Issue 23 YEAR FOUR NOV 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.

On the Road Again...

Well, Barton, you're unemployed, again.

Actually I wasn't really. I had asked the Avengers to put me on reserve status, which basically meant I could come back when I was ready. Problem was, I had no idea when I would be ready. Maybe when the kids were grown up? So, I was right the first time… I was unemployed.

When I adjourned the Whackos' meeting * and walked out I felt dreadfully alone. The fact that I was heading to my bungalow, where my extended family was, didn't make me feel any better. These three strangers, who had barged into my life, were exactly that: strangers. But two of them were my blood, and one of them might be all that was left of the love of my life so, in order to be able to relate to my new family, I had to leave the only other family I had known in years, the Avengers.

* see AWC 124

Yesterday I had admitted to myself that this was what I was going to have to do. When I got back from that Malibu mudslide * with the rest of the team I had immediately cornered Wartoy and the kids for a pow-wow.

*in Hawkeye Giant Size 1

"Okay, gang, we're leaving here. There's no way we can get to know each other properly while I'm leading a super hero group, and we do need to learn a bit more about each other." I was pacing back and forth and the kids looked annoyed, while Wartoy just looked amused.

"Anyone have anything to say?" Stupid thing to ask when you just want everyone to go along with you, but I had to know.

As usual Nick had nothing at all to say. His sister wasn't quite so complacent, which seemed pretty typical.

"Why? You ashamed of us, pop? Can't handle having a pair of embarrassments around when your buddies are near?"

Well, at least she was learning idiomatic English. Guess the television watching was good for something. I bit back the nasty remark I wanted to make, and tried to explain.

"It's not that, not at all. It's just that something happened yesterday that made me realize how much I've missed by not being around you guys while you were growing up. I'd really like to be a good dad, and so far I haven't been much of one. Thing is.. I don't know how, any more than you guys know how to be my kids. I just thought that, if we got away from everything, maybe we could learn, together."

War Toy kept quiet. Thank heaven for small mercies. Oddly, so did Ashley. She looked pensive. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. It was Nick that spoke up.

"Well, that sounds fine but, where are we going anyway?"

Until he asked, I hadn't really thought about it. And then I knew. "Somewhere I haven't been since I was a little kid, Nick. Home.. to Iowa."

I locked myself in my study and grabbed the phone. In all my years in the carnie, and then in the super hero gig, nothing had prepared me for having kids. Sure Bobbi and I had been trying but even then we'd have had some time to get used to the idea. Now I had a pair of them and I was heading out, across country, with them, and with an Adamantium android. I needed help and I needed to talk to some people, lots of people.

First call:
"Avengers' Mansion, Jarvis speaking."

"Hey, Jarvis, long time no talk to."

"Master Hawkeye, how pleasant to hear from you. What may I do for you?"

Gulp. Okay, here goes. "Couple of things actually. First, is Cap there?"

"I'm afraid not at the moment, although I am certain you can reach him at his apartment."

"Okay, how about Hank?"

"Certainly, sir. Master Pym is in the laboratory. One moment while I buzz him to take your call."

"Thanks, Jarv."

While I waited, I wondered what I was going to say. Let's see: 'Hi Hank, by the way I am going to be living with your daughter-in-law…' Oh, that was terrible.

"Clint! It's been too long! How are you out there in La La Land?"

"Oh fine, Hank, just fine. You'll never guess who turned up on our doorstep the other day."

It took me some stammering and false starts but I finally managed to bring him up to date, including the fact that I was now the proud new daddy of a pair of teens. Then I got to the point.

"Hank, if I am going to have Alkhema hanging around I really need a way to disguise her. Do you have anything like the holographic image inducers that Vision and Beast have used?"

"Of course, I can whip one up and have it out to you by morning. Got any particular look you want for her? Or does she?"

Uh… "Well, I haven't exactly mentioned it to her yet." And that conversation was going to be difficult, too. "How about short, dark hair and dark eyes. Basically," I choked a bit and went on, "Just not like Bobbi, okay?"

Silence, then, "I understand, Hawk. It'll be there first thing."

>>BZZT<<

"Hank? Hey, Hank, you still there?" Funny, either he had hung up on me, or we'd been cut off.

Second call:
"This is the Captain America Hotline. How may we assist you?"

Steve had the hotline going again? No one tells me anything!!! I thought that the number I had scrawled in my address book was his personal number.

"Uh, this is Hawkeye. You know, the West Coast guy.. with the arrows?"

"Of course, sir. Is this an emergency?"

"No, just tell him I called. Oh, and that he won't be able to reach me tomorrow. It'll have to tonight or else... I'll be in touch with him, one of these days. It isn't important."

But it was important. I hung up, but I had really wanted to talk to Steve. He could usually set my head straight when I was confused. I called the mansion back to see if they had his personal number, but I couldn't get through. I guess this time I was on my own. One more person to try.

Third call:
"Yes?"

"Julia?"

"Who are you trying to reach?"

"Look I have call display, so I know I dialed the right number. I want to talk to Julia Carpenter."

"Unavailable, and won't be for a very long time."

What the… ? "Okay, buster, who are you and what are you doing answering Julia's phone? And what do you mean by a long time?"

"SHIELD Agent Beaulieu here. Ms. Carpenter and all of her Force Works friends are under arrest. * Call SHIELD HQ for more details." >click<

*see Force Works 39

He hung up on me? SHIELD? Arrested? Oh for the love of…. Well, I'd like to check this out but I just didn't have time. Maybe I could get Scott Lang instead.

Fourth call:
"Champions."

"Natasha?"

"Clint, good to hear your voice again. How are you feeling after your capture by the Masters of Evil?" *

* Hawkeye 19

"Oh, yeah, fine, just fine." I wasn't about to tell her that my newest housemate was a former member of the team that had imprisoned me. "Listen, 'Tash. I really need to talk to Scott. Is he around?"

It was very quiet on the other end of the phone.

"'Tash? You still there?"

A bit more silence then, "Yes, I am. Scott didn't return to this time with us, Hawk. * It's a little complicated, but he isn't here any more and I'm not sure I understand it, let alone want to talk about it just now."

* as told in Champions 40, but don't start there.. go back to 38 for the whole Timelost story

"Okay, well, thanks 'Tash. I hope things work out for you guys."

Was this some kind of conspiracy? Was every parent around out missing somewhere? I didn't want to talk to Crys and Pete. Crystal was okay but Pietro and I had always rubbed each other the wrong way. The subject of kids is one best not brought up with Wanda. Variable had only been a parent for a few weeks so he couldn't help much. Besides I was hoping for the impersonality of the telephone. I wasn't sure that I really wanted to talk to anyone in person, at least not just yet. Reed and Sue Richards? No, last I heard they had farmed their kid out to limbo. * Maybe they wouldn't be the best ones to talk to.

* see Fantastic Four 444

Well, I'd had less than 10 years of experience at actually being a son, but I sure learned a few things from my pop about what not to do as a parent. Maybe I could just try to treat them like younger teammates? Not the best plan in the world but it would just have to do, because it was all I could come up with on short notice.

I had no idea what was drawing me back to Iowa. Lord knows, I had hardly any memories of it. I had only been eight when we had left Waverly and ended up in a state orphanage, and what kind of fond childhood memories can you get from an orphanage? After that Barney and I had been all over the country when we had run away and joined the carney. Iowa became just another place where the rubes hung out. Now that I was suddenly a father I felt an almost irresistible compulsion to go home. I also felt rather vaguely like a salmon.

Alkhema had fussed a bit when I told her that she was going to have to use a holographic inducer to hide her true nature but she backed off eventually when I told her it was a case of use it, or stay behind. I had called the Maria Stark Foundation and they set everything up for me, rented a house near my old home, chartered a plane, reserved a rental car. Quite the organization, they could double as Carlson Wagonlit easily. Now the four of us were about twenty minutes from coming in for a landing at the Waverly airport. It felt strange to be in a regular plane. The engine seemed to be a lot less smooth than the Quinjet but I guess my mind was elsewhere. I could see the dead flat land on the west side of town, the dust being swept by those hot winds of late summer into gossamer veils of light brown. It all started to come back to me.

I remember reading that a big part of human memory is triggered by smell. It's true enough. The smell of tea always reminded me of Jarvis bustling around Avengers' Mansion, the clink of silver on fine china and the hiss of a kettle preceding his arrival with beverages and snacks for the team when we were back, exhausted, from a rough mission. Sweat reminded me of workouts with Captain America; apples reminded me of Wanda and her Green Apple shampoo; sawdust and cotton candy made me remember my carney days; pine trees brought back memories of the months I had spent living in the wilderness after Bobbi's death, trying to shake off the grief, the way I had shaken off civilization. Only thing was, all I could smell in the plane was stale, recirculated air, so that wasn't it.

Something was stirring the old gray cells though, and I thought that it was the weather. Looking out the window I knew exactly what it was going to be like getting off the plane. It was going to be hot. Now, there's varying degrees of hot. In New York, hot was muggy and smelly, but you still missed it in the winter. In California, the natives think that hot is what you are supposed to look like, but let the temperature drop below about 75°F and listen to them howl. In Florida, hot is like living in a steam bath, at least until the afternoon thunderstorm comes along, then it is like living in a steam bath while someone drenches you with tepid water. Then there is Iowa summer hot. Going from the air conditioned coolness of the cabin was going to be like putting your face into an oven that had been set at about 450°F for the last few hours.

I looked around at the others. The Stark Foundation had gotten us a piloted charter so we were all relegated to the passenger cabin. Alkhema was at the front, in her new disguise. I knew she was impatient. She could fly rings around this thing with one arm tied behind her back, and could have likely wiped out a few towns along the way. Too bad. She was the one who wanted to hang around. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but if she was with me, she was playing by my rules, and that meant doing things the human way.

The twins were seated together just across from me. Both of them were trying to play it cool and sophisticated, but I knew that neither of them were missing a thing. All this was new to them, and they were going to take in everything.

I leaned back in my seat. We'd be in the air for at least another ten minutes so I closed my eyes and let the memories flood over me. Summer in Iowa….

Mom and Pop had owned a butcher shop in the east part of town. Pop had inherited the business from his dad, but I never did know my grandparents. They were long gone before I was born. Apparently there had been a Barton's Meat Shop in that location since the turn of the century, maybe even before.

The store was just the front part of the building, so behind and above it was where we lived. There was a deep yard to the rear, that backed on to a small woods. Barney and I had played there after school, and on weekends, when we weren't helping out in the store. I guess we did have it tough, having to work at such a young age, but it never really felt like it. The only bad parts were when pop was drinking.

In the summer we worked in the store for most of the morning, cleaning and helping stock up. Air conditioning was an almost unheard of luxury, so it was hot, but there were always copper tinged whiffs of cold air from the coolers where the meat was kept, and icy blasts from the freezers in the corner. I remember the sharp smell of the meat, and the sweet smell of the cedar planks on the floor, and the dry, but fragrant, sawdust spread over them.

After lunch was when most of the customers showed up, so pop wanted us gone by then, in case someone complained about him making kids our age work. There was a curtain that separated the store from ma's kitchen, so he'd slide it back a little and we'd eat there, where he could keep an eye on the store and hear the bell over the door, that jingled if someone came in.

Once he went out front again Barney and I were free until dinner time. We'd race from the heat of the kitchen into the heat of the yard; the sun scorched grass crunching under our feet as we headed for our favorite refuge, the woods. No matter how high the mercury climbed there was always a cool breeze back there. We played cowboys and Indians, and cops and robbers, and any of a dozen other games that required only imagination and energy. There was never enough money to buy a lot of toys, but a crooked stick became a gun and a stone was a grenade and, even then, I had made myself a bow and some stick arrows.

There was a little creek that ran through the rear of our property. While the water still ran we caught tadpoles and skimmed water bugs off the surface and imprisoned them in mayonnaise jars. If it got really hot, which it always did by the end of July, the creek would dry up, leaving the mud bed as a dried, cracked path of earth, that looked like an all beige jigsaw puzzle. Then we followed the path of scorched mud, pretending that the odd surface was really a canal on Mars or maybe a lonely path between the Seas of the Moon. Little did we know that Barney would eventually die in space, helping to save the Earth from annihilation *.

* Avengers 65

Funny, I hadn't thought about things like this in years. When ma and pop were killed in that auto accident we were shuffled off to an orphanage pretty fast. As much as all of our neighbors seemed to be friendly with ma I don't remember any of them at the funeral, and certainly none of them offered to take us in. We had been dumped in a foster home for a couple of days, were taken to the funeral and then shipped out of town to St Basil's Home for Children pretty quick. I wondered what had happened to the family store and property. After all it had been in the family for generations. You'd think it would have been paid for, at least. Maybe it was sold off to pay family debts or to cover the funeral. Well, I'd be home soon and I'd check into all of that. I wanted to know what had happened to the only family home I ever remembered. Home…

My attention was brought back from Waverly of the past to a glance out the window at Waverly of the present. I could just see the town in the distance. I wasn't sure what had snapped me out of my reverie but something had. I tried to concentrate on my surroundings. The plane engine sounded rougher than ever. My Avengers card buzzed. I slipped it out of my pocket.

"Red alert! All Avengers! Red alert!"

Oh for the love of… I was out of the compound for less then five hours and I was being called back already? I thumbed the response button to indicate that I had heard the alert and was ready for action. Nothing. The card was as dead in my hand as the innocuous credit card it was usually disguised as. Only thing was.. it didn't look like a credit card. There was the big Avenger logo, and my ugly mug, and the signatures of the President and the UN Sec-Gen., but there was no tell tale glimmer on the edges of the logo, the glimmer that would indicate that it was a genuine card, and that it was functional. Non-activated there was a miniature holographic generator that should have shown an American Express ™ card. Activated it should have looked the way it did, except the authenticating glow was missing. It had buzzed, so it couldn't have been a counterfeit. The power source was supposed to be good for over a hundred years and had been checked just last month. We didn't fool around about equipment checks with the Whackos. This was impossible.

That's when I realized it was way too quiet. The plane's engines had cut out totally. I unsnapped my seatbelt and started towards the cabin. The kids didn't know enough about technology to realize that they should be frightened about now, and I figured there wasn't much point in telling them. If we were all going to die they could at least go in blissful ignorance. As I rushed up the aisle I noticed War Toy. War Toy? Her holographic disguise was gone and she was slumped in her seat like a puppet with its strings cut.

No time to wonder about that. I opened the door to the pilot's cabin just as the attendant was about to come out. He was trying to say something but I couldn't hear him and I was rushed. I shoved him aside, mumbling a half felt apology and approached the pilot and co-pilot.

"What's happening?" I could see the altimeter dropping but most of the gauges didn't seem to be working at all.

The pilot replied, "… "

Damn! Hearing aids! Most of the time I forgot about them * but this power outage seemed to be affecting everything, including the tiny devices in my ear canals. Fine, I didn't need to be able to hear to do something useful.

* Hawkeye lost 80% of his hearing during his first limited series

"Forget it, I can't hear you. Just nod or shake your head. Do you know who I am?"

He shook his head and I hauled out my Avenger card again, pointed to it and said, "That's me! Hawkeye! Avenging archer, hero extrordinaire and idol of millions. Now, do we have any power at all?" Another shake. "Okay, so have you ever landed a powerless plane before?" His eyes went really wide and he and the co-pilot both shook their heads vigorously. "Fine, I have, several times. One of you move and let me take over."

They looked like they were going to protest, which didn't really matter since I couldn't hear them anyway. Then the co-pilot got up and gave me his seat. Of course I soon realized that it was impossible to do anything from there, since the mechanism to transfer control to that station wasn't working… no power! I had run out of time to be polite. I could see the ground getting closer so I grabbed the pilot's arm and yanked him out of the way.

"Is anything on this crate still manual? I need to use the ailerons to slow our descent."

The two of them looked at each other in dismay. Terrific, just terrific. I started flipping switches and opening some of the panels directly above my head. Bingo! It looked like the manual crank to raise and lower the flaps. I hauled on it with all my might and felt the bite of the flap grabbing the rushing air. That was a start. Now to check our position.

Thank God this was Iowa; there was plenty of flat land to choose from. I could see the airport in the distance but this was a jet, not a glider. There was no way I was going to be able to get that far and stay aloft at the same time. I could see a long straight stretch just to the right, devoid of fences, road, houses or wandering livestock. I raised the left flap and bit and lowered the right. I could feel the plane banking ever so slightly. Couldn't let it go too far, since it was still essentially a falling object. I once heard someone describe a plane landing as a controlled crash. That was all I was aiming for.. controlling the crash.

I manually cranked down the landing gear and shooed the pilots and attendant out of the cabin and back to the passenger compartment. They could seatbelt themselves in and they stood a better chance back there. I could see my home State rushing up towards me, then the wheels hit the ground and we bounced, and bounced, and bounced. Then we stopped bouncing and one side sloped and started sliding. Damn, I had broken off one of the wheels. Sparks started to fly up the side as the metal screeched against the dry dirt. I lowered the flaps the last little bit and started to pray.

"Our Father, who art in heaven… help!!!!!!!!!!!"

lonni@paratime.ca