Chapter Fourteen:
Clint watched the man laying on the hospital bed. He remembered the rugged face of the man who held Blue by the shoulder, a gun to his head. He remembered the smirk that stuck on his face after he whispered something in Blue's ears that nobody seemed to know. He remembered how Blue's eyes went wide, the instinctual fear imbued after years of abuse and submissiveness. He remembered the look in his eyes, the same look he remembered he saw in his brother, all those years ago.
Clint frowned and tried not to think about it. He inhaled, slowly popping his fingers. McAllister was covered in bandages and had wires sticking from his arms and chest. His wrists and ankles were strapped to the bars of the hospital bed. If it were up to Clint, he'd be strung up by his toes.
But apparently, that was unrealistic.
"Ready?" Natasha asked, standing beside him.
Clint stared at the man on the screen in front of him. His dark eyes ― just as Blue described ― were glaring at the nurse beside him, working with his IV drop. His mouth was moving, "Whatcha doin' in a place like this, Tits? Pretty girl like you should be on your knees, don'tcha think?"
Clint swallowed, "I might kill this man," He admitted ruefully.
"You and me both," Natasha agreed, also seeing what the man was saying. "Let's do it after we get the answers Blue deserves."
This, at least, cheered Clint up a little. He nodded and they moved from the security room, going to the hospital room. Behind them, was a security guard, supervising the interrogation.
McAllister grinned, "Hello beautiful," He sneered at Natasha, who didn't look amused at all. His dark eyes slid over to Clint, "An' arrow man! What a date! An' all for me, you shouldn't have."
Natasha stepped over to the bed, "We're here to ask you a few questions about Blue."
McAllister scoffed, "Oh, him. Y'know, he's no use to you, if you're plannin' on keepin' him. Don't think the Avengers would be interesting in dog fightin', but," He tried to shrug, but then hissed in pain. His shoulders were wrapped in white bandages that were stained in splotches of red.
"Where did you find him?" Clint asked gruffly.
"He was shipped to me," McAllister grinned. "Packaged an' delivered. Lovely gift ― you can look him up on Amazon."
Natasha took a step forward, "Mr. McAllister," She said slowly. "Blue is under intense care at the moment, however to get him the help he needs, we need to know where you got him from. Surely, you wouldn't want all the money you've spent on him ― and all the money he's earned for you ― to go down the drain."
Natasha leaned over the bar on the hospital bed, "Take a step back, ma'am," the security guard advised. Clint saw McAllister's bandaged face twitch in somewhat of a smile. Natasha lingered for a moment, and then moved back, drumming her fingers on the bar.
Clint worked immediately, moving his hand to his wrist, keeping eye-contact with the man as he remotely activated the security system hijack. It took a moment, but then the fire alarm went off.
The security guard moved with a trained fashion, but Clint was faster, wrapping his arm around the man's neck. He struggled for several seconds, his hands large and calloused, but eventually, his body slipped.
Clint laid him on the ground, and moved to the door, locking it and closing the blinds over the small window. McAllister looked back and forth, getting a bit wary, "Now, Mr. McAllister," Natasha spoke, her cold eyes boring into the immobilized man before her. She easily reached over the hospital bar, her fingers closing around a particularly bloody wound on his forearm. He winced, jerking away, but had nowhere to go, or to defend himself. "Tell me where you got Blue."
"You. . ." He hissed, when Natasha squeezed harder. "I'm not telling you anythin'!" He hissed.
Natasha looked back at Clint, "You heard him. He's not telling us anything."
Clint smiled, "You know, I was hoping he'd say that." Clint stepped forward, rolling up the man's pants leg ― maybe the only place that wasn't wrapped in extensive lengths of bandages. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this."
McAllister was beginning to get nervous, he tensed in the bed as Clint pulled a miniature arrow from his pocket. "What are you doing with that toothpick?" He laughed, but it stopped when Clint pressed a button, and it extended to it's full length.
"I'll ask you one more time," Natasha said, as Clint flicked a switch, firing up the electrical arrow ― the same one he had shot at one of McAllister's goons. "Where did you get him from?"
McAllister swallowed, but his lips were sealed. Clint shrugged innocently, then plunged it into his calf. McAllister hissed, letting out a groan. His body convulsed on the bed, his fists tightening. Clint briefly let go, giving the man a chance to speak up. After about fifteen seconds of him panting and trying to catch his breath, Clint put the arrow in his calf again.
"Unngh! Okay! Okay!" He blurted, and Clint lingered for a moment before letting up.
"Speak," Natasha snapped and McAllister breathed, his eyes shut, and sweat leaking through his bandages. If they didn't need the man for information, Clint would've shocked him enough so he'd have a heart attack right there.
"It's this. . ." McAllister trailed off, second-guessing his decision. Clint moved to shock him again, but the man loosened his tongue. "It's an organization! Run by the government. Look it's. . . it's a big thing, and if I–I tell you much else. . ."
"Clint," Natasha said, and Clint moved, wanting to chop the man's leg off if they had to.
"Stop!" He snapped, and Clint waited, centimeters before the reddened skin on the man's leg. He saw the hairs raise to attention as the proximity of the electricity. "The one that I got him from, it specializes using animals to increase the adaptive skills in humans."
"'The one'?" Clint asked, frowning. "There's more?"
"I told you, it's a big thing," he snapped, annoyed. Clint pressed the arrow into his leg, giving him a jolt of submission. "Shit!" He growled when Clint pulled back.
"How many others are there?" Natasha asked.
"I don't know," he said, and Clint moved in. "I don't!" He repeated, glaring at Clint. "Look, man, all I know is that the Providers get the ratty kids and pass them out, alright? That's it."
"Who are the Providers?" Clint asked.
"I don't know the details," McAllister admitted, his hands trembling. "All I know, is that the Providers pick up the kids, and dish them out. I got the dog from my. . . from a guy I know."
Clint's eyes narrowed, "Blue isn't a dog. He's a person."
McAllister scoffed, "Don't kid yourself. You ask him to do anythin' an' he'll do it. This is the only assignment that he's screwed up with."
"Because you brainwashed him," Clint snapped, his fist clenching, ready to pound the man's face in.
"Because he is a dog," McAllister insisted, getting a little red in the face, and he began to breathe a little faster. "He's a dog and I'm his Master. I don't even know what he'll do with himself if I'm gone ― he needs a Master, can't live without one."
"What do you mean by that?" Natasha asked.
"He'll be lost," McAllister admitted, and swallowed hard, his eyes trailing to the ceiling. His shaking began to get clammy and his face was the shade of a tomato. "Might kill himself, if he can't find one. Or, go. . ." He trailed off, staring at the ceiling. His began to shake, foam emerging from his mouth. He tried to work his throat, his heart machine beeping rapidly.
They seemed to realize that the man was dying at the same time. Natasha moved quickly, grabbing the defibrillator, pulling the cart over, but it was no use. His heart rate declined and his eyes stared, unseeing at the ceiling.
Clint glared, throwing the arrow on the ground, "Shit!" He snapped, anger and frustration filling him.
"Whoever poisoned him didn't do it fast enough," Natasha said. "We got a lot of information from him."
Clint nodded stiffly and picked up the arrow, compressing it and sticking it into his pocket. "Let's go meet up with the others," Clint said. "See how Blue's doing."
Natasha nodded, and they both exited the room, leaving the dead man in the bed and the unconscious one on the floor.
b•l•å
Clint found Steve and Blue on the opposite sidewalk of the hospital. Blue was standing behind Steve, his eyes wide and scared. Clint caught the boy's eyes and smiled, [Hello, B,] he greeted, too far away for the boy to hear him.
He saw the boy relax a little, [Hello, C-L-I-N-T,] he replied, his fingers going especially slowly as he did the letters.
Steve saw the two Avengers walking towards them, "What did you find out?" He asked.
"We'll do a debriefing tomorrow," Natasha said. "There's a lot."
Steve rose an eyebrow, "How much did he tell you?"
"Enough," Clint replied. "And, he's dead." Blue went still, his eyes widened.
"Master ― dead?" He asked, his mouth slightly agape.
Clint winced, he shouldn't have said that in front of the boy. "Uh. . . yes. I'm sorry, B." Blue didn't say anything, he didn't even move. Clint had expected regret or relief, or even a smile. But instead, he got cold silence. "B? Are you okay?"
Blue didn't say a word. He was staring at the ground. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him do to something. Finally, he spoke, "Cold."
Steve answered his comment, "We can go back inside soon, don't worry." Blue nodded slowly, but the cold expression didn't leave his face. Clint wished he could read the boy's mind and ease his thoughts.
They stood outside for another ten minutes while the fire department checked the medical building, making sure it was safe for everyone. Eventually, the were allowed back to their rooms. Blue was in a wheelchair because of his leg and shoulder ― Dr. Amari didn't want him to dislocate it again.
Clint and Natasha left a few hours later. They said goodnight to Blue before leaving, but Blue seemed for the most part, unresponsive. When he was back in his bed, he rolled over, facing away from everyone and closed his eyes.
They exchanged glances before unanimously deciding to leave the boy alone. Steve would be staying with Blue for the night. If anything serious happened, he would report it to them. Meanwhile, Clint and Natasha would be debriefing the information to the other Avengers.
"An government-run organization that takes kids and turns them into. . . animals?" Tony said, staring at Clint and Natasha as if the information was completely absurd ― which would've been true, had they not met Blue.
"How is that not only one?" Bruce asked, "How are there more?"
"By the way he put it, it made it sound like the one Blue came from was only a. . . branch that uses the 'Providers' for their experiments," Natasha explained.
"Well, if there are more than one group that uses kids for this. . ." Tony waved his hand, looking for a word. "Thing, what else are they using them for?"
"We don't know," Clint replied. "But, there may be a way to find out. When he talked about who he got Blue from, he used 'my', suggesting someone close, before saying something else."
"He could've been saying anything, my dealer, my Provider," Bruce said.
"He tried to change it out with something else," Natasha said. "And by this point, he had already mentioned the Providers. And, the way he said it, 'a guy I know', he was trying to cover for that person. It had to be someone close to him or someone he met with along the span of his life We need to go through his records, see who he's come in contact with several times over his life ― someone who went into science."
Tony nodded, "Anything else?"
Clint thought for a moment, "Nothing we didn't know. He said Blue was a dog, but we expected that. He also said that Blue would probably die if nobody was taking care of him ― he wasn't acting like a slave." Clint shook his head, the thought making him sick. "The man was half dead at that point, so I'd take it with a grain of salt."
The others nodded agreeing. Tony sat a big taller in his seat, "I have a bit of news," He announced. "I contacted Blue's mother, and she answered this morning. She wants Blue back home as soon as possible."
Bruce nodded, smiling, "That's good. It'll be good for him to reconnect with her."
"Yeah, I think so too," Tony said, but Natasha's eyes narrowed.
"Are you telling us everything?" She asked suspiciously, and the man pressed his lips together.
"She was dealing with drug abuse for a while," Tony admitted. "She's been clean for a while, but. . . he's obviously still fragile, I mean, the kid nearly killed you, Clint, when McAllister told him. I don't think he's safe to go out in public yet."
"It's his mother, Tony," Natasha frowned, and Tony sighed, shaking his head.
"Never mind," He grumbled, pushing from his seat at the round table. "Keep me updated ― I'll be in my workshop," He announced, and before anyone could stop him, he was already gone.