Nomad | Hawkeye FF ✓

WE'RE TOO LATE

  F L A S H B A C K

THE hero ambled into the farmhouse, his teammate swiftly moving alongside him. They both stepped past the threshold and paused.

"We're too late," Clint whispered, his eyes roaming to the left, where a stairwell led up into the bedrooms as they entered the near silent house. His legs itched to run up the steps and search upstairs.

Steve heard his friend's small utterance and pivoted his head to look at him. "I'll check around back, search the kitchen and living room."

Clint nodded, materializing around the bend of the hallway and into what seemed to be the living room on the left; across on the right was the kitchen. When all had been cleared in the kitchen, he turned into the living room. Once it too seemed to pass his inspection, he shouted to Steve, "Clear!"

The room suddenly didn't feel so clear the moment the words fell from his mouth.

Uneasiness dripped from every inch of his acute senses. Something wasn't right here—almost as if his eyes were playing tricks on the old bird and giving him dark shadows to see.

The cabinet across from him jiggled slightly as his eyes scouted out the perimeter. He made his way over to the DVD cabinet and warily glanced through the gap in the door, and to his astonishment, had caught the outline of something small inside.

Not another minute was wasted, for Clint hastily went to check the cupboard. His fingers unhooked the bronze latch and gradually he opened the door to reveal a petite girl inside, no more than eleven years old.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

____

Steve certainly wasn't expecting an empty house when Fury sent them to this location. The Captain of the team was ready to take on their enemy—prompt to use brutal force if need be—when they found them here at some farmhouse.

But the Avengers were seconds too late.

Hydra took what they wanted, and left without a single fingerprint to prove their existence and that they roamed someone else's property.

The failure cut through the soldier like a jagged knife to the gut, and the less evidence he couldn't compile, the more that dagger twisted painfully. "Clear!" Clint's voice penetrated throughout the house.

Steve's head shifted away from the dining room to yell back to his teammate, "All clear here too!"

Despite his announcement, the soldier decided to survey the brightly lit dining room, his eyes falling on the French doors near the left side of the wall, leading out to the patio. White lace curtains cascaded down the front of their windows, slightly making it difficult to see outside.

He walked over and lazily drew back one of the curtains. Nothing seemed to be out of ordinary outside, so he turned back to the room, giving it another sweep. Like the rest of the house, the walls were cream-coloured. A long oak table lay in the center where he assumed the family dined at every evening, and on the opposite end of the room, a fancy fireplace was situated near the back.

Steve felt the fireplace adorned the room with a warm atmosphere, with or without a fire. He averted his eyes from it, and gracefully walked over to the family pictures that hung on the walls, dissecting each detail from the photos.

A sudden noise killed his concentration on a picture he was studying, as the sounding of footsteps came from outside the patio had him instantly on his guard.