The Process of Exfiltration

August 20, 2014: Domino and Hawkeye have barely managed to escape from Taskmaster and a compliment of Cobra soldiers. Now they're on a boat miles off of the coast with limited supplies and even less time. (Language.)


Several miles off-shore.



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Mood Music:

Somewhere out Madripoor. Domino's lost track of where it is some time ago. Full throttle out into the middle of nowhere on a stolen boat, making sure to get as much distance between themselves and certain death as their craft could handle. Then the engine had been cut off and she decided it was a good time to join ol' Barton for a little coma. Too much injury and not enough (any) sleep in way too long finally took its toll.

When she comes to the sun's just starting to crest the horizon. Not enough sleep, but it had been something. With Barton still out she pulls out her phone and promptly finds that it has no signal. Grand.

Moments later she's MacGuyvered an arrangement between the high strength braided metal wire from her wrist-mounted rappel launcher, the phone body popped off with the various parts of a disassembled Arcus 9mm. She's got the whole length of cable running around the boat to act as an antenna. As luck would have works.

The only problem now is that she doesn't have anyone to call for help.

"Barton," she quietly calls out in a seriously hoarse sounding voice. Something like a gravelly whisper. "Wake the hell up."


The further from the act of being beaten the worse off Clint Barton looks. It's the first 12 to 24 hours when the real bruising starts, and only now are more of the welts showing. His breathing is shallow, thanks to the round kick to the ribs, and there is little that he'd rather do that sleep. None of that 'perchance to dream' crap either.

The one eye is swollen shut to the point that if he was Rocky Balboa, they'd have to cut it to relieve the pressure behind it. But, he's not. And the will to live is still there, even if muted. If anyone came at him with a knife, it wouldn't be a pretty end. As Domino's luck would have it, however, it's the bobbing in the water and the lack of engine vibration that brings him around. Engine and consistent passage through the water has a lulling aspect, and when it's taken away? The only eye that is capable of opening, blue circled with vivid green and purple, does so, and there simply isn't that 'light'. The spark simply isn't there. He's 'home', however.

"Where are we?" comes as a croak; the sound a touch wrong. Tonedeaf.


Oh good, that worked. Domino's ready to start prodding the SHIELD archer until he comes around if she has to. "A couple miles off of the coast," she replies. It's cryptic, but it's also all that she happens to know of their current situation.

"We don't have a big window to work with," she says with a wince, the words cutting through her tortured throat like lemon juice coated shards of glass. "You're the man with the official connections. Give me a number."

With the way her luck's going these days if she tried to use one of her contacts they'd probably swing by in a Huey just to gun them both down where they coast. At least she can count on SHIELD wanting him alive. Possibly even herself. It's a risky move but what -hasn't- been this week?


"Slow down," Barton complains. Still, he's got the jist of it. Things aren't looking too good. Okay, worse than 'not looking too good'.

"Madripoor?" Shifting in his spot only to wince and grab at his chest, he stops trying to actually take a look from his position. "We out of gas?" Clint closes the one good eye and exhales slowly, trying not to move too much.

"Everything's on my cell. HQ is on speed dial." On.. his cell. "Try… 718- um… 718… 218 .. 5515." That could be Kate's… unless she changed it? "If that doesn't work… 212.. 215… 8879." If he remembers correctly. Mind, she could be calling someone absolutely randomly in the city, given Clint's current state


"No," Dom replies with as few words as possible. Though she does give the poor guy a little more info after a few seconds. "Land's not safe. Too hot." Maybe she'll explain -that- one further. Maybe not.

Things are well and truly -bad- for them both.

"Be real helpful if we had your phone," she mutters in a gravelly tone. With the number that's given the albino turns to look down at her own partially dissected phone, knowing damn well that as soon as she puts in whatever number Clint hands her way she'll never be able to look back. She'll have to torch the phone as soon as this is all over. Literally. With gasoline.

First number's first. She taps in the numbers then opens it to speaker, carefully settling back with a pained hiss. (We're a real sight, huh.) Hopefully the person on the other end of the line will be able to hear them, she can barely speak and Barton can barely do ..well. Anything. "S-O-S-A, save our stupid asses."


Meanwhile, somewhere in New York City…

"Uh, hello?" Kate answers her phone. Normally, she might not answer a call from an unknown number, but hey, Clint's missing. When she hears the message, she sighs, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she reaches for a notepad. "You've reached Hawkeye and Hawkeye extraction services, what's your location?" Because there's no reason not to be smart about it, right?


Clint doesn't have to actually -hear- Kate to know how she's going to react. He really doesn't. "Katie," he manages. "Could use a trip home." Now, if Domino is right? "Miles off the coast of Madripoor." He's been there before, and she knows it. "Need you to call Evelyn.. I've told you about her, right?" If he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, it won't hurt. Really. It won't. Liar.


"Who the hell..?" -Katie?- Hmm. The woman on the other end of the line has done this sort of thing before, too. Blood-shot blue eyes swing back over to Dom's companion in injury, looking perhaps a little suspicious. (Really?) "Don't suppose you've got a signal tracker handy. I don't have a damn clue-." Barton's got it covered. Of a fashion. "That's not very specific, Barton." Whatever, she's just playing the operator through all of this. "Listen," she tries to raise her voice for 'Katie's' benefit. "We're corpses warmed over, surrounded by salt water and big fucking sharks, and have zip for supplies. Another few hours and you won't have to worry about making travel plans." know. Hurry. Please..?


"You're no fun, Barton," Katie replies. "I was gonna go hit up the Titans and everything. Preferably before your NYPD buddy and the Cavalry showed up, you know? Because that would be awesome. But, you know." There's a sound of papers shuffling as she looks for something. "If you look bad for you, then yeah, I'll call your friend. Tell your new girlfriend-" That'd be Domino. "-she can take it easy on her blood pressure, we'll be there as soon as we can. Last chance to tell me if there's anything else you need before I hang up and call."


Beyond his intro, Clint can't hear a damned thing Kate just said. The one 'good' eye looks in Domino's direction, trying to get a feel for the conversation. Corpses… big fucking sharks… supplies.

It's a testament as to how well he knows his protege that he's able to give something that vaguely answers her question. Maybe. "A spot at St. Michael's." It's where he 'usually' goes when he's off the clock and hurt badly. "Just… when you can, okay? And, if you can't, you get the cookie jar."


-Girlfriend?- Eugh, she's just going to sigh to that one. It's not worth the effort for words. Though for their last chance if there's anything they need? That's an easy one. "Two handguns, ten pounds of medical equipment, and a goddamn drink," Domino swiftly cuts in. "I'm gonna look for a flare gun on this tub, we're on the clock for battery life. No pressure kiddo, but you've got one shot at this."

Fortunately, luck is on their side.

"Gilligan, out." They're still looking for their island.

Moving stiffly and with obvious effort Dom starts to crawl around on the boat. These things usually have some manner of basic survival gear. Small first-aid kit, aformentioned flare gun. Simple stuff, but stuff which could make all the difference for the two this morning.

"I went through a lot of trouble getting your sorry ass out of there, Barton. Keep it together." That means no dying!


Kate eyes the phone, snorting. "Like I'm bringing you a gun," she mutters at the dead line before punching in the next number: Evelyn's. She's got her own cookie jar, and as the phone rings, she's working on packing up what she'll need for a rescue mission.


The line picks up, and there's some shuffling on the line as the person digs their cellphone out of its nest of cords. "Hello?" Comes a female voice. "This is Evelyn." Kate? Not a number she's really familiar with, but SHIELD agents call her phone all the time. People just have her number.


"Hi, Evelyn," Kate replies. "So, this probably sounds crazy, but I've got a friend who needs to be dug out of the water near Madripoor, and he said I should call you. Which is crazy, because I can totally handle that myself," she adds. "But if he's telling me I should call you, then I'm guessing he's got a reason for it."


When Domino cuts the connection, Barton looks as if he's going to close his eye, but doesn't. It's heavy, yes, and all he wants to do is sleep. But, with what he 'overheard', as it were, things don't look good. Big surprise. And if there's any chance?

Gritting his teeth, thankfully he didn't lose any in the brief but memorable meeting with Nika, Barton struggles to sit up, good hand wrapping around his chest in an attempt to try and keep pressure off the ribs? Ha. Fat chance.

He looks right at Domino as she starts to take inventory of what she's got, what they've got, and he asks, "Any water at all?"


With the last comment coming over the small speaker Domino pauses, glancing back to the gutted handheld. "I'm guessing she already knows I was involved with this." No matter, she's still got -one- assembled and loaded gun left. It's just..over..there… By Barton. (How quickly we forget.)

She's gonna play this one cool. Just searching the boat, honest. Don't mind her.

To the question about water she stops in her search long enough to hold her arms out to either side, motioning to the giant freaking ocean surrounding them both. Yeah, she knows better. She's still in a foul mood. "I don't think our soldier boys planned on an extended cruise." Here, under one of the seats. Bingo, small survival pack. And … -What?- Opening a small hatch in the deck she just sits there and stares for a moment before pulling out a whole pack of bottled water. "I don't believe it. This is ridiculous even for me."

Bringing the kit and two bottles over she lightly tosses a drink over to Barton, at his side rather than at him directly. Though, now that she's closed the gap between the two she'll then just reach out all nonchalant-like and try to reclaim the lost revolver. He never even put a round through it before, did he? So much the better for her.


"Wait, what?" Evelyn pauses, seemingly dumbfounded for a second. "You mean Clint? I've been looking for him for hours." Her tone actually shifts from surprised back to concern. "Hold on, I'll get back to Co-Director Hill and see if I can requisition a long-range quinjet. Where can I meet you? Did he say anything about having anyone with him or where he is?"


"He's got a woman with him who asked us to bring guns, so, yeah, probably not bringing guns that won't be aimed at her," Kate answers with a snort. "They're both injured, so we'll need some medical equipment. I'm mobile, I can meet up wherever you need me," she adds, the sound of something clicking into place in the background as she buckles on a few harnesses.


Barton watches as Domino opens her arms, gesturing to that which is all around her. For a moment, he lies there motionless before two hands come together and form an ASL 'sign', and a rather rude one at that. Always learn the 'good ones' first in any language!

No water, great. Survival for him is now down to about a day. Two, tops. But with blood loss, internal injuries… give him a day. He doesn't even think to watch Domino's progress around the boat; he's all but forgotten about the wheel-gun that she'd given him to aid their escape. .357 is a nice piece and normally not so easily forgotten.

Add the fact that the albino merc actually -found- water? The toss causes him to shift suddenly, and pain flickers across his face as he reaches for the bottle. "If she got through, they'll be 6 hours out. Tops." Which should give Domino an idea of exactly how -fast- they can scramble and cruise. It's slightly longer for commercial aircraft from New York.


(Yoink.) Six rounds won't be enough to stop those Cobra fools if they manage to find the two in the boat first but at least she won't have to worry about starving or dehydrating now. Dom likes having control of her own situation, thank you. Roughly sitting down once more she twists the cap off of her own bottle and takes a long drink while popping the cylinder out to the side, counting the unfired rounds. It's definitely something. Out around Madripoor? She never wants to be empty handed.

With that done she focuses on something else altogether, popping the medical kit open to sort through its belongings. -Then- she's going to give Clint a hand. Really. Honestly. She's going to look over his wounds. She's not precisely a medic but she's patched herself up enough times to know her way around the kit.

It might suck for poor Barton along the way but that's not her problem, is it?


"Baxter building. Get to the roof in an hour." Evelyn says firmly, "Bring guns? I wonder who that could be." Her tone dips right down into sarcasm. Evelyn can do sarcasm? Only when she's scared to death. There's a pause on the line as she runs through situations in her head. "If there's any more information, call me right away." Then the line closes. Not even a goodbye! How rude! Well, she seemed to be in a rush. These intense women are always so intense. Evelyn dials the next person on her list, "Yeah. This is Evelyn Wolstenholm. Agent code 91107101. Get me Co-Dir Hill, thanks!" Time to start negotiate for a rescue party. She's already on the way to the hangar.


Eventually, Hill responds. "Be home by eleven. You have school tomorrow."


"I'll be there." Kate tucks her phone away, allowing herself a grin as she reaches for her quiver. Sure, it's awful, and Clint's probably beat to hell, and it's about to be dangerous and difficult, but…Rescue mission! It doesn't take her an hour to get to the Baxter Building, and in short order she's geared up and waiting at the edge for pick up.

This hero gig is awesome.


The water is given up on. Right shoulder is useless and there's no leverage to be had. Worse than a futzing baby. When Domino looks at him, he really does look like crap warmed over. (Not even fresh crap.) Bullet in the right shoulder, in the left leg. One from Madripoor, the other from Deadpool. Cuts, bruises, broken ribs and who even knows if he's ruptured that elusive creature known as a spleen. It does feel like the ribs are poking his lungs, however. Shallow breathing. He's not looking all that great; the concentration of abuse was about the head, so there are bruises as well as the knife cut just under his left eye when Nika wanted to take off his nose. Some of this is beyond 'basic'.

"Are you any good?" Sewing, that is…


"Really, Barton?" Dom asks with an irritated sigh. Here, she'll even uncap the other bottle for him. Yeah, he's taken it -really hard- lately but..she's still ticked! This week has been made of suck, and it ain't over yet.

Part of that now is frustration because there's only so much she can do to keep things from deteriorating any further. "Hey, um. Not gonna lie to you, here. You look bad." Giving the guy a proper examination takes some of the snark right out of her tone.

"Looks like you're in luck," she offers while taking an alcohol-soaked patch to clean all of the gore, Russian or her own, off of her hands. (Ow ow stings ow..!) "Ever try to stitch up the back of your own leg? It's a talent, though not a fun one to practice. Keep drinking, pass out if you need to. Pain killers are at a premium out here."

(Time to get to work, Doctor.)


It doesn't take much convincing to get the quinjet. Top agent? Retrieve Domino (finally), rescue Hawkeye? Evelyn's next call is down to the hangar to prep a quinjet with the extra fuel it's going to need. There's just one problem, no one's ever seen Evelyn fly a quinjet before. Does she even know how? Her agent's ID certainly doesn't have 'pilot' on it, and sure, she could scramble a pilot to go with them on the mission, but that'd take more time. That's an issue.

Or is it? By the time Evelyn's down in the hangar, she only has to wait a short while before some aux tanks are strapped onto a quinjet's frame and filled. Water is drained out of the water tank, and medical supplies are loaded on. It's kind of like clockwork, and no doubt a result of DepDir Hill's pre-prep orders combined with hers. On a good day, SHIELD operates like a well-oiled machine. There's still the problem of a pilot, but Evelyn just walks up the loading ramp of the quinjet, already in jumpsuit, and hops in the pilot seat.

Various hoses and lines are disconnected from the aircraft as pre-flight prep and filling finishes. The mechanics in the hangar are always great folks, and they're just generally quick. Any extra weight has been cut out to give the bird as much range and speed as possible. That includes stripping out the ammunition and whatever weapons could be detached in that time.

Sitting back in the seat, Evelyn straps in her seatbelt, flicking a couple illuminated switches to raise the boarding ramp on back. The hydraulics lift the metal and seal it. She's the only one on this craft now. Flicking a couple switches, she activates the communications box, flicks on the running lights, flips on two fuel pumps, pulls out a slide to adjust the throttle, then pushes in two buttons and holds them in while the engines spin up. Two gasoline engines roar to life and begin spinning the rotors to the quinjets back jets, and as the rotors start to spin, a pilot light ignites the pressurized fuel mixture. A blue and yellow flame bursts out the back shortly, and is then modulated. She could do a VTOL take off, but this is easy enough. These quinjets are easy to fly.

Picking up the communicator, Evelyn presses in the button, "Wolstenholm for takeoff." and the crackle of the speakers informs her the runway is clear. She taxis on over there, brakes, turns a bit, then pulls all throttles back. The amount of runway needed for the quinjet is minimal, and it's up in the air in no time. Forty five minutes pass by the time Evelyn's finally at the Baxter tower. She's fifteen minutes early. Throttling back the jets, she opens up the wing vtols and spins them up and tilts the nose back to come in for a quick landing on top of the building. Everything she does is quick and efficient. Just as she lands, likely not far from Hawkeye II, the backdoor begins opening.

Player #2 has joined the game.


Kate only waits for the gate to lower enough for her to jump right in before she's jogging up to the cockpit to slide into a seat. "Nice ride," she grins to Evelyn as she buckles herself in, hooking her quiver onto the side of the seat. She's quite a sight, in her own purple and black uniform, with a pair of purple-tinted shades. Superhero-chic. And it's still going to be a long ride, so no sense in being boring. "So you're Evelyn, huh?"


"If you've got something better than water, pass it over now." …look bad. "That's okay," and Barton begins to settle back down in his earlier position, now with water in hand, "…maybe I'll get a weekend off now." Though, if it were anyone else, they might not have survived the experience. Stubbornness and training. While it doesn't beat out mutations, this is a pretty good example of why he believes that he's not necessarily over his head in his chosen field. The best at what it is I do. (Granted, everything else suffers, but!)

The good eye begins to close and his tones sound heavy as he's tries to resist the last pull of sleep and/or unconsciousness. "Kate's the best. You couldn't get a shot on her, even if you tried." So don't.


There's a soft snort in response, it's entirely possible that it's only seen in Dom's expression and not heard by Clint. "What makes you think I want to gun down our ticket out of here? I'm reckless, not stupid."

With the limited supplies, and her own limits on precision and mobility, there's only so much that she can do for the guy. "You're gonna have to live with the lead for a while. Best I can do is try to keep the red kroovy from escaping any more than it already has." Darned pesky stuff… "Who's Kate, anyway?"


Just as soon as Kate is buckled in, she reverses the boarding ramp. She lowers her earmuff headphones and looks over. She's very serious looking right now, but then, she's worried about Barton. They were supposed to go running. /Running/. Not halfway around the world to rescue his corpse. "Hi." She waves a little bit, some meekness in her voice. "Yeah.. I'm Hawkeye's sorta-partner. Hold on." She means it. She pulls back a throttle lever and just -one- propeller thrusts to full, launching the quinjet right over the side of the building in an arc, and bring them upside down as Eve pulls back on other controls. Falling, spiraling, jets! The jet picks up speed ridiculously fast with just a few rolls and is leveling out and arcing back upwards into the sky just as fast as she took off. She can't really feel Gs, perk of being an android. Somehow, she also doesn't crash into any of the other skyscrapers nearby.

Looking over, she grins sheepishly, "Sorry, this thing's /heavy/, that was a little too much." Oops? That wasn't even on purpose, this is going to be a fun flight. Now stabilised, she punches a few words into the navigation unit to get them on the way to Madripoor, and they're on the way at full throttle. She's keeping it just on the edge of the 'overspeed' warning. "Did you get any precise coordinates?" The jet is still gaining altitude, too.


Kate is…Well, there's a reason she and Clint get along so well. When Evelyn flips the jet, Kate promptly whoops like she's on a roller coaster, grinning broadly and bracing herself against the back of the seat. By the time they level out, she's laughing to herself, shaking her head at Evelyn's apology. "All good. Not exact coordinates, though," she continues, sobering as she pulls up a map on her own phone. "Madripoor. A couple miles off the coast. You got tracking software in here?" she asks, offering over the phone. "They managed to get a call out to my cell. Sounded like what they had was patched together pretty rough, so I'm not sure how long it'll last, but it'll give us a starting point, at least. They were going to rummage for a flare gun, too."


If Domino's started working on him, he simply can't feel it. Everything hurts and is numb, all at the same time. Before rolling his head back, he catches Domino's question as to 'who's Kate'. Not an easy question to answer, truthfully.

The bottle is lifted and he tries to drink some, but succeeds more in getting himself wet than actually drinking, thanks to his position. Still, he doesn't seem to care. "She's… Kate. Hawkeye. Great… kid." The last word has a hesitation before it's spoken. "Proud of her." Probably doesn't say 'who' she is, but then again, he's not really willing to go much farther than that.

Finally… that one eye closes and the hand that holds the bottle relaxes its hold. Probably for the best.


(Eugh, this is kinda..a little..eww. How the hell is he still conscious?) "You mean there's -two- of you?" Dom asks, not all that sure of what to make of this knowledge. "Does that even work with codenames? Hawkeye Two: Hawk Harder. That's just..people really don't have any imagination anymore, do they."


(So much for still being conscious.)

"I'm gonna get you home, Barton," the albino quietly rasps.


"Uh. I don't know. There might be a manual or something. There's this navigation unit, I can't really mess with it and fly at the same time. Why don't you go for it?" Evelyn says, hesitantly. This girl's weird, she actually liked that flip? Whatever! Not a big deal. It's quite a few hours until the quinjet gets to the approximate location provided by Kate, Domino, and Hawkeye. At just a few thousand feet elevation, Eve turns the jets on low, activates the propellers and spotlight, and slowly hovers over the water, skimming the sea for the little boat.

"Okay, we've got a couple hours to find them before we need to turn back. Otherwise /we/ won't make it back. Keep a look out for their boat or a flare." The cool glow of the cockpit is serene in contrast with the night sky. Carefully, Evelyn dims the controls just a bit more to make any light source at all easier to identify.


Kate is all too happy to start fiddling with things. She even controls the urge to play with the targeting systems. For a while. She might just take a look at them once they're a few hours in. Eventually, though, she manages to get a faint ping off the last location, setting it as a default and leaning back in her chair. And when there's nothing left to do but wait? Well, that's what the music on her phone is for. She listens, head bobbing along, as she inventories her arrows.

Once they're in position to start looking, she wraps up the headphones and leans forward in her seat, scanning the waters below them. "All right, Clint," she murmurs. "Wakey wakey."


So. How many low flying jets can Domino realistically expect to find all the way out here? It's too hard to tell if the bird wears the mark of Cobra but they don't know the two are out here, do they? She didn't find anything that looked like a locator on the boat. They -should- be safe.

It's a little past dawn, the start of a new day leaving the water a cool blue as the sun starts climbing its way overhead. One more piece of automotive plastic gets tugged out of the albino's hand before she scrambles for the flare launcher, hammer back and barrel high. (We're sorry, the archer you are trying to reach is currently catatonic. Please leave a message after the flare.)



Evelyn's probably second to Kate in spotting the flare. As soon as it's pointed out, she maneuvers the jet to just above Domino. Altitude warning. 300 feet. 200 feet. 100 feet. 50 feet. Small waves crest from the air being pushed out by the quinjet's propellers as it VTOLs over. Once in position, Evelyn flicks a couple switches and unbuckles herself. The quinjet doesn't move even without anyone at the controls. Technology is great. The hydraulics hiss as the rear dock opens to the jet and from out of it, a rope ladder unfurls, touching down in the water right next to Domino and Hawkeye's boat. Evelyn looks over the edge down at Domino. She'd shout something, but the engines would just drown it out.


The bracing air from the engines pushing down against the water generates the salt-water spray that serves as a help to nudge the archer from his sleep. It's getting harder and harder to stay awake, however, and after opening the one eye, it begins its descent, threatening sleep once again. He knows that 'they' are here to rescue him, to rescue them… but he simply doesn't have the energy or the ability to push it.


"There!" Kate calls out for Evelyn when the flare goes up, unbuckling from her seat and clipping on her quiver. She's already waiting at the hatch when the other woman comes over, quirking a brow and leaning back to get a look at the cockpit. "They really do have the coolest toys," she sighs, heading for the rope.

From the boat, it's clear enough. Hawkeye, Clint said. Yep, something like that, at least. There's the purple, the outfit, the bow. There's a little bit of several something elses, too, with a pair of batons and a sword to go with the bow.


A rope ladder, are they -kidding?- Domino stares up at Evelyn (hey, she made it) then points toward Clint's prone form with the (empty) flare gun, then looks back to Ev with her arms outstretched in a silent cry of 'Really??'

The bright orange launcher is flicked aside into the boat as she turns her attention back to the wounded man. There's really no easy way to do this, is there… If a rope ladder is what they have to work with then she's going to have to make do. Somehow.

Nuts to that, Evelyn's a flippin' -robot.- Dom's going to climb the ladder first then tell Missus Mechanix to go fetch the guy. If they really don't have a winch on this thing…

Climbing a rope ladder against the wash of a Quin's engines while getting showered in a saltwater mist. -OUCH.- As far as first impressions go with Hawkeye the Second, this one may not turn out so well. Being the first up the ladder is kind of like using the guy for a rescue then leaving him behind. Trying to hear the albino's mostly destroyed voice over the engines won't be terribly easy, either. Good times!

"I can't carry him up!"


Evelyn sighs when Domino reaches the quinjet. She gives her the death glare. "You could've put his leg through the ladder and we could've lifted — ugh, nevermind, I'll do it." She also doesn't really know the extent of Domino's injuries. It's possible she couldn't have. Putting a foot on the edge of the bay loader, she starts to descend the rope ladder. Gulp. All this water. She's not really play-friendly with water. More of a float for five seconds and then sink really fast kind of relationship.

When she reaches the bottom of the ladder, the quinjet's already moved the boat a little bit by the blow by. A little bit further than she can jump, and it's a touch close now. Extending her leg and nearly slipping, she makes to use the tip of her foot to pull the boat back in. Eeergh! She does make it, and then she's on the boat with Barton, one hand never leaving that ladder. It's her lifeline. "Come on, Clint." She says, kneeling down to put an arm around him and help him up to the ladder. She may be a robot, but she's not about to fireman carry Barton up this flimsy ladder. "You're gonna have to work with me, can you do that?" She'll help him as much as she can, but.. Hard.


It's a fight to the surface, it really is. To open an eye, Clint catches sight of Domino climbing the ladder, and there's a quick flood of adrenalin in his system; maybe he can do it too. So close… and there out at the hatch, he can make out the familiar form of Kate… and yet so far.

Anything beyond his sitting up just a little more causes his entire body to scream at him before forcing him to take a deep breath, which simply has a cascading effect. It feels like knives are thrust into his chest when he takes anything but a shallow breath, which makes his muscles ache, which…

Clint doesn't have to shout above the din of the engines. Two hands can say it all to the one up top, What took you so long?

Evelyn's lowering herself on the ladder catches Barton's attention, and the moment she's down and next to him, he shakes his head. "I…" Can't? Won't? "You don't have a harness in there?" Great. Just… and when she helps him up, it's all he can do not to scream out in pain. It's etched on his face, and if he is vaguely unstable on land, on boat on water made choppy by Quinjet is even worse. Out there, on the bow of the small seacraft, Barton loses his footing and stumbles, the sound of his falling making a quieter *splash* than he would have thought. While he -can- swim under better circumstances, maybe this is just the universe telling him 'Okay. We're done here.'?


Kate only needs one finger to reply to Clint's gestured question, though it's a little awkward while she has an arrow nocked to keep an eye on Domino as the mercenary makes it up onto the jet. "He has the worst taste in dates." Keeping Domino in her sights, she glances toward the boat just in time to see Hawkeye the first hit the water. "Dammit," she mutters, speaking into a comm. "Evelyn, you got him or do you need to hold this thing steady while I go fetch?" Because she could try, but she's so not signed off on quinjets.


"I'm not his -date,- I'm his first rescue attempt," the albino hoarsely replies with a bloodied glare shot Kate's way. "You're welcome."

They've got this, right? Barton's SHIELD, Droidalyn's SHIELD, it's a SHIELD jet anchoring a SHIELD-issue ladder… Yeah, they've got this.

Dom's got just enough time to roll out flat across the cargo deck when she hears a somewhat muted splash down below. "Oh, you can -not- be serious…"

That's it..! If there's a damn winch anywhere on this bird she is going to find it. "I've come -too damn far- with that guy to be done in by a -Ladder.- Not happening!" Back to Kate, just briefly, she says "Look, Hawkette. Do I look like I'm gonna put up a fight? Back off, we've got a man overboard."

Once Clint's secured Kate could probably take the merc out with a well-timed push to the sternum. There's pale skin, then there's what she's currently rocking due to shock, fatigue, and blood loss.


When Barton dumps it and she gets the question, she's already ditching her pistol in the water and any extra weight. She's not going to..? Picking up her com off her chest, she taps the button down and responds, "Yes. Help!" Then she ditches that in the water as well before she swans dives right into the cold water. Immediately, her left leg already feels like stone dead weight as water begins to fill in the cracks of her injury. The clock is ticking. Other issues include water immediately entering her nose, having no way to actually stop that from happening, it begins flooding her cooling systems and respiratory systems. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Swimming down, she takes Barton by the collar of his shirt and just forcefully yanks him up as she swims for the surface as hard as she can. She actually grits her teeth and small air-bubbles escape from her nose and her gritted teeth. For a moment, she's not going to be able to grip the rope which is just a little below the surface, but she manages to grab the bottom rung just as her body begins losing its buoyancy ratio. Oh god. All the salt water in her body. With one more final push, she breaks the surface, managing to feed at least half of Clint's body through the ladder, and hooking his arm around the rope ladder several times. Evelyn on the other hand is holding onto the ladder, but looking like she's having trouble keeping surfaced. But she manages to pull her self up onto the ladder high enough to get waist deep and out. She's gasping in short breaths as water just /pours/ from her leg.


Cold water. Cold, cold, cold water. It's something to really wake a person up and cause every muscle in their body to contract all at once. Still, it's like putting him in an ice bath. It sure as hell wakes him up, and the thrashing begins. Head is under, and he's trying his damndest to make it to the surface, now that 'survival' has kicked in. Easy to give up while in the boat, but here and now… and his 'good' arm breaks the surface of the water before the rest of him does, thanks to Evelyn's help.

Hanging on the ladder, he's wrapped reasonably securely there. That gives him the chance and opportunity to do the same for his rescuer, and he grabs her with his 'good' arm, the left, and hold on with what could very well be a death grip. Salt water got into Evelyn's electronics, but also into Barton's wounds, causing every scratch, every bump, every hole to start burning anew. Yelling up, "Bring us up!" Just.. please. Bring us up.


"You're right," Kate says to Domino, lowering her bow with what looks like it might be an apologetic expression. "What am I thinking? Rescue. Sorry about-" No, it's too much to actually finish the fake apology. Instead, she deals with the mercenary of uncertain loyalties in the easiest way possible - foot to face.

And then she can work on the whole bringing up the ladder thing. "Hawkette," she snorts.



That tired, ornery, barely alive blue glare suddenly goes unfocused as the ghostly woman recoils from the unexpected foot to her face, stumbling a partial step backward then holding. Wavering. Falling backward as her body finally catches up to the fact that her conscious mind is currently taking a much needed vacation from reality.

If the back of her head should just happen to connect with the controls to start lifting the ladder back into the Quinjet's interior, well..that would just be some sort of fortunate, wouldn't it?


The ladder lurches as it begins to ascend. Evelyn holds onto Clint, is he saving her or is she saving him? Once they reach the apex of the quinjet, Evelyn pulls Barton up, leans over the edge, and then vomits so much sea water in the most horrible gutteral hacking and coughing sounds one could even imagine. After a bit, she starts shivering and sort of numbly gets up to her feet. "Help them, we have medical supplies." Evelyn doesn't even spare Domino a glance before returning to the controls. Time to go home.


The moment Clint is up in the jet, he's just sprawled in the cargo area. He's not going anywhere, and the metal of the aircraft floor is looking comfortable enough to lay his cheek. Going home.. runs through his head before a slight scowl can be discerned, my place looks worse than usual… but it's home. The single good eye opens briefly, and he makes a weak attempt to cough. Domino is out cold probably for the best, so the last thing he sees, he focusses on, before passing out is the girl in purple.


Kate quirks a brow when Evelyn disgorges so very much water. That was…unexpected. But then, no one else is flying them home, so beggars can't exactly be choosers. "On it," she salutes the other woman, lugging the medical kit off the wall and bringing it over to Clint first. "Got your back, big guy," she says with a small smile, brushing a hand over his head before he can pass all the way out. Which is probably for the best, because Kate is sort of not the most deft hand with first aid.

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