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Avenger Disassembled
Current mood:
 adored
Avenger
Dissasembled Part 1
There comes a time in every man's life when he must
change; a point when the way he lived is no longer suitable for the way he is.
Age, injury, sickness, the big x-factors; no matter how good you have, they can
take it all away. This change can often kill the man; not physically, though.
Hell, not even mentally. Change can do damage that nothing can heal and change
can kill a man's soul.
Location: The North Shore of Ireland; Malin
Chance Barton had just put on his new spiffy uniform and
stood in front of the mirror, flexing his muscles and thinking about how cool
he looked. It was moments like these that he was glad he had signed up with the
Fraternity and fell into the ranks of the IRA sanctioned Saints. The suit was
all black with a material closely similar to leather and was covered with
little arrows of scarlet plastic. It was the perfect detriment to his
biological father's costume, the Avenger known as Hawkeye. Lowering his glance
to the table next to him, Chance picked up his gear, a modified crossbow and
small quiver. He placed each on opposing upper outside thighs, a grin encasing
his face as he spoke silently.
"It's almost time father..in a few hours you go home...or at
least away from here."
Almost on cue, his door slid open, and Chance turned to face
it as a man walked inside the room. The man was lean , with dark blonde hair
and glowing red eyes. In his hand was a mask that was very familiar to the
young man. The visitor spoke in a light voice, extending the mask towards the
younger Barton.
"It be time mate. Ye be meetin up wit Sean in an hour."
Chance nodded his head and then looked at the man's hand.
The man continued, speaking in a deep Irish accent with a touch of Australian
mixed in for good measure. "Dis belonged ta Trickshot Chance..Wear it wit honor..eh?"
Chance's brows lowered almost angrily as he took the mask
from the Man's hand and slipped it along his brow, then guiding it along the
brim of his nose. Chance replied.
"Of course Dominic..he was the closest thing I ever had
to a father.."
The young man quickly caught himself before continuing.
"Outside of you and Sean that is. I take it Azad contacted you with Hawkeye's
location?"
Dominic Lyncoln, better known to the world at large as Lync Gevoel responded in
return.
"Aye mate...dis is da time we been waitin fa. Don take da shot
though..Ah wan dat.."
Lync paused for a brief second, almost as if he were
reflecting on some past event, namely the moment Clint Barton took away every
human feeling he would ever know with a well placed arrow to his neck.
"Nada...ah deserve dat one fa what da bloke took from me."
Chance nodded as Lync raised a hand and placed it on his
shoulder, tapping his hand on it twice.
"We be God's chosen mate....neva forget ya place in da new
world order."
Lync then lifted his hand from Chance's shoulder and tapped
his cheek lightly, a grim look of confidence on his face. He then lowered his
hand completely and turned away, moving back towards the entrance of the door
and speaking along the way.
"Azad will have Hawkeye in position..Sein Fein."
As the door closed, Chance turned and began his walk towards
another exit, his mission already etched in his mind, right or wrong, tonight
would change everything.
Avenger
Dissasembled Part 2
The Location: District X, Mutant Town
The skies were black, and the rain poured like tears from a
grieving mother. The sound of it hitting the pavement filled the would-be
silent night with a repetitive and dull pounding. The roof tops echoed the
pounding, giving the only solace in the cold night air. Something was eerie
about this storm, yet it appeared fitting given the situation. It was on these
same docks four years before, on this very date, that Clint Barton thought he
had breathed his last breaths. To this day, he could hear gunfire and it would
curl his soul, bring out a side of the archer he never would never admit to.
Fear. A point blank shot to his head, the fainting images of life fading to
darkness, an accent, a man called Sean Eamon that took his life for the
briefest of moments.
Clint lifted his hand to his ear, pressing a small
comm-link, even as the rain dripped along his face.
"Azad..I'm here and you were right. The lights are on at the
old shipping dock. How long before Ty get's here. I'm probably gonna need
backup on this one."
Clint adjusted his visors and zoomed in on the building before
speaking again.
"I count at least fifteen armed on the dock...not sure how
many on the boat itself."
A voice came back through his earpiece.
"Ty's coming in dark and low in the inlet. He's maintaining
radio silence for now but will be in position when we go in."
Clint nodded his head and spoke back.
"Copy that. I'm good to go. You ready?"
The voice belonging to Azad came through again.
"Let's do this."
Wiping the rain from his visors, Clint took another look,
spotting two men exiting the boat and walking towards the nearby building.
Another man exited the building. It was him for sure. Sean Eamon. Clint mumbled
to himself.
"After all this time...I got you motherfucker."
Clint quickly gained his composure, even as the men shared
greetings by handshake. Taking out his bow, Clint reached to his quiver
and traced his fingertips along the brail encoded ends of the arrows. After
making his selection and loading it to the bowline carefully, he pulled it back
to his cheekbone, feeling the tension of the bowstring as he did so. The creek
of the bow bending was like music to his ears, ringing out in the night air. He
sat perched on the building across the street, poised for what would happen.
-CRASH!!-
Something else was happening down on the ground, and in that
instant, the arrow went flying. It struck above the nearby building with a
thunk and Clint pulled tight on the rope, then wrapped the other end around a
steel pipe that came up from the roof next to him. Slinging his bow across the
rope, he slid down effortlessly and forced his body to go limp, rolling across
and then picking himself up when his momentum slowed down.
He drew two shock arrows, setting them on the bow and pulled
back, letting loose at two men who he guessed were bodyguards. The men both
fell immediately as their bodies lit up the night in a light blue electric hue
and hum. Before Clint could load his bow up again, a shot rang out, and
he felt a jolt to his chest. Shaking off the bullet, he wiped his Kevlar clean,
and looked at the broken bow in his hands. A man slowly walked towards Clint,
fazing in and out of vision through the rain falling. The man spoke in an Irish
accent.
"Not so tough without the bow, are ya bitch?"
Carefully watching the thug, he circled around slowly, and placed
his hand near his thigh. They stared off for a few moments, neither moving.
Clint recognized him. It was Sean Eamon. The man he had for so long attempted
to catch up to and fate had finally allowed him the chance. Clint let out a
sarcastic sound from his lips.
"Heh..."
Dipping down fast, he ran in, just as Sean teleported out of
the way. The Irishman appeared next to Clint just as he passed and dropped a
well placed fist to the back of Clint's head, knocking him off balance to the
ground. The man laughed and then spoke.
"You flinched."
Sean reached to his leg, pulling a gun from its holster and
raising it towards the archer.
"Your lucky I owe someone for losing his long lost love.."
Sean walked over to Clint and slammed his head to the
pavement with his boot, then leaned forward placing the gun to the back of
Clint's head. He spoke again, this time almost mockingly.
"Game over bloke."
No sooner had the words left Sean's lips, a bright light
erupted behind them and a portal opened. A man walked through with red glowing
eyes.
Avenger Disassembled Part 3
The world isn't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty
place and it doesn't care how tough you are. It will beat you to your knees and
keep you there permanently if you let it. It isn't about how hard you get hit
though, it's about how hard you can get up and keep moving forward.
For as long as he could
remember, Chance had wanted this opportunity; the opportunity to strike back at
his father for every wrong he felt Clint Barton had caused on his life. Chance
stood in the shadows and looked on as Lync arrived, watching as his biological
father lay on the ground with a gun barrel to the back of his head. The only
word that came to his mind was poetic justice, which happened to be the same
thing the elder Barton was thinking. Clint had caught the burst of light from
his peripheral vision and he knew someone else was on the scene now. He also
knew that he to make his move now or the chance may not arrive again.
The waking dream came to an end
when an alarm came to life. It was show time. This was the fearful yet real
dream that Clint had been fighting years to overcome. When Sean noticed the
light, he turned his head for a split second in the light's direction.
"You're early Lync."
Of course Sean would not say
what he had intended to do in the next few seconds had Lync not arrived. He
would have taken care of the archer the same way Lync had tried to so many
times, yet Sean would not have played any psychological games with the archer
and allowed him to escape. It would be light's out. Clint however used the
distraction to his advantage, twisting his body with his arms and hips to knock
Sean off balance. The gun bounced to the pavement as Sean lost his footing and
fell into a split crotched position. Sean considered going after the gun but
realized it was useless at this close range. Both men were lethal weapons in
their own rights. A gun was really just an afterthought.
Clint looked upwards in Lync's
direction as he quickly made his way to his feet and then turned his attention
back to Sean.
"I should have known you'd be
here too. Lucky me...I get to kick your ass too."
That was mostly for bravado and
Clint knew that, especially when he heard Lync speak in reply.
"Ye have nada idea mate."
Lync turned his head to the
shadows and called out. The portal behind him closed rapidly as he spoke until
it was completely erased from the night.
"Azad! Chance! Nada need fa ah
charade now mates."
Clint's eyes widened as he saw
Azad walk out and stop next to Lync, mumbling under his breath. All the while
however, Sean hadn't made an attack move on Clint which confused the archer
even more. Just what the hell was going on here? Clint shook his head but
shifted his eyes to look at his teammate for a brief moment, speaking in raspy
voice in disgust.
"Nice...I guess it's true what
they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."
Azad flashed a shit eating grin
as he spoke to Clint.
"Ditto asshole. How does it
feel to be betrayed by one of your own?"
Before Azad could speak again,
Lync spoke out in a demanding manner.
"Silence Azad!"
He then turned his attention to
Sean, nodding his head slightly in his direction. Sean nodded in return, whispering
something in Gaelic before raising his right hand to press a small button on
his left wrist and disappeared completely, teleporting away from Clint and
across the dock yard where he re-appeared. Sean lifted his finger into the
shape of a gun and jolted it before moving his finger to his lips and blowing
on it.
Lync placed his hands to his
sides as his eyes slowly dimmed into their natural hues, relaxing in his
stance. Clint however was still confused. He was apparently outnumbered and
something just didn't feel right about the entire situation. A figure appeared
of the shadows and into the light. Clint strained his eyes until the young
man's face came into view from the light of nearby dock lights. Clint felt as
if he knew already who it was the closer the young man came to him, yet, he had
never seen him before in his life. The young man stopped a few feet away from
Clint and spoke, his facial expression stoic.
"Hello dad."
Avenger Disassembled Part 4
When I look you in
your eyes I can see my own, Straight love manifested in flesh and bone.
The words spoken by the younger Barton caught the elder one
by surprise, emotionally stunned him long enough that he lost complete focus on
how dire his current situation was. Clint's eyes focused on the young man
before him, taking in the sight of eyes that looked very much like his own
before he blurted out emphatically.
"Bullshit."
For a very brief moment, there appeared to be an expression
of hurt on the younger Barton's face. Clint continued on however, turning his
eyes away from Chance and towards Lync.
"This is your doing ain't it Nic?"
Lync did not respond, instead he stood with a smile
entrenched on his face triumphantly. In every way that mattered, this was the
revenge he had wanted on Hawkeye for many years since his accident occurred by
Clint's hand. Lync would call it the day of retribution when the child would
strike down the father in blood as atonement for the elder's sins. After a moment of silence, Lync spoke up, his
eyes beginning to glow red once more in the night air.
"It be true Barton...ye can thank ole Buck fa dat."
Before Lync could finish his words however, Clint felt a
violent smash upon his face, levied by the hand of the young man in front of
him. It was enough to rattle his teeth and force Clint to stagger to one knee.
Another force fist to his face quickly followed the first, knocking Clint
backwards far enough that he had to catch himself with his hand to keep from
falling completely to the pavement. Clint spit blood from his mouth, the result
of a bit inner jaw and busted lip that was now mixing with the continuing
rainfall. Chance yelled out to his father repeatedly, reaching for Clint's chin
and forcibly tilting his head upwards to greet his eyes.
"OCTOBER 12TH! Do YOU REMEMBER?!?"
Chance pulled back his hand and slapped Clint across the
face repeatedly, then reached for the crossbow perched on his upper leg while
dropping his father's chin and standing up, execution style. Chance yelled out
again, lifting the crossbow and directing its sights at his father.
"DO YOU REMEMBER ME?!?"
Clint eyes watered up when he heard the date. How could he
not remember that date? It was the day that his first child would have been
born had Bobbi not lost it. How did this man know that though....Unless he was
telling the truth. Clint shook his head in disbelief and whispered softly
through hurried breaths.
"It can't be..."
Lync had already began his walk towards the two Barton's
during the aggression by Chance, still smiling approvingly. He placed a hand on
Chance's shoulder from behind.
"Chance..."
Chance spun around quickly, placing the tip of an arrow from the crossbow
against his mentor's forehead, looking Lync straight in the eye.
"Don't touch me motherfucker!"
Lync's eyes began to grow a brighter red as Chance yelled at
him and Sean took notice. For all of Sean's bouts with near insanity, Chance
had become very much like his own son. His hand slowly slipped to his wrist,
pressing a button on his transport device. He completely vanished in the night
and reappeared behind Lync, pulling a combat knife and literally stabbing Lync
in the back. Lync did not feel the thrust of the blade into his back but did
notice how he jolted forward from the impact. He also knew who had done this to
him already. Sean's glance met Chance's as Lync turned around, grabbing Sean by
the throat and using his telekinesis to slowly begin closing the Irishman's
trachea.
"Ye would dare mate?!?"
Chance felt this was not right now...apparently something else had been planned
by Lync that he did not about although it was apparent to him now that Sean
did.
Avenger Disassembled Part 5
Life is not determined by your past judgements or
failures. No, it is determined by what you do with the second chances that life
lays in front of you.
The location: The docks of District X
The participants: Hawkeye, Chance Barton, Lync Gevoel, Sean
Eamon, and Azad
The time: The present...for now.
Ever since the white even had occurred, the one that many referred to in this
world as the House of M, Lync Gevoel had been etched in a never ending
psychological war with Clint Barton. Both men were out of place in this world
since the white event caused by the mutant witch, Wanda Maximoff. Memories had
been warped, realities tied together by events that neither man could have
known of. To Clint Barton and Lync Gevoel, they had known each other since they
were teenagers in a carney. Yet, to one man, all of this had to be changed and
he had gone through many ordeals to assure that his future would be changed for
the better. No more destruction and poverty..his world would live again....and to
accomplish this feat, Clint Barton had to die by his own son's hand.
Lync was furious as he held Sean Eamon in a telekinetic choke hold, a man that
he called a friend for many years since his arrival in this timeline. Blood ran
profusely down the Irishman's back. He yelled out in the direction of Sean as
the man dangled limply in the thin air.
"Ye may have signed ye own death certificate mate!"
Sean's eyes stayed focused on Chance as the man slowly faded into
unconsciousness. Chance in turn knew this was his chance and raised his hand to
the sky, looking in Azad's direction. No soon has his glance met the large dark
skinned elemental than lighting ran down from the night heaven, striking Lync
wear he stood. Lync dropped to one knee immediately, his eyes glowing brighter
and brighter to regain strength even as his clothes smoked in the aftermath.
Chance knew this was his only chance. He turned to face Clint again who
seemingly was completely stunned by all that was going on and spoke in a
hurried voice.
"We got four seconds old man"
Clint seemingly came to his senses as the young man spoke
again but gave him a confused look. Clint replied.
"Four seconds for what?"
Before another word could be spoke, two gun's levitated from
Lync's holsters attached to his upper legs and into the air, one firing
immediately in Azad's direction. A single dart zipped through the air, hitting
the elemental in his neck. The second gun rose in the air and begin
spinning in a circle, almost as if it was playing a game of Russian roulette.
Lync had not forgotten Sean however and had already outstretched his hand in
his direction, lifting his former friend in the air in a tk field. Lync stood
and rushed in his direction in mad dash, jumping into the air and beginning a
upside down roundhouse kick, catching Sean with his foot beneath his chin. Just
as he made contact, Lync released his grip on Sean and his neck snapped,
sending the man hurling backwards and to the ground where landed on his back in
a solemn thud. Lync landed to the ground in a crotched position, staring in a
disappointed manner at Chance. All the while, Azad could already feel the
effects of the poison that was introduced through the dart fired at him moments
earlier by Lync. A swift wind came out of nowhere and lifted him in the air,
taking him away from the conflict in a last ditch effort to get to the antidote
he knew he would need to prolong his life.
Chance
knew he had to hurry or all of this would be for nothing. He had been trained
to fight and survive but he had never gained complete control of his powers; to
use them meant he had to focus all of his will. Most of the time, this left
Chance in a vulnerable state of mind and he had to rely on instinct. Lync
slowly raised from the crotched position, willing one of his guns to lower back
into his hand. Shaking his head from side to side, he raised the gun in Clint's
direction, speaking in a low Irish drawl.
"Ye
disappoint me boy...ah thought ye wanted dis as much as me...now ye show ye true
colors...eh?"
Lync
pulled back on the hammer of the gun and steadied his finger on the trigger,
confident in this moment being the true end to the game between he and Hawkeye.
Clint began to move his left hand towards his belt for a trick arrowhead, sure
that he would have to find a way out once more. The man that claimed to be his
son was the wild card however. Chance and Clint both remained quiet however but
Chance met his mentor's eyes with a confident stare. Lync spoke once more.
"It's
been fun Barton..too bad ye did'na join me when ye had da chance. Ah'll see ye
in hell."
Lync
pulled on the trigger and the dark flew out of the barrel of the gun. Chance
jumped in front of his father, pulling a small round device from his belt and
slamming it against his father's chest. Chance forced his will, slowing time
into almost a standstill as he moved. He could see the dart getting closer to
him and then turned his head towards his father, pushing him out of the way
with his hand. Chance spoke although his voiced seemed like it was in slow
motion.
"Fooooooooouuuuuuurrrrr
ssseeccccoooooonnnnndddddssss....saaaavvveeeee meeeeee
daaaaaaaaaaadddd......Pleeeeeeaaaasssseeeee........."
Everything
was in slow motion now and Clint seemed to be stuck in slow motion as well, yet
his mind raced along at normal speed. He realized what was happening now, even
as the dart hit Chance in his neck and the young man began his slow decent to
the pavement. The device that Chance had placed on Clint's chest began to blink
quickly, engulfing the archer in a bright white light. 4, 3, 2, 1...and Clint was
gone. Lync screamed out, dropping the gun instinctively and reaching to catch
Chance at the last possible instant in his arms, yet yelling out and still
trying to reach Clint with his other outstretched hand.
"NOoooooooooOOOOOOOOoooOOooooo!"
When the
light faded, time resumed it's normal course and Lync lowered his head
solemnly, speaking in a near whisper.
"No
boy..dis was our chance.....where did you send him?!?"
Lync
picked Chance up in his arms, raising to stand and cradling the young man along
his neck with one arm, the other underneath his legs. His eyes began to glow
and he raised them both up off of the ground and into the air. He had sixty
minutes to give Chance the antidote or he would lose both Barton's this night.
Epilogue:
Dream what you want to dream;
go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life
and one chance to do all the things you want to do.
The
Location: A whole new world...maybe?
It had
been a week since Clint awoke in a cold snowy field in the country and made his
way to the city of Manhattan. He had no idea how he got there or why but
residents in the small nearby town spoke of a bright light in the heavens the
night that he arrived. Clint knew who he was but something about this place
didn't make sense to him. People didn't recognize him the way he thought they
would after the Chitauri invasion. He was even missing his military I.D.. He
had a card in his wallet that said Avengers on it and a picture of him in a
purple mask. All he could think about it was it must have been one wild night.
After a few days of research and finding out where he actually lived again (He
had went to some place in Manhattan where he thought he had a place and woke up
by an old woman he slipped into bed with.) and clearing up the misunderstanding
about it all, he was finally thinking he was in need of a psychologist. That
was for later though and tonight he had work to do. After hours of waiting,
someone finally came into the bar he had been staking out. Clint listened
attentively through his hearing aide as the men spoke, making sure not to look
interested
"The
folder wasn't there either Nick."
An Irish
man was standing near the bar speaking with another man. Only this one was in a
fine Armani silk suite.
"Then
go to the next location and continue your search. Both our asses are on the
line here."
The man
left, leaving the other at the bar. He had been given direct orders to find the
information on the 7 Year Theory by Patrick O'Leary of the IRA. If he failed
the cause again, he would surely lose his immigrant status and most likely, his
life.
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