Review! I love the amount of reviewers that loved the last chapter.

Natasha's POV

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

As clichéd as that sounds, it really wasn't. The mission was supposed to be a simple recon thing – get close, take down the necessary info, and get back out again.

Instead the six of us were currently sitting, chained to the wall – with Bruce and Thor deep in unconsciousness, Steve passed out in a corner, Clint stripped down to his boxers and all of us weaponless - in a Floridian prison because some cultish terrorist cell willed it so.

I curl my lip. "Черт вас всех к русской ад."

A sigh comes from my left – and I'm only sure it's Clint because we were partners for eight years, teammates for another three. "Putting them all in Russian hell isn't going to help much, Tasha."

"Yeah," another voice pipes up, across from me and slightly to the right, "if anything, it'll just irritate them. Believe me…I should know."

I nod at the seldom reference to Afghanistan, coming from the master of irritating people. "How's the doc?"

There's slight shuffling, then "Still out like a light. What did they inject again?"

"A stronger form of whatever they gave Cap," I nod to a silent corner of the cell.

"Most likely elephant tranquilizer," Clint surmises. "Maybe bear. Or moose. Thor's down too."

"Lovely," Tony groans quietly, then raises his voice a bit. "Spangles! You up yet?"

"Tony!" I hiss. "Keep it down!"

There's a scuffing sound and a few thuds. "Where are we?"

"Nice of you to join us, Rogers," I call softly. "Sit-rep?"

He's quiet for a moment. "Slight headache, sore beyond belief, slightly dizzy, and my head feels all cloudy...but I'm okay. And you?"

I give him a brief list of the teams' injuries and what had happened up to this point.

"Is the cavalry coming?"

"The Cavalry?" Clint sounds confused. "We sort of left her at S.H.I.E.L.D…"

"No, not the Cavalry," I correct. "The cavalry, generically. Is Falcon still doing that thing…?"

"Yeah, he's still in Dimension Z with the Four," Steve confirms. "What about Colonel Rhodes?"

"He's doing some top secret thing in somewhere that I'm not supposed to know about." Tony interjects softly.

I raise an eyebrow and give him a skeptical look, even though he can't see it. "And…?"

"And?"

"The story does not stop there with you, Stark."

He huffs. "Fine. I…might have…kind of…"

"Spit it out!"

"I-got-Taylor-to-hack-it-instead," he says in a rush of breath, and everything falls silent for a moment.

"You…you made your nineteen year old daughter hack the United States Army?" Steve asks, disbelief lacing his voice. "Tony-"

"I didn't force her!" he protests hotly. "I just provided a challenge, and, like any good Stark, she got it done! In under two minutes, I might add."

"Yes, yes, Tony, we get it – you're proud of her-" Steve starts exasperatedly.

"And he's not the only one," Clint interrupts defensively.

"-but back on point: Rhodes is not coming?"

"…no."

"Wonderful," he sighs. "So our hope of rescue lies on the shoulders of an nineteen year old."

"Hey! She is a very competent nineteen year old!" Clint defends.

"With a modernized suit of armor!" Tony adds.

"But-"

I perk up as something outside the cell catches my ear. "Everyone shut up!"

They do, and Clint waits a minute before murmuring, "Natasha, hvað þú heyrir?" in Icelandic.

"Rólegur, fugl." I hiss, just as a man dressed in all black with a mask on steps into view.

"I would listen to the spider, Mr. Barton."

I blink, shocked that this man – probably part of an Afghani terrorist-cult – would understand Icelandic, given that Iceland is nowhere near (or similar to) the Middle East.

"Do not look so shocked, Ms. Romanoff," the man laughs. "I am a very learned man."

"Who are you?" I demand.

The man raises an eyebrow. "You are in no place to be making demands, Miss Romanoff."

"That doesn't mean I won't," I retort sharply. "Now, who are you?"

"I am Ansari, leader of the Blood Moon."

My mind uses that little tidbit to fill in few gaps: Blood Moon was the terrorist cell we were sent down here to spy on. They must have found out what we were doing, where we were, and when we were going to be there.

I can tell that Clint's made the same connections I have. "What do you want from us?"

"Only your cooperation, Mr. Barton," Ansari replies simply. "If you fall to me, the rest of the world has no hope. The Blood Moon will rule!"

"Mmhmm," Tony hums from behind. "Yeah, I've heard all this before. What makes you think we'll fall to anyone ever, let alone you?"

Ansari grins. "Because, Mr. Stark, we have won. You have nothing – no weapons, no fancy suits, and no backup."

"They're going to find us eventually," Tony counters bravely. "I mean, really, you can't just kidnap someone like me and not have people looking for me. They found me last time."

"They?" Ansari raises an eyebrow. "Do you not mean she?"

Tony's face loses a little color, but he stays silent.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, I know all about your precious little girl. And you have made some connections too, Mr. Barton, if I remember correctly. Yes, it is quite unfortunate that she could not join us today. I would have enjoyed her company."

Tony and Clint growl almost inhumanly at our captor, but he doesn't even flinch.

"It is no matter, however. I believe she will be joining us shortly."

I blink. What? Was Taylor kidnapped too? Oh, please no…

Steve is the first to find his voice. "Did you take her too?"

"No," our captor laughs, "oh, no, we did not. Ms. Stark is coming over her own free will."

I hear Tony suck in a breath. "What did you tell her?"

Ansari shrugs. "I simply informed her that I had six items that she would dearly miss. She was jumping at the chance to join the party."

I groan softly. A rescue mission…or a suicide mission. I wince and banish the thought.

"She'll bring her suit," Tony boasts. "Taylor is far from stupid."

"I do not doubt that, Mr. Stark," Ansari nods. "But, if she does bring her suit, then it will simply become her own undoing. I will not have to hurt her if she dies while falling to the ground in a self-made metal casket."

Tony blinks. "Her suit…"

"Why do you think you do not have your precious Iron Man with you?"

"How are you blocking the suits?" I ask.

Ansari tilts his head slightly. "I cannot tell in English…نبض."

"نبض…" I repeat quietly. "Pulse." I look up at Ansari. "It's an energy pulse?"

He nods with a smile. "Smart Widow! Now, while we wait for our seventh guest, I'm going to make sure all of the presents are in order."

I shiver and watch his back as Ansari walks out, two guards slamming the cast iron door behind him. Presents could mean a lot of things in this situation, but none of them were good.

"So…someone want to fill me in?"

"It's an EMP, Tony," Clint reports quietly. "They put up an EMP shield. Can Taylor get past them?"

Tony's face goes white as he slowly shakes his head. "No…not since Connecticut. There was a virus in the suits and we didn't think we'd be needing them this soon."

I groan and lay my head back against the wall of our cell. "So she's coming on a rescues mission, sans suit…Tony?"

"What?"

"Is the suicidal trait inheritable?"

He glares at me, but his silence speaks volumes.

"She's not completely defenseless," Steve offers weakly. "She's got a bow."

Nobody says anything.

"Tasha?" Clint asks me, and I look over to see him giving me a worried look. "Is she going to be okay?"

This isn't Hawkeye looking at me. It isn't even Agent Barton, nor is it Clint Barton: tough guy. No, this is just a twenty three year old worried beyond belief for his girlfriend.

I can see the heart that she fell in love with.

"I…" I swallow around the lump in my throat. "I don't know."