Title: The Countess and the Hawk / Fandom: The Avengers
Genre/Type: AU/Western / Characters/Pairings: Natasha/Clint, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson
Series: The Marvelous Adventures of the Avengers (#1) / Rating: T / Warnings/Spoilers: Violence, Implied Sexual Violence, Disturbing Imagery, Bloody Violence, Very Mild Course Language / Setting: AU Avengers
A/N: I don't own The Avengers or any of the characters/pairings in this fic.
The air was cold as the night surrounded Old Belle Town. Smoke and fumes from the nearby factories filled the air, alerting the passing visitor that they were entering the unsavory part of town. Passing carriages fled through the streets as though chased, deputies and soldiers never entered there after dark and every man carried a weapon, just in case. The streets were mostly deserted in this part of town now, and the Old Mill Road's one and only lamp flickered on and off, casting menacing shadows into the already menacing street. Several people lurked in the shadows of the only building that was open and lit up this time of night, the tavern come 'entertainment house'. They watched as a lone figure sauntered down the street. Normally the person would be dead by now, man shot in-between the eyes, woman… well; she would have wished she was dead. But nobody stopped this man. The watchers moved uneasily in the shadows as the man stopped under the lamppost. The light flickered intensely. The man pushed his hat further from his eyes then looked up at the light which promptly died. The watchers retreated into the safe haven of the tavern when he looked their way, lest he decided to take a step toward them. He smiled and lit a cigarette, dropping the match on the ground and grinding it with his boot. He pulled his hat back down over his eyes and leaned against the post, crossing his arms. After a few minutes, a small carriage crawled along, its two drivers armed to the teeth. The carriage continued along until it reached the light pole where it stopped. The back window rolled down slightly, revealing a lone figure.
"Barton. You got my message?"
"I'm here aren't I?" Barton said to the figure. "What do you want? You know I don't like being disturbed on Thursdays, I love Thursday."
"I have a job for you."
"You do?" The figure leaned forward, revealing a man dressed in black, with a serious face.
"He does." Barton took one last draw of his cigarette and crushed it into the ground with the heel of his boot.
"Not interested."
"You haven't even heard it yet."
"Whatever it is, Coulson, I'm not interested. I don't do that anymore."
"That's not what I hear. What about Baltimore?"
"The guy insulted Melvin."
"So, you shot a man over a horse?"
"Not just any horse, Coulson. Man's best friend."
"Just hear me out, Clint. SHEILD's not finished with you yet. Just one more job, then you're out." Clint Barton looked slowly up into the face of Coulson.
"One more job, then that's it."
"If that's what you want."
"That's what I want."
"Done. Here's who we want killed. Whichever way you want, only do it by Sunday." Coulson handed Clint a newspaper clipping. Clint took it and walking back to the lamp, kicked it, making the lamp splutter into life. He held it up to the light, squinting.
"You want me to kill a Countess. They're Russian aren't they?"
"Not this one, Barton. This one's different. Dangerous."
"She doesn't look it," Clint said smiling as he studied the picture of Countess Natasha Romanoff, "She can count me any day."
"Just be careful, she's gotten on our radar, Barton. She needs to be taken care of."
"Fine," Clint said turning back to Coulson, "It'll take two days."
"Two?"
"Have you seen her picture, Coulson?" Clint smirked and pulled his hat down further, disappearing into the night.