Bound By Purpose

1991: American Defectors, Soviet Cadavers, and Two of Barton's Arrows

It's weird to see a place like this so empty, but I couldn't possibly complain. I breath heavily, as we come within sight of the chain fence that surrounds the base. "What's wrong?" Clint whispers as we stop just beyond the first layer of foilage.

"Nothing, I just keep expecting to see someone in Soviet Red to hop out and start shooting." 

"You've done this before I imagine. Nick told me what you did in the war, but the only thing I got on you post war was when they woke you up and how long you were out each time. There weren't any details, just dates." 

"I've done it once or twice now. You probably wouldn't like what you saw in those files." I pause. "I've done some shit." I look up expecting, well, I don't really know. If it were Steve or James next to me they'd reassure me that I was lying to myself, that everything I did, I did for freedom and for my country, but this is 1991 and this is Clint Barton.

He's looking beyond towards our mission and pulling an arrow from behind him as he answers. "I suppose we all have for the sake of this damned job." He pulls back his bow. So young, and yet he knows what it's like. He has secrets. He lets his arrow fly and it disappears into the landscape. He holds up a hand as if he's waiting for something.

"And that will get us in how?" I snap unnecessarily. As soon as the words leave my lips there's a sharp sizzle accompanying a small flame and then a puff of smoke.

Clint speaks from beside me while we both admire his work. "Look the way I see it is, we've all got secrets in this job. I say we get to know each other a little bit more before we go prying them from each other." He finally glances back down to my kneeling self. He extends his hand to help me up and when I finally stop fumbling in the snow we make our way onto the forgotten road leading up to the gate, that is now covered in thick snow. I kneel down to the road and relax when there isn't any tracks from cars or people in sight. Clint has passed me and has reached the gate. The arrow hit it's mark perfectly, hitting the lock mechanism. In turn it sparked and melted the chains right off. I'm in awe as he hurries me through. The spacious compound has a number of vehicles. They're all cold and quiet. 

I'm able to pry open one of the frozen doors. Climbing inside I find the logs in an unlocked glove box. Clint goes to the closest one open. Rifling through the most recent log, I notice the date. December 19th...  I continue to ruffle through until Clint startles me. He motions for me to scoot over into the passenger seat so I do. He pulls out the logs of the a few other trucks and we compare. They go back to 1986, but many have been stalled here for the entirety of 91'. My truck is the only one to come in this month. As soon as he sees the date he's in contact with Coulson. 

He adjusts the dial on the walkie. "Coulson, this Barton. We need confirmation on the last documented shipments, or movements from here."

There's some static but we get the answer quickly. "December 12th, 01:18. There was a shipment out." I grab the walkie from Clint's hand.

"Is there any satellite photos?" I ask hoping for a good answer. "Anything on the outside, specifically the front courtyard?"

"It's empty. If that's what you were looking for." I turn my head towards Clint. "What's wrong?"

"There's a lot of trucks here. All but one have fake logs..." I open up the one with the most recent date, I flip through quickly but Clint reaches out to stop it. He points to the name. "Алексей Sokolav, was the last one signed in." Clint looks away slowly. "What's wrong?" I ask, but the walkie comes to life with Phil's voice.

"Yeah that's Adam. He's been missing since 84'... Everyone thought he defected." I sigh and look over at Clint who is obviously distressed by the news.