Clint was getting worried; Natasha was over 20 minutes late to the rendezvous point and hadn't made contact since he'd lost sight of her yesterday.
This should have been a simple mission, far below that normally assigned to people with their skill level; in fact, they'd only been given the briefing 10 minutes before boarding the quinjet! Sanders and Joyce, two newbie agents had originally been assigned to it but had to pull out last minute when Joyce broke his wrist in training. Or, more precisely; Natasha 'accidentally' broke his wrist in training when he complimented her ass, and Fury sent Natasha and Clint in their place as punishment.
Natasha was to meet their target; Abdul, in a crowded market area posing as a rouge KGB agent. She was to sell him information about security protocols employed throughout Russia (this information was of course completely fabricated by SHIELD). While in close proximity she was to plant a tracking devise on him – simple.
However when they'd reached the meeting point Abdul wasn't there; a man claiming to work for Abdul asked Natasha to accompany him to a more private location for the meet to take place. She'd agreed knowing Clint was watching her from a balcony; however a fight had broken out, local police called, and in the commotion Clint had lost sight of his partner.
Clint was pacing back and forth outside a run down gas station, trying to figure out how much longer to give Nat before calling in a Code Renegade to SHIELD HQ when a dark car with blacked out windows came screeching down the dirt road and stopped right beside him.
He opened the door to climb in: "Jeez Nat; you're cutting it a bit..."
He froze mid sentence when he saw it was not Natasha sat in the driver's seat. Instead the small man who'd met Natasha at the market yesterday, Esposito, sat smirking at him.
A muffled sound from the back of the car drew Clint's gaze. Natasha was sat behind Esposito; her hands were handcuffed together, ankles bound, and she was gagged. Abdul was holding a knife dangerously close to her throat.
She shook her head; a warning for Clint to run. But Abdul pressed the knife against her skin; drawing blood.
"Get in" he sneered; gesturing to the empty seat besides Esposito.
Clint glanced back to Natasha, her eyes burning with a warning, a plea not to listen to him, but he couldn't leave her alone, not again, so he climbed in.