Hawkeye: A track suit Spider
Summary: Natasha pays a little visit to the 'track suit mafia' that's been bothering Clint in the Hawkeye comic series. Rated PG-13 for some sensuality, brief language and butt-kicking. One-shot. Please R&R.
(This is actually an excerpt from my story Avengers: Fanfiction, Chapter 10, but I thought it could stand alone too, especially in the comics universe.)
I don't own any character mentioned in this chapter. (But seriously, Fraction, DeConnick, Spencer, whoever at Marvel, I'll let you use any of my stuff if you want. Just PM me!)
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Natasha spent the next two day doing surveillance on the Russian mob Clint had dubbed "the track suit mafia" due to their, uh, "stylish", choice of dress. She learned who was who in the organization. Their general comings and goings. And finally, where the "big" boss lived.
The second night she infiltrated his mansion, completely unseen by the guards and easily bypassing the security system. She watched the lonely old man from the shadows, and set up permanent wires in different key locations. As color began to sneak into the sky she left, having gathered all the information she needed.
She spent the day sleeping in Clint's apartment, the one separate from the tower. She made a mental note to put together files on all the other tenants in his building later, just to be safe.
And to make him put some actual food in his kitchen.
She awoke in the afternoon and made a quick trip down the block, getting a bite to eat and procuring a particular outfit for what she had planned. She remembered to text Clint so that he wouldn't come looking for her.
"Looks like I'll wrap this up early. Back at the tower tonight, late"
He responded, "We'll be waiting with bells on. Don't get into too much trouble. The paperwork would be a pain in the ass"
She smiled, and started getting her weapons together.
That night she changed her approach. She called ahead as the big boss' favorite madam, informing him that they were sending over a new girl for him, as a special thank you for his continued business. She arrived in a beautiful Porsche she had stashed at a private garage a while ago.
She wore one of their track suits, but very low cut and very tight. Several stages of guards quickly let her pass, ogling her as she came and went. They'd get theirs later.
She was escorted by one (only one!) big guard up to the master bedroom. There the old man sat in a wing-back chair, his face to the window. As the door shut behind her he stood, looking her over.
"Ah, I see Madame Marcelle was not exaggerating in her description of you." He moved over, dragging his oxygen tank, and sat on the bed as Natasha stayed still. "You are here for me, no?"
"Yes, I have come for you…" (translated from Russian – lazy author)
"Ah, a beauty from the motherland! I am very pleased. Come here, my dear." He patted the space next to him on the bed.
Natasha kept her face blank. He had to be at least 80.
Disgusting.
As she started to walk forward she also began undressing. Slowly tugging the zipper on the tight sweatshirt down, until her black uniform underneath began to show.
The old man furrowed his brows. He'd never seen a woman fully clothed underneath her outfit when stripping for him…
She turned around, her back to him, and swayed as she suggestively removed the track pants, revealing her black cat suit. The old man let out a breath at the skin-tight material, obviously impressed at how it gripped her firm ass. She rolled her eyes, and turned.
At first he was overtaken by her body and her beauty. But when he finally looked back up to her eyes he saw a dark maliciousness that took him aback. He then noticed the knife in her hand.
"What is this? Guards!"
Natasha smiled. Now the REAL show began.
Two burley men ran in and she knocked them on their asses and out cold before the dirty old man could suck in another gasp of oxygen. He hit some hidden panic button and the rest of his entourage pounded towards the room. As she waited for them to enter she glanced back at the boss and smiled. He looked her over again, his eyes stopping at her waist. Where her Black Widow insignia was.
She saw his eyes widen in fear. Good.
"You have offended the wrong person, comrade."
The first few tripped over their fallen comrades and crashed to the floor, making a bigger mess. She hit them with her widow's bite and they were instantly unconscious. She took out the next 10 with smooth, efficient grace, breaking a different bone on every thug before knocking them unconscious.
When it was done 20 guards lay on the floor, most broken, some bleeding, and all unconscious. She stalked up to the old man, and took his shirt in her hand, and lifted him slightly from where he sat.
"You know who I am." It was not a question.
"… yes…" he barely whispered.
"I will say this to you once, and only once. Stay away from Clint Barton."
He looked confused. He sputtered again… "The… that thieving Avenger with the arrows?"
Natasha grinned. Clint had been a naughty boy.
"The very one. He is now off limits. Do you understand?"
"Yes…" he coughed for a moment, then regained composure. "Yes, comrade. We will comply."
She sat him down, and he let out a breath of relief. "Good." she stepped over some, and on some, of the unconscious bodies littering the floor. "Remember, old man, this is the only warning you will receive from me."
She disappeared into the night, smiling. She would love to see the lot of them later, each with a different cast or splint. She'd love to see the look on the old man's face when he was told that she had broken a different bone for each man. She'd never hear the end of it if Clint found out (and he probably would, considering how these guys were going to suddenly disappear from his life, or if he saw her work firsthand), but it would be worth it if it gave him a few extra days of peace.
That's what partners are for, right?
End.
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Let me know what you think! Thank you to brawler25 for being my beta!