I am....Ironman

Chapter Twenty Three

Clint was practicing in the gym area of the upstate compound funded and run by Shield, it wasn't very flashy but it was sufficient-unlike their weapons. He was grumbling as he slammed the bow down on a table, the weight was off, and the arrows were a total crap shoot.

 He ran his hands over his face, hearing the movement of skin against hair and he was faced with his biggest moral dilemma of his life. Ironman's hearing aids have lasted him for about two years now, and they're still going strong. 

He'd been lucky to get three months with what Shield offers before he somehow breaks them-not to say everything of Shield sucks, but he's rather rough and tumble with his equipment, he has to be. But Ironman is their number one enemy, he'd almost say public but the media seems to stray either on the neutral or dare he say positive side of the man.

 He's read redacted reports, he seems like a homicidal maniac, but something is tripping up his sixth sense, one that he's relied on in tough situations.

There was a distant thud that caused him to perk up, his eyes open and spots danced in his vision.

"Hello? Nat?"

There was nothing for a long moment and then there was a more distinct thud, sounded like it was from the common room.

He sighed and started walking out, he swore on hell below if Thor was rearranging the living room again he was going to smack that god so hard in the head he'd be underground-

Clint didn't get a chance to finish that train of thought as he walked down the hallway and passed around the corner to the common room and saw a familiar red and gold suit.

"You-what? How-", Cint sputtered, reaching for his gun on his waist, guns weren't his strong suit according to Nat, but he could still use one fairly accurately thank you very much.

Ironman turns from where he removed the glass from its holding, mask as emotionless as always..and he removed the gauntlets from his hands, they seemed to mold like liquid and disappear.

And he started to attempt to sign to him, his movings frantic and wild, Clint surmised that he spoke with his hands while he talked.

"You don't have to do that", Clint slowly lowering his gun, "I still have the aids in, they still work surprisingly"

There was a deep sigh of relief from the suit.

"Yes, they're top of the line they won't break for a long time Clint, but thank the universe you can hear me, my sign language is shot to hell honestly, and your family is in danger"

Clint's vision went dark, narrowing at the floor where Ironman stood and he felt blood rush out of his face. A warm calloused hand was on his arm and he could hear Ironman talking, something about a guy named 'Ross', prelude to a accords deal, the farm house-

He snapped his arm out of Ironman's, pointing the gun in his other hand at him.

How the hell do you know about my fucking family you goddamn-"

Ironman seemed resigned as Clint went off on his threatening rampage, going so far as to shoot him as he left.

Tony called up Bucky as he flew over the countryside,

"Hey so, change of plans, I'm going to be late for dinner", Tony winced.

Bucky sighed, rubbing over his face,

"How bad is it, do we need to come and help, what's going on?"

"Look into my folders in the lab, I have them crossed out and up to date, I love you I'll be back soon"

Tony was quiet as he flew to the Barton homestead, continually tracking Rosses movements.