Despair
His hands are slick with blood.
Clint Barton is sitting on the cold, damp ground. He can feel the warmth leaving his body as he cradles Matt’s head in his lap.
Painful breaths are wheezing out of the broken man, and Clint can only assume that he’s punctured a lung. His skin is paler than usual, and Clint is busy running his hands over his body to find the source of the bleeding. His fingers press over a space at the back of his suit where it fastens together. In that small space where no body armour can be worn, Clint can feel the blood pumping out, hot and sticky between his fingertips.
It’s on Matt’s back, a bullet wound, and Clint wonders when the man was shot. That must have been the reason why he was caught off guard, why he hadn’t noticed the massive brute of a man coming towards him, why he didn’t hear Clint’s anguished warning.
He strokes his hand over Matt’s forehead and whispers quietly, reassuring the man that everything will be okay, muttering prayers to God, and apologising that he saw it all too late. Matt groans weakly, and for a moment Clint thinks that he will start speaking, but instead the pained wheezing continues.
With shaking hands, Clint opens his phone and types a hasty message into the Avengers chat.
Daredevil down. Please help.
There’s an immediate response from Tony, and before Clint can even think about responding, he sees that Nat has already taken care of it. She’s sent the address, but she hasn’t said anything about Matt because she hasn’t seen him yet. The team hasn’t found them yet.
Clint would shout for help, but he knows that the building is still crawling with Hand henchmen, and he didn’t want to give his position away. Right now, it is best to stay quiet and wait for backup.
After Clint had managed to shoot Matt’s assailant with an arrow, he’d grabbed Matt’s limp body and dragged him underneath the stairwell. It’s dark and quiet under here, and no one should chance upon them. With trembling hands, Clint manages to press a strip of his shirt against the wound in a feeble attempt to ebb the blood flowing out of his body.
“You’ll be fine, Mattie,” Clint assures him quietly, hoping that he’s able to hear him. “Everything will be fine.”
One Hour Earlier:
From outside the diner, Clint can see Matt sat opposite a gruff looking man. He’s bigger than Matt, more physically imposing, and yet Matt is sitting confidently in his seat as they chat about how Karen is, from what Clint can read from their lips.
“The Punisher,” Natasha says to Clint, nodding her head in the direction of the man. “Ex-Marine. Has worked with Daredevil a few times.”
“I’ve heard he’s a nasty piece of work,” Clint replies, taking a mental note to keep an eye on the vigilante. “Have you seen Elektra around?”
Natasha checks her phone. “No. She hasn’t texted either, which is slightly worrying, but I suppose we are early. I just thought she’d let me know.”
Clint wants to tease Nat about how much time she has spent with the beautiful Greek woman, however he doesn’t want to get involved in a situation he knows very little about.
“She seems elusive,” Clint says with a shrug, and with that he decides to make his entrance. He pushes open the door, which gives a happy chime as he steps into the warm air of the diner.
The booths are made of red vinyl, cracked and peeling in places, with the wood underneath bending out of shape from years of use. The stench of frying oil is unmistakable in the air, and Clint can see how greasy the tables are from ten feet away, however all of this combined means that the place is practically deserted, making it a lot easier for group of heroes to meet up.
A waitress heads towards him. Despite his disguise of a cap and sunglasses, he can see the recognition in her eyes at the sight of him. Even though it seems practically impossible, her eyes widen more when she sees Nat stood behind him.
Nat is also disguised, her fiery red curls pinned back underneath a black beanie. She’s wearing a pair of glasses, despite having perfect sight, and her clothes are baggy and loose to disguise her physique. However, since joining the Avengers, Clint and Nat have become household names that most people will recognise. He sometimes wishes to have the anonymity of someone like Matt, or Wade, or even Peter, but he knows that having a secret identity comes with a plethora of other issues, particularly when it comes to protecting the people you love.
“Oh, Mr Barton, Miss Romanov! I’m a huge fan!” the woman exclaims, fanning her hands in front of her excitedly.
Clint forces a smile and puts on the charm, “Afternoon, Sweetheart. My colleague and I are here to discuss important Avengers business. Would you be able to make certain we’re not disturbed? Also, please don’t go and tell anyone we’re here – that could risk lives, and being in the hero business, we really don’t want anyone dying today.”
“Oh my! Yes, of course. I’ll turn off the sign so no one else will come in!”
Clint grins and leans towards her, reading her nametag. “Thank you, Darla. I’m just going to speak to some of my friends, and I would really appreciate it if you could bring us a fresh pot of coffee.”
Darla blushes at the use of her name and hurries off.
Natasha chuckles. “Middle-aged ladies love you.”
Clint shrugs. “Everyone loves me – I’m the down-to-Earth, charismatic, relatable Avenger.”
Natasha rolls her eyes and heads towards the booth. Frank Castle doesn’t react to their appearance, nor does Matt, and Clint simply slides into the booth, resting beside the blind lawyer. Matt is wearing his shirt and slacks, and Clint can see there’s a duffle back under the table that must contain his Daredevil suit. The Punisher is dressed similarly to Clint, in all Black, except he has a black leather jacket and a bag that must contain a multitude of weapons. Clint left his bow and arrow in the car, and was going to grab them on their way to the address, rather than risking the public spectacle of Hawkeye wandering around with his bow and sheath.
“Natasha Romanov,” Nat says to the Punisher.
He looks her up and down. His expression doesn’t change. “Frank Castle.”
“Clint Barton,” Clint says, attempting to give Frank a smile. He doesn’t react to this. “Thank you for being here and helping us to fight the Hand.”
“I’m here for Karen and Red, not you,” Frank responds simply, and Clint can see Matt crack a smile at this.
“Frank is an acquired taste,” Matt says to them. “He’s actually shot me in the head before.”
“I apologised.”
“It still hurt, Frank,” Matt says, chuckling. He turns away from Frank to face the Avengers. “Anyway, Elektra is saying she’s running slightly late, and Wade hasn’t responded at all so who knows when he’d going to show up.”
“I’m already here, Baby,” a voice says, causing everyone at the table to jump.
Wade Wilson, dressed already in his Deadpool costume, comes sliding out from under the opposite booth.
“Wade, when did you get here?” Matt asks, not bothering to mask the disapproval in his voice. “And…why couldn’t I hear your heartbeat?”
“About two hours, Devil-boy!” Deadpool slides into the seat next to Frank, who doesn’t bother to acknowledge him. “And I bought some special pills from the internet that slows your heartbeat down, just so I could freak you out.”
“A brilliant waste of your own time,” Matt says with a nod.
A bell dings on the front door. Darla hurries over to shoo the newcomer away, but Natasha quickly calls her off.
In the doorway to the diner, dressed in a skin-tight deep red outfit, stands Elektra Natchios. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face in a high ponytail, and her mouth and nose are covered in a thin black mask.
“Evening, Team. Who’s ready to take down the Hand?”
Deadpool raises his hand like a kindergarten child before announcing to the table, “I’m just here for a good time, really. I’m not certain who the Hand actually are.”
Clint can see a flicker of doubt flit across Elektra’s eyes as she surveys the group of vigilantes around her. She drags a stool over and props herself up on it, and everyone looks up at her like a group of worshippers to a Goddess.
“Have you all seen the schematics for the safehouse?” Elektra asks the group, and before anyone can say anything, she says, “Matthew, Goddamn it, don’t you dare say it.”
Matt waves his hands innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything!”
“You were going to say, ‘I haven’t seen anything’, and I simply prevented you from making your silly, childlike blind jokes.”
Matt stays quiet.
“We are going to enter the safehouse and take out as many of their operatives as possible,” Elektra says, resting her hands on her hips. “Matt and Clint are going to be on one team, Wade and Frank another, and then Natasha and I will be another. We will all enter through different positions, and attempt to take out as many henchmen as possible before they know we are attacking. If this happens, an alarm will sound.”
“What is our aim here?” Clint asks the Greek woman. “Just take out a bunch of people?”
Elektra rolls her eyes a him, “I will explain our aim, Clinton. Tonight they are going to be presenting a selection of their child soldiers to those high up in their organisation. I am aiming to take out this safehouse, free those children, and kill any members of the Hand that I come across. Is that simple enough?”
“Simple enough for me,” Frank says with a curt nod. Darla comes over at this point, bring a pot of coffee and mugs to the table. She gives the group a wary look before disappearing off into the kitchen.
“Perfect.” Elektra flashes her dazzling smile to the group before pouring herself a cup. “They are starting their meeting in thirty minutes. Natasha and I will focus on taking out the leaders. Matt, Clint, you focus on freeing the children, and Frank and Wade, you will oversee the removal of anyone that stands in our way.”
…
They’d only been in the building five minutes before the alarm sounded. Clint could only assume it was due to Wade or Frank giving away their position, as nobody had noticed Matt and Clint yet.
Matt has been unlocking the cells of children while Clint keeps watch. He’s shot a couple of henchmen, but this floor has been quiet due to the festivities taking place downstairs. He can feel the thrum of music through the floor, and wonders how these people could be celebrating breeding child soldiers.
“If you want to be free, run,” Matt tells a child, pointing towards the exit. The alarm is blaring, and Clint can see that Matt is struggling to maintain his composure with the onslaught to his senses. They’ve unlocked all of the cells in this area, and so the pair of them continue down the corridor.
That’s when a group of henchmen appear. They’re varying sizes, most of them wearing dark clothes, and all of them sporting a multitude of weapons. They’re at the other side of the corridor, blocking their exit, and Clint turns to see that the way they came has also been closed off by a group of men. The henchmen raise their weapons and open fire.
There’s an open door to his left, so Clint dives in, dragging Matt after him.
Matt stumbles into the room, gasping, before slamming the door shut.
“You okay?” Clint asks, grabbing the other man’s shoulders.
“Good,” Matt says with a thumb up, too breathless to say anything else.
“I’ve got an explosive. I’m going to take them out, but I need you to protect your ears,” Clint explains to Matt as he pulls an exploding arrow from his sheath. As quick as he can, Clint launches open the door and fires off his arrow into the corridor, waiting for the sound of explosions.
Men cry out as the blast hits them. Clint takes this as an opportunity to hurry past the fallen henchmen, Matt following close behind him. Broken bodies lay on the ground, and Clint can taste burnt flesh in the back of his throat, the stench of it making his eyes water.
The pair make their way to the stairwell, both of them wary and watching out for any attackers. That’s when the children appear.
Those they had released earlier start stepping out from the shadows. One of them makes a noise, and suddenly they’re charging towards them. Clint manages to dodge the grasp of one child, twisting his body and wondering how he’s supposed to take them out without the use of deadly force.
A child grabs onto Daredevil’s back, and Matt is spinning around in an attempt to dislodge him. The child claws at Matt’s helmet, and Matt wraps his hands around the child’s and manages to fling him away.
“Matt, I don’t think these children wanted saving,” Clint says as he punches a child square in the face.
“They’ve been conditioned to fight. They don’t know any better,” Matt says with a grunt of pain as another kid latches onto his leg. He kicks them away, breathless, before launching himself at the next attacker.
Clint groans in pain as a kid kicks him in the back of his knee, and he whirls around to strike them in the middle of the forehead, knocking them out cold. At this point, there are only a handful of children left conscious, and two are currently jumping onto his back.
Matt is busy sparring with another, stumbling slightly as he attempts to dodge their blows. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint spots a henchman. He’s a massive man, easily bigger than Wilson Fisk, and he’s heading straight towards Matt.
Trying to throw the children off of him, Clint shouts, “Daredevil, watch out!”
Before Daredevil can react, the man grabs him by his head and throws him against the ceiling. There’s a crunching noise as Matt hits the floor, and Clint uses this opportunity to slam his attackers against the wall. There’s a thud from the children hitting the floor.
The man grabs Matt’s limp body, and, before Clint can react, throws him over the railing and onto the floor below. There’s a surge of panic rushing Clint, who shoots his arrow straight into the chest of Matt’s attacker. The large man stumbles slightly, as if shocked at the situation, before collapsing onto the ground, his eyes wide and unseeing.
There’s one last child left. Before they can try and attack, Clint fires an arrow through their shoulder, enough to hurt like hell but not enough to kill them.
Hurrying, Clint leans over the railing to see Matt’s body lying on the ground below. Blood is pooling around him, dark red against the grey concrete of the floor. Clint is almost frozen at the sight of him, his first thoughts going to his unborn child, before he leaps into action and races towards his fallen comrade.
Where Matt is lying is far too open, and so Clint sends a silent apology to him before dragging his body underneath the stairwell, out of sight. He sits there with him, Matt’s head resting on his legs while his lifeblood slowly seeps through his clothes. He’s on edge, watching for any attackers.
Eventually he hears footsteps approaching, and nearly cries tears of relief when he sees the figure of Elektra Natchios appear in front of him. She immediately rushes towards Matt, her hands cupping his face in her hands.
“Matthew, Matthew, can you hear me?” she says. Clint can see there’s blood splattered on her face, and he wonders how many people she’s killed this evening. When she doesn’t get a response, her fierce eyes turn towards Clint. “You were supposed to care for him!”
“You asked him to be here!” Clint responds to the woman in a harsh whisper. “I came to try and protect him, but I can’t do everything. You never should have asked him for this. It was too dangerous.”
“Matthew is his own person,” Elektra says, moving back from the pair and trying to put distance between them. Clint, however, can see the tears in her eyes. “He makes his own decisions.”
“Tony’s here,” Natasha calls as she rounds the corner, and a wave of relief washes over Clint. “He’s brought Bruce and the helicopter to take Daredevil back to the Tower.”
“Send them down right now!” Clint insists, and when Natasha catches sight of Matt, she turns on her heel and begins to race up the stairs.
“Help is here, Matt. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”