Hello! This is my first story, based off a tumblr prompt, so please tell me what you think, and what could be better.
In my mind, just to clear things up for a little part, Spider-Man from the Amazing Spider-Man exists here. I'm planning a three-chapter with the Avengers and Spider-Man, so stay tuned if you're interested in that kind of thing.
Enjoy!
Clint slithered through the air vents, his bow firmly attached to his back, breathing controlled and quiet. Cool air chilled what little skin showed from beneath the dark clothes. The only light illuminating the metal shaft system came through tiny slits, every few hundred yards. Everything was eerily silent, other than the faint hum of electricity and the beating of his own heart.
Fury had briefed him and Natasha on their goal twenty-four hours earlier. It was a simple mission; infiltrate a suspicious North Korean base, find the steel-encased, security blanketed, monstrosity of a building's purpose, and return to the U.S without being observed. All Clint had to do was worm his way through air vents (the building's weakest link), and download the pre-made worm to the base's separate security system. He didn't even have to find a computer, only be relatively close to a server. Thank God for WiFi.
In fact, the mission was so simple that he and Nat would have been complaining up a storm at the idea of doing a task meant for junior agents. Yet Clint felt uncharacteristically excited. The energy boiled through his blood and seeped through his bones at finally being out in the field again. He relished the feeling of being surrounded by danger, in something like an episode straight from a spy novel. Finally, after That Event, he was back in the field.
The Chitauri attack on New York had left Clint scarred, both emotionally and physically, though emotionally more-so. The S.H.I.E.L.D psychologist had taken one look at him, and ordered him off work for six months. Any attempts at sneaking into field missions (he'd done that before), to the helicarrier (he'd done that too), or even into financial offices (well… he'd been desperate), would result in six months sitting in a hospital room, chained to a hospital bed. Clint had reluctantly followed orders, only because the one thing worse than no work for six months is sitting in a hospital room, chained to a hospital bed for six months. Ha! Therapy. Sitting there, twiddling his thumbs, thinking about directing an alien dictator to gouge a man's eye from his socket wasn't going to help his sanity. No, field work did that better than any psychologist.
A soft ping emitted from Clint's side. Carefully, he rolled over onto his back, and turned on the S.H.I.E.L.D initiated phone, grinning as he did so. During his six months of not-really-therapy, S.H.I.E.L.D engineers had released a new boatload of fun gadgets, including this untraceable, satellite network-powered beauty. He typed in the I.P Address for the North Korean's security network.
The connection was relatively low, but that wasn't a big concern. Smiling like the Chesire Cat, he sent the virus to their computers.
Thirty seconds later, Clint was in.
"Go ahead," he whispered, flinching at the amount of noise echoing through the shaft.
"Okay. I'm going."
Natasha watched the light on the retina scanner blink off. She pushed the gate open, and slipped through. It shut with a resounding clang.
Behind her, the two junior agents Frank and Pete followed, tense expressions on their faces. The looks made her want to laugh. Both men were ten years older than her, and trying to mask their nervousness. They were failing miserably.
She opened a bulky metal door, gesturing to the two guys.
"In here."
Nat tried not to wince as they clomp clomp clomped into the dark hall. Usually, Fury wouldn't have had her giving newbies trial runs, but Clint had been desperate to get back on the field, and she needed to complete her nice deed for the month. She'd promised Fury and multiple medical professionals that she'd keep him away from any intense action. He'd ended up with tasks that would usually mean a Hawkeye-sized temper tantrum. Clint hadn't even complained.
Poor guy really must have been desperate.
But that was Clint. Take him out of the field for half a year, and he's practically scratching his face off in boredom.
A sudden sound from the corridor ahead made the three agents freeze. Two towering figures appeared ahead, footsteps echoing. Natasha gave both agents a pointed glance. The two sprung into action, easily knocking out the mini-Hulks, before they could so much as mutter a word. They continued, shoving the North Koreans out of the path. Chances were, the two would never tell anyone they had been knocked out. Their pride worked well with Natasha's task.
There was a door up ahead, the sign reading "Chemical Weapons Laboratory". Nat opened it, sparing the little red light only a brief glance.
The realisation came too late.
The security system was back online.
Red pulsing lights and a large, blaring siren went off. Natasha scowled at the vents above.
Clint, you idiot.
The little cartoonish figure from Doodle Jump leaped up to the next platform, expertly dodging alien blasters. Clint's thumbs moved just as fast as his bow, his screen shining down on his face.
The doodle-dude fell, and Clint bit back a curse. He started another round.
Suddenly, a loud siren pierced the silence and echoed painfully through the vents. Clint's eyes widened.
Oops.
Nat was going to kill him.
Indeed, he heard a muttered 'you better hope the North Koreans find you first, coming from his earpiece. Hurriedly, Clint searched the phone, trying to see what had gone wrong with the virus. The realisation made him want to face palm the technicians that had made the cruddy North Korean technology. The WiFi signal had been lost.
Clint inched his way farther and farther into the vents, moving so fast it was comical, all while holding the phone in front of his face. The WiFi signal remained frustratingly blank.
Meanwhile, Natasha quickly gave the two junior agents orders as they waited beside the Chemical Lab door. The sound of pounding feet was growing closer. The men pulled out their guns, and waited for reinforcements to turn the corner.
"What's happened," she murmured into the com.
"I lost the WiFi signal."
"Can you find it?"
"I'm trying," Clint said, frustration seeping into his tone.
Enemy agents rounded the corner and the gunfire exchange began. Natasha levelled her glare at the red blinking light, willing it to disappear. It didn't.
Clint was hopelessly lost in the maze of metal tunnels, each twist and turn making him lose even more sense of direction. The WiFi still hadn't reappeared; not one bar.
Stopping for breath, he examined the phone again. There was no reason it should have stopped working, other than a faint signal…
Or the fact that it was on airplane mode.
Oops.
Clint guiltily tapped the airplane icon, feeling stupid. That was too simple. Immediately, the sirens stopped.
I will speak of this to no one, he inwardly promised. His reputation as Avenger and feared Hawkeye was at stake. With a sigh, he headed back the direction he had come, desperately hoping he remembered the way back.
Natasha had long ago traded off with one of the junior agents. There were too many specially trained, killer agents flooding the hall. It was a little more than a newbie could take.
Five men rushed her. With an enticing smirk, she leaped, swinging a perfectly aimed foot into one's face, and levelling a bone-crunching punch at another. A third attempted a hit at her neck, but she dodged, allowing the fourth to meet it. Two widow's bites left them on the ground, moaning.
The fifth approached her steadily, gun ready. Natasha catapulted herself up into the air, and onto his head, wrapping her arms around his neck. She used her momentum to swing herself sideways, throwing him off with her added weight. Swiftly, Nat slammed his head into the wall, and slid off, going to help out the other junior agent fighting.
"Light's out!" The junior agent called. At the same time, the blaring alarm went off, making the exchange of gunfire sound like blissful silence. Natasha made her way over to the door, gesturing for the agents to follow. They entered the room.
"You two, take some pictures while catching your breath. We're going to have to cut this short, but I'm not returning empty-handed." Both men were sweaty, and holding long, equipment-covered lab tables for support. They managed to keep humiliation out of their expressions, for the most part. Natasha left them to their task. She needed to contact Clint, and find suspicious materials.
"What took you so long, bird-brain? I don't want to spend hours filling in extra paperwork for dead juniors and messed up missions because one of S.H.I.E.L.D's best agents made an amateur mistake."
"I lost the WiFi signal." Clint sounded stressed and… Something else. A tone that meant he was keeping secrets. Natasha knew it well, though usually not in Clint.
"That's it?" She asked skeptically, as she begun to rummage through drawers.
"Nothing else to tell," Clint insisted. "Look, I need to focus on getting out of this metal maze. Meet me back at the entrance."
Natasha sighed in partial defeat. "Fine, but we're talking later. Be at our rendezvous in twenty minutes. "
The room they were in was large. One of the junior agents had shoved several tables in front of the door, and was now taking multiple pictures of things that might be of use to S.H.I.E.L.D. The other was watching their exit, gun poised.
"Good teamwork. Now, we need to get out of here. Frank, take this." She shoved a briefcase of papers in his hands. "I'm going to drop an explosive on them. You two stay as far away from the door as possible. After the thing goes bang, run out of here and get back to the rendezvous. Clint should be there. Get in the car and tell him I'm meeting you back at the airport. I'll see you there."
There was a chorus of 'yes ma'am's. The two agents backed quickly to the other side. Natasha glanced around, and sprung up to the ventilation shaft, yanking the metal grate out of the wall with ease. Three slams against the metal, and it gave out. She silently leaped out over the cluster of agents waiting by the door. They were tense. The banging sound had made them nervous.
Natasha attached herself to the wall, using her new boots and gloves to stay up. S.H.I.E.L.D had created these from a sample of web. Some scientists had found traces of it at a crime scene, courtesy of a new vigilante swinging around New York. The formula was relatively simple, but indefinitely useful.
She pulled a miniature explosive from her belt, set the fifteen second timer, dropped it, and silently ran along the wall, deeper and deeper into the base. There was a loud bang, then sounds of chaotic yelling, and the exchange of gunfire.
Soon, Nat came to another door, labelled 'Administration'. Quietly, as to not disturb the guards on either side of the hall, she dropped and entered cautiously, gun at ready. Hopefully, this room would contain a bucketload of information- enough to make up for Clint messing up the mission.
Clint and the junior agents climbed out of their borrowed car, briefcase in Frank's hand. It had been a three hour drive to the private airport S.H.I.E.L.D had set up base in. It was a fairly large base. Almost any field agent with a level four clearance or up had been there, for any of the multiple scouting missions they may have been assigned to.
He had spent the drive deliberating how to fool Natasha, giving Frank and Pete blank-faced, stony glares when they attempted conversation.
Chances were, she would trick him into speaking about it. It was her specialty, after all. But Clint knew she would share the information in her report, which would mean Fury being angry, Maria Hill demoting, and teasing from Couls-
Clint cut off the thought abruptly.
It meant he would be hospitalised for another six months. He didn't want that. So he would have to bear whatever torture Nat put him through, and keep his mouth shut.
They approached the security desk.
"We're here for flight Falcon 172."
The security woman glanced over the team. A small smirk developed.
"Are you sure you don't mean the Hawk?"
The junior agents let out muffled snorts. Clint kept his stony expression present.
"I'm sure."
It was a code phrase, one that he'd been teased about every time he visited this airport.
"Well, in that case, go to gate 9A. The rest of your group is waiting for you."
Darn. Natasha had arrived first.
Clint gave a nod, and went towards the metal staircase that led to level A. The roof.
The group approached "gate" 9A, giant letters painted on the cement. It didn't take long to board the plane, and buckle in.
Natasha waited until the plane took off to approach Clint. She climbed into the chair next to him, and waited with an intense glare.
"So what happened back there?"
Clint's face was as emotionless as ever.
"I told you, I lost the WiFi signal."
"Right. But somehow it didn't disappear on your way back to the rendezvous."
"The worm finished downloading."
Nat gave him a long, searching look. He seemed slightly put off, with the tensing of his left hand, but was doing a remarkable job of hiding whatever it was he was hiding.
"Why would the WiFi signal just go out?"
Clint shrugged.
"That's what happens when you don't have reliable WiFi."
With that, he turned, pulling out his phone, and opening up some file. The conversation was over. With an aggravated huff, Nat went back to her seat.
She'd get it out of him eventually.