Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers
"Where is he!" Another punch, another stunning bruise beginning to form on my prisoners face. He was going to cave, it was just a matter of time. When the terrorist beneath me still said nothing, another well aimed blow landed on his midsection. I was about to repeat the question again when a soft throat clearing sounded behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was, but I certainly did want to know why. Natasha had never interrupted me during an interrogation before, so unless the world was ending (again) it must be something equally as bad.
My eyes never leaving our captive, I pleasantly informed him "I was giving you the easy way out man, when she comes back you're going to wish you told me."
Then exited the room to join my partner. She didn't say a word as we headed back to the room we'd been taking turns sleeping in since we'd accepted this stupid mission. It was nothing special, one bed to alternate sleeping, one shower, one toilet, and one small TV that played one channel, the local news. The only reason we had this little luxury was because the last time we were left alone in a room with nothing to watch, we tended to dismantle things out of boredom.
At first there was nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for Tasha to pull me out long before we usually gave up on the direct approach, but one glance at the screen showed me what I had missed. The reporter on the news screen was talking very fast, her eyes wide in both shock and panic. I was fluent in a lot of languages, but you didn't need to understand what she was saying because the real action was the small image that was to the left of her. A white mansion sitting atop a cliff, one that I had never been to but still happened to be intimately familiar with, because that was Tony Stark's mansion.
It was also the very same mansion with several missiles streaming towards it even as we watched. "What-?" I began but Natasha began explaining even before the word had left my mouth, "earlier this morning Stark threatened the Mandarin, publicly. This is his response."
As the Malibu home went up in flames, we both sat there watching, waiting for a streak of red and gold to come shooting out of there. So did the rest of the world it seemed, as the camera continued to sit on the same image. Even as the smoke began to fade away, even as the last few pieces crumbled down into the water. Not one glimpse of metal had been seen shooting away from the scene.
I just had a really random urge to see Natasha and Clint torturing someone, then being concerned. This is how that combined together.