“I shot him,” Molly said, her voice quiet. “I shot him.” The words had a ragged edge.
Clint saw where this was going. He grabbed Molly by the shoulders, forced her to look directly into his face, away from the man she had shot, and spoke slowly. “Look at me. Look. You did good. This man once told the authorities he knew the location of a bomb, and when they followed his information, the ended in an empty building just as another went off across town, killing more than a hundred. You know other stories as well. If you want him to come to trial, you need to bandage him up. Trust me. He was going to use us.”
Molly wide eyes stared into Clint’s for a long moment. Then she nodded. “I’ve just never shot someone…”
“Don’t think about it, not now. If you do, he might bleed to death. Get to it.”
Molly’s expression normalized. She shook herself. “Of course.”
Clint pushed her to the edge of senses and focused intensely on Arturo Darnov. The robed figure leaned against the wall, hand pressed against his wound. Slowly, he lowered himself at Molly’s insistence and sank into the cot. Clint pushed the hood away from Arturo’s face.
No one knew what Arturo Darnov looked like, and Clint was rather disappointed to discover that he seemed perfectly ordinary. Light, short-cropped hair, an angular face, with a well-trimmed beard. Startling blue eyes. Arturo met Clint’s gaze and smiled bitterly. “I am not sure I like surprises,” he said.
“Don’t talk,” Molly said.
“I will live, at least.”
He grimaced in pain as Molly enforced her no talking rule.
“I’ve heard rumors,” Clint said. “Some of the eggheads conjectured that you could see the future. I guess you can. Do you read thoughts as well?”
“Intentions,” he muttered, then glanced at Molly. “Possibilities rooted in personalities.”
“And who grants you these visions? God?” Clint asked skeptically.
“The Universe,” Arturo answered.
“Clint,” Molly said sternly. “Stop distracting my patient.”
“I want to know how he knows what he knows. It’s not from God, given what I know of the consequences. A demon? A supercomputer?”
“I opened my mind to the Universe, and it whispers its secrets in my ears.”
“The human brain has corners we don’t understand,” Molly said, resigned the conversation. “Some think because tachyons travel faster than light, they could transmit information outside of normal channels of causality. Or maybe he’s an X-Men.”
“Or a god.” Arturo smirked.
“I’m done with him. Stop him from bleeding. I have to think.”
“Are you all right, Clint?” Molly asked.
“What? Don’t I look dandy? I mean, besides the battle scars?”
“I mean—you’re going to think? Normally you just barrel in. Or let me do the thinking.”
“Funny. Now, quiet. I’m a little rusty at this cogitating thing.”
Molly flashed him a private smile. It didn’t help him concentrate. Neither did Arturo’s stifled groans as Molly did her thing, using the regulation first aid kit stuffed under the cot. But it was necessary to get this right. He was only going to have one shot.
Arturo had risked exposure because he had believed Clint would want what he was offering: a method of taking out or capturing a large swath of the world’s worst villains in one quick offensive. If Clint wired into the Island’s systems and took control of all the movers, sealed doors, automated weapons, and emergency procedures, he very well might be able to contain or kill the majority of those who wanted his head. America, and many other nations, would be thrilled.
Even without a comprehensive knowledge of the Island’s systems, though, Clint saw two problems. The first was the system itself. Perhaps Arturo’s codes disabled the many anti-infiltration firewalls and AI interceptors programmed into the mainframe, but Clint doubted it. Whatever prophetic powers and hi-tech wizardry Arturo possessed, it would take near infallible information, coupled with a top-notch caliber hacker to manage complete takeover. Probably.
Second, Doctor Destructo still had his EMP ray, and if he pieced two and two together when the Island started rebelling—and he would—he’d likely sacrifice a great deal to wipe out Clint’s systems with the Island’s. Perhaps Arturo knew that and didn’t care.
No matter how he looked at it, Clint was convinced he was meant to be a pawn in someone’s game. Arturo meant to use him to rid himself of competitors, or was it chaotic elements in his view of the unfolding future? Doctor Destructo had thought himself the only one privy to Clint’s transponder code. He had planned the take over of the Island. But someone had given him the information and double-crossed him. Who? And what did that person have against Clint?
Clint pushed these questions from his mind. They didn’t help him at the moment. What was necessary first was a simple question. Did he still mean to face Doctor Destructo and all the rest.
Absolutely.
Question two was trickier. How?
He surveyed what he and Molly had snatched from the armory. A good start, and he was cocky enough to believe he could tackle all the factions with a half-dozen guns and innumerable explosives. But they would slaughter Molly. If he went full throttle, he wouldn’t have the ability to protect her as well. And she wouldn’t stay and hide, not without a reason. Well, she might, if he pleaded, but he wouldn’t ask her.
He pondered as Molly removed the bullet, stopped the bleeding, and sewed the Mystic up. When she finally turned to him, hands and clothes bloody, trying to move a stray strand of hair behind her ear without touching it, he was grinning foolishly.
“Oh no,” she said. “You have been thinking.”
“Yes, yes I have.”
“Will it work?”
Clint laughed. “I haven’t any idea. But it’s clever, and a little bit fabulous. Arturo, you want to live, I suppose? Or do you want to join the Universe?”
“It is not time for me to join the Universe.”
“Politic answer. Look, I won’t ask you if it’ll work, because I don’t really want to know, and I wouldn’t believe you anyway. But I will say this, just so you can add it to all the strands of the unknown you’re weaving together in that block of yours. Molly shot you once, and if need be, she’ll do it again. Trust me. She’s made of stronger stuff than she looks.”
“Oh, thanks. So I look weak,” Molly said.
“What? I said you were—never mind.” Her eyes flashed mischievously at his flustered response. “So, Arturo Darnov, great mystic of the universe, about that proposal I promised….”