Template:Featured Articles/19-2019

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Moment of Awesome - Clint Barton/Hawkeye: Leading the way into a mysterious portal, Clint takes charge when a milk-run starts going terribly wrong.

Clint stood frozen for a moment before his training kicked in. "Fuck — shit. Okay." He looked at the people he had with him, then came to a quick decision even as he rushed toward Lyton. He could tell even before he reached her that it wasn't just a cosmetic sort of gutting, if you could call a similar-looking wound something like that. The smell alone was enough to let him know they had a real problem. "T, stay here with her." He dropped his voice as he backtracked a little, catching Topaz's eye. "Don't think there's much to be done, but…"

Topaz had gone stiff at the sight of the blood, eyes not quite focused, mouth half-open as if to say something but never quite managing."I…" Her head swiveled around to look at Clint, and she shook her head furiously — not in response to him, just to clear her suddenly foggy mind. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll stay." It was stupid and irresponsible, letting three men who had a knack for getting in trouble go after the magic bloke alone. She'd take the heat later, if there was any.

"Thanks," Clint muttered, then lifted his chin to find Matt and Namor. His voice completely sincere, he asked, "Your Majesty, would you take the high road while my brother and I follow on foot?"

Namor didn't even choose to acknowledge Clint's infrequent use of his rightful title. He floated there, unphased and deathly serious, having caught Lyton before she hit the floor. He cradled her as she bled out onto him, eyes flicking between his teammates and the direction the man had fled, before he very carefully set the woman down. He met eyes with Topaz, and he commanded, jaw locked and inviting no argument, "This magic is as old as my Kingdom, and not as kind. Make her last moments comfortable."

With that, he was in the air and after the unknown man.

Following on foot, Matt was grateful that it was Topaz staying behind. It wasn't that she couldn't help, it was that she was best for magic and this would likely be more brute force. Well, brute force and highly specialized training. Still, that was more them, less her. Glancing back toward Clint, he pulled his billy club from its thigh holder.

Unable to get the image of just how gentle Namor had been with Lyton out of his head, Clint hooked his bow over his arm and across his chest, then raced after his brother. None of this had gone as they expected — a milk run'd turned upside down, halfway into another dimension, and he was gonna have to call Phil to send something official over to Interpol about Lyton's death.

So of course now he was running off after a seemingly crazy dude who thought it was totally normal to just rip people open down the middle — Clint had to stop that train of thought when he realized the footsteps he and Matt were following through the dust had veered off toward the shelves they were passing, then returned to the center. As they continued to follow him, the footprints swerved to either side of the path several more times, empty spaces in the dust on the shelves indicating that items had been removed in a hurry — and then the whole world shook as a violent rumble echoed toward them.

The men rounded a corner just in time to see the stranger paused between the shelves. He did not turn to acknowledge the oncoming footsteps or the small artifacts shuddering from the nearest shelves. Instead, he uttered the final syllables of an incomprehensible chant and slashed the reddened knife before him like a man splattering paint. The air thickened with the hot, coppery scent of blood.

Where the drops of blood caught, the air burned. Reality peeled back, and what had been an aisle was suddenly empty space. There was the briefest whiff of wet concrete, a whisper of distant traffic noises, and then he was gone. He never even looked back.

"Motherf — " Clint broke off yet again, catching the briefest glimpse of what lay beyond the hole in the universe before the copper-wet-hot-thick feel to the air disappeared. It seemed as though it was all drawn toward a point on the wall at the end of the aisle, but he couldn't be sure. The only reason he thought that might be the case was because a moment later, the air there split open to reveal a grassy knoll beyond a weathered stone archway.

The feel of the air shifted, pressure dropping and rising as the scent of ozone permeated everything. "The fuck," Matt grumbled, disliking how it affected him, but continued, "He's gone and… grass?"

"Goddammit," Clint growled, voice flat as he rubbed at his eyes. Glancing upward to find Namor, he continued, "We'd better check out wherever that goes."