Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Hawkeye (Vol. 4), Issue #4 – “The Tape (Part 1)”! In the previous installment, Clint Barton and Kate Bishop are involved in a high-speed chase after a mysterious redheaded woman (WHOM BARTON BONED) shows up in their lives. Using a slew of interesting custom arrows, each one more interesting than the last, Barton and Bishop thwart the assailants!

Then Barton and the Redhead kiss before her flight! D’oh!

We probably won’t be continuing that story. This issue is apparently about a tape. That sounds very *yawn* exciting, doesn’t it?

Hawkeye (Vol. 4), Issue #4 [January, 2013]
Written by: Matt Fraction
“The Tape (Part 1)”

“You ever kill anybody, Clint?” Kate Bishop asks as we see a quick scene of Hawkeye shooting someone with two prostitutes right in the eyeballs. Two arrows, two eyeballs. Do the math.

“’Scuse me?” Barton responds, spitting beer all over the place.

“Did you ever kill anybody?” she repeats. These two are on the roof of Barton’s apartment building. It’s an orange day outside, to be sure.

The guy who grills on the roof has a weigh-in about this: “HELL NO THAT BOY NEVER KILLED ANYBODY. THEY DON’T LET YOU IN THE AVENGERS IF YOU KILL PEOPLE.”

Thanks, Chief. Clint Barton argues that he ain’t no superhero. No powers, no moral compass, just a keen eye and some bows and/or arrows. That’s Clint, baby.

Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, a large rectangular ship arrives and hovers above the building. Two superheroes descend upon ropes, kidnap Barton, and fly away immediately. No one on the roof seems to care. They think this is all just some Avengers shit.

And it is, coincidentally. Barton sits defiantly at a table with Maria Hill and Captain America. “The tape got out, Clint,” she says with a stern look of “go get fucked” on her face. “It’s out there. The videotaped record of Operation: Eucritta.”

Oh no! Maybe I can put it on my shelf next to my VHS of Operation Dumbo Drop.

Barton doesn’t know what to say, other than “whoops, how did that happen?” In fact, Barton intended to leak his sex tape “Clint’s Clits ‘n’ Cunts”, but not this! Plus, this was something S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be on top of. Way to go, you clits and cunts.

Look, I just wanted to say “Clint’s Clits ‘n’ Cunts” one more time. Is that too much to ask?

Hill assures Barton that they’re on top of this and he need not worry. Barton freaks out a little bit. “How many tapes? Are there copies, or – Do I need to go on the lam or something?”

Captain America holds up his hand and, for some reason, starts talking. He basically says “it’s a VHS tape” as reassurance. Then he tells Barton that this is really bad. So, in short, thanks for saying something. We all feel better now.

“We have 72 hours before the tape goes up for auction in Madripoor. After that it’s out in the wild. You’re out. The whole operation is out.” This is Maria Hill talking now, piggybacking on Captain America’s soothing words. So guess what, Barton, you little scamp? S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gonna give you every penny it has for you to go to the auction and win back that tape! This seems like the least convoluted, and certainly least expensive, option! If you think of any other ideas, like “kicking ass and stealing the tape”, then, frankly, you’re full of beans.

Back at the apartment, Kate Bishop is still waiting up at 3am. She’s been worried sick, young man, and now you’re grounded. Barton advises her not to ask any questions, and also maybe go away somewhere far while Barton gets away somewhere far. NO QUESTIONS. Just do it and also bring some peanut butter.

“Clint…” Bishop says solemnly, “Can I have your stuff when you’re dead?” He says no. Go buy your own stuff. This is certainly a touching moment. Kate Bishop tells him that he’s got a lot of baggage, and he spends his 30 hour plane ride to Madripoor thinking about nothing else. The nerve of this chick, saying he has a lot of baggage. Why, if she doesn’t watch it he’ll unload all his mommy issues onto her! And furthermore…

Barton turns around and notices a group of mercenaries. They lead Barton into a secluded room and close the door. “They keep it professional. They keep it clean. They take me far enough away that nobody’ll hear any screams or yells or shouts, no matter how harsh the punishment. Good.”

Butter, gasoline, it all tastes good on toast, man.

And then Barton emerges alone! Laugh out loud moment right there, son. He slowly shuffles his way out of the airport. He hops into a cab and asks the driver to, quote, “take me where the action is.” He ends up at one of those glass coffee table shit shows! Ha! Or rather, Barton falls asleep in the cab and the driver attempts to steal his wallet out of his breast pocket. After subduing the driver, a couple of tough guys with red tribal tattoos all over their heads and bodies successfully render Barton useless and steal his wallet for their own damn selves. Now he is without money, identification, Hamburger Helper coupons, and an Avengers punch card where his 10th Salisbury steak is on the house. Luckily, his passport is still safe as is the S.H.I.E.L.D. card that can pay for anything and everything anyway, so we’re good to go. Whew! That was almost a problem!

So Barton takes the wheel of the cab continues to look for, quote, “where the action is.” Apparently, Maldripoor is a fake island created fakely by rich people, so 70% of it isn’t even populated! How much space can there really be for, quote, “where the action is”?

Well, people start hailing his cab and Barton, although happily taking their money, doesn’t know where anything is at. So that’s a problem. “If this was my job I’d absolutely be fired before lunch.”

Naturally, he books it out of the cab and has an early lunch!

It’s me, I’m the hobo.

And finally, Clint “Hawkeye” “Poopypants” Barton finds what he’s looking for: The Madripoor Pearl. A luxury hotel with 3000 rooms, a 2km exhibit hall, a 1.5km mall, an indoor amusement park, yada yada yada. Basically, this thing is the size of Manhattan and it’s the biggest eyesore in the city. It was probably next to the fucking airport.

Barton enters the lavish casino (where the action is) and looks like dogshit compared to the rest of the clientele. Immediately, and I do mean immediately, a group of agents pull a bag over Barton’s head and transfer him to a dim room where he gets tied to a chair Reservoir Dogs-style.

A punch right in the face sends the hapless bow-and-arrow-man tumbling, bonking his head against the floor. Like this: BONK.

Now you’re speaking my language!

“Gotcher passport, man,” says one of these well-dressed henchmen. “No weapons, though? That’s crazy.

“In his car,” says another. “He had a bow in the car.”

“Don’t take the Amex Black,” Barton stammers. “Please — Hill will kill me.”

“After we mail your head to Captain America, I’m gonna sell this thing on eBay.”

A woman named Madame Masque “ahems” at the men and takes the passport. “Lights out. Take him up to my room now.”

In this case, “lights out” is a punch to the ol’ head. Then, he’s still tied to a chair but just in another room now. After coming to, he correctly assumes that Madame Masque and Barton are here in Madripoor for the same thing. “The tape. Somebody got the tape, and if it gets out – well, I’m dead and a lot of people are in trouble. I’m here for the same reason you are…”

“…I want to try and buy it.”

Madame Masque has a look of “brrrtt!!!” on her face. “I could just kill you now and short-circuit everybody’s problems,” she says. “To say nothing of saving myself millions of dollars.”

Yeah, Barton is getting outsmarted here. Madame Masque knows that the tape is worth billions.

“An Avenger? On tape committing the assassination of the world’s most wanted criminal terrorist? I should be able to bid just like any of you people,” Barton says. And just what does he mean by “you people”? I think we all know here. Masked people.

When asked for proof that Barton has the funds, Barton manspreads showing off his delicious package. “Look, I’m not exactly thrilled either but none of your guy goons bothered to check. Whereas I have no wallet or passport…”

Madame Masque is like “yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah I fucking get it” and starts rooting around for about four panels. “I’m going to hang onto this for safekeeping,” she says, having finally procured the smelly credit card from the annals of, uh… “and to make sure you don’t get up to any more shenanigans.”

No shenanigans here, ma’am! Promises promises! He gets taken back to his room, which will now be heavily guarded until morning. They throw his tied-to-a-chair ass onto his bed and, after complaining about needing a sandwich, Barton falls asleep rather immediately.

Assassins scour the room.

Whoops, we accidentally let five trained murderers into the room! Silly us!

Meanwhile, Madame Masque gets confirmation that the credit card is indeed legit. “S.H.I.E.L.D. must want this tape back quite badly,” she says.

And so the auction begins! The little auctioneer nerd lays out the facts. “Today you are bidding on one video tape. It has been viewed by two people, both now deceased. Its credentials are impeccable. Its content one of a kind. Footage of Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, committing a political assassination sanctioned by S.H.I.E.L.D. and, ergo, the United States government. Let’s start the bidding at… One hundred million euros.”

This tape sounds like something else, don’t it? It’s too bad I personally taped over with six episodes of Monk. Oh, that Tony Shaloub. That man can really get under my skin!

People bid. The bidding goes up and up. 120, 150, 200, 300, 305…

“One billion,” says a stoic Madame Masque. The auctioneer goes “!”. Then stops the bidding with a last call. “Going once… going twice…”

“Sold to Madame Masque for the startling price of one billion euros.”

That’s a lot of Pokemon cards! That’s a lot of Big Macs! Just think what else a billion smackers will get you. That’s a lot of Snickers bars!

People are hella mad at her.

The smiling auctioneer places the tape in her hands, and she requests round-the-clock security at her room and an escort the next morning to the airport. And a bag of gummi worms!

Madame Masque returns to her room…

…and she’s actually an impos-tor!

Kate Bishop saves the day again!

This isn’t the sex tape I paid a billion buckaroonies on!

Final Thoughts

Barton falling asleep on his hotel bed while tied to a chair AND a group of assassins skulking five inches away is pretty damn funny, actually. Putting the “comic” back in “comics”, Matt Fraction. Me likey!