Things that go Boom in the Night

January 21, 2015:

Things start to get a little unstable out in Maui. (Language)

Maui - HI

A section of forest within a higher altitude range.


NPCs: Locals


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Trying to get any sleep after that last cup of coffee can be a challenge but Hill eventually crashed for a few hours, trusting the two archers with her datapad. Which was probably her first mistake of the previous evening.

With the sun shining down upon the islands once more, a fresh Thermos of coffee prepped and ready to go, her attention turns to the -incredibly- boring job that is surveillance. Specifically, she's got another pad tied to the drone's cameras to act as another pair of eyes while Barton gets his RC flying in. Hopefully he knows what he's doing by now.

"I spy, with my little eye..something green."


This is Clint's idea of work. In the trees, perched overnight with drones and Kate to keep him company, what could be better?

That was last night.

Having grabbed a nap to get his 'clock' ticking to where it needs to be, Hawkeye is happily nesting once again, Hill's datapad in hand. While not 'buzzing around' per se, it is 'on the wing', and he's gotten it to the point where he can move the drone between trees, all without clipping a branch or a frond. Last night's data's been poured over by both himself and quite probably the eggheads. Now, it's Take 2.

Clint has his thermos of coffee set in his quiver behind him as legs dangle from the branch. His bow isn't far, leaning up against the trunk of the tree right next to him.


As Clint says it, the IR camera picks up a bird in brilliant plumage with its head tucked under its wing for the night.


Kate's claimed a branch just above Clint's where she can look down at the view from the drone while keeping an eye on the area around them. She certainly seems to be faring better in the shade of the jungle than she was in the sun on the beach. She's also brought along a secondary "weapon": a slingshot and a pouch full of nuts. Just to keep herself occupied, of course.

"Smart bird," she murmurs, glancing down at his words. "You keeping track of the coordinates on that thing, for when it inevitably dies of magic overload or something?"


"I was actually thinking 'tree,' but good catch," Hill says in a flat tone. (Damn that guy and his eyes…)

This time she's taking a turn in a hammock, kicking bare feet up as she follows the drone's path through several fancy and stupidly expensive devices. A screen for the cameras, another screen for GPS tracking of the drone, another for monitoring any radio activity within the air around it, direct access to the cameras spread out in the forest, about the only thing she -doesn't- have are the three extra brains and six extra eyes necessary for her to keep up with it all as quickly as the data gets sent back to her.

Fortunately, these devices tend to have a means of alerting a person whenever they pick up something out of the ordinary. "Hold up," she tells Clint through a slender headset while reaching for another screen.

Something..isn't right, here…

"Barton, I'm picking up unexpected noise on the air…" she says with a bit of hesitation, frowning at the secondary screen. "Starting triangulation, check thirty degrees east."


Clint looks up and grabs an arrow from his quiver to poke at Kate from his spot. "If you need coffee, Kates, you have to come down here."

Exactly how does Hawkeye manage to harass Hawkeye and still not crash the drone? He's just that good. The arrow is replaced, and he's got his full attention on the board. "Roger. Course correction," and slowly the drone lifts, making it just a little harder to navigate, but also harder to see. With a remarkable sense of balance, Clint also gains his feet, his gaze moving towards the direction that Maria is pointing out. "Damn…" he says softly. "Kate, you see that?" He doesn't need to use the drone's cameras to see something in the middle distance; anyone without the name 'Hawkeye' would probably miss the briefest of glints off the fuselage at this distance.

"Yeah. I got eyes. Lifting to track. Calculated point of origin?" Based on the current trajectory, they might catch something. What he's going to try is to get closer, but out of their immediate scanning area. Presumably, if it's 'their man', all cameras are pointed below.

"Talk to me, Hill. What're we looking at? One of ours? Starks? One of the too numerous to name badguys?"


Kate swats at the arrow, smirking down at him. "It's got your cooties in it," she informs Barton, stretching out across the overhanging branch to get a better look at the screen. "How far's that out?" she asks, looking up to glance between the screen and the appropriate direction as she pushes up on her branch. The unsaid question, and what goes through her head, is 'and how long would it take me to get there?'


Hill sits bolt upright, her Thermos hitting the floor as she switches between displays once more. One hand becomes a flurry of motion as she pokes at the screen and darts through the displays. "Nothing so advanced that I can see, but it's definitely not one of ours. Something tells me it's not here for the bird watching."

A picture of the other drone comes through before its signal can be traced, bringing up yet more data identifying the make and model of the device.

"Commercial-grade, they could have ordered the damn thing from Amazon for all we know."

Civilian-grade or not, it appears that the pilot knows when they're being watched. The other craft, painted in matte camoflague, turns and dips lower to make a run for it away from Hawkeye's drone.

Hill's quick to reply to Kate as well, "Not far. Your aim had better be up to par, Bishop. Barton, try to flush the bastard out. This is -my- goddamn airspace."


Clint sits silently, his fingers working the controls as the SHIELD drone weaves easily and seemingly effortlessly through the higher elevation canopy, keeping 'eyes' on what lies below. "Okay." So, it won't be easy to track back. Nice. But then again, if it's looking 'stock', it's not going to have -near- the capabilities. "What's its range?" Civilian grade, the RF signal has to be reasonably close, right?

"Okay, Hawkeye," Clint murmurs. "Take the shot. Tracker." He smiles, but he doesn't drop his attention from that spot in the distance. "You got this."

While she's doing that, Clint starts a flanking maneuver, going wide and outside before he's ready to drop the drone. He's not 'chasing', just… herding cows, as it were. Closing off one avenue of 'escape' should bring it around so Katie can get a better shot.


"Hey," Kate says quietly over the comm, drawing out one of the tracking arrows and setting it smoothly to her bow. "You can say everything you want about how I'm not SHIELD, and I'm a shitty spy." The shot isn't right from here. In a few seconds, she's managed to climb to another branch, one that gives her a better view of that faint glint in the woods. Breathe. Draw. Aim…and let it go. "But don't question the aim."


"It might be modified, anywhere from three hundred yards to a couple of miles," Hill replies while switching screens yet -again.- "You're guiding it right through our scanners, this should only take a moment."

Regardless of what the other drone's range is, it's clearly lacking in the speed department. It seems to be running at full-tilt, which means the SHIELD UAV could do laps around it. Keeping it more or less on target isn't difficult, nor will it be difficult for Kate to catch with a quick run through the forest.

"The question-"



"-is in regards to your hangover," Hill responds to Kate as the tracker pegs the other drone, neat as you please. The impact pushes it slightly off course, the operator's going to know something happened. Who would suspect a tracking arrow, though? Really!

"Got the signal!" Hill snaps out.

It's followed by a short pause, her eyes widening at the screen.


"Oh shit," she mutters before almost yelling "Bishop, -get out of there!-"

If Clint's watching the rest of the drone's cameras he's going to see a whole lot of heat signatures in a hurry. Very, very bright ones.

Torches. Four up -torches.- They must know the forest well to have kept themselves hidden from the UAV before.


Clint's got his eyes on the drone's path, nodding at the information as it comes through his earpiece. Of course Hill can't hear the nods, but there should be no doubt that he's taking all the information in.

And the shot is -good-! "Nice shot, Hawkeye." With the telemetry coming in, as evidenced by Maria's words, Clint starts to draw his drone back, bringing it higher into the canopy once again. Looking up, he's whispering, "Go. Get out. I'll send the drone as cover and I'll meet up with you by the boards." Not his place, not op central, but where he's got his surfboard.

"I'll mop up here," Clint radios softly. If he doesn't have to kill anyone, that'll be fine. If they never catch sight of him, even better. The light may blind IR, but with the torches lit, Hawkeye has targets.


Good thing Clint's been pushing that whole height training thing. Quickly, she draws one of the grappling arrows, tying it off before firing it across the clearest line down she can find. "Geronimo," she squeaks, before taking a running jump off the branch and zipping down the line.


(Director sense tingling.)

These guys were able to hide from the drone. From the scanners. From the -Hawkeyes.- This reeks of a pre-meditated attack.

Which means…

Hill nearly throws the displays aside as she leaps out of the hammock, practically jumping into her unzipped hiking boots in the same motion which brings her sidearm out of a desk drawer and into her hand.

"Auxillary eyes going dark, command may be compromised."

There's no time to outfit herself with fancy nightvision tech, she's got a pistol with a flashlight and by God -she's going to make it work.- She's got no choice but to trust the Hawkeyes to make it through while she darts out into the darkness surrounding their bungalow. These guys may know about the command center but they don't have to know that they're about to get flanked.

Extensive spy training sure does come in handy sometimes!

As for the four torch-bearers, they're clearly -not- expecting to get dropped on from above. One points and yells. Another yells. Two..three turn to run.

The last guy does the first thing that comes to mind.

He throws his torch.

It misses Kate, flipping end over end further into the woods.

Spreading fire throughout the brush.


Clint catches Hill's words and as Kate ziplines through, he's landing the drone instead, and says as much. "Landing the drone in the air," in a tree. "I've got your six, Hawkeye." The tablet is set into the quiver, and bow is grabbed, followed quickly by the nocking of an arrow.

Sight picture… and the tip of the arrow moves, moves, "Don't even think about it, buddy," is murmured before the arrow is launched. It's a 'regular' target pile, nothing special, but it hurts like hell when (not if) it hits, and it does. Nothing like catching one of the guys that's pointing and yelling right in the elbow. "Ouch."

The moment the arrow hits, Clint's on his way, moving through the trees like some giant blonde monkey, leaping and flipping around the larger branches. The running jumps gives him something, anyway, and the further he gets from the scene, still watching Kate's exit, the lower he gets until finally boots hit the ground.

Command may be compromised. Not good.


Compromised command would be bad. Just when people are starting to get along and everything. This is the part of the movie where someone would die tragically. Probably. Shut up, Kate's brain, you've got more important things to do right now.

Mid-stride, she draws one of those riot-foam arrows she's so fond of, firing it after the thrown torch in an attempt to put it out before it can devastate yet another swath of jungle. Or trap them away from command.


Part of the rumors had been true. A lot of the other plantlife -has- been dying in this part of the woods lately. This results in a lot more dead plant matter. Nature's kindling. The thrown torch smacks against a tree trunk and bursts apart into smaller flaming bits, spreading the blaze as quickly as if someone had doused the forest with gasoline a few minutes earlier.

The man Clint tags in the elbow lets out a shrill yell, his torch next to fall out of his slackened grasp. Point in his favor, in all four of their favors, they're more intent on running than staying to fight.

Kate's tactic is sound, though it's going to take more than one of those arrows to douse the flames. It's spread out too far already, and growing. Way faster than a tropical forest should probably ignite.

Hill drops behind another tree outside of the bungalow, her weapon braced in both hands. As quickly as the light turns on the thick shadows are pierced with a blazing white cone, instantly illuminating, and completely blinding, two others. "On the ground, right now!"

The guy with Clint's in a whole lot of pain. He yells out in protest and brings his good hand up, already covered in his own blood. "Please, don't-!"

Clint knows what it's like to be caught near an explosion.

Hill knows what it's like to hear a distant explosion.

Kate's going to learn real quick what it's like to be caught near an explosion.

The tree which had first been struck by the torch is blasted into splinters with a heavy *WHUMP!* Chunks of dirt and shrapnel fly out toward the six caught near ground zero, the mangled tree starting to give way as a chain reaction begins to rip the ground apart all around it.

The forest just became a minefield. All it needed was one good spark.


Clint is hauling now that he's got boots on the ground. His attention is split between those potentially behind them and Kate who is still somewhat in front of him. He catches sight of her shooting some fire-extinguisher stuff into the fires, but it's not going to do much. Even he can see that.

"Hawkeye, let's go!" is called over what is turning into rumbling and when the explosions start going off, it knocks Clint off his feet, though as he feels the ground pull up under him, he makes a leap in Kate's direction, an arm ready to wrap around her and pull her off her feet. When he lands, when they land, he'll be on top, shielding her from the flying dirt and wood turned shrapnel. "Open your mouth! Do it!" Equalize the pressure for the blast. Been there, done that.

Clint can feel the wood tear into him, and he hisses in pain as he's cut like so many little knives.. waiting until he can feel the ground as some of the effects begin to move away from their location.


That rumbling can't be anything good. Unfortunately, there are no blinking lights here, nothing to tell where the boom is going to come from. All Kate can do is keep running as hard as she can, which isn't nearly the speed of explosion. She doesn't look back toward Clint, trusting the other archer to see to himself. Besides, running headlong into a tree isn't going to help anyone. She's just putting her head down to push out another burst of speed when she gets hit in the back with- Clint?

"Clint! C'mon, get-" Oh, shit, she knows what that advice means. Eyes closed, mouth open, she curls up into as tight of a ball as she can in that split second of warning.


Clint might note some similarities to a carpet-bombing run as one detonation sets off another, rapid strings of blasts which tear wide fissures through the dirt. More than one chain reaction catches hold, filling the air with a fireworks-like crackling for several long seconds. The other four individuals are caught up in the mayhem as well, no one escaping without injury.

Back outside of the bungalow Hill instinctively ducks a little further as the shockwaves start to kick through the ground beneath her, barking in surprise as the distant rumbling disturbs the formerly peaceful evening.

It's too much of a distraction. The two individuals she had caught with her light duck and blindly sprint off into the woods. At this moment its two -other- people which she's more concerned about.

"Barton! Bishop! Someone report, dammit!"

This is falling apart on her quickly. A quick switch of the com channels puts her voice through to everyone within earshot of their own headset, or communicator, or radio wristwatch, or whatever the heck. "Anyone receiving this, report in! Shit's gone south!"

For the Hawkeyes the chaos spreads further outward, swiftly growing more distant before the reactions cease altogether. All that's left is a whole lot of debris falling to the ground, including a number of large trees.

The lumberyards are going to have a field day picking up whatever's left over.


The tremors indicating an explosion are keenly felt where Bobbi is swinging lazily in a hammock outside the Ops bungalow, in shorts, boots, and tank top, her pack beneath it and a tablet in hand. The hammock is strung between two old palms, whose roots amplify the rumbling as she shoots out of the netting. "Trouble!" she shouts towards the bungalow, even as she straps her backpack on, pulls her batons from their holsters, and begins running towards the disturbance.

Clint and Kate are out there somewhere; no time to change into her fancy Mockingbird suit. Bobbi rushes through the jungle, leaping over rocks and roots, ducking under tree limbs, weaving in and out of the foliage with the grace and nimbleness of a gymnast. "Mockingbird en route!" she barks into the comm.


At least she's not in the bathing suit and sarong and flip-flops. The khaki shorts and white T-shirt and lei, however, are… not much better. At this point, though, the big floppy hat's blown off leaving only the huge Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. and she's gotten a bit scraped up riding through the wilderness like that.

But she's heard explosions and she's maybe a little worried, so she's stolen — ah, commandeered — a Jeep. A pretty good one, too, though it's going to look worse for wear when the surfers come back for it. If it's there at all. She speaks into the comm quickly and sharply but not with any evident anxiety: "Widow incoming. You kids meet up and Mom'll pick you up."


Clint can feel the tremors passing, and he's not moving. Not yet. Kate's under him, and the moment she curls into a ball, it gives him the chance to shield her more fully with his own body, keeping the flying bits of wood from digging into her.

The calls over the com seem miles away as he grunts; the moment he tries to move, a breath is hissed. "Kate…" is whispered, hoarsely. "Katie… you okay? You with me?" His own tones hold an undertone of pain; his face is dirty, arms are bleeding, his back where his quiver isn't is torn, bloodied. But, so far, he's alive.

"I'm still here, Hill," even if Clint sounds like death warmed over, "And I've got Hawkeye." Codenames in the field, except for the DepDir. (Isn't she lucky?) "Gimme a sitrep?"


"Explosions suck." Yeah, Kate's fine. Mostly.

Slowly, ears ringing, she starts to uncurl. Which leads directly to Clint getting a fist to the ribs. She heard that pain. Why she thinks that means he needs more… "I'm fine." At least, mostly fine. She'll have a few bumps and bruises, a few scrapes from her mad run through the woods, but otherwise, she was mostly sheltered from the explosion. "Stupid. Did you manage to break anything?"


Hill keeps her next thought of (Oh thank God) off of the coms and strictly to herself, relaxing the aim of her sidearm but continuing to search the woods for any other activity. She has to abandon the search a second later as Romanoff responds. "Copy, Widow. Coordinates incoming, twenty seconds."

She has to run back inside in order to pin down the Hawkeye locations!

Hurrying back to the bungalow, she responds to Clint next. "Clocked two outside the Nest. Spider and Bird are inbound for extraction. Try not to forget your toy if you can." The drone, specifically. The captain of the Iliad's not going to be too pleased if she fails to return it in one piece. Hopefully it's not already a lost cause.

Getting back inside she nearly rams a table onto its side as she reaches for the datapad, tapping the screen back to life. "Heads up, Widow." Here are the coordinates you are searching for.


As Natasha catches up in the Jeep, Bobbi swings up into it with an acrobatic leap. "Step on it, Widow. He may be my ex-husband, but he's still my friend." She grimaces as she hangs on tightly in the jouncing, bouncing vehicle.


"Hey, Birdie." Natasha shifts gears as she yanks her wheel to avoid a fallen tree. Boy, the landscape around here is getting a little wacky. The coordinates that Hill gives her receive a nod, and she fishes in a straw bag with soft rope handles to pull out… apparently an iPad? "How do you feel about navigating? I think they have this thing here about driving while using devices."

Over the comm, she adds: "Bird's on my shoulder, Hill. On our way to pick the kids up for soccer." The vrooms get bigger.


Clint roll off Kate, and sucks in the night's air, but not too deeply. "Ow, Kate.. ribs." She punched him!

As he lies in the dirt, feeling the tremors and reverberations through the ground, Clint remembers something before he's reminded by Maria, and blue eyes move to that patch of trees that is no more. "Awww, drone. No." And, the tablet that he'd put in his quiver is probably toast.

His arms are torn and bleeding, and when he finally tries to actually get to his feet, he's a mess. Can tell what he was doing, most definitely. His back, legs… shirt and black pants have holes, and in those holes, blood is seeping.

"Roger on the duet." Clint blinks his eyes, forcing them to focus. Nothing like feeling a little lightheaded. "Uh… about that drone. Is it coming out of my hazard pay?"

With news of extraction, Clint makes an effort to actually get up, and stop trying. The moment he does, he wobbles a little and rubs the side of his mouth with a hand. Yeah, more blood. "Birdy and 'Widow are on their way."

Into the com next, Clint's trying, "Soccer? Aw, don't tell me you've gone to the dark side. Damned soccer moms. They're scary."


"Hey, hey, hold on," Kate tries to stall Clint when he goes for standing up, having to settle for inserting herself under his arm to keep him from going down entirely. "Hawkeye Senior's gonna need some medical back at base," she says when she gets a look at his actual state. Carefully, she twists enough to keep holding him up while facing his back, trying to get a look at the various cuts and scrapes. "Not seeing anything vital, but that is so asking for some sort of infection. Did you get your tetanus booster before we flew out?"


Calm, cool, and collected. Even cracking jokes. Hill may be the furthest out from ground zero but her nerves are already being put at ease. Except for the part about the drone being fried. She'll still swear under her breath to this bit of news. "We'll talk about this later."

The response from Widow is given a "Copy, mind the potholes. Kids have a visit with the doctor tomorrow." Just where Widow came from is something even Hill doesn't know. Right now it doesn't even matter, everyone was accessible when they were needed.

Then Kate's report comes through, verifying the need for some medical attention. Hill resists the urge to ask 'how bad?' Those two were in the middle of a string of explosions, they're -both- getting checked out regardless of how 'fine' they feel! "Don't worry, he's had his shots," she replies while bringing up a perimeter scan of the bungalow. All's quiet so far.

As for the yet unknown drone? It flew back to its owner, loaded into the back of a pickup truck before he drove home. He can't afford to go out and buy a replacement, this one was paid for out of his own pocket! Little does he realize that Kate's arrow is still broadcasting its location, and will continue to do so all the way back home. Here's one solid lead to follow, at least.


Bobbi takes the datapad and begins giving turn by turn directions to Natasha. Some of them don't come directly from the GPS data, including such gems as, "Holy shit that branch almost took my head off!" and "Around the trees, around!!!!" She is >< close to clinging to the dashboard and screaming like a cheerleader.

As they race towards the extraction point Mockingbird quips over the comm, "Easy there Bird Brain, or we'll go back and trade the Jeep in for a minivan." Please be ok. Please be ok. Please be ok.


Psh. They totally could have taken those trees. They had it coming. They know what they did.

Natasha almost certainly doesn't kill herself or anyone else as she launches the Jeep into the clearing, following Bobbi's directions toward the coordinates. Screeching through sand and scrub, she brings the vehicle to a shuddering halt.

"Hop in, boys and girls. Buckle up and hold on tight." If she's concerned — really concerned — she's not going to let it show.


Hawkeye isn't so proud that he's not going to take help remaining upright when it's offered. A marked wince creases his face, not in response to a move that only makes his entire body hurt more, but the tone of the DepDir's voice. "I thought it was safe up there. Who knew the whole damned forest was going to fall and explode around us?" He didn't. "The Captain can replace it under Petty Cash. Really. Who needs three months maintenance on the Quins?" Money has to come from some budget line, right?

"Yeah… no. I don't…" Oh, hey. Here comes a jeep! And it's filled with friendlies.

At least Clint still has his bow, and he starts to head towards the pair of agents in the Jeep slowly and deliberately. He's going to hurt more in about 24 hours. This, this is moving on sheer adrenaline. With aid, he'll climb into the back and sprawl, his head rolling back over the back of the seat. "This time, mind the bumps and don't take the scenic route?"


Kate has never been quite so relieved to see Clint's exes to the rescue. As the Jeep comes into the clearing, she turns around again, staying under Clint's arm to help him to the Jeep. "Sorry, guys, I left the valet tip money in my other pocket," she quips as she helps Clint into the Jeep, moving stiffly to climb in after him. "Put this one on the tab?"


When Clint and Kate get loaded into the Jeep Bobbi is on her knees in the front, leaning over the back of her seat, digging through her pack for first aid supplies. She nods to Kate to indicate they need to flip Clint over so she can get at his torn up back. At least she's nice enough to give him the lidocaine shots first, near the bleeding bits, so the local anesthetic can allow her to begin cleaning any debris from the wounds with alcohol swabs without him screaming like a 12 year old girl at a Bieber concert.

"What did he injure besides the obvious, H2?" she asks Kate, because obviously he's not going to tell them voluntarily. Nitrile gloves and gauze are in hand and being liberally applied by Mockingbird.


Natasha makes sure the ride is much gentler on the way back. After all, they've already ploughed through a lot of the underbrush that could have caused them problems. The way's relatively flat now. Trail already broken, you might say. Speaking of which. She snags the tablet, hunts for a decent trail, and heads around to an easier track back.

"I told you kids not to play so rough. This is why we can't have nice things." She glances back over her shoulder, a brief look of concern lining her face.


As the Jeep starts rolling out, Clint's eyes close. This is probably the least and the most comfortable he's been in some time. Or, it could be the pain and basic blood loss that's 'talking'. "You shoulda seen me flying that thing," is drawled. "Had that thing under the canopy, and it was…"

Bump. Ow.

Once shifted such that Bobbi can get injections- "Ow.." is offered up, albeit weakly. "Damn… those things hurt." He's not about to offer too much more in the way of complaint however, as the farther they get away, Clint's losing his hold on consciousness. By the time they 'get there', wherever he is, Hawkeye, Sr. is out.


Kate shifts enough to sit in the well between the seats, getting Clint properly stretched out over them so Bobbi can do her thing. "I didn't see anything worse than more splinters in the worst places than even he deserves," she answers the other woman with a shake of her head. "And a lot of stuff blowing up. He took the worst of it." Now that she's sitting down, she's got a minute to start shaking, absently brushing at her own dirt and scrapes.


Temporary bandages are applied to keep anything else from getting in Clint's open wounds, along with a huge dose of antibiotic ointment. Bobbi's idea is to keep anything from getting worse before they can get him to the real medics who can have the super happy fun time job of plucking all the wood splinters out of the gashes. That is going to suck and she's hoping there is a lot of booze left around for the rest of them to guzzle. It's a 3 olive martini, hold the olives, kind of day.

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