Issue 10 YEAR THREE JUNE Author: Lonni Holland

HAWKEYE Armed with a high-tech arsenal and the surpassing skill to use it, Clint Barton dons the familiar purple costume and fires justice from his bow.

Aim for the Dark Side

Ya know, there are times when I wonder why I'm in this gig. Tigra's pissed at me for leaving her behind on monitor duty, Agent's been riding the crap out of me over our escapade at A.I.M. Island and Taskmaster and whoever was leading this faction of banana colored geeks got away. * I've got bruises that never seemed to get a chance to finish healing before they got bruised again, I practice anywhere from two to six hours a day, I'm trying to rebuild a viable West Coast team with a patched up HQ and a motley bunch of misfit Avengers and wannabes, the list just goes on and on. Sometimes I think I should just chuck it all.

* see Hawkeye 9 for details in Scooter's immortal final issue

Sure you should, Barton! And do what? Go back to the carney? Or maybe be an Iowa farmer? Face it, you're always a grouch until you've had your coffee in the morning.

Serves me right for waking up so blasted early but I still find it hard to feel comfortable here at the compound. We've got the place pretty well fixed up but sometimes it still gives me the creeps. Maybe there is just too much old history here. I should move out of the main house and into a bungalow like everyone else I guess.

Ah well, after all that introspection I figured it was about time to grab a shower, scrape the fuzz off the chin, get some java, slap my usual grin on my face and try to figure out how I was gonna assemble a contending team out of this bunch of spandex wearers.

On the twenty fifth floor his casual routine was disrupted when he noticed an open supply closet door. His hand rested cautiously on the hilt of his gun, he eased the door farther back and played his flashlight across the small room. He stopped the beam on a pile of items on the otherwise tidy floor. A paint spray can, a glass cutting tool, a long strip of torn back cloth, and a whoopee cushion?? Puzzled he reached for his radio and called in his report.

That was better! I should never try to even think before my first cuppa coffee, let alone try to think deep. When I came downstairs the coffee was already brewed. Consuela must have set the timer last night, although how she knew I'd be up this early is beyond me. Woman is a gem, we were lucky to get her back after all this time away. I guess, in spite of almost being killed by Ultron, * she must have liked working for the Avengers.

* in AWC 89 & 90

So I was clean and somewhat more cheerful, and was sitting outside recharging myself with caffeine while the first streaks of sunrise cracked over the rooftop of the main building. I had just stretched, and cracked about four bones in my back doing it too, and was really starting to relax when a sudden "Hi Hawk." almost made me choke on my coffee.

"Gack... Phillip?" I wiped the coffee off my chin and snorted. "What are you doing up so early? And don't sneak up on me like that, you're liable to finish off the job that thousands of villains have tried, and kill me!"

"Uhhh.. sorry about that, Hawk. I saw the lights on in the main building and heard you up and about earlier so I started the coffee and figured maybe we could have that talk that I tried to have with you back in New York." *

* it happened in Hawkeye 2

Right. Before we all headed off to look for Mockie in Mephisto's realm. Damn! "Uh, yeah, I guess we got a bit sidetracked, didn't we? Listen, I never really got around to telling you how much I appreciated everything you did back there. You didn't have to come along but you did and when it was over I sorta bailed on everyone that was with me."

"Hawk, you don't have to..."

"Yeah, I do. I was a bit of a jerk to you, Phillip, and I'm sorry. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about anyway? You told me a little back in the Big Apple."

"Well, I was just kind of hoping we could make a better start. Like I told you, on my world you... uhh, I mean that Clint Barton was my best friend. You had always seemed kind of cold to me. I just wanted a chance to fix that, maybe to regain a little of what I lost when my world was destroyed." *

* see the Proctor saga from the Avengers mid 300's issues

Called on your own prejudices, Barton. Now what do you do? Okay, so it's time to ante up or fold your cards.

"Uhhh, well, I sort of had a history with my world's Swordsman ya know, and not a totally pleasant one, but that's no excuse. You're not him, but I guess it's been a bit hard for me to make the distinction. Look, I'm game, how about we try to start fresh? You pitched in on a mission that you didn't have to, and I owe you one for that. So? Think you can overlook my bullheadedness of the past? After all, it is part of my charm." I turned on my best crooked grin and kept on bluffing. "I'm not saying I can replace your best friend or anything... but you never know what's going to happen in time."

His face broke into a huge smile, and I felt a little guilty cause I didn't know if I could deliver what he wanted. He was looking for a close friend. Sure I have lots of friends in the super hero game, but close ones? Cap, Wanda, that's about it. Jack's a friend, and in time he probably will be what I'd call a close friend, but the people I've been close to in my life, my parents, my brother, my mentor, my wife, they were all gone and it hurts less if you don't get too close, especially in this biz. Oh well, Phillip'll learn if he stays in the Avengers long, I guess.

"That's great, Hawk. I can't ask for anything more. Maggie was right, she said I needed to settle this by talking to you."

We chatted about nothing much for a few more minutes and then he left, practically bouncing as he walked. I only hoped I hadn't promised him more than I could deliver. After he left I sat there and wondered if Cap ever had these kinds of problems. Grinning I remembered that he had me goading him back in the early days so I guess we all have our own crosses to bear.

Select... nock... draw... there's that familiar tug as it hits just the right spot, hold it... hold it... sight and.... release. How many times have I done this in my life? Thousands, millions? On the battlefield the shots follow each other as fast as breaths do, or faster. In target practice there's time to get into a slow, steady rhythm. I remember once, a long time ago, Natasha tried to get me into meditation and yoga. Well, this was my meditation, my Zen, I could totally throw myself into it, shut out everything, relax, focus, drain my mind completely. After a few hours practice, I was ready to take on anything life had to throw at me. Then life did throw something at me.

"Ow!" I rubbed the back of my head and spun around to see USAgent standing there smirking at me. "Jack! What the....??? What the crap did you hit me with and what's the big friggin' idea anyway you miserable son of a..."

"Bah, it was a pecan, ya wuss. I had some sent from to me from Custer's Grove and I figured a good old Georgia nut was just the thing to bring a nut like you back to life."

"Wha...?"

"Gimme a break, Robin Hood. You've been walking around with your chin dragging on the ground ever since that A.I.M. caper. Sure I poked a bit of fun at ya but come on... sometimes the bad guys get away. You've been in this game long enough to know that. Some inspiration you're gonna be. I knew I shoulda been leader of this team."

"You should have what??" My hands clenched into fists and I could feel the blood rushing to my face. Maybe Jack and I had settled most of our old differences but I could still take him (yeah, right, like I had ever managed to take him). Then I saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew he'd gotten my goat... again. Even after all this time he still knew the right buttons to push. "Well, I guess you're right, I have been in a bit of a funk but, damn it, I want this franchise to work out this time. I'm tired of being the poor country cousins and, so far, my west coast record this time out hasn't exactly been stellar has it now?"

"Hey, you busted up the A.I.M. Island, got us all back from Mephisto's little chamber of horrors and managed to keep the MOE from taking over the compound, what more do you want, a medal? You need to get away from here, you're becoming an obsessed leader type. Let's go grab a beer and shoot some pool down at Millie's."

"A beer? It's only ten in the morning." Although a few hours at Millie's, a scuzzy local pool hall, sounded pretty good to me right about then.

"And this is going to stop you? Geez, you sound more like Cap every day. You're turning into a boring old man, Barton."

Okay, that had me. Old? He had to be kidding. "You're on, and I'll spot you a ball and still whup your sorry ass, you cheap Sentinel knock off." For a second he looked annoyed, then I guess he realized I was jiving him just like he had done to me and he laughed as we headed off to get changed into civvies and hit the pool hall. Brother, with our mutual tempers we made a great pair.

Arizona, 1878

It was getting cool as night fell. Sand whispered along the ground, caught up by the breeze that blew into the mouth of a cave hidden in a cliffside. Matt Hawk, full time lawyer and part time masked hero, leaned against the stone wall and worked harder at the ropes that bound his hands. Iron Mask and his gang had left him tied here over an hour ago. He had managed to free his feet and was determined to get his hands loose and be gone before they returned.

He'd throw down against this mangy bunch a few times before, but this time there was something subtly different about them, and none of them was exactly the subtle type. Two Gun wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew he was going to need help, maybe more help than was available to him here. But how was he going to get it?

We ran a quick team practice this afternoon. I suppose it went well enough, although Maggie and Phil seemed a bit uncomfortable meshing with the rest of the gang. Odd, cause they seemed to fit in all right on the east coast, not that we got much of a chance to work together out there, of course. Jolt handled herself well, for a kid she's got good instincts, now if she just weren't so damned young. Variable did all right too, but he seemed like he was a bit restrained. Well, he just doesn't know us yet, he'll be fine. I have high hopes for this guy. Agent, Tigra and I have worked together for ages so it didn't take long to get back into our old rhythm, although it still feels odd to not have Jack always on my back. I guess old habits do die hard.

Poor Shape kept getting in people's way but when I'd start to get mad at him he'd turn that sad face on me, quiver his lip and whimper something like "But Hawkman say Shape Avenger now. Shape be good." and I'd have to laugh at him, and hope he wasn't going to cry or something. What on earth am I gonna do with this guy?

Ah well, time to think of that tomorrow. Right now I have other fish to fry. Got a message from the building management where I have my New York digs. Seems like there was a break-in. Nothing taken but there was a cryptic message scrawled on the patio door. No signature, but I'm pretty sure I know who it was from. So I grabbed a Quinjet, told the team I'd be back some time tomorrow, and headed out. We had some more equipment we need from the east coast anyway so I could make it a dual purpose trip.

Once I landed I had to pop into the mansion to get the equipment and say hi to the gang, of course. Not everyone was there but Cap and YJ were and so was Beast, the big blue goof. We had a few laughs and of course Jarvis insisted I had to stay for dinner, and then there was coffee afterwards, and some poker and one thing lead to another... so, it was close to midnight west coast time when I finally got to the apartment. I had spread the word with the usual suspects, and made a few untraceable phone calls, and then settled in to wait. After a couple of hours I was getting pretty tired, I'd been up before dawn after all. I stretched out in the Lazy-boy with a Coors I'd grabbed from the fridge (hey, I might not live there but I still kept the place stocked with essentials like a few brews and some potato chips, at least) and I was vaguely considering dozing off when I noticed the room getting darker.

"Okay, Shroud, enough with the special effects already. Just get your butt in here and tell me what you want. Cryptic life and death messages painted on my window are all very well and good but they make an awful mess. Couldn't you have just called our 800 number like everyone else does?"

"I'm afraid not, Hawkeye." His voice had a funny echo as it drifted out through his veil of darkness. "This is something you and I needed to talk about and it concerns my old compatriots, the Night Shift, or at least a few of them anyway."

"The Night Shift?" I pushed the chair upright and shifted my head to see him but all I got was a face full of black mist. "Would you turn off that damned fog? I like to see who I'm yammering at!" The haze pulled back to reveal a figure completely obscured by a long black cloak. So this was an improvement, right? I rolled my eyes and continued, "So, are you gonna fill me in, or did you get me back east just to screw me up by getting me in a different time zone? Speaking of which, since when do you hang out on this side of the States anyway?"

He shrugged. "I don't, I was called here, just like you were. I got a message a few days ago supposedly from Gypsy Moth saying that she and some of the others were here and in trouble. I came as soon as I could but couldn't find out anything so I called for you, I figured with your legitimate connections you might be able to help out."

"Help out with what? Do you have anything to go on besides that? Oh yeah, and what was the idea of the torn piece of cape and stuff the security guard found? I thought you were in trouble, not helping out that band of losers."

"Exactly, if I had just said I needed help on a case you'd have likely just turned it over to someone here in New York I bet. We've worked together before and you know my background. I'd rather not reveal myself to too many people. And as to having anything to go on... when I got your message I sent out a few of my own. Let's head down to the waterfront, I think I know where to look, but I still have no idea who's got them, or why."

Off to the waterfront, great! I grabbed my bow and quiver, dumped over half a can of beer down the drain and away we went. It was almost dawn now, even on west coast time I had been up about twenty hours, it was raining and I was cold. I guess I had acclimatized to California too fast, cause the dampness seemed to go right through me. Shroud led the way to an empty warehouse. I had to wonder if there were any full warehouses anywhere in the state. He wasn't talking much and that suited me fine, I was busy trying to stay warm, and awake.

I took a peek in the window and could see a couple of bound figures off to the right. Great, it was those pains in the ass, the Brothers Grimm. No signs of any of the other Night Shifters though, nor their captors. I was all for a direct assault, right in the door, a couple of sleep arrows, grab the fruitcake bro's and split but Shroud wasn't having any of it. Next thing I knew I couldn't see an inch in front of my nose and someone was tugging at my arm, dragging me around to the back of the building. I hoped it was Shroud but I followed, cranked my hearing aids up as high as they'd go, mentally crossed my fingers and grabbed a sleep arrow anyway, just in case.

I got shoved through a door, still unable to see a thing, and I heard a scuffling sound off to the left. That was it, I had to get out of this damned fog. It's hard to fire at the bad guys if you can't see them, and I didn't really want to risk a shot until I knew it was the bad guys I was firing at, not that sleep gas would hurt anyone, but I just might need my allies awake later, depending on who we were up against. I bolted towards the noise, and hopefully away from Shroud's darkness.

I finally broke out of the gloom into a spotlight. The brightness made my eyes smart, I blinked a few times to clear them and in the distance I could see a couple of yellow clad figures heading for an exit. A.I.M again? Were they following me or what? I snapped off the sleep arrow I had nocked and noted, with some satisfaction, that the two banana boys hit the ground pretty fast. The Grimms were still tied up in a corner but I could hear sounds of a struggle from behind the wall of darkness Shroud had thrown up. Oh brother, once more into the night I guess. My arrows were pretty useless in the dark so I just dove in and started throwing punches, if I nailed Shroud, well, it was his own fault for having such a dumb power.

I grazed a couple of people, then felt a solid meaty hit just before I took a boot to the jaw. All Cap's training kicked in. Even though I hadn't seen the blow coming I rolled with the impact and somersaulted backwards, again clearing the black fog. Enough was enough, I aimed another sleep arrow high, bellowed "Shroud, down!" and fired, then slapped my own respirator on and dove back in, grabbed at the ground for the cape covered figure and dragged him away from the fast dropping gas.

A few minutes later he had gotten rid of his stupid night fog, we had untied the Brothers Grimm and tied up the six A.I.M. agents we had nailed. The Brothers were chattering away in their usual rhyming balderdash, thanking us but making little sense otherwise. None of the rest of the Night Shift had been there, the message from Gypsy Moth had been a fake, they hadn't seen any of their former playmates in months. Shroud and I were both pretty confused. He figured someone was trying to set him up but considering the recent tricks that Taskmaster had been playing on me at A.I.M.'s request I kinda wondered.

The cops showed up to take the bad guys away, Shroud and the Brothers Grimm took off long before that. Shroud wasn't ready to let on which side he was on just yet and, while I bet there were warrants out on the jokesters, they had been the victims in this case so I told them to beat it. I filled out the endless paperwork that the NYPD wanted and headed back to my apartment, exhausted. I'd been up for a full day, had a whack of new bruises to add to my extensive collection, and my jaw ached. I decided to crash for a couple of hours before heading back to La La Land. After all, I had a team to pick and a leader needs to look sharp in front of his troopers. Hey, at least this time the bad guys hadn't gotten away!

In a hidden headquarters in northern New Mexico a familiar figure stormed before a communications monitor. A New York lawyer had just told him about the incarceration of a handful of his henchmen. He slammed his yellow clad fist against the console and raged at all around him. Wiser heads found other places to be quickly before his temper was vented at them.

"Curse you, Hawkeye! You blasted meddler, if you can't stay out of my business then I'll make it my business to take you down. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but your life is MINE! And I'll end it!"

Author's Notes:
Well kids, that's it, my first take on my beloved archer. This was pretty much a transitional issue as we switch authors but I have some very definite plans for Clint's life and I assure you, he won't have time to get bored and I hope neither will you.

Scott Chamberlain's Hawkeye #1 was the first MV1 fanfic I ever read way back in November of 1997. Without Scott's encouragement I wouldn't be part of the MV1 world right now. I'm going to miss his stories both here and on AWC and I hope that Mark & I can do him proud.

Check out Hawkeye in the next issue of AWC (#107) where he makes his final choices about his team, and gets a few surprises along the way then be back here next month when a few of the ladies from Clint's past make an unexpected appearance with some unusual results.

Lonni Holland
Jan. 25, 1999
lonni@paratime.ca