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Chapter Text

Dark morning time - Apartment 803, Downtown New York City

Shattered glass crunched underfoot as Clint stepped inside. The place was a disaster. The couch had been slashed open, stuffing spilling out like organs. A busted lamp flickered weakly in the corner, the only thing lighting the room.

Of course, they’d come while he was gone and destroyed everything. “Took a little evidence,” Adam had said. yeah, right. Sadistic fucks. Clint clenched his fists, his jaw tight.

“Ugh... Get it together, Clint. Just take whatever you can and run,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the dark room for anything useful.

He yanked open drawers, shoving clothes into his backpack. The dark apartment felt like it was closing in. All his tech was broken, screens cracked, wires ripped out. "Laptops in an apocalypse? Useless," he scoffed, stuffing a sweatshirt into the bag. "Radios make more sense. Atleast in the movies..."

"Well, diaries too. Having one when you've got no one to talk to is supposed to help, isn't it?" Clint muttered, eyeing one of the few empty notebooks he kept, lying on the table. He hesitated, then shoved it into the backpack. The supplies were.. pitiful, but he'd figure it out. Didn't have much of a choice.

"I'm the only one who knows right now," Clint whispered to himself, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Just me... and Adam." His voice caught on the name. He shook his head and cursed under his breath.

He made one last sweep of the apartment, checking under the bed and behind the closet doors. Nothing else worth taking. The place felt hollow now. He stood by the door, staring back at the chaos and yet emptiness that resided here now.

"Last time I'm seeing this dump," he muttered, though his voice wavered. "Not that I'm attached... definitely not after tonight."

With a deep breath, Clint stepped out and slammed the door behind him. The sound echoed down the hallway, too loud in the stillness of the early morning.

"Current mission... get out of the city," he murmured, picking up his pace. The backpack bumped against his back as he headed for the stairs. His mind raced ahead, thinking of the streets below. He'd have to be quiet, what if they were stalking him still?

He paused at the stairwell, glancing back one final time. The hallway seemed endless now, dim and lifeless. For a moment, he thought he heard something-a faint creak, maybe even footsteps. His stomach tightened, but he forced himself to move.

It hadn't started yet. There was no way they'd come for him now- not after everything that had happened. He had to take the risk, get out of the city. What he saw in there, what they did... It wasn't human. It was something far mkre disturbing than anything else he'd witnessed tonight.

They'd given him a chance, clearly- a sliver of hope- and he wasn't going to waste it.

Clint stepped out, into theopen air. He was greeted by stale, polluted air. Freedom. He took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his chest ease slightly. After being crammed in that hellhole for so long, even this air felt clean...

He shifted the weight of his backpack. Mostly clothes, barely anything useful. No weapons, no tools, no proper supplies. He needed food, or more importantly, something to defend himself with- anything that might keep him alive out there.

A store. Any store. That was his next move.

After a hasty, mid-length walk, he found one. A shabby convenience store lit by harsh fluorescent lights that stabbed at his tired eyes. The building shined against the darkness of the city like a beacon, though that didn't offer him any comfort. Inside, the place was empty, save for a worn out cashier leaning on the counter.

The guy doesn't have a clue what's coming, Clint thought grimly.

He moved quickly, snatching items off the shelves with little thought. A few days worth of food and water, a pocket knife, a compass, flashlights, matches, duct tape, a handheld radio, batteries, and most importantly, a first-aid kit. That's what people needed in these kinds of situations, right? Survival 101. Maybe if Clint wasn't so exhausted- If the events of the night hadn't shredded his brain- he could've been more methodical.

He dropped the pile onto the counter. The cashier barely lifted their head, giving him a simple tired, disinterested glance as they began scanning.

Clint felt exposed under their gaze. Were they judging him? Did they know? No, no way. This person didn't know anything about what he'd seen, what he'd gone through. Still, Clint's anxiety twisted inside of him. What am I even doing? Whwre will I go once I get out of the city? Bunking with the bears in the wilderness?

A sharp beep interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Card declined," the cashier said flatly. Clint stared at the reader. Declined? No way. He'd entered the pin correctly, hadn't he? Great. Embarrasing. And worse- time he didn't have.

"Uh, hold on," Clint muttered, fumbling with his backpack, pretending to search for cash. His mind raced. Options, solutions. Then, without thinking, his fist shot out, catching the cashier off guard. They crumpled to the floor with a grunt.

Clint grabbed the supplies and bolted. The night air hit him like a slap, but he didn't stop running. He wasn't particularly muscular, but he had adrenaline on his side. The sound of his own breathing filled his ears as he sprinted down the dark streets. Don't look back. Just keep going.

Next stop... the subway.

This time, Clint would make sure to pay with cash. The cards weren't reliable anymore- God knows why. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he had just enough cash for the ride. Not for those supplies earlier... but still, it's enough to get him out of here.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and kept moving, the city's quiet hum pressing in on him. At least the subway ran 24/7. Fewer trains at this hour, sure, but he could make it work.

This ride wouldn't get him far- not far enough to outrun what was coming. Could he even run from something like that? But... staying in the apartment tonight wasn't an option. Clint didn't want to be anywhere near it.

He tried to steady his thoughts as he reached the platform. The place was nearly deserted, save for a few people, all sitting alone. Good. Clint didn't want to sit near anyone right now. Much less risk having to talk.

For a moment, he let himself breathe. The air here wasn't much better than aboveground, but at least he had a chance to think. He tried to focus, but his thoughts were a mess, a tangle of fear, guilt, and anger.

Would he really survive this on his own? He didn't know where he was going. No plan, no destination. Just running. And he'd already hurt someone innocent. Probably. How could he be sure? For all Clint knew, that cashier was watching those red rooms too. Maybe they were even a part of it.

Sick. All of them. Every last one of them. That's why this is happening in the first place, isn't it?

The distant sound of an approaching train snapped him out of his thoughts. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. Luna's... He had to go to Luna's.

She could help him. She had to, right? Luna always seemed to know what to do. Even if she couldn't, she atleast deserved to know what was coming. To hear the truth before it was too late. He owed her that much.

The train screeched to a halt in front of him, the doors sliding open with a mechanical groan. Clint stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He could atleast try to save her.

He scanned the empty car for anyone, his anxiety gnawing at him as he slid into a seat near the door. The train jerked forward, speeding into the dark tunnel ahead. Clint let himself lean back for a moment, his eyes closing as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

And maybe fall asleep.

Chapter Text

The house was dim, all the lights were turned off, the blinds left open to let the pale light of early morning seep through. Luna sat at her desk by her computer, the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard the only sound in the stillness. The peace shattered suddenly with loud, frantic banging on her door.

"Gah-" Luna jolted upright, her chair falling to the floor as she spun to face the door. Her heart pounded. She wasn't one to scare easily, but after everything that had happened, she'd learned to be more cautious. Her hand hovered over a screwdriver on her desk- something she'd thrown carelessly earlier- but she paused when she heard a low, trembling voice beyond the door.

"...Luna? Are you in there?"

She let out a relieved sigh. "Clint."

Luna opened the door, hand resting on her hip as she gave him an unimpressed look. "hey, Clint. Early morning visit? You scared me half to death." Clint stood there, visibly trembling, his face looked pale when being illuminated by the sun outside. Despite his fear, he managed a faint smile at the sight of her, alive and well. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But... we need to talk. Now. I need you to listen to me." Luna raised an eyebrow, but her expression softened as she stepped aside to let him in. "Okay, okay. Come on in and explain yourself."

Clint shuffled inside, his eyes darting around the living room. Luna's home was as meticulously organized as ever- cozy, inviting, a stark contrast to Clint's now completely thrashed apartment. She always had a nicer place than he did, though. "I don't even know where to start," Clint stammered, running a hand through his blonde hair. "What I saw last night... You're going to think I've lost it, but I promise it's true. You've... You like zombie movies, right?" Luna raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms, walking a bit closer to Clint. "I mean, yeah, sure. Clint, you're worrying me. What does that have to do with-"

"Amelea." Clint interrupted, his voice almost cracking. "You know her. She- they killed... her. They shot her. Multiple times. In the head. And then she... she got back up! That's not possible!" His voice grew more frantic as he spoke, and Luna grabbed onto his wrists. Clint didn't protest. Luna blinked at him, her brown furrowing in concern. "Clint... are you sure you didn't... hallucinate? I'm not saying you're lying, but that kind of trauma can mess with your mind-"

"NO!" Clint's shout made her flinch. "I'm telling you, Luna! It happened. And it's not just her. They're planning something.. They're going to release those things- whatever they are- into the world. They're going to get everyone killed for their- his sick games! You have to listen to me!" His hands gripped her shoulders, his panic obvious as he shook her slightly. Luna tightened her hands over his wrists, pulling him back calmly. "Okay, okay. Breathe. Deep breaths."

Clint inhaled shakily, his gaze locked on hers as she smiled at him. "I know how this sounds," he said, his voice quieter but no less desperate. "But you have to believe me. She was... back up. They made sure I saw it. They wanted me to see it." Luna exhaled, her mind racing. Clint wasn't the type to freak out over nothing. He was a rational guy- intense, sure, but never delusional. And he certainly wasn't one to pull such a cruel prank.

"What do you want me to do?" she finally asked.

Clint smiled slightly at Luna, even if he knew she probably thought he was crazy. "Leave with me," he said without hesitation. "We need to get out of the city. We'll figure out the rest later, but right now, we just need to go. It's not safe here right now, and it's only going to get worse later." Luna frowned, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against Clint's hand. "Clint, I know you're scared, but listen to yourself right now. I can't just abandon everything on a whim and leave with you to God-knows-where. You're asking a lot-"

"Luna, please." His voice cracked again, and she saw the worry in his eyes. "I can't leave you here, and I can't do this without you. I need you to trust me. I need us both to be safe." Luna hesitated, studying him closely. He wasn't just scared, and 'terrified' definitely didn't cut it either. Clint wasn't one to scare easily. Whatever he'd seen, he truly believed it. Luna knew encouraging delusions was bad, but...

"I'll pack a bag," she said at last.

Clint let out a breath of relief, his shoulders sagging. "Thank God. Thank you, Luna. I was so worried... I'll help you."

The two moved quickly, Luna gathered her clothes and more personal items, while Clint grabbed practical supplies- he already had some himself in his backpack, but Luna's suitcase was big, and excess was something he wouldn't complain about. He was surprised she was willing to pack all her things and leave with him like this, but he was glad to know she seemed to trust him that much.

As they stood by the door, Luna adjusted her shoulder bag and grabbed the handle of her suitcase as she glanced back at her apartment. "So... where are we going next?" she had a tired smile on her face, but didn¿t seem to mind leaving right now. She knew what- who- this was about, and she didn't have any good reason to truly stay. That's what she told herself. Maybe it was just because of the way Clint was looking at her right now. "The subway." Clint replied. "It's how i got here. We can head out of the city from there, it's the easiest option."

Luna nodded, opening the door and gesturing for him to lead the way. "Ladies first," She joked, her voice lighter now.

"Funny." He rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile as Luna locked the door behind them. He was calmer now.

Clint walked out onto the street, while Luna looked back to her home. Maybe she'd be back tommorrow, or not at all. The walk to the subway was quiet. The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. Clint felt much calmer than last time he went to the subway, he glanced at Luna every so often, reassured by her presence, making sure she was still there and no one else happened to be following them. Luna would occasionally meet his eyes, but she mostly kept her eyes ahead, her expression unreadable.

Inside the subway, Clint felt a strange sense of calm. This time he could actually pay attention to the usual noise of the station- the hum of trains, the chatter of people- it all grounded him. Maybe it was because he wasn't alone with his thoughts like last time. Luna sat beside him on the bench, her bag clutched to her chest. "I still can't believe you talked me into this," she muttered, closing her eyes.

"I'm glad you're here," Clint said earnestly. "I really don't think I could've left you there." Luna opened one eye to glance at him. "Yeah, I know." Clint smiled slightly, leaning back too. Maybe he could relax now. He wasn't as tired as before to actually fall asleep, but closing his eyes didn't hurt.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by a voice. "Are you two running from the apocalypse too?"

Both Luna and Clint looked up, startled. A man stood infront of them, his dark hair disheveled, his rumpled red shirt clinging to his sturdy frame. "That's what you're doing, right?" The man insisted. Luna looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?" Clint snapped, standing up and glaring at him. The man raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. Name's Ronald. I'm leaving the city because, well, zombies are gonna kill us. Same as you two, I'm guessing."

Luna and Clint exchanged a baffled glance. "How the fuck do you know about that?" Clint demanded, his tone sharp. "This isn't a funny joke." Luna stood up beside him, ready to punch the new face if she had to. Ronald shrugged. "Heeey, calm down, you two. I mean no harm. We're on the same team, you know."

"On the same team!? You- We don't know you!" Clint looked offended to be grouped in with the guy. "Maybe you should explain who you are properly before things get rough." Luna crossed her arms, and Clint looked at the man expectantly. "That's what I was trying to do before but whatever. I already said my name, so... Let's just say I have connections. My boss told me to get out, flee the city 'cause zombies are coming and they're going to kill everyone. Well, not word for word, but you know." Ronald looked back at the two, but Clint and Luna gave him nothing but confused faces.

He decided to elaborate. "Okay, so I work for an organization that deals with camera systems. My boss is forcing everyone involved to skip town, said a rival organization's about to let all hell break loose." Luna narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but Clint's eyes widened in recognition at the kind of work he spoke of. "...Rival organization..." he repeated to himself. "Who's your boss?"

"That's not something to discuss in public, is it?" Ronald replied with a sly grin. "Look, man didn't exactly pay for my ride. Or tell me where to go at all... the asshole. Mind if I tag along with you two? We have the same goal, right? I'll get out of your hair eventually." Luna looked at Clint, and Clint looked back at her. She was about to object about Ronald coming with them but Clint shook his head at her. This man knew something. If they stuck together, maybe he could get more answers. Especially if he figured out who this guy's boss is.

"I need to dissect this guy." Clint whispered in Luna's ear. Luna raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. "Fine," Luna said finally. "You can come with us."

"Wow. I didn't think you would actually agree." Ronald made a face, but grinned anyway. "Aight! make space for one more!" He plopped down between them. "Thanks, pals. This is gonna be fun, huh?" Clint scowled but said nothing. Luna just shook her head, reluctanctly finding it a bit funny. She leaned back against the bench, far away from Ronald enough so that Clint could sit between them, which Clint took, annoyed.

There it goes. They were finally leaving this hell to God-knows-where, but hopefully far away enough to escape what... what Adam was planning on doing. Wherever they were headed...

Maybe Texas.