Chapter Text
"You have heart."
Clint gasped, the point touching his chest. Power exploded from it, an icy haze, enveloping his body. It was like he was pushed back, leaving him to feel as his pistol was clipped back into place.
His mind was spinning, trying to work out why he just put away his weapon he should be attacking the in— master. Clint jolted within his mind, where did that come from? When was this strange man master?
"Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us."
Clint startled, he said that. He's facing the master— not, not— master again, turning his back on e— not en— Fury.
He tries to focus, something about the Pharaohs, and how this place was about to go critical in two minutes, but he doesn't know. He's not sure, but quickly he's drawing his weapon.
He tried yanking it down, pushing against the haze, but he watched with horror as it lined up with the e— Fury's head. He pushed again, harder, grunting against the effort, but his hand dropped the second before he pulled the trigger. He watched as it hit the e— Fury in the chest. He could only watch, trying to see how the en— Fury was before the suitcase was in his hands.
The haze grew thicker, in his exhaustion, but he shakily battles as he fires at the en— Hill watching her radio take the hit instead of her head. She is out like a light, Clint thinks, as her head smacks against the wall.
It is a weird sensation, to collapse from exhaustion within your own mind. There were few cars that fought them, easily dealt with by the master. The only hiccup was the helicopter, but even then, his— the man— the master dealt with the flying en— Fury's helicopter.
Clint was sure he only closed his eyes for a few moments, but when he woke up next his mind was flooded with new information. He found a base, somewhere he previously held pre-S.H.I.E.L.D., thick enough with lead through the walls and ceiling so they were unable to be tracked by the gamma radiation leaking from the cube.
He watches himself reach out through old contacts and enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D. to pull together a group to work in this base. They rushed around him, listening to his order while he listened directly to the master and the glowing staff.
He couldn't help the way his body swelled with pride when the master gave him those little looks, like he was saying well done. Nor how thrilled he felt, from head to toe, with the power he held. They all looked at him as their boss, whereas he had his master.
Clint tried to fight the haze, sabotage what was happening around them, maybe give a worse strategy, but he couldn't. It was like all his will to fight was sucked straight out — it was easier to sit back in the haze and let his master make the decisions for him.
He tried to shake it off, ignoring how his body didn't move a muscle as it stood guard for its master. He felt his body's curiosity rise with his own as his master flinched. His— His master.
He approached his master (not his, not his. The?) with worry, asking the god whether something was wrong. He refused to flinch at the look he received, happy his body complied with that wish.
"Tell me about S.H.I.E.L.D., Hawk."
Clint does, and it is like an endless waterfall. It spills from his mouth, with no regard to what was confidential and what was not. He's only thankful that his master is the only one to hear it. His body didn't stop at what his level seven clearance should have held and continued with what he learnt through Phil and the man's level eight clearance.
At his master's wish, Clint was unable to stop himself from talking about the different people involved in the hero gig they were likely to be pulling together now that galactic war was upon them.
He couldn't help the new waterfall when he reached Nat, and it is all he could do to stop himself from revealing who she was to him. He must have failed, with the way that his master looked over at him with that much more interest.
He spilled everything, her background, her training. Things Nat never told anyone else, things he had to figure out himself. He betrayed her, spilling all her secrets and weaknesses.
"Family?"
He continued, saying about his birth family, their deaths and any responsibility he had with their deaths. Then he went on to his wife and his kids, with their little farm. Everything came out like another waterfall, hushed tones of where they stayed, how to make sure he was seen as a friend not foe if he didn't introduce them first.
Clint felt the want to touch his master as he fazed out. The need to fix any issues with his god. Before his body could do anything with the feelings he's getting up, following his master out of the room.
He felt the twitch in his finger, as Selvig approached his master. He wanted to put a bullet through the man's hand as it reached forwards towards his master, and maybe his dick if it would put a stop to the way he treats the cube. Last second he watched as the man turned towards him as his master walked away.
"Where did you find all these people?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has no shortages of enemies, doctor." Clint hears his body say it before he fully processes the question. He grabbed a tablet, doing a quick search and pulling up the material. He turned it around to face Selvig. "This the stuff you need?"
"Yeah. Iridium. It’s found in meteorites, it forms anti-protons. It’s very hard to get hold of."
"Especially if S.H.I.E.L.D. knows you need it." Clint knew that the original doctors didn't think to use it previously, but they had the big guys now, they'd know quickly how to deal with the energy and how useful it would be.
"Well, I didn’t know."
Clint wants to call him an idiot, because there was a lot more that this doctor didn't know that would have come in useful before. Instead, he felt his hand twitch as the man turned to face his master with wonder in his eyes.
"Hey! This is wonderful. The Tesseract has shown me so much. It’s— it’s more than knowledge, it’s truth."
"I know. It, ah— it touches everyone differently."
Clint wanted to shoot the doctor more at how his master looked hesitant, almost nervous on what the cube can do. He stood straighter as his master turned to face him.
"What did it show you, Agent Barton?"
Clint knew the grin that crossed his face well, it hadn't come up much in the most recent years due to the lack of killing missions. "My next target." He wanted to growl at Selvig as the man laughed at him; he was a killer, he was good at it. He didn't need anything else.
Clint paused at that trade of thought, was that what he really thought? That he didn't need more than to be sent out to kill? Would he be happy like that — deep down, he knew he would thrive being sent out with the instructions to kill and eliminate.
"Stick in the mud. He’s got no soul. No wonder you chose this— this tomb to work in."
"Well, the Radisson doesn’t have three levels of lead lined flooring between S.H.I.E.L.D. and that Cube." Clint agreed with the way his body snapped. Purpose and use over luxury — it is always that way, people shouldn't expect otherwise. He wanted to smirk as Selvig walked away instead of answering.
"I see why Fury chose you to guard it."
Clint felt the want to preen as his master's words. He did his master well, and his master was proud of him. He's proved his worth and use for his master. "You’re going to have to contend with him, sir. As long as he’s in the air, I can’t pin him down. And he’ll be putting together the team."
"Are they a threat?"
"To each other more than likely. But if Fury can get ’em on track, and he might, they could throw some noise our way." Clint had to give his body that. They'll either kill each other or actually cause issues for his master's plan.
"You admire Fury."
Clint did, he really did. He was his ene— b— ene— Fury. He's Fury, what was there not to admire? Ph— e— Phil was his working eye. "He's got a clean line of sight."
"Is that why you failed to kill him?"
Clint failed because he didn't wa— because he was weak. "It might be. I was disoriented and I’m not at my best with a gun." That was bullshit. Clint's the best marksman of S.H.I.E.L.D. because he's good with whatever he has on hand, he just prefers the challenge of the bow.
"I want to— test their mettle."
Clint didn't like where this was going. He didn't— did— didn't want his master to get hurt or captured. But he feels his body nod, ignoring the chaos beneath the haze.
"I am weary of scuttling in shadow. I mean to rule this world, not burrow in it."
"That's a risk." It was a risk. There were so many different variables that needed to be taken into account. His master could get hurt, or even captured. Unless that was what he wanted to do? Tear them apart from the inside out.
"Oh yes."
His master must want to cause chaos, Clint was always someone who thrived off chaos — his body was much the same. "If you’re set on making yourself known. I could be useful." Clint already knew what would be needed, it would help his master's plan, and get the materials needed.
"Tell me what you need."
Clint saw his body walk towards a case, and he couldn't help his excitement when he saw what box it was. It grew when he opened it up. "I need a distraction." Grabbing the bow, he flicked it open before turning to face his master with another grin. "And an eyeball."
-----
The first guard was caught off guard, their hand coming up in shock to the arrow as they collapsed back, dead. The second was on guard, but was still hit, their body stumbling back and off the roof to a heap on the floor.
Clint watched as his body went to hand over his weapon, it would leave him without his primary weapon. You should never hand over your primary weapon to an unknown, Clint knows this even in his sleep. His body hesitated before collapsing it and clipping it next to his quiver.
The machine that was pulled out his pocket was linked to a copy that would torture the man who's eye they needed. But Clint couldn't help but keep an eye on it, fascinated by the processes, even if he only caught glimpses as his body scanned around the area.
Soon, they were in and heading down the corridor. It was quiet, like Clint knew it would be, like his body knew it would be. And it was no effort to secure the iridium. And the men along the way, security and scientists alike, Clint didn't try to fight it — he knew it wouldn't work — he didn't have the will or energy to change their fate.
It was his master's wish to leave no witnesses.
For now, Clint knew he needed to step back, let his mind recover. He needed his energy to fight the haze in the larger battle. He closed his eyes, tense as he let the haze cover him fully.
-----
The next time he opened his eyes, he stared in horror as the events played before his eyes. And when he tried to push against the haze, deny the mission he started, he found he couldn't. He couldn't push againt it, he didn't want to or feel the need to. He could only sit and watch as he brought everything to the flame.
Clint watched through his eyes as they approached from above the helicarrier, the men around him putting on their gear and masks while staring at the image of the staff. He felt his hands curl around a bow, he thinks it's his, but he will not know until his body looks down.
"Transport six-six-five-oh. Please relay your form code. Got you on the computer but not on the data log. What is your haul? Over."
Clint's body didn't turn to react, letting the pilot handle it like they talked about in the briefing for the mission.
"Arms to ammunition. Over."
Clint knew it was a lesser known code that gave full access. He hoped it might send up a warning bell, but he doubted it would.
They got closer, hovering with the ramp open as close to engine three as the pilot was able to control. Clint's body nocked an arrow, bringing it up revealing it was his bow. He aimed towards the engine before shifting further forwards, because the draft would attach itself to the outer shell of the turbine.
But, Clint realised, it would have been more effective to the wide a little more, right into a ventilation port. He froze within his mind as his body shifted, adjusting on what he just thought.
Clint watched in horror as his body released it perfectly on muscle memory even with how hard he was trying to fight the haze of his mind that made him want to just fade into the background. It flew out, before curling in like Clint thought it would, suctioning perfectly. It was lodged deep into the vent, he could have sworn his life on it.
He felt his knees touch the floor, the jet shifting slightly before his fingers tightened around the ignition button on his bow.
The arrowhead exploded instantly, a ricochet of explosions following around the turbine blades. Clint winced inside his head, it was more damaged than he first thought. S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to be unable to repair that engine anytime soon. It was total destruction, more than what the original plan would have caused.
Clint wanted to shake as they landed, his body leading the attack group towards the vents he kept telling the enem— Fury needed to be dealt with. It was far too simple to break the grate off and enter into the venting system without any additional alarm going off over the engine failure alarm.
Clint's body turned towards three of the men. "Keep that engine down," his body ordered, motioning them off towards the engine. He looked at two others. "Detention, wait for the camera to go down." It was too simple, the enem— Fury should have listened from the last time he broke into the helicarrier — and it was easier this time, having multiple major distractions. Looking over at the last two, his body gave them a look. "Stay close."
Clint was scanning his surroundings as much as his body was, trying to come up with plans that would help S.H.I.E.L.D. and not his master. He winced, trying to not scream as the haze fought, wrapping tightly around him like it wanted to drown him in the ice. It was drawing blanks, his plan too concrete before he spotted an emem— Stark heading towards a tech room.
And before he could fully process the relief he felt — because the enem— Stark could repair the engine — his body had sent an arrow. He managed to yank enough control that he missed the head again and instead hit the man's shoulder sending the man to the floor with a scream.
He was left shaking with the effort, the haze not liking the input, but it didn't clash with his master's orders.
Clint winced, seeing the man fall unconscious from the pain. That took that chance out of the equation, it wasn't one of the nicer tipped arrows he used, it would need to be fully pulled through to avoid the flared head.
Clint knew the way to the bridge from any point of the helicarrier's vent system. The way his feet fell was a familiar root and soon he found himself looking down on the bridge.
"They are not getting through here—"
Clint watched his body fire two arrows in quick succession, two explosions following the point of impact. There didn't look to be anyone directly hit by his explosive arrows, but it cleared a path for the hacker arrow. The virus on the arrow was lethal, designed to take out all control of the ship alongside the wiping engine one from all the ships coding taking it fully out of the equation.
Clint ducked, avoiding the bullets heading his way seconds before the virus activated. He tried another attempt at fighting the haze, but it seemed to be no use, the blue was so strong near his master. He sagged back, feeling the ice surrounding him, but it was almost a comforting presence as he stopped fighting.
"Engine One is now in shutdown."
The helicarrier shifted dangerously under his body's feet and he thought he caught a glimpse of people being thrown from their feet.
"Sir, we've lost all power in Engine One."
This seemed to be the confirmation his body was looking for as it suddenly headed off. Seconds before it headed down a path Clint knew Nat would be able to find him on, his body seemed to listen again and change its mind, heading a different way, down a tighter less known route to the surface.
It was a tighter route, one that forced the following agents to take a different route. But soon, Clint found himself standing at the right-hand side of his master again as their jet took off. As the ramp closed up on their evacuation, he could only watch through his body's eyes as the quinjets all exploded, leaving everyone on the crashing helicarrier with no chance of saving themselves.
It was a long trip back.