UNKNOWN GUEST

#7 I'm A Rogers!

Clint wandered outside the house, the setting sun casting long shadows across the yard. The cool evening breeze was soothing, but it did little to calm the restlessness gnawing at him. Questions swirled in his mind about the men who had attacked Jason and Lila. More troubling was the thought of Jason's retaliation. What if those people decided to follow him back, endangering Lila and the entire Barton family?

Determined to find some answers, Clint headed to his car to review the dash cam footage. He hoped it might have captured the confrontation if it happened close enough to the car. He connected the dash cam drive to a portable screening device and began scrolling through the footage, fast-forwarding to the afternoon.

He found the exact moment when the five men surrounded Jason and Lila. His heart skipped a beat as he watched a man approach Lila with a knife. Jason's response was swift: he twisted the man's hand, punched the base of his neck, and quickly directed Lila to run to the car and lock the doors.

Clint's eyes stayed glued to the screen as he watched Jason take on the remaining attackers alone. What he saw next left him astounded. Jason slid between the legs of one attacker, suddenly appearing behind him, and then performed a sweeping leg move that tripped the man with the knife. The move was executed with a precision and fluidity that seemed eerily familiar.

Jason's next actions were just as impressive. He dodged another knife and launched a series of rapid high kicks at another man, targeting his neck, face, and chest, before delivering a swift punch to his chest that sent the man flying a few feet. Clint's eyes narrowed as he recognized the tactical efficiency in each move. This wasn't just street fighting; these were refined combat techniques.

Then, Jason spun around swiftly, delivering a gut punch to another attacker. As the man doubled over, Jason kneed him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Clint's eyes widened in realization. This kid, Jason, was no ordinary teenager. The way he moved, the precision of his strikes, and his ability to handle multiple attackers with such ease were all signs of advanced training.

Clint replayed the footage, focusing on each move. The leg sweep, the high kicks, the rapid strikes—all of them mirrored techniques Clint had seen before. The realization hit him hard. Jason wasn't just some lost kid; he had skills that only a highly trained operative would possess.

James' POV-

I opened my eyes when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Uncle Clint stood in front of me, looking serious. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and noticing that the cut on my elbow had healed quite well—it wasn't hurting much anymore. I looked at him, puzzled. "What's the matter, Mr. Hawkeye?"

He sighed. "Follow me. I have to show you something."

What could it be? I nodded anyway and followed him outside. He led me to his car, opened the door for me, and I stepped inside, more confused than ever. He closed the door and walked around to the driver's seat. I felt him lock the doors, and then my eyes landed on the screen on the dash. Damn it, James! The dash cam! Don't tell me he has seen everything!

Uncle Clint sighed again and played a footage on the tablet. He turned it to face me, and I saw myself on the screen, performing the high kick move, followed by the face-to-knee move. My heart sank. I was screwed.

Suddenly, Clint raised a gun at me. Oh no! What am I gonna do? His finger was on the trigger. I raised my hands in panic, "M-Mr. Hawkeye, what are you doing?"

His jaw clenched. "Who are you? What are you?"

What should I say? Think, James. He carried on, eyeing my left hand. "Seems like your hand is perfectly fine now."

Damn it. I had to think fast. "Ahh! It hurts. It really hurts," I said, trying to feign pain.

He sighed, clearly not buying it. Oh God, what should I do? He continued, "Tell me, are you a Red Room agent?"