Beijing, China – Afternoon
The aroma of sizzling oil and garlic filled the air in a narrow alley tucked away behind a glowing red lantern shop. People bustled past the open food stalls, chopsticks in hand, laughter echoing down the crowded street.
At one table near a dumpling vendor sat Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye, calmly eating kung pao chicken with effortless chopstick precision.
Across from him sat Kai, scarfing down chow mein like it was his last meal.
And between them, glaring silently through a steam cloud, was Tony Stark, picking a suspicious chili out of his bowl with distaste.
"Are we even allowed to be here?" Tony asked, pushing aside a plate.
"We flew here on your private jet," Kai said between bites. "We're always allowed."
Tony rolled his eyes. "One of these days, Fury's gonna explode."
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
Speak of the devil.
Clint sighed and answered his comm.
"Nín hǎo."
"Nín hǎ—wait. Not you too, Barton!" came Fury's unmistakable voice, irritated and betrayed all at once.
Clint calmly munched on a chili pepper. "Something wrong, sir?"
"You're in Beijing."
"Yup."
"Why are you in Beijing? Why is your location pinging a noodle cart?"
"Because," Clint said, reaching for another bite, "We wanted kung pao chicken and chow mein. Real stuff. Not SHIELD cafeteria mush."
"You—you abandoned your post for chicken."
"Technically, I never accepted a post."
Fury audibly facepalmed.
"Do you realize you're part of an international covert task force?"
"And yet," Clint said, "I've never had dumplings this good."
Tony leaned over and whispered, "He's going to lose it."
"Listen, Barton. I'm sending you a mission packet. When you're done playing lunch tourist, get your bow back to work."
Clint smirked. "Copy that, sir. Extra spicy."
"Tch—why, Barton, why? They didn't even let you go—ugh, never mind."
Click.
Kai grinned. "He's definitely making a dartboard with our faces on it."
Tony raised his soda cup in salute. "He better use the right target profile. I've got at least three."
Clint leaned back, stretching. "Alright, break's over. We got coordinates?"
Tony tapped into his watch. "SHIELD just sent it to the jet. Classified rendezvous point about four hours out. Mountains. Remote. Quiet."
Kai finished the last of his chow mein. "Sounds like the opposite of this alley."
Clint stood. "You two still flying?"
Tony smirked. "You need a lift, Robin Hood?"
Clint nodded, dead serious. "Can't waste dumpling energy. Let's move."
Thirty minutes later, the Stark jet shot through the clouds. Tony lounged in the cockpit, feet up, music humming in the background.
Kai sat beside him, munching on a small stash of sesame cookies from Beijing.
Clint was buckling his tactical vest in the back, reviewing the mission file Fury had sent. A strange energy signature, an abandoned satellite relay, and something classified that required a team's eyes.
"Still wish I had more dumplings," Clint muttered.
Tony looked back. "Next time we plan a mission, we're doing it buffet-first."
Kai grinned. "Friendly international delivery boys... now with arrows."
Tony turned to Clint. "You sure you're in this for the long haul? You seemed pretty loner-style before."
Clint didn't look up. "Still am. But... you guys are tolerable."
Kai pretended to wipe a tear. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me today."
Tony gave a mock toast with his water bottle. "To being tolerable."
Clint added, "And to the next mess we walk into."
Kai leaned back. "Hopefully with snacks."