha and Ainsley. The spy had taken hold of the doctor's hand and they were both pale. He knew what all of them were thinking, he was thinking it himself.
If it could do this to Thor, what's it done to Clint?
"Okay" said Tony firmly "Let's get a location then suit up"
Steve grabbed his arm
"Tony, stop! You're drunk. Jarvis?" His voice was steady and authoritative
"Captain Rogers is correct, sir." Came the response "You have exceeded the capacity for safe operation. Designated Driver Protocol has been engaged."
This was a protocol introduced at Pepper's instigation. Tony wouldn't be able to use any of his suits until his alcohol levels were within safe limits
Steve looked around the rest of the team; he shared their fears but the soldier knew how limited their options were
"It'll be pitch black out before anyone could get there. We'll need to get a location and call in to Fury, there'll be a search and rescue team in place to go into action at first light. Thor, can you show us roughly on a map where you were when you got attacked?"
"I will try" said the warrior, wincing as Bruce rotated his arm to make sure it was properly back in place "there was a pool between two ridges. It should not be hard to find."
Tony turned to Ainsley
"Have you tried his cell phone?"
The doctor looked up, his anxiety for Clint's safety written large across his face.
"I've been speed-dialling for the last few minutes. It keeps going straight to voicemail"
Tony grimaced, that wasn't unexpected. Even with his best efforts the S-Phone had limited coverage in some areas.
"Shouldn't be a problem. If it's not completely pulverised I can try and put a satellite track on it."
"What about this thing?" asked Bruce "It doesn't look Chitauri but that's got to be Tesseract energy powering it."
It was like a light machine-gun but longer, with a complicated arrangement of metal disks and hoops halfway down. Where the magazine would normally go was a heavy clear tube, glowing with a cold blue light which seemed to shift and move as they looked at it. Being in the same room as it gave Steve a sick, heavy, feeling
"That's a HYDRA weapon" he said flatly "I've seen some of them in action before"
He caught the questioning glance from Dr Kerr
Of course, he would never have heard about HYDRA. That part of WWII history was still under heavy wraps but with this he would need to know.
"I'll explain to you later. Right now, we need to focus on location, search and rescue. I'll get Director Fury on the line"
Tony glanced at him from the screen where he was already at work
"Um, Ice-Cap? If you could be a gem and not let Fury know that we have a HYDRA weapon specimen here right now that would be great. I'd like to find out what this thing does first, not just what SHIELD decides to tell us."
Steve nodded his agreement. Tony was right on that call, SHIELD was jealous of its secrets and selective in what it revealed even to the Avengers. If there were HYDRA weapons still running around out there he wanted to know exactly what they were capable of and what they could do to his team.
Thor swung himself off the gurney
"When I have shown you the location I will go back out there and keep looking for Clint."
The thought that his friend might be lying out there somewhere, injured and alone in the dark, was tearing him up inside.
"No!" Steve's voice was sharp and emphatic. Thor stopped in surprise and glared at the soldier with a hint of anger in his eyes. He was not used to being commanded in such a fashion.
Everyone else froze, their concern over Hawkeye not forgotten but briefly transcended as their attention focussed on the two big men facing off at each other in the middle of the room. Conflict between Steve and Tony was so routine it seemed natural as morning coffee but this was something different. So far Thor had deferred to Steve's role as team leader, but Steve had never had to enforce that position directly. What happened next could be critical for all of them.
Steve stepped forward and put his hand on the astonished demi-god's arm, speaking before Thor had the chance to break into an objection
"Look, we don't know who else is out there or what kind of hardware they're packing" He gestured at the weapon on the desk.
"We don't even know what that's fully capable of, but one blast from it knocked you back bad. It won't help Barton if you go out there blind and get yourself shot up."
The warrior was still breathing heavily but paying attention to what Steve was saying.
"We're all feeling the same thing, Thor. Hawkeye's out there and he needs us but there's nothing we can do right now beyond what we're already doing. First light we'll be out there doing everything we can and I need you on board with that. You with me?"
There was a long pause but finally the Asgardian sighed and nodded
"You are right, friend Steve. I am sorry, I was not thinking clearly. We should rest and prepare to move at early light."
Steve patted him on the shoulder
"Good man! Dr Banner?" his voice took on a more cautious edge and Bruce knew what he was going to say
"You think this may be a Code Green situation?" There hadn't been one since the Chitauri invasion and he felt his stomach grow cold
"If there are more of these out there it's possible we may need the Big Man" admitted Steve "Can you cope with that?"
Banner looked down at his hands
"I know you wouldn't ask unless you thought it was absolutely necessary so yes, I can cope."
The Captain gave him an understanding look then turned to Ainsley
"Dr Kerr, I'm very sorry but you can't come along. You don't have the clearance or the training for this."
He hated saying it, knowing how much Dr Kerr cared for Barton. Ainsley attempted a smile
"I understand, Steve. I know I'm the token civilian here"
Steve put both his hands on the doctor's shoulders and looked him square in the face.
"You're not a token anything. As far as I'm concerned, you're as much part of this team as anyone; but this is a potential combat situation and I will not put you in danger. We'll let you know everything that happens as soon as we can"
Tony spoke, engrossed in his search but still paying close attention to what was happening around him
"I'll call Pepper, get her to re-arrange her appointments and keep you company. She'll want to be here" there was a ping from his tablet "and I think we have a fix on Barton's phone so if Thor could look at the map we can start to find our Pidgeon."
###
Thor stood at the window staring out over the city lights into the darkness as if trying to scan the night for clues to where Hawkeye could be found. They had fixed the location of his cell phone on the map and a Quinjet would be arriving at 4am to pick them up. He was deeply troubled.
The warrior did not like to fail. This was a trait he had also seen in Clint, the burning desire to prove himself best at what he did. He felt he had failed his friend. He should have stayed out there longer, got a better sense of what had happened to him and where he might be found. He could not stay his mind from the thought that perhaps he deliberately did not do that.
There was a part of him that remained unhappy about the deepening love between Clint and Ainsley. Despite his best attempts to accept and understand the complexities of a relationship involving three people there were times he privately wished Clint would go away so it could just be the two of them again.
Am I the type of traitor who would leave my friend and comrade, the man I lay with in the noontide sun, to die alone in the dark for such a reason?
Quietly he walked over to where Mjolnir stood. The hammer was on an ancient table of finely carved dark wood. Ainsley had brought it with him from London. He let the tips of his fingers trace across the surface, feeling the faint roughness where careful polishing disguised the damage wrought by fire. It had been a possession of Ainsley's ancestors, a survivor of the flames that had consumed his lover's family and home. He remembered the honour he had felt when gifted this rare treasure of the House of Kerr to serve as Mjolnir's resting place.
Have I repaid such generosity with an act of cruel spite?
He took hold of the great hammer's handle, feeling it respond lightly and easily to his grasp. Perhaps it was his head that was the traitor, not his heart. He heard Ainsley come up behind him and felt his lover's arms slip around his waist.
The doctor rested his head against the Asgardian's broad back and spoke softly.
"You didn't desert him. You did everything you could at the time, then came to get more help"
Tasha had made him up an herbal tea earlier, saying it would help him sleep. He had dozed fitfully, moving in and out of unpleasant dreams; Clint trapped in some narrow dark place, or threatened with fire and pain. Scraps of anxiety bubbling up into disturbing images. He had woken from one of these to see Thor silhouetted against the bedroom window, watched him as he stared out into the night. The warrior might as well have been speaking his thoughts aloud as he walked over to Mjolnir, contemplating it and testing his worth against its immutable judgement.
"I am wondering if there is something I did not see. He may have been lying in the undergrowth, unable to respond. I should have looked harder before abandoning him"
He felt Ainsley's arms tighten around his waist
"Here we call it 'survivor's guilt'."
He paused, looking for the easiest words in which to explain it.
"When something terrible happens to people we love, it's only natural that we imagine all the ways we could have done something different; something that could have helped them or saved them. It doesn't mean we failed them, or that we didn't do the best we could at the time. Do you have a word for that on Asgard?"
Thor bowed his head, remembering his own loss; the sickness he had felt in his stomach when he saw Frigga lying at the feet of the Kursed, the blood already pooling around his mother's lifeless body. His shoulders heaved in a painful sigh
"If I had been moments quicker, been less caught up in the joy of battle, I could have saved my mother. I see this many times in my dreams."
He turned to look at his lover and there were tears in the deep blue of his eyes.
"I do not know if my people have a word for this. I am not a man of learning, I fight with Mjolnir not with books and words; but I know this pain you speak of and the curse of it. My thoughts are unworthy; I do not know about my heart."
Ainsley kissed him and held him close
"If your heart were unworthy or you wished Clint harm, you wouldn't be feeling this pain. It's the price we pay for love."
Thor looked down at his lover, feeling the truth being spoken; that he also loved Hawkeye and could intend him no ill. Even if he had failed him today, he would not fail him tomorrow.
Ainsley took Thor's hand and led him towards the bed.
"Come, lie down for a while. You need to rest for the morning and I might sleep better with you beside me."
###
Barton, you need to stop waking up like this!
The hot throbbing in his left ankle was getting worse. His foot felt like it was wedged in a crack and his body had twisted awkwardly to one side. A tree root or branch was poking hard into the back of his thigh, uncomfortably near places he would rather not get poked. The darkness around him was absolute, his eyes still adjusting. At one point, when he'd still been too groggy to focus he thought he'd seen a light. His cell phone maybe?
His fingers brushed against something flat and plastic but it slipped out of his grasp.
He'd been in and out of consciousness since whatever had hit them. He remembered the ice-blue flash of light and going head over heels down the slope, unable to stop or slow himself. Something big had slammed into him, sending him flying. He'd been back to back with Thor at the time. Had the Big Blond been hit and taken him of his feet as well? Must have been pretty major if that was the scenario. That blue light, it was familiar…
Shit
The realisation chilled him back to full consciousness. The Tesseract. Loki's sceptre. The Chitauri. Had a pack of them survived the destruction of their mothership and been hiding out here in the woods? He glanced around fearful of seeing himself surrounded by those creepy masked helmets. Nothing except a rough sliver of stars above him. His tumble must've taken him into a gully. Was that why whoever it was hadn't found him, why Thor hadn't found him? If the Big Blond was okay that is.
He shifted to try and balance himself on his free foot and stop the root or whatever it was sticking further into the back of his leg. The ground underfoot was muddy and he slipped, wrenching his ankle more.
"Fuck!"
He threw his hands forward to steady himself and found them pressed against rock a couple of feet from his face. His voice sounded tinny and he was noticing a persistent background buzzing.
That's all I fucking need right now
He was almost upright with enough balance to start feeling down to where his foot was trapped. His ankle was tender but didn't seem to be broken, probably just a bad sprain, but his boot was definitely stuck. Wasn't there a movie where some guy had cut his own foot off to get out of mess like this, or was it his arm?
Not a helpful reference, Hawk!
He winced as the root snagged him again. It was so determined to get inside him maybe he should call it Thor. Adjusting his position so he was free from that danger he began patting himself down for any useful items remaining on his person.
Wallet? Check! Knife? Check! Half a squashed Mars Bar? Yum! Keychain? Check! With… Mini… Maglite….! Thank you, sweet, kind, Doc for getting us all one of those 'just in case'
He didn't know how much battery life it would have so the priority was getting loose. The beam was focussed and bright, giving him a clear view of his foot wedged in a narrow crevice. His ankle was already swelling but it looked as if he should be able to free himself. Holding the torch between his teeth he prised back the laces and slid the blade of his knife behind them. He kept the blade razor sharp and it slit them easily. Putting the torch back in his pocket he gritted his teeth and pulled.
He fell back heavily onto the slimy rock, breath escaping in one massive
"FUUUUCKK!"
Once he'd checked that his foot was still attached to the rest of him he took a few minutes to catch his breath
Time for that Mars Bar
Okay. He couldn't lie here much longer, even on a warm summers night the risk of exposure was too great. Damp ground, temperature dropping; combined with shock and disorientation that could be fatal in the wrong circumstances. He began to haul himself up the slope towards the surface, freezing as he heard voices and saw the sweep of a flashlight beam. At least the voices were human. He thought he heard his name being called. Thank fuck! The Big Blond must have got the team together and located his position.
"Guys! Down here. Clear and free!"
The light shone straight into his eyes, obscuring the figure behind it; a rough, unfamiliar voice laughed
"Hey, we found ourselves the piggy that didn't get away!"
Awww shit…
The butt of a rifle smacked him hard in the face.
###
They located the campsite just after 6am. Tony, Thor and Steve had gone ahead. Natasha was waiting with Bruce back at the Quinjet in case of Code Green.
There was a pale, clear, quality to the morning light as Tony surveyed the scene. He had suited up before leaving the Penthouse, knowing that the sensors would be able to pick up far more than the unaided eye.
He had often wondered what the full force of Mjolnir with the might of an angry Thor behind it would do to an ordinary unprotected human. Disintegration was the best word he could find. The body in front of him had ceased to exist from the waist up apart from a ragged stump of spinal column, the rest gone in a spray of bloody pulp. Another was in similar condition. The remains of a third halfway up a tree, thrown with such force it was impaled on the broken branches.
"Thor…" Steve sounded stunned and a bit nauseous "What did you do?"
Even the Asgardian seemed perturbed at what he had wrought. He had no reason to regret the fate of these men; they had attacked him and Clint without cause or warning, possibly causing the death of his friend, but in the clear morning air there was a horror to the scene. He was glad Steve had commanded that Ainsley remain at home. This was not a sight for his eyes.
"The berserker rage was on me" he said flatly "I sought only to slay my foes"
Well you did that for sure, Thunderbolt
Aloud, Tony said
"No sign of any weapons, someone must have come and cleared them out. What's left of these guys look like regular inbred mountain folks. Any ideas, Cap?"
Steve pulled his mind back to the task at hand,
"There were rumours back in the 40s that HYDRA had weapons caches at sites along the Eastern States for use in the event of an invasion. These guys may have stumbled across one and decided to have some fun hunting hikers; or they were hauling them off and our guys were in the way"
The billionaire glanced around at the wrecked clearing
"They picked the wrong hikers"
"Sir?" It was Jarvis "I have located the position of Mr Barton's cell phone. It's 20 metres to the north west"
When they got to the location the ground dipped down sharply towards an overhanging spur of rock, leaving a narrow, sloping gap. The angle of the rock meant the bottom of the space was still dark and Tony shone a searchlight into it, fearful of what they might see. A boot stuck in a crack with the laces slashed, a crumpled Mars-Bar wrapper and, further down, the edge of cell phone sticking out of the muddy bottom. No Barton.
"There are tracks here" Thor called out "Four men, perhaps five, heading further down the hill. Some of the tracks are deeper as if they were carrying a burden."
"Well, Pidgeon is getting a bit tubby these days" observed Tony "Natasha, we have Barton's trail, going to see where it leads."
"What's the status?" Her voice was calm and steady but he could hear the undertone of concern
"No need for Code Green yet. Stay with Bruce for now and I'll update you once we have a target destination"
With Thor in front they began to follow the trail of the men who had taken Barton. Tony could easily have done the tracking with the suit's sensors, but the need of the Asgardian to take the lead in locating Cint was clear. He could afford to hang back until necessary.
###
They'd pulled an old sack over his head as a hoodwink, but as he came back to awareness Clint was quick to take stock of his situation. He was seated. That was in his favour, taking some of the pressure off his ankle. His hands had been tied behind his back, stretched around a beam or support. Not big, but solid. They'd used rope, coarse and sturdy but not too thick. His ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Felt like that was secured to the post as well. Probably didn't want him moving too much.
Rope! These guys were amateurs. If you're going to tie a man's hands, especially where they're not immediately visible you don't want to use something he can loosen even a bit.
Amateur maybe, but still effective. He began twisting his wrists, slowly at first, feeling the rough fibres starting to chafe and tear at his skin.
Apart from the mustiness of the sack he could smell grease, engine oil, the sharp tang of cut metal and the cold dryness of bare earth. Some kind of garage or workshop maybe. That meant drills, pliers, hammers. Oxy-acetylene torches if it really wasn't his day. Hopefully they wouldn't be in the mood for a bit of Deliverance style role-play beforehand. Maybe he shoulda packed lube after all…
That background buzzing was still there but he could hear voices outside, arguing. Seemed like the guys who attacked them were supposed to be collecting and packaging whatever the 'merchandise' was rather than using it to go play 'some Hills Have Eyes shit'. He heard SHIELD mentioned a couple of times, these guys might be amateurs but whoever they were working for wasn't
Fuck! My ID's in my wallet
Most of them had local accents but the one doing the bulk of the yelling sounded like he was from further west.
"…find out what he knows and finish him!"
As the door opened he could hear a truck driving off.
The sack was tugged off his head.
Yep, workshop and, oh look, a welding torch with big-ass cylinders. Lucky me
There were four men. He named them Sweatbox, Bugeye, Toothy and Buzzcut, for immediately obvious reasons. Tagging his opponents made it easier to keep track when it came to taking them down.
His wallet was lying on top of one of the workbenches, his knife beside it. Just a bit too far away. Sweatbox picked up his wallet and held it open in front of his face. Showing him his SHIELD ID
I hate that photo, makes me look like a bullfrog with mumps
"Okay, Piggy" Sweatbox was speaking, he badly needed a dental plan "No point denying who you are or who you're with so why dontcha just tell us why you and your psycho buddy were up here and I'll slit your throat quick and clean."
"Fresh mountain air and friendly local amenities" Clint grinned up at them "Know any good roadhouses?"
Sweatbox smacked him across the face, hard, and laughed
"Hey, you're a funny guy. Got plenty 'amenities' here to try out. Maybe see how loud you can make us laugh."
Clint spat a bit of blood out. He'd hoped for the mean, macho, movie effect but it just dribbled down his chin.
"Shouldn't we have a banjo duel first?"
If the Big Blond had got away that meant the team would be out looking for him; anything he could do to delay these fuckers gave him, and the others, a bit more time to act. Sometimes a few seconds was all you needed.
"Don't play no fuckin' banjos" growled Buzzcut
Sweatbox picked up Clint's knife and turned to the other three
"Go keep watch, tell me if you hear anythin' other than Piggy here squealing. I'll shout you when it's your go"
Hawkeye began moving his wrists as fast as he could without being obvious. Titles had rolled and the main action was gonna be starting soon.
"Nice knife" Sweatbox commented, turning it in his hands and weighing it for balance "Might keep it as a souvenir"
He pushed the tip of the blade inside the neck of Clint's T-shirt and pulled down, slicing it to the waist and ripping the rest away
Fucker! that's my favourite shirt
Black with a broad purple stripe, Tasha had bought it for his birthday last year and he liked to wear it when he suited up.
He'd worked the rope loose enough to get some space. His wrists were rubbed raw and bloody but that was a small price to pay. The asshole had put the knife down within arm's reach, now if only he could remember how to do the thing with his thumb.
Sweatbox was lighting up the blowtorch.
Okay, that's my motivation for this scene
"Like the ink" Sweatbox commented, nodding towards the hawk and arrow tattoo on Clint's bicep.
"Do a bit of tattoo work myself" he added with a cold smile, adjusting the flame "this is gonna play out similar. Now, whaddaya say? Love-heart with your girlfriend's name? Hope it's real long like Veronica or Bernadette"
With his ankles still tied he would need Sweatbox in close for this to work. Next minute or so wasn't going to pleasant.
"I'd say 'yer mamma'" he snarled "but I wouldn't want your leftovers"
The heat of the blowtorch was close enough for the hairs on his chest to be crisping.
"Only reason you still got your tongue is I need you to talk once you've done screaming"
Interrogation Resistance Training was comprehensive. Taught you about all the tricks the body used to try and block out what was being done to it, the way it clung on to the secondary sensations; the smell and sound of bacon fat burning on a red-hot stovetop, the sharp acid taste at the back of the throat as the stomach's contents churned up, the warm feel of the urine soaking into his pants. He didn't need to fake the agonized howl that covered the crack of his thumb dislocating.
His hands came around fast in a double palmstrike to the ears, rupturing Sweatbox's eardrums. He felt the skin of his stomach burning as the torch landed in his lap. Throwing it away from him the archer grabbed his knife off the workbench and cut the ropes around his ankles.
Sweatbox had pulled himself together enough to get hold of a chisel and lunge at him. Bracing himself on the stool to protect his injured ankle Clint caught him in the gut with the full force of his boot, sending him sprawling back on the floor.
The adrenalin had taken over and Clint had him pinned with both knees, slashing down and across with enough force to open Sweatbox's throat to the bone
That's for ripping my shirt! Asshole!
The shed door opened
"Hey Dave! Piggy shit himself ye…"
Toothy went down gagging on blood with the knife in his neck, the carotid neatly severed. Clint's position, crouched over Sweatbox had him angled for the perfect throw. Only a few people would recognize this Clint Barton; the swift, efficient killer who'd earned the nickname Hawkeye.
The torch had set fire to the oily refuse on the shed floor, the flames rapidly spreading up to one of the benches. They were moving fast towards the oil drums and gas tanks on the far side. Time to get out before he became Hawk Flambé.
Grabbing Toothy's rifle he rolled through the door, the pain barely registering through the high as he came up in firing position and took down Bugeye as he ran towards the shed. Buzzcut was smarter, maybe he had some training. He was zigzagging towards the chassis of an old truck. Hawkeye tracked ahead and took him out just before he reached cover.
Yeah, fuckers! I just can't seem to miss!
The heat behind him was getting stronger, aerosol cans exploding. Time to move fast.
He'd left it a bit late, could feel the burning on his back and his hair scorching. Landing heavily on the ground he rolled automatically to extinguish any stray flames and leapt to his feet.
"SHIT!" The pain shot up his leg like spiky electricity. He vomited as he fell and landed face down in the dirt
Okay. Cool Barton has left the building.
He heard the voices before he made out the words, his ears ringing badly. Crap! Were there more of them? Then he heard Cap.
"Hawkeye!? Clear!?"
They'd started moving the moment the first gunshot was heard; Tony taking to the air, triangulating, Steve and Thor covering the ground fast. The three zeroed in on the explosion, arriving simultaneously in the wreckage strewn ground. The yard was scattered with burning debris, fires already starting on some of the other sheds. Amidst it a prone figure struggling to rise. Steve shouted the standard question for whether an agent was alive and safe, on his second call a hoarse, familiar voice responded
"Clear and free, sir!"
Clint had got to his knees by the time they reached him, grinning maniacally up at them through a mask of dirt, blood, vomit and mucus
"Hey guys! You bring the marshmallows?"
Friendly hands helped him up. Through the rising tide of pain, he heard Tony's voice
"We're going to have to put a plastic sheet down in the Quinjet; Fury's just had it steam-cleaned."
###
They'd flown him straight to the medical facility at the Tower. He'd taken all the skin off both wrists and the burns on his chest and stomach were pretty severe. Those would need ongoing treatment with the main concern just now being to avoid infection. His ankle was just sprained and the burns on his back were superficial but half of his hair had been scorched away. That was kinda the worst, meant he would need to crop the rest till it all grew back even. Skinhead wasn't a look that suited him.
The hills were crawling with SHIELD specialists working to locate the source of the weapons and where they'd been taken. Bruce and Tony had grabbed a couple of hours' rest then gone went to work on the specimen Thor had brought back.
Ainsley was on the terrace smoking, a sure sign of the anxiety he felt. Clint might be safe but that thing upstairs in the lab disturbed him. Steve had told him something of what HYDRA had been; the secret organisation within the Nazi regime fusing advanced technology with what sounded more like black magic than science, seeking to remake the world with their own twisted vision of a god-like over-race.
Feldermann had lived through that time and sometimes spoke of the tide of madness that had overwhelmed his beloved Austria. He'd been too young for Grandpa Mannfried and Granny Sophie to share any of their recollections with him, but even as a child he'd always felt that they'd seen terrible things.
It was a just a material object, albeit fuelled by an alien power source, but it felt…
"Evil? You're probably right"
The doctor jumped. He hadn't heard Steve join him
"Was I thinking aloud?"
The soldier nodded. Dr Kerr had a habit of muttering to himself when deep in thought.
"I didn't think that was a fashionable word these days"
Ainsley smiled thinly, stubbing out his cigarette.
"Fashions alter over the years. The words used may be less emotive but the fundamental concepts remain largely unchanged. Rationally speaking that thing downstairs is only an item with no moral qualities in itself but it's still the product of a positive evil intended solely for the purpose of destruction."
Steve grinned. Dr Kerr could never use one word when ten would do just as well
"So, it gives you the creeps too, huh?"
"It should" said Tony, walking out onto the terrace with what looked surprisingly like orange juice. He offered the other glass he held to the doctor "Mimosa?"
Steve sighed, he shouldn't be surprised. After what they'd all been through he couldn't even pretend to be bothered.
"Have you and Dr Banner been able to determine how it works?"
Tony set down his drink and helped himself to one of Ainsley's cigarettes
"Demonically simple really. Think of a cross between an automatic weapon and one of those torches where you can concentrate the beam. Broad, wide, pulses all the way to focussed, sustained bursts of fire. Luckily the morons that had them couldn't work out something as basic as a dial and still had them on the factory settings."
Ainsley had lit another cigarette. Steve looked as if he was considering taking up smoking.
"So, what if they'd turned up the juice?"
Some questions you didn't want answered still had to be asked. Tony exhaled a lungful of smoke
"According to Bruce it could've burned a hole right through Thor. Possibly his battle armour might deflect some or most of it, although we couldn't be sure of that without testing and I'm not going to be the one to ask him to suit up and try it out."
"And we have no idea how many of these there are, or where they are?" Ainsley's concern mirrored theirs, he turned to Steve "What did Director Fury have to say?"
The soldier had locked horns with the Director over the phone earlier. He was still seething about it
"Fury says he's got his own men working on it. Doesn't want us involved. Too 'High Profile' for this situation!"
The doctor gave a snort of derision
"So, he knows something he doesn't want us to find out? That comes as no surprise"
###
The agent's voice was calm and precise as he updated the SHIELD Director
"We found the truck abandoned at a gas station ten miles from the cabin site. Gamma signatures confirm that it was being used to transport the weapons. Looks like they were offloaded onto one or more other vehicles. We're following up those leads right now"
Fury tried to control his impatience. They were only at the start of the search but the longer those weapons were out there the harder it would be to trace them before they were used again. HYDRA may not have succeeded in creating their own Super Soldier but that hadn't stopped them creating a weapon that could take one down.
Stark had graciously permitted him to know that a specimen had been recovered and would be delivered to him with all the relevant information.
But only now that he's got everything out of it that he can
"Do you have any good news for me?"
"The gas station CCTV caught an image of the truck-driver. Only a partial but I'm sending it over to you right now"
Fury watched as the image downloaded onto the screen in front of him; the man looked young, mid 30s probably, broad built, hard-looking. Unshaven features partly concealed by the brim of a baseball cap.
"That's not much to go on. You're running facial recognition?"
"I don't have to, sir." replied Agent Coulson "The man's name is Charles 'Barney' Barton; Clint's brother."