"𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 going to be fine. We'll be in and out within the hour."

Clint Barton sighed and slouched further in his seat as he recalled the captain's words. Clint had lost track of the time, but he knew that it had surely been over an hour. He pursed his lips, growing engrossed in his own thoughts that just maybe he could liven things up; however, one glare from the redhead beside him was enough to rethink that plan. He straightened his posture, but only briefly so that he could slide down further in his seat as he released an exaggerated groan to emphasize his boredom.

Natasha simply rolled her eyes in reply to the archer's drama before focusing her attention on Steve once more. However, the chills that ran down her spine told her to reevaluate her surroundings. That uncomfortable sense of paranoia had kept her alive this long, so she'd learned to trust it more than anything else.

That was when everything went dark. The entire city block and then some of Times Square experienced the blackout of technology. Surprisingly, the air was quiet for a max of three whole seconds before complaints filled the atmosphere. Although the sun was bright enough to keep the city light enough to see, one would have assumed that the world had entered the dark ages by the overreaction of panic.

The archer and the spy both stood, placing a hand to the commlink following their immediate eye contact with one another.

"Down." It was the only reply necessary to explain that even their advanced tech had been affected in the blackout. Which ultimately meant that the blackout wasn't just caused by a faulty powerline.

"Damn." Clint frowned at the static ringing in his ear and shook his head. "We just can't seem to catch a break."

"You were looking for excitement," the spy replied as a competitive smirk formed on her face. "Lock down the perimeter and meet back here. Ten bucks says I figure out the cause before you do."

"Oh, you are so on," Clint released a haughty laugh and shook on the bargain made.

He quickly folded up his metal chair to move back a row then began to push through the crowd to start his perimeter check.

Most might have looked down on the bet made during the crisis, but Clint had no intentions of losing. He fought his way through the crowd that looked more prepared to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July than sit through a political speech, but the captain's popularity was enough to explain the numbers of the crowd.

He finally made his way to the outskirts of the crowd, but it only took a second more before he determined that he needed a different viewpoint. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was indeed a bit jealous that Wilson had been elected to serve as their eyes from the sky, so he had the luxury of the view from one of the buildings overlooking the conference.

His eyes scanned over the dozens of heads clumped together before he noticed the lamppost toward the back that could serve as his makeshift perch. He jogged over and began to scale the pole, but stopped and winced as the static from his earpiece interacted with the static from the speaker system.

He released a surprised yelp of pain and lifted a hand to remove the commlink from his ear, but stopped as the piercing static morphed into something that almost sounded like words. Rather than remove the comm, he fiddled with the controls to enhance the sounds hidden in the static. The pace and pitch gradually normalized, growing clear enough that Clint was able to make out the phrase being repeated over and over again.

«Δύναμη μέσα από την ενότητα» The warbled, distorted voice paused and then repeated the phrase. «Δύναμη μέσα από την ενότητα... Δύναμη μέσα από την ενότητα»

Clint raised an eyebrow in confusion, trying to decipher the foreign language. Obviously it wasn't English nor was it Italian, so he was unable to translate the soft-spoken voice. He pressed the comm further in his ear, hoping either a translation would be provided or his tech would respond quick enough with a translation.

Unfortunately, the city blackout made that all but impossible. Just as his comm had started working again, the static returned and the coded message faded from his sound range. Frustrated, Clint removed the device from his ear and instead focused on surveilling the area before meeting back at the rendezvous spot.

Just as he deemed there was nothing out of the ordinary within the crowd. The Jumbotron at the front of the crowd sparked back to life. The crowd released a few startled screams at the light sparks that rained down on them, but quieted as the static disappeared from the screen and was replaced with a large black-and-white, maze-like symbol. However, it didn't stop just there.

Panic surged through the crowd as the symbol made an appearance on every smart-phone, smart-watch, and any other piece of comparable tech. Each individual in the crowd looked down at their cellular devices as if entranced by the idea that they were fully functional again.

Realizing there was a chance that the technology was operational once more, Clint returned the comm to his ear, but frowned at the static that prevented him from contacting the team or S.H.I.E.L.D., who had been surprisingly silent. It wasn't like Fury to be this silent, meaning that the helicarrier had been affected too.

Forced to communicate the old fashioned way, Clint jogged back through the crowd to debrief Nat on what he'd seen and heard. He had expected to catch a glimpse of her hair first as the vibrant red usually stuck out like a sore thumb in crowds; however, it only helped her blend in with the crowd decked out from head to toe in red, white, and blue.

It was actually Wilson's faulty wing pack that caught his eye first. The wings looked as if they couldn't make up their mind, half-extended as if he'd tried to activate them and failed.

"Anything?" Clint asked. Natasha shook her head and Wilson agreed. It definitely wasn't the right moment, but he grinned. "I'll take that ten in cash then."

"I'm sorry?" Wilson blinked as if he couldn't believe his ears then continued to ask for a further explanation. "You have an ongoing bet?"

The spy and the archer ignored the bird that acted as nothing more than a third wheel. Natasha shook her head as if contradicting Clint's statement. She also seemed to scoff at the idea that he'd beaten her. "You found the source of the virus?"

"No, I found something better," Clint replied. Natasha remained unimpressed, so he elected to continue without a dramatic pause of silence. "My commlink connected to a weak signal on the outskirts of the crowd and I overheard a transmission clearly meant for someone nearby."

"So you know who the message was meant for?"

"Well, no—"

"Oh, so then you must have translated the encryption so that we'd be able to track them down," Natasha offered another alternate suggestion that was clearly meant sarcastically.

Clint deflated. "Also no... The message was concealed in a foreign language and the static of the comms returned before I could take notes."

"Okay then, Barton." Natasha crossed her arms. "Please explain how this was helpful."

Clint opened his mouth to explain, but closed it just as quickly as the speakers hummed at a new frequency. A soft voice whispered the same foreign phrase that Clint had heard previously.

«Δύναμη μέσα από την ενότητα»

"That's it!" Clint exclaimed, but Natasha immediately hushed his excited behavior.

She held up a finger to wait as she listened intently. The phrase was only said three times before the speakers shut off completely. Briefly, power returned to the city, but no one had any control still. The maze-like symbol disappeared and was replaced by a series of words that rolled across the screen. Additionally, cell phones and the other infected tech reflected the same series of information displayed around Times Square.

Most of the information seemed random, but harmful all the same; however, the files displayed slowly began to link back to one individual. The information spread at an infectious rate and soon enough a hum floated above the crowd as each conversed with their neighbor about the vicious final rumor pasted to the screens of every piece of technology within the surrounding area.

The three avengers glanced between one another with the same expression of concern. Without any time for deliberation, they sprinted toward the stage. However, the crowd seemed to have a similar thought in mind as they too rushed forward.

The heightened emotions varied throughout the horde, but outrage seemed to be a common factor overall. However, it seemed to be a fair reaction when just told that the man they'd looked up to with such admiration was not just a member but a revolutionary leader associated with the treasonous organization of HYDRA. Whoever was behind the virus attack had proven themselves to be more formidable than anyone had anticipated.

"Great." Sam's voice snapped him out of his own thoughts. "The cops are here."

Clint turned his head to where Sam had gestured and noticed that indeed half a dozen cop cars had parked along the side of the street closest to the stage. He had originally assumed that they'd just arrived as crowd control; however, he was proven wrong as they pushed their way through the crowd toward the edge of the stage. Clint could only watch as the cops made an attempt to arrest Steve prior to the captain being ushered off-stage by the government officials who had been hosting the event in the first place.

As if things weren't already bad enough, a second set of sleek black vans turned the corner and entered the back alley less than a block away. However, it was the emblem boldly painted on the side of the van that concerned him the most. He'd been away on other business when the HYDRA infiltration had come to light, so seeing the tentacled symbol out in the broad daylight was quite a shock. Looked like HYDRA was more than just a bedtime story told to make little spies behave.

He tapped Natasha on the arm and gestured with a nod of his head in the direction he'd seen the vans disappear. Although she didn't understand what his vague gesture referred to, she trusted him enough to blindly follow after him.

"What do your elf eyes see, Legolas?" Natasha asked jokingly.

"Local law enforcement's the least of our problems," Clint explained. "We've got bigger things to worry about."

Natasha's brow furrowed with concern. The snarky, playful tone in her voice was immediately replaced with a stoic one. "Did our hacker finally make himself known?"

"Maybe," Clint hesitantly replied, "but I didn't think HYDRA was this bold."

"HYDRA?" He now had Sam's attention. "What's HYDRA doing here?"

Natasha seemed to agree that something didn't add up. "You'd think they'd be lying low for a while... Are you sure they're HYDRA?"

Clint shrugged then quickly nodded his head as he answered each of their questions. "Yeah, they've got the squid painted on the hood of their van, which is parked in this back-alley here."

Clint paused at the corner of the building, but motioned for Natasha and Sam to take a look. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Clint was right. The tentacled symbol stared at them in the blazing hue of a vibrant red. Discreet was no longer a word that they could use to describe the organization. Satisfied with their confirmation, the two pressed their backs along the brick wall of the building beside Clint. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha clamped a hand over his face. She lifted a finger to her lips and silently hushed him before using a few signs to express her plan.

'Going back. Need a better idea of numbers.'

Clint nodded his head in agreement. Sam looked between the two with a blank expression; however, as they moved to enter the alley, he tried to stop them. The action didn't work in his favor as he was instead dragged along for the ride. Keeping silent, they ducked behind a dumpster toward the front of the alley.

Unfortunately, Clint was unable to ignore the rank filth of the bin as it burned his nostrils. He recoiled in disgust before pinching his nose. His voice was a harsh whisper as he offered his complaint, "Is this really the best spot for cover?"

"What? You want a bed of roses?" Natasha retorted under her breath.

"It reeks back here," Clint muttered under his breath.

Sam shushed the both of them before pointing toward the van just as the side door slid open and slammed against the side of the vehicle. That sound was quickly followed by several pairs of stomping boots that presumably emerged from the van itself.

"Remember," a gruff, gravelly voice broke the silence. "Our technology and weapons will only be functional long enough to remove Rogers from the environment. Civilian casualties are the least of our worries, if you have a shot... take it."

"Is that Rumlow," Clint whispered in confusion under his breath as not to be heard.

Natasha poked her head around the dumpster just long enough to estimate their odds. As she placed her back against the dumpster once more, the other two looked at her expectantly. She nodded her head, answering Clint's question first before relaying the plan that she'd formed on the fly. "There's about twenty of them. According to our dear friend, Rumlow, our tech is about to be operational. Sam, get Steve out of here and meet us back at the quinjet. Clint and I can handle things here."

It was clear Sam was skeptical, but as he'd received his orders, he nodded his head and exited the alley in the direction of the stage. Clint removed his bow from his shoulder and knocked an arrow into place. He looked over at Natasha, who was in the middle of checking the ammunition in her widow cuffs. She glanced over at him just long enough to make eye contact, ensuring that they were once more in sync. Together, they stood from their cover and released a series of blasts.

Clint's arrow landed in the center of the group of agents, but rather than take any of them out, it filled the alley with thick smoke. Widow's sting lit up select areas of the smog as her electric ammunition made contact with a pair of agents. Their bodies immediately slumped to the ground, adding to the confusion. The pair of spies just barely ducked back down in time to avoid the barrage of rifle fire aimed in their direction. Clint slammed his back against the dumpster harder than he intended, hitting his head in the process. He was forced to ignore the pain as his only free hand reached for another arrow in his pack.

"What was the plan again?" Clint asked sarcastically, shouting to be heard.

"Buy Sam some time," Natasha replied with the same amount of hostility that was meant more for HYDRA than her partner. "The longer we stall HYDRA, the longer our tech will function properly."

"That means the comms too, right?" Clint questioned, still shouting as he released the tension on the string of the bow. The arrow lodged itself in the clavicle of one agent, but continued to tear through sinew and muscle to impale a second agent standing behind the first. "Shouldn't we contact, Fury?"

He dropped back down under cover as the dumpster was scorched by a HYDRA agent who had retrieved a flamethrower from the van. The smoke continued to thin as the fire vaporized the moisture in the air. Natasha didn't provide Clint with an answer to his question; instead, she sprinted around the dumpster, taking advantage of what was left of the smoke. Several grunts were heard as the spy quickly made her way around the alley, taking out the agents that remained. As the smoke settler, only a handful of agents were conscious: five to be exact, including Brock Rumlow.

Clint stepped out from behind the dumpster and joined his partner's side. Rumlow immediately tried to size them up, but it was evident from the look in his eyes that he was skeptical that his men would be able to hold their own against some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best. Slowly, he and his men backed out of the alley deciding that their lives were worth more than their pride in that moment.

"Guess that takes care of that." Clint slung his bow back over his shoulder and dusted off his hands.

"I contacted Fury just after we confirmed it was HYDRA," Natasha abruptly replied to Clint's question that had been asked over fifteen minutes prior. "We're to immediately return to the helicarrier and debrief Fury on what we know." She paused before looking over the unconscious bodies that littered the ground. "It won't take HYDRA long to send reinforcements. We should rendezvous with Sam at the quinjet."

Clint nodded in agreement and lifted his hand up to his ear. He frowned as the static once more rang in his ear. "Down again. Things just can't go our way for once, can they?"

Natasha continued to lead the way back toward the quinjet. As they arrived, the lot was no more occupied than when they'd left it. Uncloaking the quinjet, Natasha boarded first and Clint followed close behind. Neither of them voiced the fact that both Sam and Steve were absent, but with a single glance they seemed to have an entire conversation in silence. Natasha nodded her head, glancing away in thought before breaking the silence, "Alright, we'll go with Plan B then."

"Plan B?" Clint questioned skeptically.

Natasha sighed, failing to conceal her irritation with the archer. "How long have you known me, Clint?"

Clint hesitated then crossed his arms with a nonchalant shrug. "For fear of sounding old, I'm not going to answer that right now."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but elected to ignore the comment rather than offering a retort of her own. "In all our years of working together, when have I ever not had a back-up plan?"

"Care to grace me with knowledge of this plan?"

"We take the quinjet back to the helicarrier and rendezvous with Fury," Natasha explained. She had to keep Clint from interrupting so that she could finish her explanation with the answers to questions that Clint was anxiously trying to ask. "We're leaving a note behind for Sam, assuming something happened and he wasn't able to make it back to the helicarrier on his own. We'll figure out the rest once we have functional tech and an idea of who's running HYDRA now that Alexander Pierce isn't in the picture."

Clint released a tired sighed as he took a seat and input the coordinates to take the quinjet back to the helicarrier. He took off the parking brake and eased the jet up into the sky, muttering under his breath. "Here we go again."