The pain looked immense, sweat dripped over his brow, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, his breathing was ragged and came in short, quick gasps. He was running out of time, he needed medical treatment and she knew it.
Unfortunately, they were pinned down under heavy fire at present and could do nothing but hold and defend their position until an opening showed itself. Natasha hoped that moment would come soon.
As many deep seated conflicts she'd had with Clint over the past, the bond of loyalty, trust and respect had since formed between the two of them, a rare thing for fellow assassins to come across. It was this bond that kept the duo strong at times like this, protecting one another from harm and watching each others backs.
It seemed it was Natasha's turn to do the watching now, as Clint had been shot in the side moments ago, probably taken out by a loft sniper at a close range. She'd had to cover him as they'd ducked in for cover, their enemies closing in on the area around them, making escape seem impossible.
Taking a few well aimed shots, Natasha preyed on the most threatening looking shooters, taking one out in the leg, folding another in half from the gut and one square in the forehead, killing him before he crumpled to the floor.
Thunder cracked overhead suddenly, the sky growing dark as the storm approached the shore line. By now, she could hear the waves crashing up against the metal barriers only twenty paces to her left.
At one point she'd considered it an escape route from the onslaught, perhaps snag a boat and sail out of this mess. But with the storm on its way and a bullet in her partner it would prove to be a suicide mission since they'd have to give up their cover, jump from god knows what height onto a vessel that may not even be there while not getting shot, or drowned or bleeding out in the process.
The wind picked up then, bringing small pellets of rain to the ground while it howled. Soon they would be caught in a downpour Natasha realized, making it impossible to make a clear shot at any approaching targets. If they didn't move soon, they wouldn't be moving at all.
A bullet suddenly ricocheted off a steel gutter above and flew within inches of her face. It was so close she could hear the whining noise as it sailed harmlessly past and into the steel drum behind her making a dull 'thwack' noise.
She let off a few more rounds forcing the shooters to take cover behind the metal crates and steel drums that had been left idly behind for shipping purposes. They needed more time….