Clint hadn't really spoken to Bex yet about what had happened the last few days. After being told by some random low-level agent that she was with Phil's - Christ, his body - he had known it wouldn't be in his best interest to confront her. However, when she had boarded the plane he would be piloting to Manhattan, she'd turned to him and given him a tight hug, whispering "I'm so glad you're okay. Love you."

It was only the second time she had used the 'l-word' since he had met her. Applying it herself, at least. After the first two years with SHIELD she had continued to act hostile towards Natasha when they interacted, which he suspected was due in part to Natasha's role in the Red Room. There had been one day seemingly out of nowhere when she'd joined him in the shooting range and apropos of nothing said, "So you love Natasha."

Clint had missed the target altogether for the first time since he was twelve. Knowing that Bex wasn't the kind to overshare or even feel comfortable with emotional discussions, he had simply grabbed more arrows and began shooting once more.

"She's beautiful. But that wouldn't be your reason. She's deadly, but she protects you and Phil and would take a bullet for you two. And I think she feels the same. So. You know. I think you've chosen well."

Clint could have launched into a speech about love not being a choice, but obviously he hadn't.

Now, though. Shit. He knew her well enough to know that her current silence wasn't her usual brand of quiet. She was devastated, and though Clint had not - would not - let himself grieve until this was over, he knew they would have to deal with it together. Likely with alcohol.

When they approached Manhattan, he saw Bex stand and start stretching out her shoulders. When he saw her fidgeting and begins to crack her knuckles, he knew something was up.

Yelling over his shoulder, Clint tried to seem calm when he called out, "Bex?"

With an all-too-nonchalant tone, she answered the unasked question.

"Haven't had an intravenous suppression in 48 hours."

It was only his focus on not crashing that kept him from shaking her. After finally landing and opening the back of the jet, he barely had time to turn around before she spoke glibly to Natasha and Rogers.

"Guess it's time for you all to see why they call me 'Hazard'."

It was a shitshow. Bex had known it would be since Manhattan was the crux of the invasion, but god. Building were already destroyed and the police force was trying their best to hit back, even as she saw several bodies littering the streets. For the first time in her life, she turned to Steve Rogers as he began barking orders. After listing off positions, he had turned to her with an expression of trepidation, as if now was the time she'd be a smartass.

Yes, she knew she had given him her best snark, but she'd kind of expected he knew she wasn't a complete moron. Bex know when to take orders.

"Harmon, find a secure elevated location and use those sharpshooting skills."

With a smile that promised mayhem, Bex gave a two finger salute as she responded, "Aye, Aye, Captain."

The battle as unlike anything she had ever experienced. After spending the first few minutes on the ground with her glocks redirecting bullets to the surprisingly quick aliens, she'd seen Natasha's epic launch into the air and her commandeering of the alien vehicle.

Fuck. The was a move that honestly made butterflies erupt in her stomach. Clint was a genius. If she was attracted to women it probably would have been a moment that caused extreme sexual tension. However, as it was, a moment later she'd clued into Tony's location when he'd given his location update over the comms.

"Stark, feel like giving a lady a lift?"

Tony had let out a near-delirious laugh before responding, "Sure thing Tinkerbelle, pixie dust not working out?"

Bex had only snorted, but less than 30 seconds later he'd flown around the corner of the closest building and dumped her on a decently high skyscraper without complaint.

It was easier to pick off the aliens from a high rooftop. It had always been easier to kill from a distance. That removal - the notion of not being near your target - was an unspoken privilege amongst snipers. Maybe it was a burden. Regardless, Bex wasn't going to fuck around when there was an attach on the planet. Hours or minutes seemed to flash by as she took out as many as she could. At least she had the time on the SHIELD plane to restock all of her ammo.

When Bex could see she was close to emptying her cartridges, she finally took the stairs of the now-abandoned building she was on top of to hit the ground level.

It was chaos. No other word could really encapsulate the carnage. The streets of NYC were not pretty, after only a few steps Bex had to begin navigating around the bodies of civilians. This was something that aways, always set her on edge. In every SHIELD mission report the civilian casualties had to be documented. It was something that Bex has always supported; after all, who was supposed to keep teams accountable for their destruction if not the organizations that shipped them out.

But following the accusations Rogers had unknowingly implanted in her brain and paired with the visible carnage, it was difficult. Yes, this was an alien entity attempting to take over the planet. But fuck. This was her planet and Bex would do everything she could to stop this.

Bex's communicator was clearly not functioning as it should and the majority of what she could hear was the frantic voices of other SHIELD agents on the ground, but when she switched the frequency to the Avengers-only channel she heard something far more devastating than she had planned.

"I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute."