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If there was one thing that SHIELD took seriously, it was experiments to make enhanced soldiers. Not that there were many things that SHIELD didn't take seriously, but they had a particularly strong focus when experiments that could lead to the creation of super soldiers inevitably appeared.

It wasn't that hard to guess why, given SHIELD's founders dealings with Captain America or, maybe even more relevant, their dealings with Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull. They knew, since their beginning, how dangerous a super soldier could be, when fighting for the wrong side; and how valuable they were when fighting on their side.

So when SHIELD's systems flagged a call made to the New York Police Department where the caller spoke about a lab that was making experiments on people, trying to turn them into mutants, there was a metaphorically code red alarm shrieking all over the Triskelion. The chance of this being a prank call was considered high, at first, but soon after the caller gave his name, the address of the supposed lab and said he would leave his cellphone on so they could track it, there already were agents on the move.

The first agents actually got there together with the cops and were fast to take control of the situation and isolate the place. Several black cars were stopped at the factory's entrance, alongside police cars and ambulances. People in suits were everywhere, taking pictures of apparently every inch of the place and the cops that responded to the call were guarding the perimeter.

That was the scene that greeted Clint Barton when he arrived and crossed the perimeter line to enter the factory. Usually, the famous Hawkeye wouldn't be called to deal with a "solved" situation; his abilities were normally directed at problems that needed solving before they could become unsolvable. However, the threat of a super soldier factory inside New York was reason enough for him to be called out of his bed in the middle of the night.

The place looked abandoned, even if it was crawling with people at the time. Old, badly maintained and dirty. The second room he entered, however, was worse, even if it looked newer. The place was destroyed, machines and barrels tossed everywhere, walls cracked, the catwalk fallen on top of everything. And the big steel door that apparently led to an elevator was twisted in weird angles; there was even a hole in the ground, right behind it, where it was possible to see parts of the floor below.

He entered the elevator and went down, following the instructions of the agents already there, where he was expected by Maria Hill.

"Took you long enough. It's almost morning," she greeted, without even look at him.

"Well, you know, traffic in New York is a disaster," Clint answered.

"You arrived in a helicopter," Maria pointed out.

"A damn slow one, apparently. We should complain to Fury."

She rolled her eyes and Clint smiled, looking around.

"So, what've we got here?" he asked.

Maria approached and showed a few pictures to him on a tablet.

"Mutant factory. Are you familiar with Dr. Daniel Okamura's thesis on the possibility of artificially activating the X-Gene on a non-mutant?" she asked.

"Wow, so much," Clint deadpanned.

She didn't smile.

"In simple terms, they were forcing non-mutants that had the X-Gene to activate it, via a serum and several rounds of torture."

Clint's jaw dropped slightly.

"This is… are you for real? Torture?"

Maria sighed.

"Unfortunately."

She began to show him the pictures. The equipment, the wounded people, a few of the medical evaluations, images of ongoing tortures… Clint had seen a lot of things in his job, but there were always some bad guys out there who managed to take it a little further on the "villain scale".

"Please tell me we got the guy who did this," he said.

"We got some of them. Dr. Okamura and a few henchmen. But I doubt this is it. He couldn't have the money or the pull to fund something like this."

"Were they successful?"

"Sometimes. The serum is apparently not finished, but some of the 'patients' responded well. A vast majority, however, couldn't handle the stress of the serum and what was needed to do to make the serum work. We don't have the numbers yet, but a lot of people died here."

"And what happened here?" Clint asked, looking at all the destruction. "The 'X-Guys' had something to do with this?"

"Not according to them, no. But they did offer us their assistance. And refuge to the ones who need it."

The existence of the X-Men was not a secret to SHIELD or the American government, but neither of them knew as much as they would like about them. Mutants existed for as long as humans did, but they only began to be recognized for what they were and get tangled up into wars and politics during World War 2. In fact, people didn't actually believe in them until during the Cold War, when hard evidence was presented in the form videos, studies and a whole lot of witnesses. Maybe their numbers began to grow or maybe better technology allowed more evidence to be collected, but the fact was the existence of mutants was common knowledge now.

Of course SHIELD wasn't entirely relaxed about the fact that there was a group of super-powered people working mostly without their knowledge, but they were willing to let it happen for two simple reasons: they were effective and they knew how to deal with mutants.

Peggy Carter, one of SHIELD's founders, had seen the value of cooperating with the man who would eventually create the X-Men, Charles Xavier. The X-Men did a very good job of protecting and teaching young mutants. They took them under their wing and helped them to control their powers, so they wouldn't become a risk to people around them. It also helped that while they were there, learning to coexist, they were out of reach of other radical groups, composed by mutants or not.

There was also the fact that the Avengers were a very new group; before them, SHIELD wasn't exactly prepared to deal with criminals that could kill people with their minds or control the very metal their weapons were made of.

From a pragmatic point of view, it was better for SHIELD that most mutants resided in a known place, kept by a known entity, where they could be taught, protected and monitored; and from a humanitarian point of view, it was good to keep the mutants, especially the young ones, safe from bigots and terrorist mutants alike, somewhere they wouldn't need to hide what they were and what they could do.

Many people seemed to forget, but not everyone on SHIELD or even the government was a heartless bastard; a lot of them, Clint included, would give their lives to protect an innocent person, mutant or not.

"So what happened then?" asked Clint.

Maria pointed at someone. Clint followed her finger to see a guy sitting on a table nearby; young guy, big, dark hair and blue eyes. Not part of SHIELD or the police, not a 'patient' of this lab given his lack of injuries and not one of the criminals, given that he was not cuffed.

"That's Clark Kent, 21, aspiring journalist," recited agent Hill. "He was the one who made the call to the police that we intercepted. According to him, he was investigating Dr. Okamura and followed him here, at which point he heard a commotion. Yelling, gun shots, things being broken… When there was no sound anymore he risked entering to find the place like this. He thinks it might have been one of the mutants managing to escape."

Clint eyed Clark for a long minute, studying his face, his gestures, trying to get a read on him; he was no Black Widow, but he had his moments.

"You believe him?" he finally asked.

"He checks out. First thing I did. He arrived here, in New York, a day ago and visited a lot of newspapers trying to find a job. Just rented an apartment. And frankly, he doesn't strike me as someone who could do the things these men were doing here," she admitted, shrugging.

"Maybe not, but he doesn't strike me as a normal guy either. Don't know why. He is too… too relaxed."

"Well, he is here for a while now. Adrenalin burns out eventually."

"Hmm… I'm gonna have a chat with him," Clint said, starting to walk towards Clark.

His eyes did not leave Clark for one second as he approached, still struggling to understand the man in front of him. Something just didn't feel right. The room was full of agents running around, the lab still had all the torture equipment in it, he was just briefed by Maria Hill herself… And yet, he didn't have the appearance of a man that had just busted a mutant factory.

He had a nervous expression, but not the kind of nervous a person would be in this situation; it was more like the kind of nervous a guy would have just before doing an exam on high school.

"Hey," Clint greeted, Clark turning to look at him. "I'm…"

"Clint Barton aka Hawkeye," Clark completed, smiling and extending his hand. "I know, I'm a fan."

He smiled in response, shaking the guy's hand.

"Am I your favorite Avenger?" he joked.

"Well, you are my second favorite."

"Please don't say Stark is the first, I couldn't bear the thought."

Clark chuckled.

"No, though that armor is pretty cool. My favorite one is actually Black Widow. But not for the reasons you're thinking," he hastily added.

Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what reasons would I be thinking?"

"Well, I mean… She is…Very…" Clark stammered, then cleared his throat. "She is human. And a woman. And yet she is fighting side by side with gods, the Hulk, a legendary soldier, a man with top-notch technology… I mean, if that isn't an example of hard work, determination and pure badassery then I don't know what is."

"Hey, I do that too! Why am I not your favorite Avenger?"

Clark smirked.

"Well… She is hotter."

Clint actually laughed. Natasha would love this, he would have to remember to tell her.

"So, I know they probably asked you the same questions a thousand times, but could you answer some for me now?" he asked, sitting at the table.

"Sure, no problem."

"Maria told me you were following Dr. Okamura. Why?"

"I've had a tip."

"Who gave you this tip?"

"You know I can't tell you, if I do that I'll lose my source. But I can tell you it's no one important. Just a two-bit criminal. He told me that the word going around was that someone was paying for any kidnapped people. He had an address, so I went there and I've seen Dr. Okamura. So I began to follow him."

"Just like that?"

"Well, he seemed to be in charge. Not sure if he was actually the boss, but he was definitely not a thug or a prisoner, therefore he was someone worth following."

"And what about that?" Clint asked, pointing at the hole on the ceiling. "Did you see the one who did it?"

"No."

"Nothing at all? Look, the one who did that thing is strong. He or she broke concrete and destroyed a steel gate as thick as a bank's vault door. Whoever it is, people might get hurt."

He kept looking at Clark, evaluating his expression.

"I didn't see anything, but I'm sure the one who escaped is not a bad person," Clark confirmed, meeting Clint's eyes.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Clint demanded.

"Look, Mr. Barton, you arrived here just now. I didn't. When I got here this lab was full of people. People in pain, scared, traumatized. I was nauseated with what I saw. And yet the one who escaped didn't kill a single kidnapper, I checked. If that doesn't prove that we are dealing with a good person, then I don't know what does."

Well, it was a fair point, Clint supposed. If the one who did all this was really a mutant escaping, the fact that all those people were spared told a lot about his or her character. Even so, SHIELD would have to find this mutant or at least give a call to Xavier. But there was one thing that was bothering Clint.

"So, Agent Hill told me you moved to New York recently," he began.

"Yeah, just yesterday."

"Where did you live before?"

"Smallville."

"No, seriously, where did you live?" Clark just kept looking at Clint, unamused, until he understood that Clark wasn't joking. "Oh! So, Smallville, huh? Must've been quite the change."

"A little bit, yeah. But I haven't been here for too long to feel it."

"But apparently you've been here long enough to have 'sources' that give you 'tips' about people being kidnapped."

Clark stopped in his tracks and looked at Clint; well, would you look at that, Nat. Now, who was the one who didn't know squat about interrogation?

"Okay, Mr. Barton, you're right," Clark admitted. "I don't exactly have sources. Not yet, anyway."

"Then how did you know about this place?"

Clark sighed.

"I was going back home, at night, after a very long day trying to find a job. And right after I had dinner, I've seen a van stop in the middle of the sidewalk. A guy got out and hit a homeless person in the head. He was drunk, probably didn't even see it, and the guy started to drag him to the inside of the vehicle. I helped."

"How? And, most importantly, why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?! The guy was being kidnapped. What kind of person would I be if I allowed it to happen?"

Well, most likely, a kind of person who had a lot less chance of being shot in the head, Clint thought. But to his surprise, he actually believed the guy; the way he said it, it was like he really believed it to be unthinkable not to help someone in that situation.

"But how did you help him?"

"I got close from behind and punched him. I'm not a martial artist like you, Mr. Barton, but working in a farm since childhood is better than going to the gym" he gave a little smile. "After the homeless man escaped, I made some questions to the guy and he admitted he was kidnapping people for someone else and gave me the address."

"Why didn't you tell us this to begin with?"

"Because the police usually disapproves of people hitting each other. I didn't want to be arrested."

Clint stared at him seriously for a moment. That wasn't Clint Barton anymore, but Hawkeye, the agent who had killed dozens of Chitauri in the Battle of New York, the assassin who had made a career of dispatching bad people, the Avenger.

"Is that all you have to tell me? Are you sure you are not leaving anything out?" he asked, his voice no longer nice and calm, but dry and serious.

Clark met his eyes without flinching.

"Yes, I'm sure."

It was in that moment that Clint realized he was right; there was something strange about this guy. He didn't think he had anything to do with what was happening here, but he was absolutely sure that there was more than meets the eye about Clark Kent.

Before he could say anything else, however, Maria Hill approached and dropped some papers on the table, looking at Clark.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement," she said. "It basically says that you can't talk about what happened here with an outside party. I highly recommend that you sign it."

Clark looked at her, a little nervous.

"Why? What happens if I don't sign it?" he asked.

"We are not going to arrest you, Mr. Kent, or do anything outside the law. But this is an ongoing investigation. If you don't sign it, we will have to take legal measures to force you to sign it anyway. This is just quicker," Maria explained.

He began to peruse the thick document, turning the pages too fast to actually be reading anything.

"But what about the people I already told?" he asked. "I mean, I talked to a lot of people in the phone until you guys showed up. Nobody wanted to believe me about this."

"We can't do anything about the people you already talked to, for obvious reasons, but at the moment you sign this anyone you talk to will be covered by this contract," Maria clarified. "So don't worry about it. We won't take any legal measures because of the past."

Clark looked at her and smiled.

"Okay then," and without any additional word he signed. "So, can I go home now?"

Maria looked at Clint and he nodded.

"You are free to go."

"It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you catch whoever did this," and with this, he left.

Clint's eyes didn't leave him until he entered in the elevator and disappeared.

"That guy is weird," he stated, a minute later, turning around to look at Maria.

"So are you," Maria answered and smiled at his fake glare. "But why are you saying this? Do you think he has something to do with this?"

"No, no I don't. But there is something about him… My instincts are trying to tell me something and I'm not getting what it is."

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" asked a familiar voice from behind him. "Natasha told me to ask you if you have been eating well. She said you usually forget to eat when she's not here to take care of you."

Clint opened a big smile and turned around to see Steve Rogers, the Captain America himself, approaching; without the shield, dressed in normal clothes, but still Captain America.

"Hey, Cap! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Washington," he said, shaking his hand.

Steve greeted Maria before turning to him again.

"I got a call from Natasha a few hours back. She told me I would want to see something that happened here in New York," he looked around, his face losing the smile. "I guess she was right."

"How the hell did she know about this before I did? She is out in a mission!" Clint wondered, a little shocked.

Captain Rogers just shrugged.

"I learned that is not healthy to underestimate her," he answered, smiling once again. "As I'm sure you know, she was the one Fury chose to put me up to date with the technology and the tactical training from these days. I may be a super-soldier, but even I am struggling to keep up. She is not one to be trifled with."

Clint snorted, thinking about poor Captain America being whipped into shape by the Black Widow; Nat had told him a few stories, but hearing from the Cap himself that she was a harsh mistress was just too damn funny.

He looked back at him when he heard a tired sigh.

"They just don't quit, do they?" Steve said, maybe more to himself than to anybody else. "I guess it was really naïve of me to think I would be the last person to be turned into a super-soldier, wasn't it? Sometimes I wonder if all this could be avoided if the serum just didn't work on me like it did."

"You can't think like that, Cap. If you recall, there was already another super-soldier out in the world and he wasn't a nice guy. Without you, we would be doomed."

Steve didn't answer, his eyes looking far away.

"Fury gave me some files about the experiments that happened while I was on ice," he said, suddenly. "Turns out I was just the first of many. The army tried to replicate the serum several times. And not just our army. The whole world was in a race to see who would succeed first. Eventually the programs began to branch out; one of those programs was called Weapon-X. Apparently it was led by a man named Colonel William Stryker and, instead of trying to replicate the Super-Soldier Serum it focused on mutants."

Clint and Maria remained in silence, just listening.

"They tried to harvest and use the abilities of mutants," he continued "to use them as weapons. They didn't use only voluntaries and they weren't really concerned about following anything resembling human rights. Eventually the whole thing blew up in their faces and the program was shut down. There weren't any arrests, though, it was all swept under the rug. Everything that happened here? Probably another branch of all those programs."

Steve chuckled, without a trace of happiness.

"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place," he said, quoting the HYDRA's motto. "Funny how that seems to describe every single evil organization out there, isn't it?"

Clint shook his head.

"No, it's not funny at all," he said.

"No, it isn't," Steve agreed.

Steve turned to Maria.

"Did you get the ones who did this?" he asked.

"Like I told Barton, only a doctor and a few of his guards," she answered. "But there are more out there, I'm sure of it."

"Probably inside our own government," Steve said, his face hard. "And nothing will happen. Again. The people on top, the real guilty ones, won't be arrested. This investigation will be closed and sooner or later, someone will dig it up and continue it."

Clint could see why Natasha had sent Steve here; this was personal to him. He supposed he could understand, somewhat at least; his very identity, Captain America, was probably being used as an excuse to allow these programs to happen. And all those people to die. To a nice guy like Steve, every death that happened here was being felt as if they were his own fault.

He and Maria would like to tell him that all this wouldn't happen, but by now they knew better. It was not only the fact that the guys who had been bribed to turn a blind eye on this had a lot of contacts everywhere, but also the value some people would find in this research. No matter how many lives it ended up costing. Hulk's very creation was proof of that, as well as the creation of the 'Abomination', the name the army ended giving to what Emil Blonsky became after the experiments with their version of the Super-Soldier Serum.

And that pissed him off, the same way he knew it also pissed Maria off. Because after these bastards finished playing their games, they would be the ones to clean up the mess; and to collect the bodies.

"Ma'am, you'll want to see this!"

The three of them turned to see a young agent running in their direction, his face a mix of panic and anxiety. He handed what looked like a newspaper to Hill.

"What is this?" she asked, as confused as Clint and Steve were.

"The first page, ma'am."

Clint and Steve walked to Maria, each one on one side of her, trying to read the news; she let out a stream of curses, shocking the hell out of Steve. Clint would have done the same, if his jaw wasn't dropped.

"Mutant Factory discovered in New York: a workshop of horrors!" read Steve, shock in his face.

"By Clark Kent," completed Clint, recovering his ability to talk as he saw the one had written that. "Son of a…" Steve glared at him "…gun," he finished, lamely.

They became quiet for a few minutes, reading the front page headline of The New York Bulletin, printed not even an hour ago. It had the whole story of what happened here, and not only that, but pictures of the lab, with the victims there but without identifying their faces; pictures of the torture devices; images of the faces of Dr. Okamura and his henchmen.

And if the pictures weren't enough, there were also a list of names of every single person involved in that, either directly or simply paid not to interfere. Names of important people inside the government, the police, hospitals, famous companies… All accompanied by pictures of the documents proving everything.

"He wrote that here," Clint realized, without moving his eyes from the paper. "Before he called us, he sat, probably on that same table he was, and wrote this thing. How did he get those names?" he asked, looking at Maria.

"There is a notebook here full of information. We couldn't look at everything yet, but yes, these names were there," she answered, still clearly surprised to her core.

"Who are you talking about?" inquired Steve, confused.

"The guy who made the call to the police, the one who found all this. He is the same guy who wrote this," explained Clint, shaking his head. "I told you there was something weird about this guy! Probably the fact that he was looking at our eyes, answering our questions, all the while this thing was being printed!" he turned to Maria. "Do you want me to go after him? He did sign a non-disclosure agreement."

Maria gave a mirthless laugh.

"Yeah, he did. Right after I clarified to him that we couldn't do anything about the people to whom he had already told all this," she shook his head. "He played me."

"Do you want me to bring him back?" asked Clint. "It doesn't really matter if he signed that thing anyway, we can bring him here, stop this from spreading."

"That won't be easy, sir," said the agent who brought them the newspaper, looking nervous when the 3 of them looked at him. "It's already everywhere. Not only printed copies, but on the internet as well. We could try, but the damage is already done."

Maria Hill stood in silence for a second, considering what to do; she looked at Steve. Clint could almost read her thoughts. On one hand they had been played hard by Mr. Kent, and they did not like to look like idiots. On the other hand, however, Mr. Kent had given them all the excuse they needed to pursue this to the end, no matter how powerful and high up some of the people involved were.

Like Clint thought, Maria said:

"No, we won't arrest Mr. Kent for an agreement he didn't break. We will, however, arrest every single one of these people. Can I count with your help, Captain Rogers?"

Steve's huge smile made them forget all about being tricked by Mr. Kent; Clint was never one to take himself too seriously anyway.

The sun was already out when Clark finally got back to his apartment; and, once again, there was someone already there.

"So? Did it work?" asked Jessica Jones, getting up from his couch. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to bail you out."

Clark smiled and handed her the newspaper he had just bought.

"Well, I signed a non-disclosure agreement, but they guaranteed me that they couldn't do anything about the people I had already talked to," he explained, while Jessica read the newspaper. "But we'll see if the police comes barging in later."

"You didn't mention me, did you?" she questioned.

"No, of course not. And it's not like the guys there got a clear look from our faces or knew who we were. I told the agents that I suspected that all that happened there was a mutant escaping. The guys they arrested are probably going to think that too. Or at least think that we were mutants trying to wreck the place. We are good."

Jessica smiled and Clark was a little bit shocked when he realized that it was a true, sarcasm free, smile. But then, her smile faltered a little.

"I'm just pissed that we let that bitch escape," she said. "I still can't believe she got away after all that."

While they were in the lab, completely focused on writing the story for the newspaper, Angel had woken up after the beating she took and ran away. Clark didn't blame Jessica, he blamed himself; if anyone should have heard her leaving, it was him. But he was too concentrated in what he was doing to pay attention, too distracted by the shock of seeing all those tortured people, and they had severally underestimated the time she would take to awake. That was the result.

"We'll find her," he promised, looking at Jessica. "Did you find anything about that other guy I told you about?"

She nodded and walked to her opened notebook.

"A little bit, but less than I'd like. Fucking guy is a ghost. Apparently calls himself Ajax. But it's probably a fake name, because I can't find any trace of him anywhere. His mother probably gave him a stupid name when he was born and he got so traumatized that now he goes around telling people his name is the same as that dish soap."

Clark sighed.

"Well, he will turn up sometime. So will Angel. And we'll be there when that happens," he said, then looked at her, serious. "You know, I didn't thank you for what you did. I couldn't have saved those people without your help."

She just waved her hand.

"Forget about it," she answered, clearly embarrassed.

"No, I mean it. You didn't have to help me. Or them. But you did, taking a serious risk to your own life. So, thank you. And know that if you need my help, I will be there."

Saying this, he yawned and stretched.

"I'm so beat! I'm going to sleep a little bit. Wake me up if SHIELD shows up to arrest me, okay?"

"You are not gonna kick me out?" she asked, as he disappeared inside his bedroom.

"You can break locks, what's the point. Good night!"

Jessica snorted and sat back on the couch, looking at her notebook. She still couldn't believe in the day she had. How did she go from trying to investigate her neighbor to busting a mutant factory alongside him? It was hard to realize the exact point when she decided to go with him and, more importantly, why she decided to go with him.

To help him? To help those kidnapped people? To help herself? Maybe all that put together. And she did, somehow, accomplish all that too. For the first time since Kilgrave, she had faced her fears head on; no hiding, no excuses, no panic attacks. She just went out there, against armed men and fellow freaking strong ladies and she helped to save a lot of innocent lives.

Just like her sister always told her she was capable of.

All that because of him. Her new neighbor. Clark Joseph Kent. Somehow he had done what Trish and even herself couldn't; he had given her hope. Hope of changing for the better. Hope of doing something to get out of that dark pit she was in. How he did that, she didn't know.

Maybe it was charisma. Maybe it was just the fact that he was clearly a good guy. A guy strong enough to deflect bullets, stop moving vehicles, hold an oil rig… A guy who didn't care one bit about what his gifts could give him but instead used them for good.

Jessica wouldn't be caught dead saying she looked up to him, but she recognized that he was an example she would like to follow. And so she did. Kilgrave's death had freed her mind but it wasn't until this very moment that Jessica felt truly free of him.

Closing her computer, she lied back on the couch and closed her eyes; and for the first time in a long while, she had a peaceful sleep.

Natasha sighed, the slightest irritation creeping into her otherwise emotionless face. Mr. 'Clark Sullivan' was a ghost. There wasn't a single piece of property in Cordova that belonged to a 'Clark Sullivan' that matched the description she had of him. No houses, no apartments, no business, no boats. Nothing rented either.

Either that was a fake name or the alien she was looking for had lived there without leaving any paperwork behind. With the luck she was having, probably both. Cordova was a small city, but not nearly small enough for her to go knocking from door to door, asking if they had seen a well-built man, with dark hair and blue eyes.

She drank a sip of coffee, looking out through the glass window of the coffee shop she was in. Her computer was opened in front of her, the top-notch SHIELD program running on the back, cross-referencing all the data she had on the alien with the data she had on the city. Nothing was coming up.

What to do now? Should she go back and talk with Chrissy, the waitress that gave her this information, some more? Maybe she left something important out. Should she request some agents to help her expand her search field? Decisions, decisions… There was also the possibility, quite high actually, that 'Clark' had lied to Chrissy about living in Cordova.

But Natasha didn't really think he lied. She didn't have proof, of course, but there was no reason for him to lie to someone he supposedly cared about; not on something without importance, like this.

Maybe it was time to go back to the basics. What did Natasha know about him? Aside from his appearance, his abilities and his past two jobs there was only one thing: he liked to help people. That was the one constant she could identify that had happened in every single place she managed to track his whereabouts.

During his time in Arctic Cargo, he had saved Dr. Foster and Miss Lewis's lives, even risking revealing himself to do so. During his time working in Cassidy Pub he had helped Chrissy, saving her from the unwanted attentions of a rude trucker that had drunk too much. Both times he had used his powers, first to save and then operate on Dr. Foster and then to throw the trucker out and make him stop yelling obscenities and bothering the clients.

Maybe that was it. Closing the non-helpful program, Natasha started to search for any freak occurrence that might have occurred on Cordova or in any region around it. A car accident that was averted, a robbery stopped, a person rescued from something or from someone… Her search didn't take long to find an interesting thing.

"Bright Arctic Oil Rig Destroyed: fire causes explosion, but no deaths occur," Natasha read, beginning to smile.

She called a waiter, lifting her mug of coffee; the young man, predictably, almost fell down such was the hurry he was to please Natasha.

"Hello," she greeted, a beautiful smile on her face. "Could you give me a refill?

"O-of course!" the boy answered, blushing.

"Say, I heard there was an accident on an oil rig close by," she said, while he filled her mug with coffee. "Did you see it happen?"

The young man, ecstatic about being able to talk to such a gorgeous woman, was quick to answer.

"I did! From far away, really, but the flames were so high! It was a huge explosion!"

He was a bit too excited to be talking to Natasha to notice he was sounding disturbingly happy about an explosion that might have killed people.

"Oh, my! Did anyone get hurt?"

"That was the thing, no one died! People said… I mean, forget about it, you'll think I'm crazy."

"Nonsense!" Natasha countered, actually curious now. "You can tell me. I promise I won't think you're crazy."

He seemed to ponder if that was true, but in the end he was powerless to resist.

"Okay… Okay! The guys who survived said they were saved by a man. An angel, some of them said," he whispered.

Natasha got closer.

"An angel?" she whispered back, maybe too close to the boy, because he shivered a little bit.

"That's what they said. Now, nobody believed them, not really. They said it was just the trauma talking. But I don't see how they could've escaped without someone's help. You see, they were trapped down there, with no means to pass through the fire. Everybody said they were crazy, but nobody can explain how they got from down there all the way up. And there's more."

"What?"

The waiter looked around, to see if there was someone hearing them, before continuing.

"The team on the helicopter that went there to rescue them also saw this 'angel'. After they went all the way up and entered the helicopter, the oil rig began to fall down. They didn't have enough time to take off."

"So how did they?"

"The angel! He held the oil rig!" he boy put his arms up, as if holding an invisible oil rig. "With his bare hands, until they took off."

"But what about him?"

He shook his head, losing his enthusiasm for a second.

"He didn't make it. The helicopter flew off and the oil rig exploded. He sacrificed himself."

Natasha opened her mouth to ask something else when there was a loud yell from the kitchen.

"Thomas! Stop bothering the clients and go to work!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the boy answered, apparently more afraid from his boss than he wanted to impress Natasha.

It didn't matter, Natasha got what she wanted. Even more. Not only she had a lead again, she also learned something new about this alien; something new and a little disturbing. She knew he was strong, every witness had told her that. But strong enough to hold an oil rig? Strong enough to survive an explosion? Could Thor even do that? What kind of powers was this alien hiding?

She needed to find him, the quicker the better. Natasha didn't think he was a threat, not really, but a being this powerful shouldn't be walking without any kind of supervision. For a whole minute she considered her next course of action, wondering if what she was about to do was really worth the trouble.

In the end, she decided to go ahead and be done with it. She needed to see what happened in that oil rig and there was only one person who had eyes on everything unusual that happened in the world since the Battle of New York.

She grabbed her cell and made the call, uttering the words she thought she would never have to.

"Stark, I need your help."