Praying to the Vanished Gods

After Hawkeye Clint Barton listened, he raised his sightless eyes slightly. At last, a look of unmistakable exasperation crossed his face.

He knew this official playbook all too well. From the moment he had been placed on the anti-government list, every charge against him had been fabricated.

The supposed tax evasion on lumber and illegal importation were excuses made up from beginning to end.

"My farm is in the heart of Iowa. Every piece of lumber came from trees cut on my own land. It was all sourced here. Nothing ever crossed a border, and there were no taxes to evade."

Clint's voice remained calm, though it carried a trace of resignation.

"You know that story doesn't hold up, and I know you're just following orders. There's no need to make things harder for each other with excuses full of holes."

The man in the suit fell silent. He did not argue. He and his colleagues were only low-level officials, and they knew it too.

Hawkeye had long since left the Avengers and retired to his farm. After losing his sight, he had withdrawn completely, his old edge gone. He posed no threat at all.

The asset inspection was simply an order from above, part of a purge targeting every former Avenger.

Two sets of light footsteps suddenly came from inside the house. Hearing voices outside, Clint's two young children pushed open the door and ran out, curious. Their bright laughter broke the standoff in the yard.

The children ran straight toward the strangers by the fence, oblivious to the danger and hostility of the adult world before them.

Laura's expression changed. She hurried forward and caught both children. Soothing them softly, she led them back inside and gently closed the door. She did not want them facing this cold