It's just like Budapest all over again!
You and I remember Budapest very differently.
She remembers it as a hot fiery hell, with sweat bleeding into their skin as they pelted alongside a building, rappelling down the side as bullets spewed after them.
He remembers it as a cold icy haze, with enemies at each turn, hounding their back until there was nowhere to go but to free fall into a shallow pool at least thirty floors below.
It was supposed to be a simple mission: get to the location, assess the situation, and use any necessary measures to complete their task. Natasha was to infiltrate the office of some CEO while Clint was to provide cover from the building across.
They had gone over the floor plans of the building together and it was unanimously decided that she was to slip in just when the last employee was to leave. While she was doing that, he was to hack into the security footages to loop a continuous picture of empty hallways and corridors. It was going well. Too well, now that they had the time to muse back to it, but at the time, neither gave it a second thought when Natasha came out of the office with a rare smug look on her face as she shook the brown envelope in front of her, indicating to Clint that all was well. He had been observing, his sniper scope pointed towards the glass windows.
As Natasha dropped her bag to get the tools she needed to cut a hole in the glass window (the escape plan was for her to break the window where Clint was to send a line across) when Clint noticed the shadows shifting behind her and in one moment and the next, a person had seemed to materialized out of nowhere.
It was almost like some cosmic joke except there was nothing funny about the situation when the shadow figure made a motion as if to grab Natasha from behind and he glimpsed the flash of silver. Nothing about this mission was going right at this point as the laptop next to him made a soft whirring sound and the screen flashed and blinked once, before it turned into a blue screen of death. He cursed, muttering sourly under his breath, as he notched an arrow and it crashed through the window, burying into the arm of Natasha's attacker.
The man started to scream but Natasha had already whipped herself around and buried her elbow into his windpipe, effectively crushing it before he could manage a full note. As the man slumped down bonelessly, she swept a hand over her hair and had just enough time to stash her hard earned documents on her body when the alarm went off, the bell flashing red and she heard the mechanical sound of doors shutting and locking, successfully trapping her on the 42nd floor.
Through the intercom, Clint heard Natasha muttered what must be the Russian equivalent of fuck before she hefted her bag over her shoulder and ducked, seamlessly blending into the darkness.
He waited atop the next building, binoculars pressed hard against his face as he tried to discern what exactly was happening but he was forced to duck himself and propel back into the shadows of the water boiler when he heard the barely audible sounds of footsteps behind him.
Three men emerged, stalking cautiously forward, guns in hands. One of them reached out to touch the laptop while the other two warily scoured the surrounding area. The one touching the laptop spit onto the ground as he said in guttural Hungarian, "The laptop's still warm. Looks like we just missed him. He's around here somewhere. Let's-"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off as he gurgled and collapsed, an arrow in his throat. His two companions gave a start and one managed a step forward before they too dropped to the ground, an arrow to the forehead each. As Clint came out of the shadows to kick one of the offender's legs away from the now useless laptop, he whispered into his headset the three words that any operative never want to hear on a mission- "We've been compromised."
Natasha took in a sharp breath at that and then everything went bat shit crazy as all the lights in the office flickered on, blinding her momentarily, and she flipped a cruel looking knife into her hands as she realized that she was no longer alone. Men rushed out of nowhere, surrounding her, screaming in incoherent Hungarian- Give us the document! Kill the bitch!- and then she's ducking back under the safety of a nearby desk as one of the glass windows exploded inwards, covering them all in sharp shards. As Clint landed inside the building, feet first, bow drawn, and already three enemies down, she slinked forward with her knife and cut the ankles of the person closest to her, toppling the man over.
They were outnumbered at least 30 to 2 but all it took was for Natasha to flap her left hand towards Clint in a quick one –two manner as she cleaved the face of another masked man with her dagger which was in her right hand and smoke suddenly obscured them. Curses rang the air as the Hungarians ran into each other and into various office furniture. Clint, having taken note of where his partner was before he let the smoke bomb off, skulked forward until his back was against Natasha's.
"So, what do we do now?" Her prim voice still rang clear even when it was said in such a low voice that if not for the intercom, he'd never have heard it.
His grim answer, as the smoke started to lightened up and he reached for his poison-tipped arrows, was simple. "We do what we always do. We do what we do best."
And then he let loose his arrows and knew they hit home as he heard several heavy thuds and more Hungarian expletives. Simultaneously, Natasha had sprang forward, her hand coming out in a sharp movement to bury itself into a nearby person's stomach and then she was whipping around, her leg coming out as more hidden knives slid out to pierce several people at once.
She was a whirlwind in the middle of the office, taking people down one by one and everything and anything she got her hands on became a weapon. Chairs were busted against men twice her size and staples and paperclips became instant projectiles, blinding several men as she battled her way towards the outside corridor where the elevators were.
Clint had just uppercutted a man who had wandered too close in his personal space for his liking when Natasha's voice filtered in through the ear pierce. "Damn! They've gotten the elevators covered too!"
He had a brief moment to take a breath as he cracked someone's skull with his bow when she flew back inside the office from the hallway, her red mane of hair obscuring his sight as she practically hauled him away from the door just as bullets riddled it, taking out one of the men who had been standing near the door.
As the dust settled and it seems like more men clomped inside the now silent office, Clint could not help but let loose a chuckle while planting his face in his palms in a weary manner. "Machine guns. They have machine guns. Why the hell do they have machine guns?"
There was no time for Natasha to even give a witty answer back before they were both forced to separate, him tumbling behind another desk and her scrambling behind a divider; their hiding place had just been shot to pieces.
A look towards each other, Natasha arching a perfect manicured eyebrow up and Clint nodding, his eyes flickering towards the machine gun wielding men and the windows; they both knew what their next step was. Since the door and elevator and in essential, the stairway, were now cut off and no longer an option, the only choice they had left was to go out the window. They had the equipment in Natasha's bag- always be prepared- but the bag was halfway across the room since she had used the bag to cream a guy in the face as she made her escape towards the hallway.
Even worse, the bag was near the Hungarian's feet and Natasha barely held back a groan as one of the men picked it up, shaking it gingerly as if it was going to bite him. Hearing nothing but a slight jiggling and clashing of metal inside, he unzipped it to reveal rappelling gear. The man's face lit up, clearly thinking he'd gotten hold of something precious that the two superspies needed.
Clint drove an arrow through that lucky fuck's stomach.
His comrades gave a start, turning their machine guns towards where the arrow had came from but it was too late, Natasha had already blazed forward and her deft hands had already wrapped around the straps of the bag before they could start firing. She backflipped, taking out one of the men with her flailing leg, and was back with Clint before the man she had kicked even hit the ground.
The archer had already secured the window from which he had blasted in. As his partner ran to grab the gear, he had taken down the two unsuspecting men near the window, grabbing the first man's arm, breaking it and using him as a shield when the second man started firing. He pulled out his own gun to blow him away and dropped the corpse in time to duck a flying roundhouse kick from the assailant behind him.
He put a hole in his attacker's gut and threw on the rappelling gear that Natasha shoved into his hands. She was already hastily buttoning up her own gear when they both had to duck to avoid the spray of bullets. Clint threw an arm around Natasha, pulling her to his chest as another spray of bullets converged upon them. "Wow, they're really trying to kill us, aren't they?"
A haughty sniff from the red head. "Only you would be joking at a time like this."
Then there was no time and they were both out the window, scaling down the building as if it was second nature to them. The Hungarians' heads were poking out the window from which they had exited from and bullets followed the two superspies as they continued to fly down the side of the building. It was a close call and Natasha had to swerve a bit to dodge and one of the bullets cut her cheek. She made a guttural noise in the back of her throat and Clint glanced over, eyebrows knotting together, and then he was the one to make a strangled sound as a bullet slammed into the cord of his rappelling gear.
He had barely enough time to breathe a sigh of relief as Natasha grabbed his arm when her cord was cut loose as well. "Fuck," ripped out of her mouth as they started a free-fall down below. Then Clint was grabbing her with one hand and stringing his bow with the other- an impressive feat- and he loosened a wire that connected to a nearby building's gargoyle, swinging them towards a balcony. Except at that moment, halfway to reaching their destination, the arrow loosened and Clint had the split second to say "Shit" before they both plunged into a pool.
Sopping wet, Natasha broke the surface first, flipping her hair backwards as she gulped for air, Clint not a moment behind as he too splashed towards the edge of the pool, panting. As they dragged themselves out of the pool, it was Clint who heard the sirens first as they deposited their now useless rappelling gear in a pile.
"Great. And I thought this mission couldn't get any worse."
"Oh stop your griping Barton. Look, our ride's here."
And it was, as a black car appeared on the road, stopping in front of the pair. The window rolled down and Coulson's poker face appeared. Taking in the sight of the two superspies dripping wet with blood and grime on them, all he said was, "So heard you guys got into a bit of trouble."
Clint made a squawking sound as he practically wrenched the door open to get inside the car. "Yeah. A bit of trouble. Who the hell takes care of intelligence these days?" He grumbled some more bout inadequate intelligence as Natasha took her seat next to him and promptly pulled out her knife.
"At least it's over now," she muttered as she furiously wiped her knife against a rag she had procured out of nowhere. Coulson turned his head halfway back, barking out, "No weapon cleaning in the car, Agent Romanoff. We've gone over this. Wait until we're back at the office."
She ignored him and just gave a sigh as she fingered the blade. "Tsk. Blood's not coming off. And it was one of the handmade daggers too."
Coulson continued to stare heatedly towards the woman through the rear view mirror until she sheathed her weapon away and plopped her head against Clint's shoulder. He grunted in return; he may or may not have dislocated his shoulder when he fell smack dabbed into the pool, but he wasn't going to whine about it like certain newbie agents he knew.
The pair dozed off and was awoken by Coulson when they reached the helicopter that bought them to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. After debriefing and much humming and hawing from Fury who was pissed that the intelligence 'certain motherfuckers provided were inaccurate as fuck', they were dismissed and the two trudged towards the shower rooms.
Just before Natasha entered the women's section, Clint called out rather jovially, "Let's do that again sometime" and had to duck as a shampoo bottle was flung his way.
To this day, both remembered Budapest quite differently.
She remembers it as a hot fiery hell, with sweat bleeding into their skin as they pelted alongside a building, rappelling down the side as bullets spewed after them.
He remembers it as a cold icy haze, with enemies at each turn, hounding their back until there was nowhere to go but to free fall into a shallow pool at least thirty floors below.
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