The C4 had been set, and the trigger weighed heavily in Clint's pocket as they hiked back to the Panther. He shifted Loki's slight weight in his arms, noting that the god's breathing had seemed to deepen since they'd left the bunker.
"You awake in there," Clint questioned softly. "It would be just like you to fake being unconscious just so you don't have to walk."
The only answer was the steady rise and fall of Loki's chest, and Clint huffed out, "Fine, be that way."
He glanced back at the ragtag group behind him. Elena stuck close to Burk and Harrington, each of them toting a donor in a fireman's carry. The four man production team had been cleared as well, after a thorough examination of their workspaces showed that they were doing inconsequential assembly. All final builds were completed by Abney alone, and Clint was certain that the knowledge had died with him.
Clint felt slightly lighter somehow, knowing that he had been spared from having to pull the trigger on Abney's helpers. Not that killing really bothered him anymore. No, he'd gotten past any qualms he'd had early on after the fall of SHIELD. The sheer amount of Hydra sleepers that had tried to take him out had almost been embarrassing, and one by one Clint had put them all down.
He'd learned that some people just deserve a bullet.
For a moment Clint allowed himself to wonder why he hadn't just eliminated Loki too. It would have made sense to finish off a potential threat while it was already in a vulnerable state…but that thought had never even crossed his mind. Instead, his first instinct had been to help. Why?
The archer shook his head to clear that particular thought away. He'd deal with that later…or maybe never, and that was just fine by Clint. For now, they still had to get everyone back to the Montec, and blow the bunker. Maybe once they were safely back on the deck of the Sa'ar 4.5 missile boat, he'd be able to lose this feeling of unease that had been roiling in his gut since they'd started their descent into the Romanian wilderness.
Ten minutes, and two ravines later, the ground sloped upward and evened out enough that walking became far less of a chore. They made good time to the Panther, and immediately set about splitting the group in two, due to the helicopters max capacity. Luckily, the Montec was just offshore, a few miles out into the Black Sea, and the Panther was a spirited little machine. The round trip should take roughly thirty minutes, not counting unloading time, and Clint was content to wait it out.
He'd laid Loki in a patch of long grass, out of the rotor wash zone, and as Clint moved around the clearing directing the actions of his team, he also kept one eye on the still god. Loki'd shown no signs of waking up, while most of the other donors were beginning to come around. It stood to reason that his particular cocktail was much stronger than the human subjects had been, and there was the matter of the half full IV bag still attached to the god's central line.
It was decided that the first group would consist of Elena, Burk, Harrington, and the six human donors. The remaining members would sit tight, and upon the return of the Panther, they would blow the bunker and make their final escape.
Clint settled into the grass at Loki's side, watching as the helicopter rose above the canopy and banked right, swiftly disappearing from sight. The sound of the blades faded and once again, Clint was left in the soft, not quite silence of nature. After a moment he focused in on the sound of the god's breathing, just audible over the slight breeze.
It was then that Clint realized a part of him was terrified of what would happen once Loki awoke.
Would he be the same monster bent on world domination? A force of evil that needed to be culled? Or had the years since New York changed the god, much as Clint had been changed?
Clint scrubbed his hands over his face, wanting to turn his gaze back to Loki, but afraid that once he did, he would find the god grinning back. After a moment, he steeled himself and glanced over, gratified to see that the other man hadn't moved a muscle since he'd been laid in the grass.
Letting out an unsteady breath, Clint pulled the detonator from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. Such a small thing, but the author of massive destruction, able to rain down fire and force. Again, his eyes skipped to Loki, and Clint frowned slightly at how peaceful the god looked, framed in wildflowers.
It seemed wrong, somehow, especially given the history between the two men. But as Clint looked over the state Loki was in now, he wondered if perhaps the god didn't deserve a bit of peace.
Again, Clint chased the thoughts away, instead turning his attention to his rifle. He began to mindlessly field strip the M-16, letting the muscle memory take over and smooth his brain out. This was familiar. This was safe. This was something he could control.
The god at his side was none of those things, and Clint was worried what his decision to let Loki live would bring to fruition. But for now? He waited and polished and oiled metal, and all the while, his gaze kept coming back to the god.
When the Panther returned 27 minutes later, Clint's rifle gleamed, and his mind was no closer to being settled than it was when he started. But at least he knew what his next steps were, and they were easy enough to carry out. Pushing to his feet, Clint walked to the edge of the clearing, and flipped the cover of the detonator open. His thumb hovered over the button for a long moment before he called out loudly, "Fire in the hole!"
Firmly pressing the button, Clint was gratified to feel a heavy rumble through the ground under his feet. Even at half a mile out, that amount of C4 was sure to cause a ruckus. Flocks of birds erupted from the trees around them, the sound of multiple wings deafening against the echoing roar of the bunker burying all of Jonathon Abney's secrets under tons of rock and earth.
A grim smile rose on Clint's face as he pocketed the detonator, and returned to Loki's side to scoop him up and enter the Panther. It was packed inside, but Clint found a clear space in the front corner, against the bulkhead. He settled Loki down, leaning him into the corner, since the floor space was limited, before taking his own seat nearby as the rotors whirled to life.
Within moments, they were up and away. Clint stared out the side window, noting a small stream of smoke from the direction of Abney's bunker, and he directed Dane to circle the site. The smile returned as they flew over a large crater in the forest, circled with felled trees, and filled with boulders and churned earth. Clint nodded; satisfied that they had successfully completed this mission.
The Panther banked right and the Black Sea grew to fill the windscreen, as Clint tried to relax. They were on their way home, hadn't lost anyone over the course of the mission…in fact, had rescued multiple people, and had taken down a weapons manufacturer. So why was he still so on edge?
He nearly laughed aloud at himself as his gaze again fell on Loki.
Right. They'd taken down a minor threat, and managed to come out in possession of a major threat, instead.
"Well, maybe," Clint muttered softly. "Won't know a goddamn thing until Sleeping Beauty wakes up, and then we see what we're dealing with."
"Five minutes out," Dane announced. "Rack your gear and get ready to be shipside."
"Call ahead and have medical get the special room ready," Clint shot back. "We're gonna need it."
"Already done," Dane said. "I called it in as soon as I clocked your special guest."
"Good man," Clint responded, letting his head settle back against the wall. Of course the others had already figured out who he was lugging back to the Montec. Sure, there'd been more than a handful of threats since Loki had tried to take over, but even after a decade, Dane couldn't have been the only one to recognize the wayward god. The fact that no one had referenced it until then rankled him, but to be fair, he hadn't actually announced it, either.
"Call a meeting, too," Clint added. "Thirty minutes from touchdown, all hands. We got a few things to discuss."
Dane snorted by way of reply, and Clint knew he'd have some questions to answer in the very near future. He swallowed harshly, and wondered if he'd have the answers his crew was seeking.
They began the slow, vertical descent to the helipad on the stern of the Montec. Clint watched out the side window as they drew closer to the 200 foot missile boat, the pilot as careful as always to settle the skids gently onto the deck. Dane flipped a few buttons, shutting down the systems before announcing the all clear to vacate the Panther.
Clint hung back, allowing everyone to debark before he motioned the waiting three person medical team forward. They slid the portable stretcher they'd brought into the belly of the Panther and quickly transferred Loki over, strapping him down to ensure he didn't roll free during transport.
"Tell me what you know," barked Doctor Rebecca Brooks, as her capable hands roamed over the god. She was a short, no nonsense sort of woman, and Clint had liked her from the first moment they'd met.
"Biology is technically alien," Clint began. "Subject is a magic user, so we need to have the dampers on high. From gathered intel, he's been held captive, and sedated, since 2016."
"Jesus," Doctor Brooks said softly. "I know who this is.." She quickly speared Clint with an askance eye. "What exactly are you planning, here?"
"Haven't thought that far ahead," Clint answered honestly. "This all sort of…just happened."
Rebecca continued to glower at him for a moment longer.
"There's going to be a meeting," Clint offered weakly. "We can talk about it then."
"Let's get Loki to his room first," she finally allowed. "He's in pretty bad shape, overall, and I'd feel better once we have him on some monitors."
"Agreed," Clint said, the relief palpable in his tone. Rebecca had become a good friend over the previous few years they'd worked together, and he knew how tenacious she could be about certain subjects. One being Loki. He'd been half afraid she'd refuse to treat the god, but she took her oath seriously, it seemed.
Rebecca's two assistants slid the stretcher out of the Panther, each taking an end and leading the way to the medical bay. Clint trailed behind, puzzling over what his next step would be.