HULK HUNT

By Curtis Fernlund

Avengers Quinjet: Duquesne

America’s Southwest Desert;

The Chihuahuan

New Mexico

“This sucks…”

Clint Barton aka Hawkeye the Marksman sat impatient in the co-pilot’s seat of the Avenger’s transport as it flew relatively silent over the blistering golden landscape of New Mexico. He was always uneasy and on edge in the flights to the next encounter; not afraid of course, or even worried really though he supposed he should be considering what they were soon to face. No, he was more like a little kid in the back seat of the car riding along on the family vacation, wishing they would just arrive already. It took most of his will to refrain from asking: “Are we there yet?” over and over. Not that he expected an answer from any of his fellow Avengers.

The silence of the quinjet’s flight seemed multiplied and way more intense on the inside than out. Most of his companions were hardly talkative to begin with unless they were trying to make a point. And he knew the whole group had a lot on their minds; not only the rampaging monster they were on their way to battle, but each with their own personal problems to sort through. Hawkeye thought it was like a soap opera in the group sometimes, but he remembered the times he had contributed to that atmosphere almost since Day One when he had joined the Mighty Avengers as part of Cap’s ‘Kooky Quartet’ along with Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch as replacements for the original founding members.

He had to smile at that. It certainly didn’t seem so then but those were simpler times, at least compared to now. Back then it was just a little friendly rivalry with Cap or Quicksilver, go beat up the villain du jour then go back to the mansion for some R&R. Now there was in-fighting and feuds on the team, the government breathing down their necks wanting results, questions about their national security status; the list of troubles seemed endless. Times changed, he supposed, and politics.

Clint didn’t like this current mission. In fact he hated that Nick Fury and ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross had invaded their Island headquarters in New York Harbor and ordered… ORDERED the team to go take down the Hulk.  Sure, Banner was way out of control of the beast he’d lived with for so long, and sure, they were the Avengers and Seattle needed to be ‘avenged’ after the monster’s rampage through the city. But something about the whole thing just didn’t seem kosher with the avenging archer.

He plucked an arrow from his quiver set beside the seat and started twirling it through his fingers; a nervous habit he hoped to break one day, but it helped him think. He was trying to piece everything he knew together into one big cohesive plot, but it was hard; too many dots to connect to get the ‘Big Picture’. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t Stark or T’Challa; certainly not the brightest bulb in the socket. They could see all the little nuances in any situation like this and quickly come up with the needed answer to the problem. Even Steve Rogers could piece the puzzle together way faster than Ma Barton’s little boy; something that really stuck in his craw back in the old days.

Not getting a response to his comment from his stoic companions Clint leaned back in the co-pilot’s seat and had to smile as he watched the American southwest scenery pass by through the view screen. It was certainly impressive, and beautiful; the vast desert with its tall mesas, the mountains in the distance. Seeing that beauty and untamed peace relaxed him and made him think about happier times, like when he used to live here riding the trails with Matt Hawk, the Two Gun Kid. No point in worrying about things that hadn’t happened, he thought, as his mind drifted back to those early days…

It seemed decades since he had been running the streets with his older brother, Barney Barton, living day to day, begging for their next meal and getting into trouble. Clint knew he had been a whiney little jerk not even a teenager when their parents died and they were forced to go out on their own and take to the streets or go into an orphanage till they were older. But Barney was slick and savvy back then – streetwise even as a kid – and he kept them going day-to-day and more. Barney Barton always made sure his ‘baby’ brother Clint had food in his belly and a place to sleep every night. Even if it was just a cardboard box in an alley some nights, Clint snorted. Better than nothing.

But his brother had taken care of them over those years when he was growing up and Barney was a major influence on the man Clint Barton now was today teaching him the ways of life; street smarts, the ways of women and all the little tricks he knew to survive. Clint idolized his big brother back in those days so it had broken his heart then when Barney passed him off to some ‘two-bit’ carnival to get him off the ‘mean streets’ and away from the darker path Barney was going down. Little did Clint know at the time that his brother was getting in deep with the underworld and organized crime and some of the things they had done when they were younger had been questionable at best.

“You’re a good kid, Clint,” Barney said that cold winter’s night outside the circus tent, “but I want you to become a better man. A better man than me anyway, and I know you can, but that’ll never happen if you keep following me around for the rest of your life. You got talent you need to work on; I’ve seen it. This guy we’re gonna meet will help you do that, better than I can. He’ll bring out those talents and turn you into something better, ‘Bro. He’ll make you a star.”

Clint was barely fifteen when Barney palmed him off to Jacques Duquesne, the ‘Sensational Swordsman’, star performer of the ‘Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders’. Clint was crying when Barney and the man who would soon become his new mentor and guardian spoke out of earshot and with barely a ‘goodbye’ before Barney Barton left his life for years.

The Swordsman had been a lot harsher than Barney in his upbringing of the brash, young archer-to-be. Duquesne was talented to be sure; probably the best swordsman in the whole world, Clint thought at the time, but he had also been strict and determined, as well as an abusive drunk. He kept the young Barton boy under his thumb as they trained; introducing him to the likes of Trickshot – another attraction at the circus – who helped him hone his archery skills over the years, which Clint seemed to have a definite talent for, as well as Stephanie Scratch; the ‘Serpent Queen’ – the woman who turned the boy into a man.

Clint tried to suppress a wistful smile as he thought back to those old times. Simpler times but good he supposed, or so he thought being young and naïve. But, like Barney, the Swordsman had shown him the way of the world with a harsh slap in the face one night…

The circus’ payroll had been stolen and when Clint burst into the Swordsman’s wagon excited to tell his mentor the news, he saw Duquesne there thumbing through a wad of money he shouldn’t have had. Clint often admitted he was a bit slow on the uptake, but he put two and two together quickly that night and realized what must have happened. The Swordsman offered him a cut; the two of them would leave the circus and become partners in a life of crime, the very thing Barney was trying to keep him away from. Staying true to his heart, Clint refused, but worse, threatening to tell the authorities and Duquesne wanted no part of that.

They fought but Duquesne was older and stronger and more skilled and actually seemed determined to kill his young apprentice to keep him quiet. Clint ran, but the Swordsman followed casually batting away the young ‘Hawkeye’s’ hastily fired arrows with casual sweeps of his sword, laughing at the boy’s best efforts.

Clint ran into the ‘Big Top’ and climbed to the top of the tent’s highest pole to the high-wire platform in an attempt to get away or at least hide so he could think. The Swordsman was hot on his heels though and swiftly started up the long ladder to follow the young archer. Having nowhere else to go, tears in his eyes Clint had eased out onto the high wire even as Duquesne clambered onto the upper platform.

“Don’t be stupid, boy.” Clint remembered the Swordsman’s words and taunts. “I don’t want to kill you, but I won’t let you stand in my way. Join me! I can make us rich!”

Clint was frightened. He had done the high wire before training for his role in the circus and trying to find his niche. Heights never bothered him and he seemed to have a knack for it, but now with his heart pounding in his ears, his blood racing as the man he trusted most in the world threatened his life while he was out on the middle of the thin wire with no net below him he was terrified.

“No!” Clint shouted as he tried to turn and draw an arrow from the quiver on his back to defend himself. He remembered feeling the wire sway with his movements and the ground far below seemed to swirl and blur as he tried to focus on the Swordsman, notching an arrow to bowstring totally prepared to kill his pseudo father to save his own life. Barney taught him that.

But even as Clint loosed an arrow to try to save his life, Duquesne cut the wire with a casual flick of his sharp blade sending the young archer falling to his doom.

Clint fell the dozens of feet and lay broken and semi-conscious in the dirt when the Swordsman finally climbed down to him again. His mentor stood over his broken, bleeding body shaking his head.

“Stupid kid,” was all Duquesne said before leaving Clint to his fate and running.

But the Swordsman had made a number of mistakes that night and assuming Clint was on ‘Death’s Doorstep’ was probably the biggest. Stubborn was Clint Barton’s middle name and he was still clinging to life when Stephanie Scratch and some other ‘Carnies’ found him lying battered and broken in the dirt of the Big Top tent.

Stephanie nursed Clint back to life tending his wounds and watching over him over the next few months while his body mended. It had been a long recovery, but the Serpent Queen was also far more than she seemed to be and used ‘special’ talents all her own to aid him.

Clint didn’t know much about the woman other than she was also called ‘Reptilla’ and she possessed the ability to change her body into some weird half-form of woman and snake. Clint figured she was one of those ‘Mutants’ the world heard about so much in the news lately; like the ice guy and the kid with the wings, and the terrorist Magneto who seemed to be intent on taking over the world. Clint didn’t know and frankly didn’t care. Stephanie was good people and that was what counted in his book.

It was months of recuperation under Stephanie’s care, but with work and determination Clint was finally back on his feet. He spent several weeks honing his skills in archery again to get in shape and take the places of the Swordsman and Trickshot – who deserted the circus long ago – as the main attraction on the carnival’s billing. But carnivals and circuses were becoming passé in the world with the emergence of the ‘Marvels’. How could a lowly circus archer possibly compare to a kid who could set himself aflame and fly, or a guy who could climb walls like a spider, or a Thunder God? He couldn’t.

But, Clint realized, they were the wave of the future. The Marvels were what was in and happening and maybe – and this was his arrogance talking at the time – maybe he could be a part of that world. He was definitely good enough and far better than some acrobat in a garish red and yellow suit with horns on his head or some guy who could shrink. Clint Barton was Hawkeye the Marksman!

“You’re crazy,” Stephanie Scratch accused that fateful night. It had been the proverbial dark and stormy night out when he told her of his plans and dreams. They decided to hunker down in small bed in her wagon to ride out the storm and after a long bout of earth-shaking and world-breaking they were exhausted and basking in the afterglow of morning as the storm eased and moved on, just talking as she seemed to like to do.

“Why?” Clint asked as she snuggled closer looking at him with curious green eyes; ‘snake eyes’ he always thought. “I’m as good as any of them; these Marvels. I can be a hero,” which, despite what newspapers like the Daily Bugle said he figured these people were. They were fighting the good fight in a world that was getting out of hand. “Maybe I can’t take on guys like Doctor Doom and Kang the Conqueror yet, but give me time. I can take down the little guys to start.”

To her credit Stephanie hadn’t laughed at his dreams. That was about par for the course the way his life had been going but she had faith in him for some reason, just like Barney; a good person. She smiled and kissed him, holding him tight.

“Then go for it, Clint,” she encouraged after a while. “You told me once your brother said you were talented, and I can see that, in more ways than one.” She smirked as she caressed his sweaty bare chest, her hand drifting lower. “But if this is what you want to do, follow your dreams. I’ll never be anything more than a circus side-show freak, but you can become whatever you want to be.” She sat up abruptly then and reached over to her nightstand and grabbed a cigarette from the crumpled pack of Marlboros lying there; sparking the butt to life and drawing deep. After a moment she offered him a puff, but he declined.

“In training,” he chuckled and she did laugh at that.

Stephanie settled back in his arms as she enjoyed her cigarette and he could see she was wanting to go on. He said no more though and after a while she finally continued.

“I’ll miss you,” she confided as she traced a long fingernail about his nipple, “but I understand. When you give up your dreams, you die. So always follow your dreams, Clint, and become the hero you want to be; the world’s greatest archer.

“Truth to tell I’ve been thinking of leaving the ‘Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders’ for quite a while.” She looked up to him sadly and shrugged. “This is probably the push I need to get off my ass and get moving. There’s some guy named Tibolt; a Ringmaster at some other circus who’s been sniffing around and seems really interested. Same show with a different bed I suppose but without you here…”

“Hey! I’ll stay in touch,” Clint said knowing it probably wouldn’t happen. Maybe for a while, but people moved on. Stephanie nodded and smiled understanding.

“Sssure you will,” she hissed as she rolled over and slithered atop him with a giggle, her form changing as her skin deepened to a pale green and her tongue forked and flicked between her lips. Clint remembered feeling her body lengthen as she reared up and looked down on him ready to strike.

“Now,” she hissed again, “give me something to remember you by.”

Hawkeye the Marksman complied, hitting the ‘Bullseye’ several times that night…

It was after that when things went wrong. He left the circus to try to become a Marvel and hero in his own right; donning his special purple and blue garb, his best bow and a quiver of arrows he had fletched and formed himself. And he had done well, stopping a jewel heist that very first outing, but Fate stepped in and turned the tables. When the cops arrived on scene they found him wearing a mask with the bag of loot in hand and mistakenly believed he was the perpetrator.

Hawkeye the Marksman quickly fled from his first encounter, soured by his years with his brother and their own dealings with law enforcement. He hadn’t gone far however when Fate stepped in again and the beauteous ‘Black Widow’ opened her car door and offered him an avenue of escape.

“Aww, Nat,” he mused out loud. What a wild ride that had been. Natalia Alianovna Romanova was a Soviet agent and spy back in the day with an assignment, eventually a vendetta to take down Anthony Stark along with his bodyguard, the ‘Invincible’ Iron-Man. She easily snared the young Hawkeye into her web with her beauty and charm and the pair spent the next few months battling the ‘golden avenger’ usually to a standstill. Even with the special trick arrows her Russian overlords had constructed for him Clint soon learned just what ‘invincible’ really meant. The Iron-Man would not be beat.

Clint eyed the man himself seated in the seat to his left, grimly piloting the quinjet. Little did anyone know back then that Iron-Man and Tony Stark were actually one in the same. Hawkeye often kicked himself for not putting those two pieces of the puzzle together. It seemed so simple now, but somehow the man pulled off his little masquerade for years fooling everybody.

And when Natasha had severed ties with ‘Mother’ Russia and her superiors to defect to the United States and start a new life it was Stark himself – his arch foe – who recommended Hawkeye the Marksman for membership in the ‘Mighty’ Avengers as his replacement. And Clint’s life changed forever… again.

“Penny for ‘em.”

Clint Barton actually jumped in his seat to hear the sudden voice in his ear and the tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Melissa Gold leaning on the back of his chair with her face close to his. He felt goosebumps on his arms and his heart was suddenly hammering from the shock of being wrenched from his reveries, his mind shifting gears again.

Melissa Joan Gold went through a hard life too as he recalled. Growing up with abusive, drunken parents she ran away from home at an early age and been through hell living on the streets and dabbling in petty theft to get by, running with gangs  under the name of ‘Mimi’ and finally becoming somewhat legit by getting into sleazy, back-room, two-bit wrestling matches. Somewhere along the line she joined a group called the Grapplers; all female wrestlers with enhanced strength and a few tricks, though Melissa opted for surgical implants on her vocal cords to enhance her voice and give her sonic powers.

Going then by the name of ‘Screaming Mimi’ she enjoyed a short career as a two-bit villain with the Grapplers who got beaten by the likes of Giant-Man and Quasar. Eventually she went up against the Thing, which of course was a ‘No-Contest’ match, ending up in Ryker’s Island for a long stint in jail. That trip down the river apparently taught her nothing though as she got hooked up with David Angar, the ‘Screamer’.

Losers tend to flock together, Hawkeye thought remembering his own past. But Melissa eventually broke off with Angar when Baron Helmut Zemo gathered his group of second-rate villains like Power-man and the Beetle, augmented their powers and abilities and turned them into his pseudo team of superheroes called the Thunderbolts.

That had all been a ploy though; one of Zemo’s grand schemes to get revenge and take over the world. He was a total nutcase just like his father the original Baron Zemo, but what he hadn’t counted on was his villains actually liking the acclaim and accolades that came with being a hero. The Thunderbolts changed mentally as well as physically and all for the better Hawkeye saw when he joined the team and took over. He tried to enhance their newfound desire to do good and fight the better fight and he succeeded to a point seeing a little bit of himself in them. He was considered a villain himself for years and it had taken a lot of work for him to become a real hero and only with the help of Captain America did he succeed.

He wanted to ‘pay it forward’ – to help them as Cap had helped him years before – and he supposed Melissa Gold was his crowning achievement in that. Now calling herself Songbird and wearing an armored carapace that enhanced her already amazing sonic powers she had gone with him when he left the Thunderbolts behind and joined the Avengers.

“Just a quiet trip down Memory Lane, Mel. Probably not worth a penny.” Melissa Gold smiled but Clint couldn’t quite tell if she got the reference. Probably not, and that made him feel old.

“Well, you were mumbling to yourself up here.” She shrugged. “Thought maybe you were getting lonely.”

“Just a nervous tick,” Clint replied as he stopped twirling the arrow through his fingers and slipped it back into the quiver beside his seat. He glanced up at the monitor showing the seats and saw the Vision seated directly behind him, his red eyes glowing brightly in the dark sockets. It looked like the android Avenger was staring daggers into his back but Clint couldn’t understand idea why.

“Just going through the motions of the fight in my head.”

“Working things out, hunh? I hear you.” Melissa’s smile faltered a bit as she glanced into the monitor as well. Probably giving ‘Moon Eyes’ to the Vision, he imagined and shook his head. Clint liked, and more importantly respected the Vision, but he could not understand how he got all the women; first Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, then Mantis and now Melissa Gold. Hawkeye had no idea who might have come along in the years between and didn’t really want to think about it. The Vision’s past was more convoluted than anyone’s on the Quinjet and that was saying a lot.

Hawkeye’s gaze lingered on the monitor and he saw Maria Hill, the Avenger’s S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison seated at the computer node far in the back of the ship. Clint knew all of the Quinjets were top of the line built with technology created specifically for the team by Stark International and Wakanda. He knew too that with her security clearance she could access not only the Avengers database but also those shared files of S.H.I.E.L.D., the NSA, the Fantastic Four and any other group or hero that was on the network. The Quinjet had something far beyond Wi-Fi, but despite Stark’s numerous attempts to explain it to him, Clint could just never get the grasp. It always set him to his arrow twirling habit and he usually dismissed it with a shrug and a nod. As long as it worked, what the hell?

He hoped she was researching info on the Hulk just as he hoped Storm and Nightcrawler were discussing battle strategies for when they finally encountered the brute. There was another pair with convoluted pasts he didn’t want to delve into too deep.

Both Ororo Monroe and Kurt Wagner were Mutants who led hard lives as children. Growing up, Storm had been a street urchin, beggar and thief on the streets of Cairo. She left that life when her Mutant Gene kicked in at puberty and lived on the African Veldt as she came of age. For a time the tribes in the area thought her the incarnation of some goddess from their myths, and Ororo actually thought that too with her powers to manipulate the weather. That was until Professor X, Charles Xavier came along and asked her to join the new band of X-Men he was forming. She accepted, but Hawkeye always suspected there was a gentle psychic nudge from the good professor whenever he went recruiting. Hawkeye didn’t like Mentalists.

Kurt Wagner was an even more special case even among Mutants. He was born disfigured the ignorant would say with dark, almost-black skin, a prehensile tail and elongated hands and feet sporting only three digits. He had pointed ears and fangs too so most people thought he was some kind of demon, and with his ability to teleport and vanish in a dark cloud that smelled of brimstone Hawkeye could understand why. In fact, as Hawkeye had heard the tale, Wagner was running from a crowd of frenzied villagers somewhere in Bavaria who thought that very thing and were trying to drive a stake into his heart like he was some Vampire from the old Hammer horror flicks.

Xavier saved him in the proverbial nick of time and Wagner readily accepted his offer to join his new X-Men after Professor X mind-controlled the angry, torch-bearing mob. Hawkeye couldn’t blame the guy for jumping at the chance to join a group of people like him.

Neither ex-X-Man was very forthcoming with events from their past, which was fine with the archer; none of his business. Hawkeye knew there was something dark in Ororo’s past that she never talked about and Wagner had ties to witches and magic in his upbringing. Both dealt with those things and had proven themselves time and again both in the X-Men and now as Avengers, tried and true. Just like Scott Lang.

The last of the assemblage was seated right behind Iron-Man and feverishly typing away on his modified I-Pad. Clint felt an affinity for Lang as the man started out with good intentions but fell on hard times at some point and taken to thievery to support himself, and more importantly his daughter, Cassie. Clint could sympathize with that. If he had a daughter or son he couldn’t imagine the lengths he would go to, to make certain they slept in a bed with a roof over their head every night and a belly full of food just as Barney did for him. Lang was definitely a good parent.

He was also a great security technician and Tony Stark hired him on those credentials alone, never mind that he had stolen Hank Pym’s cybernetic helmet to talk to bugs, along with his shrinking gas formula and his very name. Pym and Stark both helped Lang the ex-con to reboot his life. With Pym’s initial approval, Scott Lang became the new Astonishing Ant-Man and a member in good standing of the Mighty Avengers.

“It’s weird, y’know?” Clint commented off hand. “Now I think about it, this whole team – except for Shell-Head here – used to be on the wrong side of the law; even the Vision. He started out working for Ultron and tried to kidnap Janet Van Dyne and kill the rest of us. Almost did too but for his change of heart. We’ve all come a long way though since the old days.”

“And why do you think that is, Clint?” Melissa asked as she sat back in her seat and held the Vision’s hand. “You helped me turn my life around just like Tony and Steve did for you. We all had help just when we needed it most. And now we have family.”

“She’s right, Hawkeye,” Storm chimed in from the rear of the compartment apparently not so involved in her discussion with Wagner as Hawkeye thought. “When I… WE joined the X-Men we became family with the others. It took time of course. We were all strangers in a stranger new world and a life that none of us ever really experienced before. Even Wolverine and Banshee…”

“And Sunfire,” Nightcrawler cut in.

“Yes, Sunfire. Those three were established in their own time and way and been around for some years. But we all…”

“Except Sunfire,” Nightcrawler interjected again and Storm gave him a harsh glare. He smirked but remained silent. Ororo sighed.

“My point being we all became family,” another sharp glance at Wagner, “and I feel the same bond here with… most of you.”

“Most is good.” Hawkeye agreed and Melissa smiled.

“Why’d you go back to your old costume, Clint?” she asked. “Feeling nostalgic?”

Clint Barton looked down at his old purple and blue uniform and shrugged. “Maybe a little,” he mused, “but I also thought it might calm the Hulk down a bit. We used to run together for a while in the Defenders, after we beat some freak electrical monster called ZZzzzaxxx. I was always ‘stupid stick-man’ or ‘purple-man’ to the Hulk back then, but I figured a blast from the past might spark enough memory to end this quick, without a fight.” Hawkeye was about to go on when…

WHINEWHINEWHINEWHINEWHINEWHINE… 

“Proximity Alarm, people!” the Iron-Man said already snapping his helmet face plate back into place and regaining manual control over the Quinjet. The vehicle swerved at the sudden change as Hawkeye leaned forward to his own set of controls grabbing the backup ‘steering wheel’. He looked out the view screen and saw a huge boulder flying straight at the craft.

“Holy… Where’d that come from?”

“The ground,” Stark offered dead-pan as he leaned into the joy-stick trying to bank the Quinjet out of the rock’s trajectory. Hawkeye could see they weren’t going to make it.

“Strap in, people!” he shouted over the whine of the alarm even as the boulder shot past the view screen.

WHAMMMmmm!

Hawkeye heard the sound of metal rending and screeching outside as the Quinjet lurched to the right suddenly arcing downward. They were quickly out of control with a stabilizer wing sheared off and plummeting to the ground at breakneck speeds.

He leaned in and tightened his grip on his own control sticks at the co-pilot station but there was no give. They were locked in place. He glanced out the side view port and saw a mass of wreckage. “The wing’s gone!” he exclaimed still heaving on the controls.

“I know,” Stark offered without a hint of panic, his voice now cold and metallic. “The controls are locked! The sticks are dead, stuck in the mud. Abandon ship, people!”

The Iron-Man hit a flashing red button on the control board and Hawkeye heard the sound of depressurization as all the doors on the Quinjet unlocked and blew away. There was a sudden blast of wind as the atmosphere in the craft adjusted blowing everything it could that was not nailed down out of the suddenly open doors. He heard the usual exclamations of shock from his fellow Avengers as they grabbed for anything important but no cries of panic. No one was getting sucked out, thank god.

“Bail!” Iron-Man shouted again as the main window exploded outwards. Stark kicked in his boot jets and shot out the gaping hole even as Hawkeye struggled against the suddenly blasting wind pinning him back.

“Damn it!” he cursed as the ground grew closer. The Quinjet was hurtling at sub-sonic speeds and starting to spiral downwards towards the desert floor. Hawkeye ignored the scenery this time as he struggled with his seatbelt. “Are these ‘child-proof’ locks or what?” he spat reaching for his quiver on the floor.

Hawkeye grabbed up his arrows and slipped a simple shaft from the quiver with a broad, metallic hunting head. He gave up on the seatbelt’s lock and simply slashed through the mesh fiber of the belt itself. The weave could not stand against cold, sharp steel and easily sliced away with the archer ripping off the attached harness and diving out the window.

BOOOOMMmmmmnnn…

Hawkeye saw the flash of light about him before he heard the explosion then the brief blast of heat. Clint ignored that and spread his arms and legs wide trying to flatten his body and slow his descent remembering his old training. That was one more thing he hated about Captain America back in the day. He thought it stupid at the time when he made them all receive sky-diving training. But as always, Steve Rogers had been right and that ‘waste of time’ saved his ass more than once.

The damaged quinjet rocketed past aflame and trailing smoke behind as it arced down towards the desert. Luckily they were far away from any signs of humanity so when the transport hit along with the ejected doors and window glass, no one would be hurt.

“Nobody but me,” Hawkeye mumbled as his brain clicked through the contents in his quiver of special arrows he was clutching. It was one of those times he wished he had packed his old, bulky ‘Parachute’ arrow. It would have been perfect but the damn thing just took up way too much room in his quiver and he had stocked up for a fight with the Hulk. Who knew?

Assessing the situation he was too far from anything to hook a ‘swing-line’ arrow to, and still traveling too fast to hope an ‘entangle’ arrow might soften his fall. Hawkeye was about to pull out one of his cheesy rocket arrows to try to slow himself when he saw a dark cloud and flash of fiery light explode in his path.

Nightcrawler appeared before him falling a bit slower with his own arms open wide. The old circus aerialist twisted and spun to get in the right position and Hawkeye knew what the ‘dark-elf’ was planning. Hawkeye went limp as best he could and suddenly he slammed into Kurt Wagner, the pair spinning wildly in free-fall.

“Not to worry, mein Freund,” the mutant smiled. “I’ve done this before.”

Hawkeye’s glass stomach roiled and he gagged at the stench of sulfur as Nightcrawler teleported and the two were suddenly falling straight up. It took a great effort to keep his bile down as the archer tried to get his bearings. He ignored the explosion he heard off in the distance below – probably the quinjet hitting the ground – as he felt their momentum slowing.

“There we go,” Nightcrawler assured as the pair reached the apex of their upwards ‘fall’ and Clint gagged again at the sudden explosion of fire and brimstone. His world lurched and he suddenly felt his limp body collapsing to the hot desert sands as his stomach heaved.

“My apologies for the rough ride,” Kurt Wagner soothed with a calming hand on Clint’s back as he emptied the contents of his stomach. “It’s hard to get used to, I know, but preferable to the alternative, Ja?” Clint wiped his mouth and looked up nodding at the man who had saved his life.

“Thanks.”

Hawkeye looked around surveying their situation as he slowly got back on his feet. The remains of the quinjet was a burning wreck over a mile away from where Nightcrawler had brought them down. They would have to see what they could salvage after this mission was done, then call in Damage Control to secure whatever was left. By the look of things there wouldn’t be much.

He saw the Vision and Songbird landing softly not so far away and soon after Storm flew in carrying Maria Hill. Clint didn’t like Hill much but he didn’t want to see her become ‘sand-pizza’ either and she was the only other one in the transport who couldn’t fly. Everyone else who could knew what they were doing however and he needn’t have worried.

Hawkeye heard the familiar sound of boot-jets roaring closer and looked up to see the Iron-Man come swooping in. He landed close by in a puff of exhaust and blowing sand and quickly scanned the group as everyone gathered into a defensive circle.

“Everyone all right?” Stark asked but Hawkeye could see he already knew the answer and was distracted by something else he was looking at on one of the many computer displays in his helmet. Stark could multi-task with the best of them Clint knew and was probably already coming up with their next move.

“I’ve located the Hulk,” he confirmed pointing off towards the south. “Not too far off. Not good news though,” he continued, “The Thing’s there with him, and someone who I suspect is Red Wolf.”

“Red Wolf?” Scott Lang’s voice asked seemingly coming out of thin air. Finally Hawkeye saw the tiny Avenger zipping past on the back of a flying ant, his voice amplified by his Cybernetic helmet. Hawkeye frowned realizing that he had forgotten to consider the welfare of their final member. Again his worries were unfounded as the astonishing Ant-Man had the entire insect kingdom at his beckon call.

“Who’s that?” Lang added as he directed his mount to fly through the group.

“He’s an Avenger,” Hawkeye answered, “sort of. He helped us out years ago, then worked with the West Coast Avengers off and on for a while when we were out this way on a few cases.” Lang flew before Hawkeye’s face and nodded.

“Guess I need to get cracking on the old files again. It’s news to me,” Lang joked. Clint was about to add more but Stark cut him off.

“He’s a friend, and an ally, which is good. We may need him before this is over because there’s bad news as well. I saw a transport off in the distance on my fly-by. There were familiar robots all about the ship and it had the tell-tale markings of the country of Latveria. Doctor Doom’s here somewhere.”

“Doom…” Hawkeye heard Melissa Gold whisper, something close to awe in her voice.

“Then it’s probable the news media reports we have heard are true,” the Vision added with a cold robotic assurity. “The Thing has joined with Victor Von Doom.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. reports confirm that,” Maria Hill added stepping up to the group with Ororo Monroe at her side. The pair looked no worse for the wear Hawkeye noted. In fact Hill was checking her sidearm preparing for the inevitable fight to come. “The two were seen together recently in Seattle. There was an altercation with agents and Captain Marvel. It didn’t go well.”

“We’ve all read that file, Hill,” Stark confirmed sharply, then added in a softer tone, “Maria. Ben Grimm beat Carol Danvers in a scrape and Doom apparently got whatever he wanted from the city. Now they’re our problem and less than a click away. We have to stop the Hulk, and regrettably the Thing as well and put an end to Doom’s plans whatever they are.”

“Piece ‘a cake,” Hawkeye joked trying to ease the tension. He pulled his compound bow from his back and with a quick flick of his arm snapped it into shape. He drew a ‘Flash-Bang’ arrow from his main quiver as well hoping that might confuse the pair of brutes rather than enrage them. “Let’s do this.”

“Assault Epsilon then,” the Iron-Man ordered even as his boot-jets roared to life again with a whine lifting him into the air. He shot off to the south swiftly gaining altitude and momentum and a moment later Storm and Songbird swooped past overhead under their own powers assuming flanking positions on Stark and flying out wide. Clint could see their unique energies crackling about them as they sped away.

“Nightcrawler ported,” Lang offered as he flew past Hawkeye’s face again. Clint could see a growing swarm of flying ants and other insects massing in his wake. Ant-Man had called in his reinforcements. “And there goes the Vision. Guess we’re the back-up.” Clint looked up and saw the pale green form of the intangible Vision floating past at a good clip. Not as fast as the other fliers, he would still get to the battlefield before Hawkeye.

“I guess we run?” Maria Hill asked as she jogged up beside him even as the Ant-Man and his army zipped away. Hawkeye grinned.

“What’s the matter, Hill?” Clint chided, “Didn’t have your Wheaties this morning?”

“Screw you, Barton,” she spat taking off at a quick, steady pace. Hawkeye chuckled and started off behind her.

He was sweating by the time he reached the combat zone huffing and puffing from the desert heat. He saw the transport and the ‘Doom-Bots’ way off in the distance going about their business and whatever orders Doom had given them, but there was no sign of the good doctor himself. More the worry as Doom was an unknown in this.

A quick glance and Hawkeye saw his allies taking their positions for the formation Stark had chosen. It was one of many that he and Steve Rogers and T’Challa had come up with over the years as all three men were strategists and everyone had learned after hours of training. The assemblage fell into place, into their roles like a well-oiled machine.

With the Iron-Man in the lead point Storm and Songbird circled overhead on the outskirts while the Vision flew up to watch Stark’s back and lead. Hawkeye could barely see the cloud-looking swarm of Lang’s insect army spreading out to do his bidding, getting into position as Clint and Hill reached the rear and got their weapons ready taking some shelter in the nearby rocks. He didn’t see Nightcrawler but knew the man wasn’t far away.

It was Stark’s call next as Hawkeye spotted the Hulk and the Thing in the distance. They looked as though they had been fighting one another as the Hulk was sweating and Ben Grimm was actually bleeding. They seemed at an impasse at the moment, both taking a breather. Hawkeye touched a hand to his ear-piece keying in his communicator.

“Hey, Shell-Head. We should talk…”

Too late Hawkeye heard the distinctive sound he knew too well as the Iron-Man swooped closer and was low blasting the landscape with his Repulsor Rays. Rocks flew wild and sand kicked up high into the air. It was more for show than anything as Stark tried to get the attention of their opponents.

“Grimm! Hulk!” Stark’s metallic voice boomed. “By the power vested in me by the President of the United States and the United Nations, for crimes against city, state and humanity too countless to list, you are both under arrest! I’d suggest you surrender.”

Hawkeye saw Grimm sigh and shake his head mumbling something.

“Aw, crap…”

The incredible Hulk screamed his rage and fury as he leapt up at the ‘Golden Avenger’ and the battle was joined…

NEXT ISSUE:

Round Three of the big Hulk/Thing rematch as the Mighty Avengers join the Battle Royale over in Thing  #14. But if you don’t know what’s going on, DO go read Thing  #13 for Round Two and a little explanation. Expect an all-out slug-fest though as we gear up for the BIG Finale, many years in the making. Head over after that to Avengers #48 for the next part as things heat up and hopefully some nagging questions get answered.

No promises though.