It was clear the Captain and his friends were growing weary. She could see the anger and exhaustion written all over each of their faces. It was only too easy to ruffle their feathers: a derailed train here, a bomb there. Her favorite was allowing them to believe they were close to her capture. The idea gave her a laugh, and she was tempted to do it again. She almost missed the signs that the fun little light show she'd put on was coming to an end; it was definitely time to go. She gathered her supplies meticulously, in no real rush; they hadn't caught her once. She turned to go with a smile and a hum, stopping dead at the sight of an arrow in her face.
"Not this time." A team member, one they called Barton, glared at her with murderous intent in his gaze. He was the only one who seemed to be paying attention. Her grin increased, and it seemed to make him even angrier.
"Go on. You can do it." She let her eyes dance to the arrow he had aimed at her, before meeting his gaze again. She could see the flash of hesitation in his gaze, the slight shake in his draw arm. "We both know you can." She took a step towards him, but he still didn't released. Briefly, she wondered how far she could go with this agent.
"Don't move." The arrow lowered from her face now, the aim settling on her heart. She gave a low laugh.
"You know, a man's aim says a lot about him. Want to know what yours says?" She advanced another step, toying with him. His jaw clenched as she approached.
"No."
"You're a romantic. And a gentleman." She continued anyway, studying him closely. He seemed genuinely surprised by her analysis. "Willing to kill any number of henchmen, not once ever missing your target. But now, you're hesitating. You're scared."
"Enough!" The word was bit out and she noticed the presence behind her too late. An iron grasp locked around her wrists, dragging them roughly behind her back. There was a faint twinge in her shoulder, but she ignored it with a laugh.
"Oh, how very clever of you! Bravo, Agent Barton. Your wife would be proud." It was a stretch, given what they did for a living, but it had the desired effect. Throwing his bow down, the archer came towards her with a knife drawn, clearly intent on finishing her off. A suit of armor seemed to fall from the sky, and she watched with interest as Stark held his friend back. A shame; it would have been interesting to fight Barton off with just her feet. Already she was being dragged away towards a jet, and she wondered if they would really be stupid enough to take her to their headquarters. Judging by the look on the pilot's face, the answer was yes.