"Hawkeye"—Clinton Barton.
Jason repeated the traitor's name, memories churning in his mind. A few seconds later, an image of a man holding a bow and arrow appeared in his thoughts.
Oh, right. It's him.
A smirk appeared on Jason's face. A squishy ADC with no superpowers and no magic damage dares to infiltrate the Joker Organization and pull shit right under my nose? The balls on this guy. Since you're here, you might as well stay forever.
"Thanks for the intel. I'll go take care of him now."
Pierce smiled and nodded. "Happy hunting!"
The call ended. A murderous glint flashed in Jason's eyes as he turned to Harley.
"Harley, do you have the stamina?" He asked. "If you do, I need you to chain-teleport me to the biker gang's headquarters. I'm going to flay that bastard alive!"
To stop Clint from getting away, Harley's teleportation was the fastest option; it would only take a few minutes.
Harley thought for a moment, then nodded. "If we go in a straight line, it should be fine, but I'll probably collapse afterwards..."
Before she could finish, Christine stepped in front of her. "Are you an idiot?" She said with a frustrated sigh. "Did you forget about last night? What if you lose it?"
Last night? Harley didn't understand, a look of cute confusion on her face.
"Holy shit!" Her expression changed as she suddenly remembered she might be pregnant. Even without a medical degree, common sense dictated that continuously using her powers to the point of exhaustion would be incredibly dangerous for the fetus; a miscarriage wasn't out of the question.
Harley had been looking forward to this little life for a long time. For its safety, she could only clasp her hands together and shake her head at Jason. "Honey! I'm not feeling so good. I don't think I can use my powers right now."
Jason, being completely oblivious, didn't catch the hidden meaning in their exchange. Thinking Harley was genuinely unwell, he said, "In that case, you should find a place to rest. Christine, you stay with her. You two don't need to get involved with the traitor."
With that, Jason was about to call Franklin and the others for help, but he realized his phone had been destroyed in the explosion.
"Sir, use this." Rumlow, who had been completely ignored, pulled a special phone from his pocket. "Encrypted channel. Perfectly secure."
Jason took the phone, thinking, Secure my ass. Tony Stark's AI could crack this in ten seconds.
He dialed John's number and told the three of them to get to the biker gang's headquarters immediately, secure Clint, and wait for him. To give Jason and the women their privacy, Franklin and the others had found their own place to live. If they hadn't, Jason would have been in big trouble tonight.
After the call, he pocketed the phone. "If you're not feeling well," He told Harley, "Make sure to drink plenty of water to hydrate yourself."
With that one line, Jason shot into the air and flew toward the biker gang's headquarters.
Harley and Christine watched him go, then left, chatting and laughing.
"Phew..." Rumlow let out a sigh of relief, watching the two women leave with a sense of awe. There's a living, breathing man with a gun standing right here, and they just walk away without a care in the world. How confident are they in their own strength?
Just then, his communicator buzzed. Nick Fury had been waiting for over ten minutes for a report and had decided to call him.
Rumlow looked at the communicator, fixed his hair, and struck a pose. A second later, Fury's dark face appeared on the screen.
Rumlow beat him to the punch, his face a mask of anguish. "Director! The mission failed! Jason's not dead!"
The words Fury was about to say got stuck in his throat. His brow furrowed. "How is that possible?" He said in disbelief. "Two Tomahawk missiles couldn't kill him?"
"The missiles didn't touch him!" Rumlow explained. "He teleported away before impact, and then he killed all my men!"
Fury was aghast. Jason escaped beforehand? Was there an intelligence leak? Impossible. Everyone at the meeting was a Level 7 agent. If Jason had a mole among the Level 7 agents, then he had failed spectacularly as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury looked at Rumlow, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "All the operatives were killed. How is it that you, the captain, are still alive?"
Rumlow was prepared for this question. Using Harley's "illness" as a template, he began to improvise a story.
"I almost died myself. But that woman with Jason, the one who can teleport, suddenly felt unwell and couldn't use her powers. That's the only reason I managed to escape with my life." Rumlow's story was vivid and detailed, right down to what Harley was wearing. Fury could almost picture the scene in his mind.
The story was half-truth, half-lie, and Fury was half-convinced. He could only say, "Stay put. I'm sending a team from the New York field office to extract you."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, Director!"
The moment the call ended, every trace of respect vanished from Rumlow's face. So this is Nick Fury. He has all the vast resources of S.H.I.E.L.D. at his command and he can't even take down one man. And this guy is fit to be the Director? Hah. I could do his job.
..................
The Triskelion. Nick Fury sat in his chair, his face dark.
Where did Jason get the intel to escape before the missiles hit? Judging by the timing of Jason's escape, a leak from within S.H.I.E.L.D. command could be ruled out. If the leak came from them, Jason would have been gone in the afternoon, not waited until just before midnight.
Fury thought hard, and then a key detail clicked into place.
The timing.
Jason escaped just before midnight. And there had been another anomaly at S.H.I.E.L.D. right around that same time.
Stansfield, leaving his post without authorization.
Could he have used the trip to the Chinese restaurant as a cover to pass on the intel, using a method S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't know about it? The possibility existed, but the question was: where did Stansfield get the intel?
The line of thought led to a dead end.
Fury sighed, deciding to stop thinking about it. The plan to assassinate Jason had failed again. As the one in charge, he would now face a storm of inquiries from multiple departments. From the President to the Army, from the World Security Council to Alexander Pierce... they would all lay the blame at his feet.
To save his own job, he needed a scapegoat to take the fall before the inquiries began.
Fury activated his communicator. "Coulson, get in here now!"
Half a minute later, Coulson entered the office.
Fury got straight to the point. "Stansfield is suspected of leaking classified information. Have him arrested. I want him interrogated through the night."
Coulson frowned, wondering what secret could have been leaked. A second later, he asked in shock, "Jason got away again?!"
Fury nodded, his face grim. "I don't have much time. Use special measures. Stansfield needs to talk."
"I understand." Sensing the gravity of the situation, Coulson immediately ordered his personal team to the sixth floor.
............
On the sixth floor, Stan was humming a tune while playing Red Alert. Just as he was maneuvering a dozen Libyan Demolition Trucks on an aggressive beeline for the American base, two agents grabbed him from behind.
"Shit! What are you doing!" Stan cried out, struggling.
"Don't move!" One of the agents said, pulling out a taser and zapping him.
Stan's body went rigid, convulsing. He no longer had the strength to resist. The two agents dragged him from his cubicle like a sack of potatoes and hauled him off to an interrogation room.
He was strapped into the chair, his limbs tightly bound. A few moments later, Coulson walked in.
Seeing him, Stan erupted. "You bald bastard! What's the meaning of this!"
Coulson sat down, his face grim. "Cut the act. We have the evidence. You're Jason Walter's accomplice. You stole S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence and tipped him off, causing tonight's mission to fail."
Stan's expression didn't change. He spat in Coulson's direction. "Evidence? Let's see it then!"
Coulson was prepared. He slid a file in front of him.
Stan's heart tightened. Did they actually find proof? He scanned the document, his face turning livid with rage. "You sons of bitches! This is all forged! You're trying to frame me? I wrote the books on frame jobs!"
Coulson said calmly, "It doesn't matter if you believe it, as long as the people upstairs do. Now, tell me. How did you use your takeout run last night to pass the intel to your contact?"
Stan glared at him, silent.
Coulson stepped forward and pulled a note from a file. "Even if you don't talk, we know. The owner of that Chinese restaurant is your contact. You slipped him this note when you paid for the food."
Hearing this, Stan almost fainted from rage. What kind of bullshit is this? Can't S.H.I.E.L.D. at least put some effort into their fabricated evidence?
Seeing him silent, Coulson produced another document. "So you admit it. Then just sign the confession. I'm in a hurry. You're going before a military tribunal first thing in the morning."
Two agents unfastened Stan's right hand, preparing to force him to sign.
"Fuck you!" Stan struggled, cursing. "You bald bastard, you think I don't have friends in the military? You push me too far, and not even Fury will be able to save you!"
Coulson leaned in close. "You ship out at 0600, tribunal at 0900. By noon, you'll be facing a firing squad. There's not enough time for anyone to save you."
"I..." Stan's eyes were bloodshot. He trembled with anger, but he couldn't think of any way out.
Knock, knock, knock!
Someone was at the door. Coulson frowned and opened it. Alexander Pierce and Nick Fury were standing outside.
Pierce strode into the room and pointed at Stan. "What is the meaning of this?"
Coulson quickly explained, "Mr. Secretary, we've found Jason's mole inside S.H.I.E.L.D. It's Mr. Norman Stansfield."
Pierce snapped, "I know how S.H.I.E.L.D. works better than you do, Coulson. Don't play these games with me." He turned to Fury. "What were you thinking? The President gives this man a Medal of Honor one day, and you have him executed the next? You're making the President look like a fool."
"Stansfield is under heavy suspicion—" Fury began to explain.
Pierce waved a dismissive hand. "What suspicion? Do you have any evidence that can withstand scrutiny? If not, release him immediately. I'll be handling his assignments from now on."
For a few seconds, no one moved. Pierce glared at the two agents. "What? Is my word no longer good here?"
The two agents looked uncertainly at Fury. When their current boss gave a slight nod, they quickly unstrapped Stan and obsequiously helped him to his feet.
Stan stood up, rubbing his sore wrist. He walked over to Coulson, his face a cold mask, and swung a heavy fist into the agent's face.
CRACK!
Coulson went down, a bloody gash on his cheek.
"Ptooey!" Stan spat, then strode out of the room.
Pierce clapped Fury on the shoulder. "This is your mess. You figure out how to clean it up." With that, he followed Stan, calling him into his office.
Inside, Stan sat down on the sofa and crossed his legs. Now that the pretense was over, he didn't have to put on an act anymore.
Pierce sat down across from him, but before he could prepare his speech, Stan spoke. "You're working with the boss now?"
A look of surprise crossed Pierce's face, quickly followed by dawning realization. He nodded. "It seems Fury was right. The leak did come from you. May I ask what your superpower is?"
Stan smiled and shook his head. "We're partners. That doesn't make us family."
Pierce shrugged, unfazed. "Alright, have it your way. As of tomorrow, you're a Level 5 Agent. You'll be working as Sitwell's deputy."
"Fine. As long as I'm not filing that garbage paperwork."
"Finally," Pierce said, "A word of advice. The next time you contact Jason, you must be extremely careful. After today, Fury will be watching your every move."
.........
The Director's Office, one floor below the World Security Council.
"Are you alright?" Fury asked.
"He's a washed-up junkie." Coulson sat in a chair, wiping the fresh blood from his cheek.
They sat in silence for a moment. "Director," Coulson asked, "What's our next step? If we don't handle this right, I'm worried the Council will have your job."
Fury thought for a moment. "Pull Clint out," He said. "Let's see what intel he managed to gather."
Coulson nodded. "I'll arrange it at once."
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
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