A for Effort (final)

Alfred sprung upright, firing at the pursing vehicles, drawing their attention. Some of his shots hit the windows, glancing off bullet proof glass, keeping their attackers form leaning out to return fire. The bus jerked and Alfred wobbled, waving his arms around to regain balance. It was almost comical. He steadied himself just in time to dodge a series of shots which would have hit any regular man.

Clint shifted his attention to his targets, crouched, peering over hand railing originally designed to stop tourist from falling off the deck. The wheels would be easy to hit, considering the tight space and their large size. Only…These types of vehicles were often heavily modified with several measures in place to stop the tires from getting shot out. If he was right, then the caliber bullets in his automatic wouldn't cut it and shooting at the tires would be a waste. The windows, however, were always a point of weakness.

Three shots, carefully aimed, to break the bullet proof glass then another for the driver. A lesser marksman would have had trouble. Good thing he was the best.

Clint calculated the distance in his head, trying to compensate for the bus's sporadic bumping. He took a deep breath, lining up the shot. Four consecutive bangs rang out in quick succession. The front SUV swerved dramatically, now driverless, tier catching on the pavement. It did a spectacular flip almost rolling sideways but prevented by the tight ally walls. The car behind rammed into the flailing vehicle. There was loud crunch followed by the groan of metal twisting at odd angles. Something ignited in the shower of sparks. Clint released his breath, watching the two SUVs disappear in a spectacular ball of flame. Pieces of super-heated metal were flung out by the explosion and he ducked. Alfred crouched down beside him. There was another loud blast and a wave of heat washed over their heads. Clint glanced up, watching the flaming wreck disappear.

"Dude. I said tires," Alfred interjected. Clint blinked, glancing back over, raising a brow.

What?

"This was more efficient," he pointed out. The results spoke for themselves. Why waste a magazine on the tires when he could take out the driver in four shots? Despite this logical rational he felt like he had somehow let Alfred down. Which was stupid.

Alfred hummed evasively, flipping open his gun. Colt 1851 Navy. Clint noted the model. Alfred spun the barrel, quickly refilling the chambers. The bus tilted dramatically putting a hold on further conversation. They swung out of the narrow ally into a two-lane street, chipping bits of brick off the walls as they went. Loud horns bleared, everything rocked, and the bus narrowly avoided collision with several smaller civilian cars. In the distance the sound of sirens began to draw near.

Clint began scanning for the two remaining SUVs.

"There," Alfred pointed and he snapped his head in the direction, watching two more vehicles come hurtling down the perpendicular street on a collision course. Surly they weren't panning to…they were. Clint grimaced, this was going to be fun.

The first SUV came careering into the intersection, ramming the back end of the bus, sending the whole vehicle into a spin. He grit his teeth, bracing against the guardrail as the whole buss tilted. Both he and Alfred held on for dear life.

Kirkland's loud swearing could be heard over the screech of rubber and metal. The few cars sharing their section of the road swerved sporadically away, running up on to pavement. Gun fired started up again and Clint righted himself, repositioning to take out his new targets.

After a second of hesitation he aimed down at the tires. Now that he thought about it he hadn't seen Alfred kill anyone. So far all the kills had either been himself or a result of the enemy's own incompetency. He scowled and shot at the tires. As predicted they were reinforced and it took a whole clip to blow them out.

He frowned, watching the SUV serve away to reveal the second vehicle. That was a rocket launcher. Clint watched a figure lean out a window sporting the RPG. That wasn't good.

Shit. He brought his weapon around but he knew it was useless. The gun clicked. Empty. That's what happened when you wasted bullets. He dropped it to the ground, reaching for the handgun. Four bullets wouldn't be enough to completely take it down but he may be able to knock it off course.

The RPG surged to life, coming right at them.

A rush of air. Alfred blurred past, ripping up part of the handrail and leaping forward and off the edge of the bus. He brought the bar around in a wide swing. Like a professional batter the bar hit home, straight into the RPG, knocking off course. It spun widely into the adjacent building. Another explosion and the brick wall crumbled right onto the back end of the last SUV, blocking off the road.

Alfred was flung backwards and Clint reached out to snag his shirt so he wasn't blow clean off the other end of the bus. He winced when his arm was almost ripped clean from his socket. Alfred landed on his back between the rows of seats with a loud thunk.

That shouldn't have worked. Alfred should have been blown to smithereens.

"Thanks' man. Top job," Alfred grinned from his position on the ground, giving a lopsided thumps up.

Clint glanced down at him, exhaling. It was only fair, considering Alfred had caught him earlier.

"Just returning the favour," he intoned, glancing back at the road which it was now clear. Not even a civilian car in sight. The sound of sirens was a lot closer now.

No longer pressured the bus slowed marginally, allowing it to weave effortlessly around other cars on the road. Kirkland seemed to have some destination in mind because he maintained their course instead of pulling off to the side to ditch the very obvious escape vehicle.

Clint knew something was up when the road around them suddenly cleared. He sighed. With only four bullets he had hoped that would have been the end of the firefights. He glanced over at Alfred who seemed awfully relaxed. Not that that was much of a change. Alfred had been pretty chill throughout this whole ordeal.

"You know where we're going?" He shouted over the loud rushing wind.

"No. Well, sort of," Alfred yelled back, "I think Iggy wants to meet up with some of his people,"

Right. That made sense. Though 'people' was a bit vague.

"You mean KAC. Right?" King And Country (or K.A.C. for short), the United Kingdom's version of the Internal Liaisons Bureau.

Alfred sniggered, "Hahah, that name, man. But, yeah, they'll be around. Maybe,"

"Great," he muttered. Just what he needed. KAC were less of a government department and more of a privately run secret society with a small armed force at their disposal. They tolerated SHIELD, barley. The sentiment was mutual.

"Hey," Alfred gave him another thumbs up, "just leave the talking to me. Those pretentious bastards are always ruining the mood."

Clint eyed the Personification, "Yeah sure. I'll do that,"

Alfred's word probably wouldn't make much of a difference if he was reorganized. KAC was overly protective, bordering on unhealthily paranoid, when it came it their Personifications. An interrogation in KAC's stupidly ornate headquarters might be his next stop. He ran a hand through his hair. He'd cross that bridge later.

Finally, they came to the source of the empty roads. A blockade of police cars and an assortment of other, heavier, vehicles blocked the way. Clint was prepared for the bus to suddenly deaccelerate. Screeching breaks. Everything spun sideways, skidding across the pavement. It came to a full stop several meters from the line of police.

Clink glanced down from his position on the upper deck. There was no gun fire and no one came running out to kill them. A nice change of pace. He scanned the crowd, recognizing a few faces from various SHIELD files. KAC agents, dispersed amongst regular cops. Best to avoid them as much as possible. Several dozen firearms were directed their way.

"What is this nonsense," Kirkland snapped from inside the bus, loud enough for Clint to hear from the roof.

"Drop you weapons!" a member of the blockade yelled at them through a megaphone.

A loud smash followed by some shuffling. Kirkland came striding down, kicking his way through the bus's wreaked doors. The clicking of various weapons. Clint sighed. Here we go again. However, he was hindered from raising his gun by Alfred who made a hush motion. Kirkland continued marching across the tarmac undeterred.

"Wait, Wait. Hold," someone shouted and there was movement as said someone pushed their way to the front of the blockade.

"Tomson Smith," Kirkland greeted, pausing and glancing about with apparent disapproval, "I hope there is some point to all this."

"Stand down," the man, Smith, ordered. When the men behind Smith exhibited some hesitation, he turned.

"Now," he snapped at his entourage before clarifying, "These are friendlies."

Weapons lowered amidst many a confused expression.

Thank fuck for that. Clint slumped back, letting some of the tension bleed from his limbs.

"Guess that' that," Alfred voiced, relaxing back with him and rubbing the back of his head absently. He shoved his handgun into his back pocket. Clint watched the weapon disappear with interest.

"We should head down. Say Hi," Alfred commented, standing upright and stretching out his arms. His shoulder and back clicked. Below Tomson Smith had moved forward to meet Kirkland.

Alfred looked at him expectantly.

"You go ahead. I'll be down in a minuet," he prompted.

Alfred shrugged in response, taking a step onto the remaining handrail and casually walking off, dropping onto the pavement below. Smith startled at the movement, causing several others to twitch towards their weapons. Clint watched Kirkland frown in annoyance.

"Hey Tom, buddy! Long time no see, bro," Alfred yelled as he approached the growing congregation of KAC agents.

"Jones," Smith greeted stiffly.

Smith frowned at Kirkland, avoiding Alfred's attempt at transforming his handshake into a one-armed hug. So, Alfred's presence was unexpected then? More people were approaching, these ones in mottled grey uniforms which contrasted with the blue of the police.

Clint glanced down at the pavement and decided to take the stairs at a leisurely pace. He picked his way over the twisted metal door frame, eyeing the crowd of people milling around, securing the area, removing civilians and policemen alike. They had yet to approach the bus and Clint causally stepped onto the road, projecting an image of nonchalance.

"…cannot disappear in the middle of a diplomatic meeting," Smith was lecturing an unimpressed Kirkland a few feet away. Alfred had his hands tucked behind his head and was studying the people moving past with disinterest. Clint sidled up to the group. Maybe he could slip past and not deal with any of this.

"Excuse me," Kirkland held up a hand to interrupt Smith's diatribe, "Did you say cannot? Who is and is not the Personification in this scenario?"

Smith frowned, appearing irritated. Nice to know KAC had the same control problem they had. He causally walked past, keeping his weight off his bad leg. Unfortunately, a clean getaway just wasn't meant to be.

"You. Stop,"

One of the KAC men ordered, spotting how out of place Clint looked in his blood stained, half shredded, stolen, uniform. Someone made to grab his arm and he twist away automatically. He was saved from getting dogpiled by the trigger-happy agents by Alfred who inserted himself into the middle of the throng.

"Chill dudes," he piped, pointing a finger at his chest, "He's with me."

There was a lot of hesitation. Unsurprisingly, this declaration failed to inspire confidence. Smith stormed up, pushing men aside and glowering.

"What's all this," Smith fixed Clint with a glare. An irritated Kirkland followed a few paces behind.

"Who is this," he snapped, gesturing at Clint. Alfred opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by Smith.

"Who is that?" he directed at Kirkland.

Kirkland waved the question aside with a flippant gesture, "Leve him be."

Definitely not the answer Smith was looking for if the twitching of his eye was anything to go by. Clint just gave the angry man a shrug, allowing Alfred to usher him out of the impeding political shit storm. Suspicious eyes flowed their retreat.

"Phew. That was close. You'd have been stuck at the embassy for hours if they knew who you were," Alfred commented, quickly hurrying them along. No shit.

"Good thing Iggy's annoyed at Tom. He'd have locked you up for sure if he didn't hate the paper work so much,"

Alfred drew him past the men from KAC to the perimeter set up by several police cars. Most of the officers were engaged with keeping the curious public at bay and appeared not to be interacting with the scene so it could be assumed that they were not privy to the whole situation.

"Hey bro," the officer glanced over at Alfred's addressed, "can you get this guy looked at. He got caught in the accident."

A few seconds of blank confusion and the man looked at Clint. His expression cleaned. Clint noted the odd exchange.

"Of course," the officer approached, taking in Clint's battered appearance, "come this way sir, I'll see that you get looked at,"

Clint was drawn over to an ambulance and a paramedic. Amidst getting the worst of his injuries seen to and the remains of the cuffs removed he skillfully dodged questions about his situation and Alfred. The later proceeded to disappeared back into to growing crowd agents. Clint followed his movements, declining the suggestion that he be taken to hospital. He wanted to speak with Alfred. There was a lot of things he needed to clarify.

The whole ordeal from start to finish had left him with a lot of questions and some very concerning answers. Answers that left him questioning the reliability of SHILED.

Firstly, he had woken up, drugged, underground, taken by an unknown faction. Two factions. One obviously a local group with less funding and coordination and the other more organized with access to equipment and SHIELD's classified information. How else would they have known exactly where and when to strike? To take him out without him even realizing.

They had the resources to not only nab himself but also the Personification of the United States. Alfred may act like a clueless idiot half the time but he was far from helpless. Personifications were notoriously tricky to pin down and incredibly unpredictable. Though, he was beginning to see how the task would not have been completely impossible. Alfred had not said it outright but, based on his comments, Clint could conclude that Personification's were weaker outside their own countries. England's personification, Kirkland, had also been out of the country at the time of the kidnapping. More proof that these people were dangerously organized.

Also, and perhaps more concerning, was the fact that Alfred had been pulling his punches. They both had. Both personifications seamed on par with someone like Steve yet there was a distinct lack of aggression to their attacks. Precision and skill, yes, but none of the aggression he usually saw in fights. Were all Personifications this pacifistic when it came to conflict? There was no better explanation for the discrepancy in abilities. It gave them a certain vulnerability.

Did SHEILD know about all this? Surly, they did. Clint didn't have access to Project National Security, the file which contained all the data on Personifications, so he couldn't be sure. He wasn't even supposed to know it existed. Fury knew, he was almost certain of that at least.

Then there was that warning. The one about SHIELD. As it was, there weren't a lot of explanations for this type of security breach that didn't end in SHIELD being compromised.

Conclusion: he needed to proceed with caution.

He needed to tread carefully. He needed to speak to Fury. He didn't trust anyone else. Sure. This escape had gone surprisingly smoothly, sans a few hiccups, but that was all luck and mistakes on the part of his captors. It could have been so, so much worse.

"Last I heard you were half way around the world," the cool voice disrupted his thoughts and he glanced to the side. A woman in a fitted suit, spotting clipped hair and a light frown stepped up beside him.

"Natasha," he greeted. Her body language was cool and professional. Undercover. No overt movements them. He relaxed back, slumping casually.

"Barton," her tone was cut but he had worked with her enough to know she was amused, "you seem to be in a bit of a predicament,"

He snorted. What an understatement.

"Just tell me I have an extraction. I'd take a SHEILD debrief over this mess any day of the week," SHIELD debriefings were notoriously long and grueling but anything beat getting sucked into this political nightmare.

Several feet away Smith was still trying to lecture Kirkland, Alfred was doing his level best to be a general nuisance and the area was filling with an assortment of government personal. There was a definite tension to the way everyone was moving. Clint wanted to be long gone when the fingers started pointing.

Natasha's lip twitched and her eyes flickers across the length of his body, assessing his injuries.

"Soon," she confirmed then clarified, "We need to wait for the Liaison Bureau to make contact with Jones,"

Of course they did. Clint released a breath. Wouldn't want to leave America's Personification exposed on foreign soil. Especially not now. Though he had some misgivings about the capabilities of the Bureau. Wasn't this the last in a long line of Bureau failures.

"How far off is that?"

Natasha glanced as her watch, "Approximately ten minutes. They were waylaid at the airport by some red tape,"

"That's bureaucracy for you," he exhaled. When it came to Personifications nothing was ever easily. He still wanted to speak to Alfred. Maybe warn him. Though, that might not be necessary. He was beginning to suspect that Alfred knew more than he was letting on. But maybe interrogating the Personification was something he would have to do another day.

…

AN: Finally finished the Clint saga. Hope you enjoyed the ride.

To the people who have asked where the story is going. Yes, I am moving away from the one-shot single chapter format. Other avengers/marvel characters have planned appearances but not for a while yet. Next on the agenda is tackling the events of Winter Soldier, which will probably also be a multi-parter. Clint may come back into the story as well. I enjoyed writing from his perspective.

In regards to editing I try to catch as many mistakes as I can before posting but editing has always been a weakness of mine. Someone way back suggested I write short stories to practice and thus fanfiction. Don't know how successful it's been.

Thank you to the people who pointed out some of the larger errors. I do eventually fix them (fan fiction net isn't great for on the fly editing).

Happy New Year everyone