The title "Hawkeye" wasn't just for show. His hearing and vision were extraordinarily sharp, and his physical coordination was so exceptional that his archery skills seemed almost absurd—he could shoot an airborne coin and always hit the heads side. But among the Avengers, a group of billionaires, legendary warriors, super spies, and self-proclaimed gods, he was undoubtedly inconspicuous. People often forgot about the guy with the bow.
After all, he didn't throw a shield, wear an iron suit, or summon lightning. Human eyes were always drawn to things that glowed, flew, or made a lot of noise.
Because of this, Clint was able to observe the problems within the Avengers with a common man's perspective, unclouded by other distractions—be it wealth or fame. He had none of those. He had discussed this with Agent Romanoff, and they both had a clear view of the Avengers' future. Though he was currently on Stark Industries' payroll, he doubted the job would last long.
"You know, I'm close to retirement. The Avengers is my last mission." Clint hadn't expected Agent Romanoff to bring Solomon here. This man didn't interact much with the Avengers and even less with him, so he wasn't sure what to say at first. "I have a feeling Nick Fury isn't dead. He still has plans." After some thought, he voiced his conclusion. Solomon glanced at Romanoff—he hadn't expected that Natasha and Agent Hill hadn't informed Hawkeye about this. "But even if he's alive, the Avengers can't continue as they are. Congress will intervene sooner or later, and eventually, we'll be fugitives."
"Are you looking for an exit strategy?" Solomon asked.
Now it was Natasha's turn to look at Clint. "Make your own decision. I've already made mine."
After a brief hesitation, he decided to speak the truth.
"Nick Fury set things up for me a long time ago. No one knew except Natasha, and now you do too." He popped open a beer bottle and downed half of it in one go. "My family's location is still undiscovered, which is why I think Fury is alive. He's helping cover up some critical information. Natasha, I know you mean well, but you don't have to worry."
"Clint, I'm a spy. I always make backup plans." Romanoff smiled. "Solomon has a secret base. If you ever need it, he'll let your family move in. I've been there—it's a high-tech city, and it's huge. The only issue is getting in and out—you need to go through a portal. Not even sure if it's on Earth."
"Seriously?" Clint raised an eyebrow at Solomon.
"Yes. I need an experienced agent to help train field operatives or serve as an advisor to oversee missions. I have a lot of firepower, but I need people to use it." Solomon could see the doubt on Hawkeye's face, but he didn't explain further. "If necessary, I can also provide new identities for your family. I guarantee Congress will never find them."
"So, we have a temporary agreement then? I don't know you, but if Natasha trusts you, I'll trust you too. Cheers…" Clint handed out beer bottles to Romanoff and Solomon, and the three of them drained their drinks in one go. Solomon fittingly let out a burp.
"Who else are you offering sanctuary to?" Clint asked. "Anyone I know?"
"Agent Victoria Hand is working for me now. She's busy hunting down HYDRA. Once the helicarrier is repaired, she'll join the fight." The sorcerer said, "Unfortunately, Gonzalez refused to work for me—he's too loyal."
"Hand? No way! She's…" Clint couldn't believe his ears. Victoria Hand didn't have the best reputation inside S.H.I.E.L.D.—she was a textbook agent, ruthless and cold, but fiercely loyal. Clint had assumed she had died during the HYDRA uprising.
"She died. Then she came back." Solomon said. "My people found her body."
"Oh, magic!" Hawkeye remarked. "You can bring people back from the dead?"
"Within a limited time frame. If the soul enters the outer planes, retrieving it becomes much more difficult." The sorcerer withheld some key details, like how he had foreseen Hand's death and pulled her back before her soul was claimed by the afterlife. "Now she has a few nuclear warheads in her possession." Solomon grinned mischievously. "My forces recovered them during battles against HYDRA, along with a few aircraft carriers, a number of Quinjets, and a couple of squadrons of F-22 Raptors. I don't have enough S.H.I.E.L.D. defectors yet—I need manpower."
Solomon had once taken Natasha to inventory the weapons stockpiled in the Immortal City. The sheer amount of equipment seized during the HYDRA uprising was enough to conquer a small country (or India). The Sisterhood's operational efficiency was astonishing, and with Wakanda's help, Solomon was reverse-engineering U.S. military technology, extracting key advancements, and redesigning the Immortal City's future arsenal. Wakandan technology wasn't bad—it was too good. Nearly every piece of tech depended on vibranium, something Solomon had no intention of using in every piece of equipment. Wakanda wouldn't be generous enough to provide unlimited vibranium for his industrial needs, either.
Hawkeye nearly choked on his beer, coughing violently.
"You're a wanted man?"
"Not yet. This is our little secret, isn't it?" Solomon placed a golf bag on the table. "A gift for you, Clint. You'll need it."
Since the HYDRA uprising, Solomon had been systematically taking over S.H.I.E.L.D.'s visible assets and turning agents to his side. So far, even Nick Fury hadn't managed to mount an effective counterstrike. This long-distance chess match against Fury was just a bit of entertainment. As he lounged on the couch in Stark Tower, the rest of his plans were still unfolding—his two AIs were still keeping each other in check, the anti-vibranium mineral deposits had been located, but the Celestial's corpse was still missing. Solomon needed that Celestial body for research. He wasn't going to share all his technology with Wakanda.
For now, Wakanda's king was still T'Chaka, and Solomon didn't trust him—he was too clever. Only after his death would Solomon strengthen cooperation with the next king. But he wasn't in a hurry—someone else would take care of T'Chaka for him.
Although Solomon was secretly orchestrating T'Chaka's demise, he never showed any sign of it when interacting with his son and daughter. T'Chaka hadn't even realized that he had lost Bast's blessing. He just assumed he was aging—feeling weaker, struggling to get out of bed, and needing frequent bathroom trips at night.
"He thinks he's no longer fit to be king," T'Challa told Solomon. "I keep telling him he's still young—he can still beat me at arm wrestling!"
"I don't know the physiological effects of heart-shaped herb consumption, but I trust Wakandan medicine is advanced enough to handle this," Solomon said. "Please send him my blessings."
"Of course." T'Challa proudly patted Solomon's shoulder, thinking his friend was quite diplomatic. "We've already cured cancer and AIDS—nothing is beyond Wakanda's reach."
"Naturally." Solomon smiled. His grin concealed something deeper, and T'Challa remained completely unaware of the dark shadow creeping toward Wakanda.
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