hello my sweet buns! hope you enjoy part 2 of our clintasha rp! :D thanks for reading!
The first thing to greet Natasha as she struggled back to consciousness was pain.
Everything hurt. Her cracked ribs, her stiff joints, her bruised jaw and split lip, most of all the gunshot wound in her side. The spy was well acquainted with pain; really it was her oldest and most honest friend. But this time it was different.
The 'training' she had received in the Red Room made physical pain relatively easy to overcome, she could push it down in a box and keep it for later when the heat was off. But this… This heart wrenching, mind-fracturing pain gnawing at her insides was wholly alien to Natasha Romanov, the merciless Black Widow. He was dead. He was dead and it was her fault. The first person that had reached out to her, who had seen past her mask and believed there was more to her than just the monster she had allowed herself to be to survive. The universe certainly had a cruel way of reminding her never to trust, never to open herself up like she had.
A sound tugged at her half-awake senses, cutting through her sorrow and turning her insides cold with fear. All this pain – that meant she was alive. Alive, alone and at the mercy of who the hell knew. Natasha's blue eyes cracked open and a fuzzy image of a woman in a white coat floated in her peripheral vision, she was getting ready to stick a syringe into an IV that was hooked up to her arm…
The Widow's survival instincts kicked in, a surge of adrenaline sharpening her vision and tightening her muscles. Thankfully wasn't strapped down - she lashed out from the bed and kneed the woman in the stomach, stopping her before she could pump whatever poison lay within into the tube. The woman smacked a red button on the wall triggering a loud alarm and then tried to wrestle Natasha to back to the bed. The spy stuck the syringe into her chest, pushing down the plunger. Her assailant crumpled to the floor immediately, confirming the spy's suspicions that whoever had brought her here from the warehouse had only hostile intentions for her.
Natasha stumbled out of the room in a fog of pain and whatever drugs they had already used on her, leaning heavily on the wall and gritting her teeth to keep from crying out from the pain lancing through her abdomen. She clutched the empty syringe in one hand, the only weapon she had. Because of the alarm the lights had been turned off and switched to dim yellowy emergency bulbs. At least that what she thought, maybe her vision just wasn't what it should be. The spy was beyond caring where she was or who got in her way. She had nothing to live for and nothing to lose, but she refused to just die on that medical bed like a dog being put down by a faceless enemy.
The redhead shambled around a corner and caught a man in a dark uniform off-guard, whipping the back of her fist across his face, smirking as his head smacked the wall hard and he hit the floor with a heavy thud. But she could hear footsteps approaching. Maybe it was just her own heartbeat throbbing in her ears. She ducked into a large room with many long tables set up in it, some kind of mess hall perhaps. Natasha ducked behind a metal counter, leaning her sweaty brow against the cool steel and taking a ragged breath. She had no idea if anyone had seen her come in here and she didn't care. She would fight them off till her body shut down entirely.
"In here! Look you can see the blood on the floor!" A man shouted.
"What should we do? We can't shoot her – right?" Another man asked uneasily.
"She's a threat; did you see Evans out in the hallway? We need to subdue her and get her in a cell." She heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked and the Widow huddled further back against the counter, biting her lip and holding the syringe in front of her.
Clint was sitting in an exam room on the opposite end of the hall where they had put Natasha. He sat propped up on a metal table while a nurse gently rubbed burn cream onto his shoulder. His side where the bullet grazed him had a small bandage over it already and the archer hissed with pain as the nurse taped gauze over the fried skin of his shoulder.
"Don't be such a baby." the nurse teased, taping down the last corner of the bandage. She smiled to herself, enjoying the view of the shirtless man in front of her.
"Let me boil your skin and see how you handle someone jerking you around." he hissed back. He suddenly heard the sound of the alarm and his face grew concerned as the lights dimmed around them. The blonde nurse looked frightened as their eyes met and Clint jumped off the table.
"What are you doing?! You're supposed to stay put." the nurse explained, grabbing hold of his wrist.
"You really think you can keep me here?" he raised an eyebrow at her, tugging his hand away from her easily. He pushed through the door and looked down both ends of the hall seeing men running towards the mess hall and nurses frantically trying to figure out what had just happened.
Clint sprinted down the corridor in nothing but his hospital pants, towards the mess hall where all the ruckus was. He stepped over an inert man, bloodied and bruised, his body slumped up against the wall. The marksman's first thought was Natasha. Only she'd be capable of causing such a commotion.
He pushed open the doors of the mess hall seeing two men with guns drawn, aiming at Natasha who was frantically swinging what looked like an empty syringe at both of them and cursing in Russian. His body tensed with anger at the threat to his partner, he didn't care if any of these people were trying to help, he'd kill them all before he'd let them touch Natasha. She was fragile and they didn't understand that the darkness of her past still haunted her.
"Hey! Drop 'em!" he yelled at both men, stepping towards them. One guard turned to face the sound of Clint's voice and aimed his gun at him, telling him to back off and that this didn't concern him.
The agent calmly moved forward still, knowing full well that the guard wouldn't shoot him. He didn't have the guts. Clint grabbed the man's wrist, knocking the weapon free from his hand and catching it in his own. The archer hit the man with the butt of the gun, causing him to stumble to the side. Clint raised the gun, aiming it towards the other man, "Stand down or I'll shove that Glock so far up your ass, it'll come out the other end!" he yelled at him, his face deadly serious as he crept closer to the red head.
The other man covering the redhead winced at the dangerous glint in his superior's gray eyes and he immediately complied, setting his gun down on one of the mess tables.
"She- she assaulted a nurse and an agent. Watch yourself Barton, she's wild." He stammered, taking an involuntary step back at the furious glare the marksman shot at him. "I'll um, I'll go get them to turn off the alarm if you think you can get her back to medical. Uh, sir." He said with more respect.
Clint glared at the younger agent before him, "Yea you do that, kid." he stated flatly, lowering his gun as the man walked away. He turned to Natasha, cautiously moving closer to her.
