It was all the secretary's fault. Some flighty little pierce of baggage had gotten the schedule mixed up and someone had been in too much of a hurry to double check the details. So at the same time Natasha was settling into her room, the two weapons dealers she was playing in hopes of catching that bigger fish walked in on Clint Barton bugging their room.

Clint was quick and agile. But two thugs, weapons already drawn as the came through the door, there wasn't much he could do but capitulate in hopes that it might buy him time and a better chance later on. Reflexively, he looked to the window as he put his arms up and hit his knees (times like this I wish I could fly, he thought). The chance that Clint had been hoping for, he quickly saw he wasn't going to get it. The two were smarter than he gave them credit for. Whatever potential action they read in Clint's lithe body, which always seemed so perfectly poised between tense stillness and explosive motion, they weren't taking any chances. Both covered him as they tossed him the chains he was to bind himself with. One set locked around his ankles. The other, they directed him, was to cuff his hands behind his back. Clint fastened them right. No use antagonizing them further still.

"Now face down," snarled the elder brother, Tobias. "

And Clint fell forward onto his stomach, put his face to the floor, and mouthed the name "Tasha," just once, into the stale carpet that reeked of cigarette smoke and roach spray as he waited for a bullet to slam through his skull.

The younger brother, Pieter, crossed the room and stood one heavily on Clint's neck with just enough weight to remind him how easily it could be broken. Pieter bent and placing the gun squarely against Clint's temple, checked the cuffs to make sure they were fastened securely. Satisfied, he stepped back and sat heavily upon the bed, keeping his gun trained on Clint lay still, trying to breath evenly despite the panic knotting in his stomach, as he heard Tobias pick up the phone.

"We have a problem," Tobias snarled down the line in heavily accented English. "If you still want this deal you will come down and explain the vermin we have found in our room."

Tasha, or Maria, as the brothers knew her, was there in seconds, breezing through the door, for all appearances unarmed and unconcerned.

"I don't like threats, especially regarding my deals, so what's the problem?" she asked, her voice hard and cold and ever so slightly threatening.

Tobias was not so cool. Angry and red-faced he crossed the floor to where Barton lay and kicked him squarely in the gut. "Roll over," he growled, "so the lady can get a good look at you." Pieter sat silent, gun still trained on Barton, but watching Natasha's face carefully.

Clint did as he was told, but turned his face away from Natasha, looking past Tobias' feet towards the opposite wall. So that when Tobias slammed his foot into Clint's face, he connected squarely with his nose and the heavy crunch of breaking bone reverberated through the tension-laden air. With the kick, Clint's head snapped from left to right and Natasha got a good look at his face already covered in the blood his broken nose and his eyes glazed and grey with pain.

She never even flinched.

"He's not with me," she said. "I say we kill him and make it hurt."

Pieter smiled, pushed himself up off the bed, and strolled over to where Clint lay, curling in on himself and gagging on the blood running down the back of his throat. Never breaking eye contact with the Black Widow, he bent down and grasping Clint's hair, snapped his head back and exposed his throat. Clint froze as he pulled a knife from his pocket and placed it on Clint's throat. "Yes, we will. But, you see, I still trying to decide if you will join him or not," Pieter said. He pressed the blade into the tender skin under Clint's chin with enough force to bring just a trickle of blood. Clint lay gasping, head still turned, looking at no one and waiting for Natasha to make her play.

Natasha

I was not having a good day. The mission was hurried, half-assed, slapdash. An amateur cover and a high risk sting put together by fumbling minions who had been caught by surprise when Alexander Sidorov, a high end Russians arms dealer, had apparently returned from either the grave or obscurity to make a deal with Tobias and Pieter Braun. Known as the Brothers, two German arms dealers who liked big guns and hard alcohol, hey had other business interests, most of which involved killing or enslaving women that kept them on SHIELD's radar and on my hit list.. They were nasty pieces of work. SHIELD wanted Sidorov. I wanted The Brothers more,. So this was a desirable assignment. But we needed to hurry and it got sloppy. And the minute I walked into that hotel room and saw Clint laying there so calmly I knew he would be the one to pay the price if I didn't steel my nerves, open my mouth and make it damn good.

I was already looking forward to killing the Brothers. But when Tobias kicked Barton, I knew I would have to give Clint first dibs. And after he broke Barton's nose, I decided I would let Clint kill him, bring him back, and then do it again, nice and slow. Pieter with his peering, calculating eyes and groping hands was going to finger fuck his brain before I was done with him. And Barton was walking out of this whatever I had to do, and they weren't going to lay one more finger on him either.

I owed him a lot more. But I owed him that much, at least.