"Athena, report!"
{"A Quinjet bearing headquarters credentials is on a transport assignment,"} Athena replied, calm but rapid. {"However, it is not landing in the designated zone. It is veering toward the rear flight deck."}
Cold sweat ran down James's spine.
He had been careless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James was very annoyed. Now he knew it—he had been too careless.
How could he have forgotten about Hydra?
His fist slammed onto the counter producing a sharp crack. The impact made the scepter on the glass table jump violently, producing a noise across the room. Everyone turned toward him.
James exhaled through his nose, frustration boiling over. "I actually forgot about Hydra. Someone was always going to help Loki when he got captured. Athena could've intercepted a normal infiltration… but Hydra intervened. They gave Loki's team a Quinjet straight from headquarters."
The realization hit Nick Fury instantly. The Director's eye widened, then he spun on his heel and sprinted out of the lab. Command needed him now.
Natasha understood the danger clearly, but she wasn't a battlefield commander. She hesitated, unsure what orders to give.
James didn't hesitate.
He raised his voice, sharp and crisp for everyone to hear and listen.
"Tony, suit up! Captain, get to the rear deck and prevent their boarding. Romanoff, you're with him—focus on recovering Hawkeye. Thor, you stay with Dr. Banner. Bruce—control it. Loki wants to push you over the edge, so stay in control and don't let him win."
He gave all of it in one breath, then broke into a run.
FLIGHT DECK – MOMENTS LATER
James sprinted down the corridor, calling out:
"Athena, open weapons cache—full deployment. And Cortana—time to suit up!"
Drawers opened along the walls as he ran past. He'd prepared for the Battle of New York long before anyone else believed it possible.
The Umbra Sentinel Mark II and the Nexus Arms modules came out of the storage space, each component locking into place as he walked toward rows and rows of weapons rack for when subtlety failed, a full set of firearms will be used.
He snatched up several loaded Knight's Armament SR-25 magazines and the rifle he carefully selected to be used against someone like Hawkeye — a sleek, battle-born marksman's weapon built for speed and precision.
In one fluid motion, he slammed in a fresh 20-round mag, racked the charging handle back with a sharp metallic snap, and brought the rifle up as if it were weightless. The chamber locked, ready to fire.
His steps drummed like thunder as the thrusters powered up, air curling around him from the sudden sheer force of his acceleration.
He burst through the hatch—The sky roared from the wind.
Hawkeye stood in the open Quinjet ramp, speaking quickly to someone inside.
Clint had heard the warning. He didn't know much about Athena's hidden protocols, but he knew she wasn't a system you could deceive. That created hesitation—but under Loki's control, he pushed forward. The mission mattered more than his life.
Athena's cannons had already locked on, forming a lethal grid around the Quinjet. One wrong move and the fighter would turn into molten scrap.
Hawkeye adapted instantly—super-agent instincts taking over.
He opened a channel. "This is Hawkeye. We have an emergency and need to land."
Athena didn't care. But Maria Hill did.
Emotions—could be a weakness or strength, depending on the moment.
Hill hesitated.
Nick Fury burst into the command center right then.
"Athena—don't fire. Maintain deterrence only!"
It wasn't a cold order. Fury was never heartless. He'd just made the one decision Hawkeye needed.
A window.
James landed on the flight deck, raised the sniper rifle the instant he saw Clint moving.
Heart pounding and time stretching longer.
Hawkeye moved, bowstring pulled tight. Adjusting his aim, feeling the airflow, and trusting his mastery with the bow and his instinct.
He let loose the arrow.
"Cortana, compute."
Two words—and the world snapped into clarity.
[Trajectory locked]
A mark appeared on his sight on where he needs to aim, James fired. BANG.
Muzzle flame blossomed slowly in his perception. The bullet carved through the air towards its target.
It met the arrow mid-flight.
BOOM—The arrowhead detonated.
The blast punched through the airflow near Engine 3, sending spirals of turbulence across the deck. The Helicarrier lurched violently, alarms blaring.
But James was ready to not let a single arrow hit true.
Hawkeye fired again—faster this time, desperate.
James fired too.
DING—The bullet ricocheted off the Quinjet's hull inches from Clint's hand, disrupting his concentration and forcing him backward.
Clint cursed under his breath. "Land! Land now!"
He abandoned the engine attack immediately. He knew James Gibson's aim. There would be no second chances. If he wanted Loki's plan to advance, he had to get inside and cause chaos.
The Quinjet dipped toward the deck.
Before it fully touched down, Hawkeye leapt—boot slamming onto the metal deck—and kicked the ventilation grate open.
He dove into the vent.
Two Hydra agents behind him prepared to follow—
James fired a third shot.
The bullet struck the first intruder mid-jump, right through the eyes. The man flew backward, slamming onto the deck with a sickening thud.
The remaining intruders opened fire.
James jumped left, using his palm thrusters for an instant side sprint, letting rounds spark across the deck beside him. Using that motion as cover, the remaining attackers jumped into the vent behind Clint.
James hissed under his breath. "Hmph. Athena, track their route and set interception points."
He stored the sniper rifle and turned back inside the carrier.
Inside the helicarrier moments later.
Tony Stark, fully armored, met James in the corridor.
"James! What's the situation?"
"They tried to blow Engine 3. I stopped them. Check for structural damage and fix it fast."
"On it." Tony blasted down the hall.
James changed weapons—drawing his beloved two pistols the Beretta 92F and M1911 —and moved deeper into the carrier.
Athena's voice guided him.
{Messiah, hostile units detected. Routing interception route. Combat teams deployed ahead.}
He reached the firefight quickly.
"Sir," the team leader said, pinned behind cover, "The traitors are surrounded but no sign of Hawkeye, but resistance is heavy. The corridors are tight—we can't charge in without casualties."
"Then step aside."
James moved forward, grabbing a small reflector panel. He angled it around the corner—just enough to map their positions.
"Cortana?"
[Mapping complete.]
"Good."
He stepped into place, loosened his shoulders, and let his breathing fall into that assassin's rhythm.
He slipped around the corner and raised both pistols in one smooth motion. His training of Gun Kata took over. Time stretched thin; the world slowed. Bullets hissed toward him, but James moved through the gaps, weaving between bullets or snapping a shot that intercepted an incoming round mid-air he couldn't dodge that would leave a scratch in his suit.
Some of his bullets curved, bending like steel boomerangs as his enhanced control redirected their path. They arced cleanly around concrete pillars and shredded the men hiding behind cover.
[Enemy positions locked. Trajectories optimal. No wasted rounds.]
Not a single shot hit a wall. Not one miss. Every trigger pull found its target.
The agents behind him stared in disbelief.
All enemies neutralized, no friendly fire, and not a single bullet left a scratch on him.