Russika was in love, as only a fourteen year old can be in love. The man of her dreams was so wonderful, tall, dark, muscular. She hid her schoolbooks from her father. He would be furious if he saw 'Russika & Stephan' written in fancy script and multiple colors all over them. She dutifully went to confession and made up sins of disobedience and coveting while she held the sin of longing for her unrequited love close to her heart. Stephan was older than she, in his final year of school, but she knew, she just knew, that if he realized how deep her love was for him he would respond. So, when the other boys in her class asked her out for walks or picnics she haughtily refused. She would stay chaste and pure, her heart and her body saved for Stephan and their wedding night.

The present....

The Avengers West Coast sat in the restaurant of their temporary headquarters, a motel not far from the Palos Verde compound. Wanda chased a last piece of lettuce around the bottom of her salad bowl, not because she wanted it, more for something to do. Hawkeye sopped up the remains of his second large bowl of chili with a slice of bread, all the while grumbling that it wasn't nearly spicy enough. Bobbi and Bonita talked quietly about old times, as did Tigra and Natasha. Ashley had left for Detroit a few hours earlier and Vision, who didn't require food, had gone to the compound to check on the others.

Wanda hoped that he would return with good news. For three days now the team had been housed at the motel while the others were under quarantine. * They urgently needed to get back to the compound, to their own equipment, to their own beds, even to their own dining room. Curious tourists had gawked at the costumed heroes as they had eaten their meal but it had seemed a better alternative to the endless string of take out Chinese food and hamburgers that they had been consuming in their rooms, although Hawkeye hadn't been complaining about that food nearly as much as he was about this. As she mused, Wanda picked up snatches of the conversations that went on around her.

* as told in issue 5

Firebird: "I'm not sure how long I am staying, Bobbi. Perhaps another day or two, then I must return to Arizona. I was very sad when I heard about you and Clint breaking up. I'm thrilled to see you have settled your differences. Marriage is a holy union, and you two always seemed to be the perfect couple."

Mockingbird: "Well, it's been a rocky road, that's for sure, Bonita, but we're trying. Funny, I find it hard to think of Clint and perfect in the same sentence though."

Hawkeye (around a mouth full of chili): "Mmpphh..."

Black Widow: "I'm not with the team right now, Greer. I sometimes wonder if I ever really do belong there..."

Tigra: "I hear you, Natasha, I hear you."

Half listening, half not, Wanda's thoughts drifted. She was acting as temporary team chairman, she was dating Simon, although casually, but seeing her ex-husband Vision, remote and robotic once more, was tearing her apart. As soon as this crisis was over, she was going to take some time to settle her own feelings, once and for all. But until then, it was business as usual.

The past.....

Two young strangers had come to the village, a boy and a girl. They had enrolled in the school that Russika attended, but they both held themselves apart, aloof. Russika couldn't understand why all the boys seemed so attracted to the red headed girl. She rarely spoken and when she did it was with a heavy accent that Russika thought provincial but the boys seemed to love, especially Stephan.

Russika was furious that Stephan, her Stephan, was so infatuated with this peasant witch. She prayed earnestly, entreating for her love to be returned to her, knowing full well that such prayers would be frowned on by the old parish priest and by her father for that matter. She didn't care. Stephan was hers, or should be anyway, and she would go to any lengths to make sure no one stole him from her.

The present....

The team was back at the compound at last. Jan, Hank, Pietro, Simon and Agent had all been given clean bills of health and the quarantine had been lifted. As her final act as chairman Wanda had dictated a record of the team's encounter with the Death Throws * for the Avengers archives and turned the gavel back to Hank and Jan. Now she sat quietly on the porch of her bungalow and listened to the sounds of the others through the night air that was still heavy with the scent of salt from the ocean and oranges, although the blossom season was still months away.

* last issue

Hawkeye had insisted on another of his famous west coast bar-b-ques to see Natasha and Bonita off. Firebird was returning home, and the Black Widow was off to San Francisco for a short visit with old acquaintances, but both had promised to return soon, at least for a brief sojourn. Vision had elected to stay, for a few more days at least. Now Bobbi and Clint had gone to a movie and Wanda could hear the murmured voices and laughter of her other teammates in the distance. She longed to be with them, but her thoughts were far too confused at the moment.

All her life she had wanted a normal life, and all her life it had been denied her. Raised by Bova, the bovine creation of the High Evolutionary, she and her brother had moved from village to village during their teens, always heading onwards as soon as their mutant powers were found out by the superstitious natives of the rural Balkan area. Then they had joined with Magneto and his Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, not because they agreed with his cause, but because they had owed him for rescuing them once, and because they knew of nowhere else to go.

Even finally getting on the right side of the law, and joining the Avengers, had been no help. The life of a superheroine was anything but normal. Always in the spotlight, always on the edge, her dreams of a normal lifestyle seemed to fade farther away. She had a minor crush on Captain America when she had first joined the team, but Vision had changed all that. It wasn't love at first sight, it was more of a gradual realization that she was falling in love with the Syntheziod. What chance did a mutant and an android have of a normal life?

Against all odds they had tried. Realizing their mutual love they had married, eventually moved away to a suburban home, even had children, but then everything had collapsed. Her husband dismantled at the hands of government officials, his memories and emotions gone, her children apparently only figments of her hex power. Wanda's dreams were shattered. Now it was time to build new dreams, find new goals, Would they include Vision, or Simon, or any of the Avengers?

As she mulled it over she heard the sounds of a returning skycycle and then excited conversation. Noting how late it was Wanda wondered why Clint and Bobbi were only just getting back now. She headed for the main compound to see what the problem was. Everyone was talking at once. There had been a drive by shooting near the theater where the couple had been. They had pursued and captured two of the shooters but the third had escaped. Bobbi had been injured during the apprehension. Clint was being rather over solicitous now, although Bobbi protested that it was really nothing more than a deep scratch.

As they headed to the main house conversation was mixed, with everyone wondering if the Avengers should get involved with problems like this, since the police seemed better equipped to handle them. Clint was adamant that protecting the public and avenging the deaths was part of an Avenger's job, oddly, his most vocal supporter was Jack. Hank checked and rebandaged Bobbi's shoulder and everyone retired to bed. Wanda, thinking of the senseless deaths and injuries that her teammates had seen, reflected that perhaps her own problems weren't quite as bad as she had thought.

The past....

The church had held a young people's dance in mid summer and Russika, after days of pleading with her father, had attended. She was sure that Stephan would notice her, even though her mother had insisted she wear a modest high buttoned dress. After leaving the house she had undone a couple of the buttons and turned up the collar. It produced the desired effect, with just a rounded hint of her bosom showing, but Stephan had spent the evening hanging around that newcomer. Russika was finally about to leave, convinced that the new girl had somehow tricked him into ignoring her, when there was a ruckus near the door. She hurried over to see what was happening.

The priest was ordering Stephan, blood trickling from his nose, to leave. Behind him, the new girl's strange white haired brother stood angrily, his hands balled into fists. Accusations were being made that she knew had to be false. Stephan would never try to force his affections on anyone. He was the most popular boy in school, why would he? The new girl must have made up the story, jealous because she knew that Stephan wasn't paying attention to her and had actually been watching Russika all night. When he left she hurried out the door after him.

She caught up to him near the old meeting hall at the far end of the village. His friend, Ivan, was with him. Russika had never liked Ivan, he frightened her, leering at all the girls and making rude comments but Stephan was there so she ventured closer to them.

He turned and spotted her. Laughing he called out, "Hey, little mouse, what are you looking for?"

She was embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. Little mouse was what some of her schoolmates called her because she was so shy. She stammered, "I... I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

He laughed again, and so did Ivan. "I am now, little mouse. Come on, we'll have our own party."

He put his arm around her shoulders and started to lead her towards the back door of the hall. There was an oddly familiar smell about him, his hand rested near the top of her breast, and she was a little afraid, but this was Stephan, her dream man. This was what she wanted, to be with him, alone, so she went. As soon as they were inside he pulled her to him and started to kiss her. She was surprised when he slipped his tongue in her mouth but she kissed back as best she knew how. Then she felt his hand inside her dress, fondling her breasts, his leg shoved between her legs rubbing back and forth. It felt good, but it was wrong, she knew that but he started kissing her neck and rubbing more and she relaxed just a little, enjoying the warm tingly waves that ran through her. This couldn't hurt, Stephan wouldn't do anything to harm her and besides, she wouldn't let him go any further. Suddenly she felt something hard pushing against her buttocks. It was Ivan, he had slipped his pants down and was rubbing himself against her ample hips. She started to struggle to get away.

Stephan held her tight. "What's the matter, mousie? Hey, you followed us. What are you, a cock teaser, like that red headed tramp?" He unbuttoned more of her dress, undoing her bra and freeing her heavy breasts. "Whoa, looks like our mousie is really a cow. Ivan, check out the tits on this one. This is gonna be fun. Okay girl, strip down and lets see what we have here."

She was crying now and shaking her head. She realized what that smell was, they had both been drinking, a lot. She had been so stupid to follow them. He pushed her up against a wall, one hand fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, the other under her skirt, rubbing between her legs. "Come on mousie, that feels good doesn't it. Do you want everyone to know that you followed us, and came in here with us? Girls only come here for one reason, baby, to get stuffed. Give us what we want and no one need know, except the three of us."

He was right. Everyone would know, her friends, the priest, her parents. This was wrong, it was a sin, it shouldn't feel good if it was wrong. Was she evil inside? Good girls didn't enjoy sex, it was something that they did with their husbands, because it was their duty. That's what her mother had told her, that's what the nuns had told her. She didn't know what to do but she slowly slipped out of her dress and underclothes. Which sin was worse, letting Stephan have sex with her, or having everyone think she was a tramp? She stood, naked, crying, waiting for the inevitable.

Ivan pulled an old mattress out into the middle of the room. Someone had obviously used the abandoned building for this purpose before. Stephan dropped his pants and underwear. Russika was stunned. She had never seen a naked man before, not even her father or her brother. She was terrified as he pushed her down to the mattress and climbed on top of her. He pried her legs apart and started poking at her. It hurt and she kept crying and he kept shoving harder. Suddenly he jumped up, disgusted,.

"Ivan, the bitch is as dry as last night's whiskey bottle and as frigid as Sister Mary Joe. Do something about it would ya?"

Ivan giggled, that half mad giggle that had always frightened her so much, and dropped down beside her. He started running his hands over her, and kissing and sucking her breasts. She was petrified and then he started to move farther down her body. He pushed her legs apart again and began to kiss the inside of her thighs. The evil began again as a warm tingling feeling started spreading up her body. It was wrong, it was a sin, the tears of remorse poured down her face even as she felt her hips raising involuntarily in pleasure as he probed her with his tongue.

Stephan grabbed her hand and was using it to fondle his penis. He laughed as she moaned softly through her tears, her body arching higher all the time. "See, the little whore likes it, they all like it, man, they just like to play hard to get. Okay Ivan, lemme at her, I'll fuck her hard and fast the way that stuck up bitch Wanda needs to be fucked."

Ivan moved back and Stephan jammed himself into her. The warm, pleasant, evil feeling stopped. Now it hurt desperately. He had her legs spread wide and was slamming into her, she felt numb inside and her thighs were battered and bruised but all she could think was how it was Wanda's fault. She was the one, the one who had turned her wonderful Stephan into this sweating, grunting monster, with those odd hairs on his back, and pimples on his buttocks. It was true, what had been whispered. The red haired newcomer was a witch. She had cast a spell on the entire village. There was no other explanation, Otherwise how else could Russika explain her own feelings of pleasure earlier. Stephan groaned and pushed himself deep into her one last time and then rolled back, spent and exhausted.

It was Ivan who noticed the blood. "Hey, Steph, she was a virgin! Man, you picked her little cherry good." Giggling again, he laid beside her, wiped her with an old cloth and started to fondle her with one hand as he pumped at himself with the other. "Poor mousie, I bet that hurt, didn't it? Don't worry, it'll feel better next time. Here, let Ivan make you feel good." He rubbed her quickly, his fingers probing her bruised and aching crotch skillfully until those wicked wonderful feelings started again. Again, she could feel her hips pumping in response to his touch, her nipples crinkling as his tongue flickered over them. The witch's evil had invaded her soul. Ivan moved his fingers faster and deeper in time with his own ministrations to himself. As he finally spurted semen over her she knew she was doomed as her own orgasm sent numbing ripples of pleasure throughout her body. They both lay there entwined, and she silently vowed she would find some way to purge the evil from herself, and from her beloved, Stephan.

The present....

Personal log of USAgent

Being with this team is sure a lot different from the other stuff I've done, Some days it's great, some days it sucks. Today has to be one of the all time lows for me, for all of us. I guess it started last night when Barton and his wife came home. The bickering back and forth continued today and it felt odd to be on the bowman's side of things. He headed down to the police station this morning to question one of the punks they hauled in and came back in a miserable mood. Then tonight a street gang, the Stone Perfs, dumped a body at our gates, with a warning telling Hawkeye to keep his nose out of their business or more would die. Barton took it hard, figuring the kid'd still be alive if not for him. He totally freaked and took off by himself to deal with it. It was a bone head move, but I gotta admit it was something I'd have done too, and I had to admire his guts.

Quicksilver was out for the evening and a call came in from Jim Hammond, about a possible sighting of the Grim Reaper. It sounded like another false alarm but Wondy urged them to check it out so he and the others split to hook up with the Torch. Mockingbird was worried about Hawk and wanted to stay behind so I offered to stay with her and man the monitors. Besides, even though she said she was all right she still had that shoulder wound too. It wasn't too long after that the call came in from the police. Barton had been ambushed and shot by that street gang. Some local kid had found him just moments later and called 911. The emergency team had gotten there fast and were about to transport him to an east LA hospital. I notified the rest of the team then grabbed Bobbi and a skycycle and we took off.

The cop, Zamora, hadn't said much about how bad Barton was hurt, but he sure didn't sound very optimistic either. I could feel Mockingbird shivering as she held onto my waist during the ride there, and I don't think it was because she was cold. No one in emerg knew what we were talking about so, figuring we had beat them there, we headed back outside, just as an ambulance pulled up. The doors opened and the paramedics jumped out with a blood splattered body strapped to a board and lying on a gurney, they had some dingus shoved down his throat and it sorta looked like they were breathing for him with it, one of them was pumping away at his chest. I figured whoever it was had to be a goner, then I spotted the tattered remains of the purple costume through the blood-stained bandages and blankets. My stomach flip flopped as I realized it was Hawkeye lying there, or what was left of him anyway.

Mocky gave a funny little strangled scream and stumbled backwards against me. I grabbed her fast 'cause I thought she was gonna faint but in a second or two she was off and running after the gurney as the emergency crew dashed into the hospital. No one tried to stop us from following them, maybe it was our Avenger costumes or maybe they were just too damned busy trying to keep the archer alive. We tailed them right into one of the treatment rooms. I held Bobbi back from the action a bit so the doctors could work on him, but I didn't try to get her to leave. He was her husband, I figured she had a right to be there, and to know what was happening.

I kept my arm around her shoulders. She was still shaking, and her lower lip was quivering, but she didn't cry. I guess she knew if anyone heard her then they'd make us leave. The doctors and nurses were working frantically, hooking Barton up to machines, attaching tubes and gauges, most of which I didn't recognize. They shocked him a couple of times. Mock's body flinched when his did, she was holding her breath and didn't release it until his heart rate seemed to look normal, or at least normal enough for the medics to start trying to patch him up. When they stripped off some of the bandages and pulled out some of the gauze packing so they could assess the damage I couldn't help but remember Ma and Pa. Hawkeye was white as ghost, he looked like he had started bleeding again and I could see almost a dozen places where bullets had ripped into his flesh, torn him up inside. Ma and Pa had been the same, they had been shredded into vague shapeless blobs by bullets, and I wasn't able to save them.

This time it would be different, it had to be. It couldn't be like Ma and Pa again. I hugged Mockingbird, in what I hoped was a reassuring way. She felt so tiny and helpless in my arms. Lord knows, Barton and I had never been friends but he looked so damned defenseless lying there, broken, bleeding, maybe even dying. Bobbi was crying quietly now. They were husband and wife, and a marriage shouldn't be torn apart, especially not by some lousy street scum and their bullets. I vowed I'd do anything I could to keep the bowman alive, blood transfusions, anything at all, and, if I couldn't, then I'd avenge his death, one way or another.

One of the nurses noticed us at that point and hustled us out. The rest of the team was just arriving so I brought them up to date. Dr. Willis came out soon after to tell us what was up. At least x-rays showed Hawk had no spinal trauma, and his heart and brain weren't hit but he was still shot up pretty bad. I didn't quite understand all of what the Doc was talking about but I did get that they were taking Barton into surgery but they weren't really optimistic about his chances. At least he was honest with us, and didn't try to raise our hopes. Mockingbird had stopped crying by this time. She calmly signed the necessary consent forms then followed a nurse to the waiting room outside the operating room. We all sat down to wait. Bobbi wouldn't talk, she just sat there and stared at the floor. I glanced at the clock, it was 11:10PM. It was going to be a very long night.

The past.....

The evil grew, and it was the witch girl's fault. The evil in her and the evil in Stephan was unstoppable. She prayed morning and night to make it go away, but it didn't. Stephan insisted that she meet him again and again or he'd tell everyone what had happened and tell them it had been her fault. Again and again he was brutal and self satisfying, cruelly using her for his own carnal passions and, again and again Ivan was there, watching and then caressing and kissing and fondling her until her own sinful body exploded in ecstasy. She wasn't sure which was worse, but she knew that it was wrong and perverse and was damning them all.

And so she prayed, and read her bible, and whispered rumors about the evil sorceress Wanda, but still it continued. Finally, one early fall day, part of her prayers were answered and a miracle happened. Screams came from the main street. Russika and her family ran to see what happened. An excited crowd was milling around in front of the ruined front of the parish recreation hall. She was unable to find out exactly what had happened, all she knew was everyone said it was Wanda's fault, she had gestured and the building had collapsed. The evil creature and her brother, Pietro had fled. Russika's heart leapt. It was over, the evil had left, now she and Stephan would be normal again.

But it wasn't over. Stephan grabbed her arm as she started to head home and pulled her behind the church. He took her right there, shoved her panties to the ground, wrapped her legs around his waist and had her, banging her spine against the wall of the church as he satisfied his animal needs. This was sacred ground, a Holy place, the evil was far stronger than she had believed. As she rearranged her clothing she knew that something would have to be done to wipe away the depravity that the witch had left in her wake.

She slipped into the house and went straight to her room. Her bible clutched to her heart she prayed earnestly all night. Finally, just as dawn broke, she flipped open the good book and found her answer in Revelations. She knew now what had to be done, to release Stephan, to release herself, from the depravity the witch had cast over them.

Energized by the knowledge that she and Stephan would once more be free she stayed up to prepare herself. At school she asked Stephan to meet her later behind the church. When she returned home she changed to what she usually called her 'work' dress. It was the one she wore when she worked around the farm for her parents, the one she need not fear getting soiled. Hurrying to her rendezvous she was overjoyed by the idea that soon everything would be as it was.

As she expected Stephan came alone, and, as she expected, he had no words of love or affection for her, just a rush to get into her and reach his climax. She knew what she had to do. As his hips pumped, again banging her into the wall of the holy church, she slipped her hand into one of the large pockets on the skirt of her dress and withdrew the implement that would free them both from this madness. Buoyed by the touch of the sacred building against her spine, she knew she had the strength to do what had to be done. She felt his body tense as he exploded into her, and she drove her knife into his back at the same moment... again... and again. As he struggled against her she plunged the knife repeatedly into his back, until he finally dropped to the ground, motionless, not breathing, and free of the evil.

Russika left him there, knowing that her beloved was finally returned to his former state of grace. She felt exuberant, cleansed, alive again. She hurried home and slipped back to the barn and quickly cut the neck of a chicken to prepare for dinner. That way no one would question the bloodstains on her dress. As she hurried inside to clean the bird and got it ready she whispered her prayers of thanks and fondly remembered the passage she had found that had guided her path. Revelations 7:14 "They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb."

The present....

Personal log of USAgent

Three hours of silence feels more like a week. Each of the gang tried to talk to Bobbi, to comfort her, but it hadn't worked. She'd nod and smile weakly, then go back to staring at the floor. Around 1AM a cheerful nurse had come out and told us that Hawk was still in surgery but that his vital signs were steady, if not necessarily real strong. She seemed to think this was a good sign, but it didn't sound that encouraging to me. Finally, after we had been there for just over three hours, I grabbed Bobbi's arm and convinced her to go for a walk with me. She didn't want to leave but I told her that we would be called on our communicards if there was any news, but she really needed to get out of there for a few minutes.

I practically had to drag her outside. There was a little park across the street so I held her hand and we walked over there. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods and it was pretty late, but I figured no one would try to hassle us since we were in costume. If they did I'd make them damned sorry. We walked quietly for a while, then, finally, I could see one little tear running down her cheek, then another. That's what she needed, to let it out, but she wouldn't break down in front of the rest of the Avengers. In a lot of ways she was as stubborn as her husband. I pulled her toward me and held her tightly and she started to sob. We just stood there for a few minutes, me with my arms around her, and her crying like her heart was breaking. Barton had no idea how lucky a man he was to have a good woman like Bobbi to love him. Some day I hope I find a woman who'll love me like that, and that I can love back. Right now, no matter how I felt about him, I owed it to Barton to try to comfort his wife, however things turned out. He might be a king sized jerk most of the time, but I was pretty sure that, had the tables been turned, he'd have done the same for me.

It took a few minutes, but her weeping finally stopped, and she just clung to me, sniffling. I had thought to grab a few tissues before we left, so I handed them to her and waited while she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. I gave her a quick hug and, hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way, I kissed her forehead and whispered, "Come on, Mock, you know the bowman is too stubborn to let a buncha street kids take him out. He's a fighter, he won't give up, now you can't either, okay?"

She sniffed a little and answered, "I know, Jack, but it's just so hard. He looked so bad when they brought him in. My God, he was barely breathing. I was used to stuff like this as a SHIELD agent, but the Avengers don't deal with this kind of thing; they deal with costumed bad guys who use energy weapons and TASERs, not gangs with guns that rip you apart. Clint had no idea what he was up against, he hasn't been near the streets like I have."

"I know Bobbi, but look... Hawk's gone up against Dr. Doom and the Collector and Immortus, guys that could conquer the whole blasted world. Do you really think he's gonna let a bunch of barrio brats with Saturday Night Specials take him out? I had the feeling that doctor didn't think he'd even survive being put under an anesthetic, and the nurse seemed pretty impressed he'd made it through the first couple of hours of surgery. If he can last that long, then he can make it. You just have to have faith, okay?" I stopped, unsure how she'd react to what I was going to say next, but then I remembered Barton, lying there in a pool of blood, while they battled to get his heart beating steady, and I looked down at his wife, with the tears in her eyes and I had to go ahead. "Bobbi, we can pray for him together, if you want."

She looked kinda oddly at me, but she nodded, so we knelt together, there in the park, our heads lowered, and we silently begged for the life of Clint Barton. Then I took her hand in mine again, and we headed back. She went to the waiting room but I had one more thing I needed to do. I found a payphone and called Avengers mansion. I was pretty sure no one had thought to do it, and I figured they had a right to know, especially Captain America, since he and the bowman had been pretty close buddies.

Their butler, Jarvis, answered the phone. He sounded half asleep but, since it was about five in the morning there, I guess he probably was. He called Cap right away. Of course he sounded wide awake. Did the man ever sleep? I brought him up to date on everything that had happened and explained that Barton was in surgery and was in pretty critical shape. For just a moment he sighed, like he was old and tired. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, all the weariness seemed to pass.

"Agent, I really appreciate you taking time to call me. I know you and Clint haven't always been on the best of terms but I'm sure he'd appreciate it too. Do what you can for Bobbi. I'll clear up a couple of things here and be out there in a couple of hours."

I nodded, although I knew he couldn't see me over a commercial phone line. "Sure, Cap. Mockingbird'll be okay, she's one tough lady. And don't worry about Barton too much. He's gonna make it, I'm sure of it."

I hung up and went back to the waiting room. By this time Bobbi was more back to her old self; she was pacing back and forth and cursing the bowman's obstinacy. I wandered over to where the others were and kinda joked about getting Vizh or Torch to stick around to take up the slack since Barton was out of action. Of course, Iron Man never even looked at me, to see that I was kidding, he just got all defensive. Sometimes I wonder why I even try.

Just then the Doctor came out and brought us up to date. He still wasn't giving us any false hopes. The archer was badly hurt, he'd lost way too much blood and was pretty much being held together by a prayer and was in extreme pain. They had removed as many bullets as they could safely, the others would have to stay there, for now anyway. But, he was alive, and that was what counted. I glanced up and whispered a soft thanks, the others didn't notice, but Bobbi did.

She asked if she could see him. The Doctor said he'd be going into recovery soon and she could go then, although not to really expect him to come around much. A few minutes later a nurse came to get her. Bobbi grabbed my hand and asked me to come too. A couple of the others looked surprised, but I ignored them and went with her anyway.

The nurse left us at the door of the recovery room and we headed in. For just a second I didn't know if Mockingbird was going to make it. Hawkeye was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his face almost grey. He had an IV and blood transfusion tubing attached to one arm and those oxygen tubes under his nose, patches on his chest hooked up to all kinds of machines. The only one I recognized was the one keeping track of his heart rate. That looked okay to me, but what did I know? I had to sort of push her over to the chair beside the bed. She sank into it and buried her face down into the blankets as she clung tightly to his limp hand.

His lips were dry and cracked and there were still a few flakes of dried blood at the side of his mouth. I dampened a cloth from the nearby water container and dabbed his lips carefully, moistening them, and wiping the blood away before Bobbi noticed it. His mouth moved, and his eyes flickered. I nudged Bobbi to look. She lifted her head, brushed his hair back, and touched his cheek softly and his eyes opened a little. He smiled a bit, but it was a pretty weak smile, and he tried to whisper her name, but then his eyes crinkled in pain and what started out as "Bobbi" just dissolved into a low moan. A couple of the monitors signals started jumping around and a nurse hurried in and injected something into his IV tubing and he seemed to slip back under.

I tried to get Bobbi to leave, but she wanted to stay and the nurse said it was all right, so I squeezed her hand and headed back out to the team to let them know how he looked. I whispered another prayer as I went, then I lied through my teeth about how he seemed as I tried my best to comfort his friends.

The past...

Stephan's death was attributed to passing gypsies, as were almost all local crimes. Ivan was kind, even attentive, to Russika, comforting her but no longer pressing any sexual advances. She prayed daily, prayers of thanks for her deliverance. Then her period failed to arrive. She prayed harder and harder but finally had to concede and go to the doctor's. Her fears were realized, she was pregnant. Terrified she told her parents. Her father's reaction was precisely what she had expected. He dragged her to the utility shed, ordered her to remove her underclothing then he applied his belt vigorously to her buttocks and thighs, cursing her as he did. She did not, however, expect what came next.

He roared his disgust for her then, turning her over, bellowed, "You cheap little tramp! If I have to feed and clothe a whore then I'll at least have the use of her." Horrified she watched through her tears as he dropped his own pants and broached her.

And the nightmare went on. Nightly her father, devout, strict, undisputed leader of the family, came to her bed. She wept, she begged, she prayed, but he wouldn't go away and neither would the evil. And all the while, the demon seed grew within her. After a little over month she knew the Lord's answer. It was the same as before. She asked Ivan, who had been totally devoted to her since Stephan's death, to meet her the next night. Together the two of them stole away from the village and fled into the night. Her mother was stunned the following morning to find her husband, stabbed to death, in Russika's bed, and her daughter nowhere to be found.

Ivan and Russika traveled to a distant village. They introduced themselves as husband and wife and awaited the birth of her child. The fiction wasn't hard to maintain. He was eighteen, she looked older than her years, and early marriages and parenthood were common here. Ivan found a job on a local farm to support them. Russika spent most of her time either at the church praying or at home reading her bible, but after a few weeks she began to cultivate the friendship of a strange old woman who lived on the outskirts of town.

Old Lilith was reputed to be an expunge of evil spirits and Russika soon became her constant companion. She studied and learned about demons and evil spirits. She read the biblical passages about the devil and his minions over and over. She felt the child of evil growing within her. Her work was not yet done. The demon spawn and the witch that was responsible must be expunged. Some day, no matter how long it took, she would return things to the way they were supposed to be, she would redeem herself in the eyes of her God. She studied more.

The present....

The first golden streaks of dawn kissed the wings of the Quinjet as it circled and landed in the cliffside dock at the West Coast compound. The team debarked, silently, almost stunned. They each murmured brief automatic good nights and headed off to their respective bungalows. Bobbi had stayed at her husband's side, warned by the doctors that his condition could change in an instant. There had been no point in all of them lingering and Vision had quickly volunteered to remain there. A fallen Avenger was easy prey for dozens of revenge hungry villains and, although police guards were posted, the team felt that they should also be there, to care for one of their own.

Wanda sat on the porch of her bungalow, sadly remembering things from her past. Her old buddy Hawkeye was critically injured, possibly dying. How could it happen, to him of all people? Clint was so alive, so vibrant, so devilish, so charming, so a part of her life for so long. Oh true, he had been annoying, arrogant and often pushy back in the early days, but he was always there with a joke or to cover your back. He had been at her wedding, been there when her husband was torn apart almost before her eyes. They had shared so much over the years, known joys and grief together for so long, and had such a special bond. No matter how down she was, Clint had always been there, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, a joke on his lips to make her smile. And now.....

Restless she wandered away from her house, through the grounds, down to the beach. They had all slipped into his hospital room for a moment before they left. The Clint she knew wasn't there. He was a vigorous, robust man, but this Clint looked frail, young, almost fragile. His very breathing seemed an effort too great for his broken body. Wanda had left with the others, shaken more than she had though possible, even after all these years of avenging and facing injury or death. She had seen other Avengers hurt before, even Hawkeye, but she couldn't recall seeing any of them look so vulnerable. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The heroes were always supposed to win weren't they? What had happened this time? It wasn't even against one of the many potentially world destroying menaces they tackled so often, just a gang of young kids with guns. Somehow it felt unfair, that Clint Barton, after facing down some of the major villains of the universe, might die at the hands of children.

As she drifted farther away from the more populous areas of the compound her thoughts drifted to Bobbi. How hard it had to be for her to sit there at her husband's side, not knowing if he would ever awaken. Wanda had suffered like that when Vision had been dismantled. She gasped. Bobbi had been responsible for that, at least indirectly. In her anger Wanda had wished terrible retribution on her. Could this be her fault? Were Clint's injuries some bizarre fulfillment of her hex power? Her desire for children and her power had combined to create life, surely her desire for revenge couldn't have done this, not to Hawkeye.

Her mind in turmoil, she never heard the approaching footsteps, never saw the blow coming, never identified her assailant before she fell to the ground. Robed in her favorite virginal white the young sorceress loomed over her. At long last, the source of the evil, the cause of the torment in her life, was in her power. Now the witch would suffer, as a witch should, at the hands of the demons she consorted with. She cradled the knife in her hands for just a moment, then raised it high over her head. Now it was time for the Scarlet Witch to die!

Finally! I had a lot of difficulty writing this issue, trying to find a balance between my normal CCA style that keeps with the spirit of the old series and describing scenes that I felt needed to be done to explain the motivations of a character. I have written & rewritten & can't say I am totally happy with the final result but it's time to move on.

My thanks to Doc Joe Lionelle who diagnosed Hawkeye's injuries from my description of his shooting in Avengers Spotlight 30. Regretably we have decided that Clint must have died of his wounds so next issue we're gonna have to clone him.... whoops - wrong book, sorry!

Also a big thank you to the very talented Kevin Newburn who has offered to do covers for my next few issues. I sent him a very rough plot outline and he came back with two rough sketches that were almost exactly like scenes I had already written. Only thing was - I hadn't described the scenes to him. Spooky. Glad to have you aboard Kevin.

Next issue, Wanda comes to grips with the realities of her past, the rest of the team come to grips with the possibility of losing one of their own and Hank Pym calls on his talents, medical and otherwise, to try to save Hawkeye.