"Rumlow, care to tell me what you're really up to?"
Hawkeye and Rumlow sat across from each other on a stone bed, eyes locked.
Hawkeye had already scoped out the room.
The rough-hewn stone, barely smoothed, was stacked haphazardly to form this crude shelter.
It kept out the wind, but the biting cold was hardly bearable for most.
As for the half-built structures on the other side of the mountain, they showed little wear, as if construction had stopped abruptly, the workers vanishing overnight.
Then there was the Elders' Temple—its rugged style belied a refined craftsmanship, carrying the weight of history, like the world's great wonders.
This place held more secrets than Hawkeye had anticipated. His explorations had been halted more than once by those spectral guardians.
They'd told him this wasn't a place for outsiders to tread, and out of caution, he hadn't tried sneaking in.
Against these elusive spirits, he doubted his stealth could fool a ghost.
"I thought the Director already filled you in."
Rumlow smirked, wiping down his axe.
The earlier battle had left him healed by the potion, but the hand-axe was showing signs of strain.
"You're here to find the guy who attacked me, right?"
Rumlow's tone was sharp. As head of the STRIKE team, his status was on par with Hawkeye's.
Beyond their chain of command for this mission, they had no real ties.
Rumlow saw no need to play nice.
"I want to find him too. Even back then, when I wasn't as strong as I am now, you couldn't have taken me down without me reacting."
Rumlow didn't wait for Hawkeye to respond, pressing on.
"That guy who got smashed to bits? I didn't know him well, but he didn't stand a chance against either of us."
Rumlow's voice settled into a calm, matter-of-fact cadence, as if stating an undeniable truth.
Hawkeye shifted uncomfortably at his words.
Right now, his nominal authority was all he had. He'd gained nothing tangible, and his vaunted combat skills seemed lackluster next to Rumlow's.
Nick Fury's assignment, and everything he'd endured on this mountain, offered no glimpse of hope.
"At least give me something to work with, so I can help you—and get my own job done."
Hawkeye pulled an energy drink from his pack, sipping it. In the cold, it stung his throat.
"Hmph, you…"
Rumlow's voice cut off, his expression turning somber, catching Hawkeye's attention.
That look screamed distrust, which puzzled Hawkeye.
Both were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents—why the need for such wariness?
Seeing no answers forthcoming, Hawkeye fell silent.
The stone hut they occupied was nothing special, more like a temporary shelter for workers than a proper residence.
S.H.I.E.L.D. still knew little about this mountain.
Rumlow was testing the waters, trying to see if he could nudge Hawkeye toward uncovering S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal rot.
Hawkeye wasn't a mastermind, but he wasn't brainless either.
He'd make his own judgments, and that was enough.
If Rumlow could plant doubts about Nick Fury or Alexander Pierce, S.H.I.E.L.D. would descend into further chaos.
Dugan's plan was to provoke S.H.I.E.L.D. into crossing an enemy, exposing Hydra bit by bit in the process.
The barbarians could certainly pull it off, but Rumlow knew if Bul-Kathos stormed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s gates, there'd be no need to distinguish Hydra from S.H.I.E.L.D.
Bul-Kathos alone could tear the organization apart, reshuffling it entirely. But what kind of redemption would that be for Rumlow?
He needed a spark. Vibranium was a start—it could rile up the greedy, drawing the barbarians' wrath.
But if the vibranium turned out to be a fluke, those same greedy types would likely back down, pride be damned.
Dugan wanted a large-scale operation. Inevitably, there'd be casualties, and with Hydra's dominance, the loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would likely bear the brunt.
Following those leads would yield something.
Rumlow liked the idea but didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to fully enrage the barbarians.
This was his redemption, not theirs.
The barbarians would aid their kin, but that wasn't what Rumlow sought.
As for the Mist Crystal, it was an even better lure.
Rumlow had discovered its unique properties—even lesser Adamantium couldn't scratch it, meaning only barbarians like Andariel, Rasuk, or Bul-Kathos could work it.
Toss out vibranium, then reveal the crystal.
That would tie the barbarians to this world's interests, rooting them here.
As for S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, Rumlow would handle them himself.
He wasn't strong enough yet to change everything.
But that day would come.
Feeling his body grow stronger, Rumlow was certain of it.
He wanted to do something for the barbarians, but first, he had to complete his redemption.
Shame and guilt wouldn't vanish, but making amends for his wrongs—wasn't that worth doing?
Nearby, Mokot and Madoc watched the stone hut. Today, the other ancestors had kicked them off the truck.
Mokot kept standing on the hood, blocking Volusk's view.
Madoc, meanwhile, always tried to wrestle control of the pickup, earning everyone's ire.
So today, they were grounded.
"I paid Bul-Kathos a price for a day of freedom, and they still won't let me drive!"
Madoc grumbled loudly.
"Volusk!"
Mokot, for once, spoke fluidly, his tone thick with anger.
If he could beat Volusk, he'd have smashed Oathbreaker over his head by now.
"But the power of the Oath of Shame is damn weird. I don't get why Talic loves that weapon so much!"
"Xia!"
Mokot answered Madoc with a war cry.
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