Clint "Hawkeye" Barton ⇢ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pretendtoneedme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-01-19 11:32 pm
pretendtoneedme) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-01-19 11:32 pm
And Way Down We Go
WHO: Clint Barton, whoever
WHERE: Around town, the fountain...
WHEN: Throughout January 19th
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to encounter him
WARNINGS: Standard mentions of drowning, otherwise TBD, but there'll probably be talk of fighting at the very least. Violent babies.
STATUS: Yes (if this changes, I'll edit)
1) Arrival (Early Morning)
Waking up underwater was pretty much the last thing Clint expected after managing to fall asleep after their rescue – and it was pretty much the worst. Whatever phobias he'd had as a kid had been trained out of him over the course of his life, but there was still a lingering thread of unease about really deep water, since even with as good as swimmer as he was he probably wouldn't be able to escape it fast enough to find breathable air. It didn't ever lock him down or stop him from going on any sort of underwater transport, but he was always just a hair more primed to act when on a sub or a submerged helicarrier. Birds just did better in the air.
So when he woke up not only not where he expected, but underwater, Clint's first reaction was one brief moment of panic before clamping it down, because panic would definitely get him killed and he had a lot to live for to die so stupidly. There was a soft light filtering down from what was probably above him if the pull of gravity was any indication, something looped around his shoulders that felt familiar and so was discarded as not a threat for the moment, and a sense of being pushed up. Whatever was going on here, getting air was the most important thing, and only about a second of orienting himself and taking all of that information in passed before he was following that push and kicking to the surface. Fortunately it wasn't as deep as it looked and he broke the surface only a few moments later, gasping for a clean breath and sculling to the edge of the... fountain? What in the hell...? And why was a fountain so deep...?
Grabbing the rim, Clint hauled himself bodily up and over the side to sprawl on the ground, breathing heavily and waiting for the pressure in his head to even out. Once it did, he was smacked clean in the face with how cold it was, especially for someone who'd gone to sleep in early summer in Africa. It wasn't made better by the fact that he'd managed to fall in a pile of old snow, or that he was only wearing what looked like white scrubs and some decent boots – neither of which he'd ever seen before. (At least the scrubs weren't blue.) Sitting around wasn't going to help anything, and he needed to dry off and warm up before his muscles seized and he got hypothermia. Waiting would do him and anyone else stuck in this situation no good. Pushing himself to his feet, Clint started stumbling to the nearest building that looked like it was inhabited, determined to find some answers.
2) Acclimatization (Early Afternoon)
Absolutely nothing about this place made sense. That was the only conclusion he could come to – it had to be magic, or alien science, or something. How else could a person (group of people, probably) kidnap so many different people from so many different times and worlds and with so many different skillsets? And not have any of them remember how they got here or be able to find a way out? They had to be dealing with something beyond any of their experiences and that, more than anything, was a frightening thought.
But he didn't let it show, because it would do no good. Panicking would just leave them stuck at square one, and so the first step was to canvas the area. It would take him a few days to map the entire place (as much as he could), but for now Clint – now warm, dry, and wearing every speck of clothing that had been in that pack since it was a shock to go from summer to winter – was taking his first walk around the village, ducking into every major building just to see what's going where and start making his mental map. Know where all the hiding places and all the exits are. Don't get stuck in a corner if you can at all help it. Maybe they were trapped in this place, but they didn't need to make it easy for whoever put them there.
3) Analysis (Late Afternoon/Evening)
Maybe it was a dumb idea for his first day, but Clint didn't even try to stop himself from taking a short walk into the woods. He wouldn't go far – monsters or animals or whatever weren't something he wanted to take on without at least a knife he could throw – but it was another resource, another set of potential hiding places, and it sounded like their best chance for food. He hadn't grown up with nothing in the backwoods of the mountains, but he knew how to survive out there and how to best live off the land if he had to. He was good at hunting and he was not good at sitting around and doing nothing (much to the annoyance of the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D.). Day One was probably too early to jump in like that, especially since he had nothing to hunt with, but he wanted a first look so he could start making some plans.
WHERE: Around town, the fountain...
WHEN: Throughout January 19th
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to encounter him
WARNINGS: Standard mentions of drowning, otherwise TBD, but there'll probably be talk of fighting at the very least. Violent babies.
STATUS: Yes (if this changes, I'll edit)
1) Arrival (Early Morning)
Waking up underwater was pretty much the last thing Clint expected after managing to fall asleep after their rescue – and it was pretty much the worst. Whatever phobias he'd had as a kid had been trained out of him over the course of his life, but there was still a lingering thread of unease about really deep water, since even with as good as swimmer as he was he probably wouldn't be able to escape it fast enough to find breathable air. It didn't ever lock him down or stop him from going on any sort of underwater transport, but he was always just a hair more primed to act when on a sub or a submerged helicarrier. Birds just did better in the air.
So when he woke up not only not where he expected, but underwater, Clint's first reaction was one brief moment of panic before clamping it down, because panic would definitely get him killed and he had a lot to live for to die so stupidly. There was a soft light filtering down from what was probably above him if the pull of gravity was any indication, something looped around his shoulders that felt familiar and so was discarded as not a threat for the moment, and a sense of being pushed up. Whatever was going on here, getting air was the most important thing, and only about a second of orienting himself and taking all of that information in passed before he was following that push and kicking to the surface. Fortunately it wasn't as deep as it looked and he broke the surface only a few moments later, gasping for a clean breath and sculling to the edge of the... fountain? What in the hell...? And why was a fountain so deep...?
Grabbing the rim, Clint hauled himself bodily up and over the side to sprawl on the ground, breathing heavily and waiting for the pressure in his head to even out. Once it did, he was smacked clean in the face with how cold it was, especially for someone who'd gone to sleep in early summer in Africa. It wasn't made better by the fact that he'd managed to fall in a pile of old snow, or that he was only wearing what looked like white scrubs and some decent boots – neither of which he'd ever seen before. (At least the scrubs weren't blue.) Sitting around wasn't going to help anything, and he needed to dry off and warm up before his muscles seized and he got hypothermia. Waiting would do him and anyone else stuck in this situation no good. Pushing himself to his feet, Clint started stumbling to the nearest building that looked like it was inhabited, determined to find some answers.
2) Acclimatization (Early Afternoon)
Absolutely nothing about this place made sense. That was the only conclusion he could come to – it had to be magic, or alien science, or something. How else could a person (group of people, probably) kidnap so many different people from so many different times and worlds and with so many different skillsets? And not have any of them remember how they got here or be able to find a way out? They had to be dealing with something beyond any of their experiences and that, more than anything, was a frightening thought.
But he didn't let it show, because it would do no good. Panicking would just leave them stuck at square one, and so the first step was to canvas the area. It would take him a few days to map the entire place (as much as he could), but for now Clint – now warm, dry, and wearing every speck of clothing that had been in that pack since it was a shock to go from summer to winter – was taking his first walk around the village, ducking into every major building just to see what's going where and start making his mental map. Know where all the hiding places and all the exits are. Don't get stuck in a corner if you can at all help it. Maybe they were trapped in this place, but they didn't need to make it easy for whoever put them there.
3) Analysis (Late Afternoon/Evening)
Maybe it was a dumb idea for his first day, but Clint didn't even try to stop himself from taking a short walk into the woods. He wouldn't go far – monsters or animals or whatever weren't something he wanted to take on without at least a knife he could throw – but it was another resource, another set of potential hiding places, and it sounded like their best chance for food. He hadn't grown up with nothing in the backwoods of the mountains, but he knew how to survive out there and how to best live off the land if he had to. He was good at hunting and he was not good at sitting around and doing nothing (much to the annoyance of the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D.). Day One was probably too early to jump in like that, especially since he had nothing to hunt with, but he wanted a first look so he could start making some plans.
Yay Peggy!
"Haven't seen one of those yet, and it sounds like I don't want to but I'm going to at some point anyway." That's something he's not looking forward to - sure, he's fine with facing down monsters, or aliens, but he's always had something to defend himself with. His friends will share what weapons they have, but there's just not a lot to go around unfortunately. "But I just got here this morning."
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"Don't worry, typically the monstrous beings wait at least a month before attacking you," she notes wryly, returning to deboning the fish, though she doesn't take her eyes off of him. What was his name? Why can't she remember? "Out for a casual introduction walk, then?"
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It's not what he expects, that's for sure. The "British" part was obvious from her accent, but there were over thirty million women from the UK as of the last time he heard any population figures and so he had no reason to think he'd see a time traveler. Because it just can't be anything else - years spent in S.H.I.E.L.D. and a few actual meetings with her (though much older) means that Clint knows who Peggy Carter is and what she looks like. And while normally he's really good at controlling his emotions and he's been through a lot of shit anyway, this one is just beyond anything he can imagine. "Director Carter?"
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"Either you've worked with a future version of me or I've developed some very strict requirements about how my future friends address me," she remarks, hoping that he hears the teasing joke in her even tone, which is unfortunately warring with the ridiculity of the situation.
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...yeah, he's not going to mention that bit.
But when she says she has no idea who he is, Clint isn't surprised. She's young - a lot younger than him - and he met her right around when she turned eighty. Bit of a time difference there. "Definitely future, though you could - can - kick the ass of anyone who doesn't respect you properly." Not that he's opposed to that at all. In fact, Peggy will probably be able to notice a subtle change to his posture, a straightening, not quite moving to attention but definitely heading that way. Because one lesson you learned quickly in S.H.I.E.L.D. was to respect the people at the top - none of them would ever have taken shit they absolutely didn't have to.
"Barton - Clint Barton. I was in S.H.I.E.L.D., then- well, I'm on Cap's team."
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She has to find out how he does it, because she could really use Howard and the Howling Commandos here, not to mention Mr. Jarvis and Rose. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Barton," she says politely. "Are you here for the fish gutting or just wandering?"
...holy crap I thought I'd replied to this, I'm *so* sorry
"Nah, no ad. First time he needed a pilot, second time - he called my phone." And the third time, and fourth time after that, so on and so forth, but there's no need to get into that right now. Loki, New York, and the aliens happened after she'd really started going downhill, and they just had no effect on where they are now. "But he's a good guy. Runs into trouble way too much, but still a good guy."
Stepping out of the bushes fully, Clint makes his way down to the water to look it over like he's judging it, which is exactly what he's doing. Obviously fishing is possible here, but what else could they do with it? Aside from drinking and bathing, obviously. "Wandering, I guess - getting the lay of the land, figuring out where the borders are, all of that. Sam's warned me about the... things that can be in the woods, though, so I'm not gonna go too far."
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"So seventy plus years in ice hadn't been enough to thaw him," is Peggy's wry, fond remark. "Well, I imagine there's no fixing it. I can assure you that he was like that before he even came into contact with the serum. Part of me suspects Erskine was fond of that particularly stubborn flaw of his. If you want a bit of a tour, I don't mind packing up and offering one," she says. She's about frustrated with the fishing process at this point in the day, anyhow.
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"You sure? I don't wanna take you away from something else if you've gotta do it. Fishing in winter's not easy, but if we've got to find our own food here..." Well, if he can get his hands on a bow, that'll be pretty easy for him. But not necessarily for other people.
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"Fishing in winter is abysmally cold and I have some food back at mine if I'm desperate," Peggy promises, rubbing her fingers to try and warm herself, giving him a long look. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know me and I know nothing about you. I'd like to even that balance."
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And then there'd been Coulson fanboying all over the place.
Clint nods and digs in his pocket, pulling out his spare set of socks and offering them to her for use as improvised gloves. Since he just arrived that morning, they're still clean. "I don't really know you, but if you want you can ask me questions." He probably won't answer all of them 100% honestly, but ...it's Peggy. He met her over fifteen years before and trusted her then. He'll mostly trust her now.
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"I think they thought Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division summed it all up better, but I don't know for sure. Since it was you and Stark that started it, I always kinda figured it had something to do with Cap." It's not an unlikely theory, but it's also not important. Clint pauses for a moment, considering - but he gives a small shrug. Peggy had still been around, if not as active as she had been, when Fury brought him in, so he really has no reason to hide the context of his recruitment from her. "I went into the army after high school, spent a few years in Special Forces before I caught an explosion that got me a medical discharge. Spent a few years working construction before I decided to try to go to the Olympics - that got Fury interested. He showed up at my apartment - broke in, I guess - to try to convince me to sign on, and eventually it worked."
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"Fury," she echoes. "That's not the first I've heard of that name, but you have me at a slight disadvantage. He's one that I haven't heard much about. Also, you're an Olympian?" she echoes, a touch thrilled and amazed. "That's incredible, what sport?"
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"Fury's the third director of S.H.I.E.L.D., after you and Pierce." He's able to keep his voice neutral on Pierce's name, but even for him it's a hard fight, and Peggy might notice a flash of something in his eyes that could, quite possibly, be called hate. "He started in the USAF, too, made Colonel before he went into the CIA, and then joined S.H.I.E.L.D. after he proved how capable he was there. He's the one that found Cap's plane - uhh, he sent them, he wasn't there, that was a crazy week. But the Council wanted to give up on the project and he wouldn't do it, went under the radar and everything to find him. And it paid off.
"I was an Olympian, I only went once, not like some people that go year after year. I went in 2000, in Archery, men's individual round." No, he's not saying if he won, or even placed. Not important. "But that brought Fury to my door, so I guess you could say it had a pretty lasting impact."
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(Well, perhaps more so than she already has)
"I'm glad someone found Steve, even if I'll always wish we did it decades earlier," she says, wondering how different her life might have been if they had somehow been able to unearth Steve from the ice. Would she have gone on to do the incredible things she apparently has? She wants to think she would, but she'll never know. "So then you're probably a decent shot," she remarks, the picture of softening the truth. "I was a bit of a sharpshooter, myself. I never got the hang of arrows, though," she confesses.
"Here," she gestures, "if we go this way, we can be back at my place within fifteen minutes."
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Hell, she'd kept HYDRA down until she was too ill to fight them. That's not a person that lies down and does nothing.
"He wishes it, too, even if he's never come straight out and said it." Clint knows more about a lot of people than they probably realize he does just because he's so perceptive, but that one's easy for anyone to spot. He obviously liked some of the improvements in the world (like healthcare), but hated a lot of other stuff, such as losing everyone he'd ever known. But it's kind of depressing to talk about that, so Clint doesn't continue with that line of thought when Peggy redirects the conversation. "You could say that - it's what Fury wanted me for, that and the military experience. Nat was always more of the spy, I was more of the agent, even if we had a lot of overlap. And archery's tricky, so don't sweat it - there's not a lot of call for it at home anyway, except with the team."
To her last bit, he nods and steps back to let her go first since she knows the direction. "Lead on."
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"I take it that you could also use your skills with firearms? Surely you didn't just bring arrows to a confrontation," she says, with true disbelief.
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He left his home, his family, to save the world.
"I could, but mostly I don't." He shrugs again; it's an old argument, but he'll repeat it for her sake. "Arrows - the one S.H.I.E.L.D. can make - are better 'cause they're not usually lethal, so any target I have can be taken in. They're not just arrows, though - some of 'em've got explosives, or corrosive chemicals, or even nets. It sounds stupid, but it works. But I always take a handgun and a knife with me on missions, and if I'm gonna be stuck somewhere without a lot of room to maneuver sometimes it'll just be the handgun."
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"That's quite handy and very expensive sounding," she notes, wondering where on earth such a budget must come from. "In my day, we were lucky to have those things and typically had to raid Stark's spare room. How on earth can you afford them so readily?" she wonders.
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It was a trait he shared with his top agents.
"Stark," Clint replies, and he manages to bite back a growl at the name. It's only been a few days for him since that unthinking betrayal of his secret, and he's not in the mood to think about Tony in a positive light yet, no matter their history. But that one he does keep throttled down, since it's tied so closely with the secret he guards so heavily. "They signed him on as a consultant a few years back and then of course he couldn't stop fiddling with everything, but even before that we were really well funded. Agents everywhere, buildings in most major cities, helicarriers - you directors basically turned us into the FBI of the world, and that meant getting government funding from a lot of governments. Enough to have S.H.I.E.L.D.-only advanced schools of scientific study that you had to already have at least one PhD to even apply to get in."
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"It all seems so far-fetched and distant," she admits. "I can picture what you're saying, but I keep thinking back to where I was and connecting those dots is like a dizzying dream to even consider."
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Clint's steps slow a bit at her words of disbelief, the snow crunch under his feet fading as he considers for a couple of moments. Finally, he looks at her, more serious than he normally is. "You know, if you don't wanna know something, all you've gotta do is tell me. I'll stop talking."
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That, though, is a topic she's leery of drifting too far towards, because that's something she hasn't probed at for fear of a future she doesn't get to live. "What happened in the Middle East?" she asks, gesturing to her door only a half kilometre away.
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Clint takes a moment to sort out what's relevant and what's not in answer to her question, because the geopolitical situation had changed dramatically since the 1980s and he's not sure she knows that. A quick summary is probably in order. "About thirty years ago - from my time - a lot of countries in the Middle East started moving back towards being run - ruled - by stricter, more radical forms of Islam. Terrorism jumped up, suicide bombers, airplane hijackings. But a lot of the people who ran, run, those countries and the extremist religious leaders see the western world and especially America as evil and an enemy to be brought down and you've heard all the rhetoric. Tony was mostly designing and selling weapons to the armed forces about six years ago, he went over there for a live demonstration of a new missile, the convoy he was riding with got attacked by a terrorist cell and he was taken hostage to make them a missile of their own. Got hit with shrapnel, he almost died. He was a hostage for about three months and he managed to fool them into thinking he was making their missile when he was making himself a weaponized metal suit to break out with, which he did, and then the Air Force picked him up in the middle of the desert. Everything that happened to him showed him he was way down the path of being a dick, so when he got back, he shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries, went into things like clean and renewable energy and construction and bankrolling other scientific projects, but he also built a much better weaponized suit and became Iron Man so he could fight against the people that stole his weapons to use in aggressive attacks. That's how he ended up on the team."
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