So funny story... I originally started this chapter back in June.

Yeah.

Another funny story: this is the first day since school started that I don't have homework.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.

Chapter Four

I threw it out the window, came along
Extreme ways I know will part
The colors of my sea
Some perfect colored sea

-Extreme Ways

Clint rolled the stick of gum around in his mouth. He wasn't overly fond of the raspberry flavor, but that was all the small convenience store had to offer. The miles and miles of cornfields were majorly reminiscent of Clint's circus days, though he could do without the lingering smell of fertilizer.

The wind whipped in his face as he slowly accelerated on the empty highway. The sun was a bright white ball above him, bringing tantalizing thoughts of the warm summer air. The light reflected off of the sparse snow on the ground, hence the reason for the sunglasses.

For a minute Clint felt pretty badass. Then he dismissed the notion. Instead, he turned up the radio and leaned back into the seat of his rented Mercedes Benz. For the next four hours, the speedometer never dipped below 85, and Clint loved it.

He wasn't particularly sure why he knew Carlos Hidalgo would be in West Virginia. It was more of an instinctual thing.

Too bad his instinct didn't tell him precisely where in the vast state the drug dealer would be.

Clint remembered the last time he had been in West Virginia. It was his second year in the circus. Clint was ten or eleven, still as a circus hand. It wasn't until Clint turned twelve that they discovered his talent with anything circus, and fourteen when he became the Amazing Hawkeye. Anyway, Clint had hidden in the rafters of the big top during one of the Fourth of July shows. Barney handled the props during the show. Clint just had to clean up afterward.

There had been nothing particularly special about the performance, just that afterward there had been a giant cookout under the stars. It was the last holiday he and Barney had shared without strained relations.

Clint nearly missed the hairpin turn on the highway.

That would definitely be a reason to go somewhere. Clint needed to find a computer, and fast. He took the first exit off the highway and drove through a sad-looking town, looking for a library.

The town's public library turned out to be a fading, 18th century building that depended largely on private donations for books. Clint politely asked the woman at the circulation/information/check out desk if she had a phone book. The aging lady smiled as she handed him the heavy yellow book, which Clint took and carried over to an empty desk. The first name he looked up was Hidalgo.

According to the phone book, there was nobody with the last name of Hidalgo in the county. Clint's next plan was to find a computer. He spied the hulking desktop on the other side of the room and discreetly made his way over to it, toting the phone book with him. He pushed the power button and flipped to the yellow pages, scanning different advertisements, while he waited for the computer to boot up. Once the computer was fully loaded, he launched the web browser. Clint's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute before typing in "attractions in West Virginia".

After nearly half an hour of plowing through pages of options, Clint finally decided on Snowshoe Mountain Resort on the eastern border of the state. It offered many winter activities, from snowmobiling to horse-drawn sleigh rides to a kid's night out program. It was a good vacation spot for a family and a prime location for a secret deal, if necessary. Clint checked the file Coulson had given him on Hidalgo. There were notes about his family—none of the surveillance agents had actually seen Hidalgo's family, but he had been seen wearing a wedding ring and was recorded purchasing various toys and child-aged things.

Clint dropped off the phone book on his way out of the library, thanking the woman at the desk. He got into his car and pulled out the map in the glove box. Using a pencil, he marked his path to the resort. Before pulling out of the parking lot, Clint checked to make sure that all of his belongings were where he left them and nothing had been taken.

The drive to the resort wasn't terrible, but Clint did stop at a fast food restaurant along the way. The sun had just began to set when he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Clint entered the lobby, silently appreciating its grandeur. Clint didn't stay at resorts very often.

The receptionist was a young man, probably in college. Clint decided "nice, innocent, charming Clint" wouldn't work on him, so he just went for "polite".

"Hi, how may I help you today?" the man, Steve, said.

"Hi," Clint leaned a little against the counter. "I don't suppose you've got any rooms left, do you? I was supposed to make a reservation, but I forgot, and my girlfriend thinks that we have a reservation." He gave a sheepish little grin, like, hey, we're college kids. We're not supposed to have this type of responsibility.

"Um..." Steve stalled for a minute, checking his computer, "I've got a suite available. Everything else is booked, sorry. You know, the holiday season and all."

"No, no, that's fine. Anything would be fine right now."

"Alright," Steve said, typing a few things into the computer. "Last name?"

"Coulson," Clint replied, thinking quickly. "C-o-u-l-s-o-n," he spelled it out.

"Okay. And first name?"

"Philip."

"And how long will you be staying?"

"Three nights."

"And will you be paying in advance or at check-out?"

"Um... check-out."

"Okay. Here is your key. Your room number is 413. Enjoy your stay." Steve smiled, but it appeared forced. Clint nodded at him and left the lobby, presumably to go get his bags and "girlfriend". He did go get his bags, but instead of entering the hotel via the lobby, he found the back door that all hotels had, but nobody ever used.

The suite was nice, yes, but Clint wasn't very interested by it. His first job was to find out if Hidalgo actually was at the resort. There were three ways to do that. One would be to knock on every door of the hotel. Another way would be to somehow get to Steve's computer and look up the guest list. And the third would be just to ask Steve if Hidalgo and his family was staying at the hotel.

Not surprisingly, none of the options seemed to appeal to Clint.

He could call Coulson.

Surely his super secret organization of his had hackers or something to get that information.

But he couldn't do that. That would show weakness and dependence.

Clint let out one huge breath and slumped onto his king sized bed.

So this chapter is super short, I know. I had originally planed for to be the entire job, but who knows when I'll finish writing it. So I hope you enjoy this short little chapter and please review!

-Silver out.