Chapter 8 luck is not everything

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"This is the analysis report from the hair sample we took while he was asleep last night," Nick Fury said, sitting in his office chair and looking at Black Widow and Hawkeye. "The results are in: he's just an ordinary human. So, what's your take?"

Fury himself was quite surprised by this outcome. Initially, when he learned of Indra's existence, he suspected Indra might be a mutant. He had heard of mutants with the power of extraordinary luck. To confirm his suspicion, he had Indra stay at S.H.I.E.L.D. for a night. But the results showed he was just a normal person. It baffled him. How could a regular human be this lucky? Was he some kind of anomaly?

"I must admit, his luck is remarkable," Black Widow said, taking a seat on the couch behind her. "If he's not an enemy, I think keeping him at S.H.I.E.L.D. could be beneficial. He has no background, we can't find any records on him, and his psychological tactics are top-notch. He'd make an excellent agent."

A hint of a smile played on her lips as she spoke. Hawkeye, noticing her tone, felt a pang of displeasure. "I don't believe in luck," he countered bluntly.

"Neither do I, usually," Black Widow admitted, "but you have to acknowledge that some people seem to be favored by Lady Luck."

Hawkeye frowned. He knew Black Widow to be proud and rational, never one to trust easily. Yet here she was, showing an unusual bias toward a man whose background was a mystery. It irked him. "Sounds like you're describing a lucky charm," he said, his voice flat with sarcasm.

The smile vanished from Black Widow's face, replaced by a serious expression. "Agent Barton, I think you're being overly harsh on him."

"I'm not harsh on anyone," Hawkeye replied coolly. "But you seem to trust him too much."

"Are you questioning my instincts as an agent?" Black Widow's tone sharpened with a touch of irritation.

Hawkeye's frustration grew. "An agent should rely on facts, not intuition. And the fact is, he's just an ordinary person with unusually good luck."

"Luck is a form of skill," Black Widow retorted. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Have you ever seen an ordinary person walk out of a hail of bullets unscathed?"

Hawkeye's face remained impassive. "Only because he hasn't faced my arrows."

The disdain in his eyes was clear to Black Widow. She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "So, Agent Barton, are you seriously getting worked up over an ordinary man?"

Fury, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "Even though he's an ordinary man, we can't find any information on him, and his sudden appearance at the casino is suspicious. Since you believe he's a master of psychological tactics, Agent Romanoff, why don't we play along?"

Fury stood up and looked at Hawkeye. "Show him what your arrows can do."

---

Indra woke up to find himself locked in a room, facing Hawkeye, who was aiming an arrow at him. Although Indra didn't understand why Hawkeye had it in for him, this seemed a bit extreme.

"So, who are you?" Hawkeye asked, his expression unreadable.

Indra frowned. Why does everyone keep asking me this? Who else could I be? I haven't committed any crimes. I didn't kidnap anyone. I just made Black Widow lose a bit of money. Is that really worth all this trouble?

Seeing Indra remain silent, Hawkeye lowered his arrow. Remembering how Black Widow had been so protective of this man, he felt the need to enlighten Indra.

"Luck doesn't mean much," Hawkeye said, staring at Indra without expression. "You'd better tell me the truth. Why were you at the casino?"

Indra sighed. "I was there to gamble, of course."

"So you expect me to believe you just happened to be in our surveillance range," Hawkeye replied, "and just happened to know the combination to the lock?"

Indra sighed again. "I really did guess the lock's combination."

Hawkeye allowed himself a rare smile. Raising his bow, he said, "You might not know this, but my arrows never miss."

He glanced at Indra and continued, "So, you'd better make sure you're telling me the truth."

It wasn't an idle boast. Hawkeye's arrows never missed their mark, thanks to both his exceptional archery skills and his high-tech, precision-guided arrows. A hit from one was always fatal.

Outside, watching the surveillance feed, Black Widow frowned. Turning to Nick Fury, she said, her voice tense, "Isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. going too far? How can you play with someone's life like this?"

Despite knowing about Indra's extraordinary luck, she was acutely aware of Hawkeye's deadly accuracy. Countless souls had perished from his arrows. She fumed, "He may be lucky, but there's no way he can dodge Hawkeye's arrow."

Nick Fury shook his head, slightly taken aback by Black Widow's rare display of anger. "I know he can't dodge it," he said. He took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "That's why I instructed Hawkeye to use regular arrows and to aim off a bit—just enough to give him a scare."

"Don't worry," Fury assured. "Hawkeye knows what he's doing."

What they didn't know was that a mechanical voice had just spoken in Indra's ear: "Ding, detecting host's luck at 100%. Do not worry, proceed confidently."

Indra took a deep breath and said to Hawkeye, "I've told you the truth. Whether you believe me or not is up to you."

Hawkeye's brows furrowed. Does this man really think his luck is good enough to dodge my arrow? Does he think that's why he can speak so confidently? Black Widow might trust you, but that doesn't mean I do.

Hawkeye let out a cold laugh. "I'll give you one last chance," he said, aiming his arrow at Indra's head. "If you don't tell the truth, this arrow will pierce your skull, and you'll never speak again."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "So, have you made up your mind?"

Indra frowned and replied coolly, "I've said everything I need to say."

Hawkeye hadn't expected Indra to be so stubborn. He must really believe in his own luck. What a fool, Hawkeye thought. "Do you honestly think your luck will save you from my arrow?" he sneered. "If you want to die, don't blame me."

Indra met Hawkeye's gaze with disdain. "Go ahead, shoot. Don't hold back Mr archer."

Infuriated by Indra's words, Hawkeye smirked. "Most people beg for their lives when I aim at them," he said. "I haven't met many who are so eager to die."

With that, he drew his bowstring back further, his eyes turning steely. I'll show you that luck is useless, he thought, pulling the bowstring taut.

Outside, Black Widow's frown deepened as she watched the monitor. She knew from experience that the further Hawkeye drew his bow, the more lethal the shot would be. Indra wouldn't just get a scratch—he'd be seriously injured.

"What is Hawkeye doing?!" Black Widow exclaimed, panic rising in her voice. Fury, sensing the urgency, said, "Let's go."

He set his coffee down hastily and rushed into the room with Black Widow. As they entered, both stopped dead in their tracks, stunned by what they saw.

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