The setting sun seemed to elongate the shadows of the mountain range, providing Clint and Natasha with ample cover as they moved swiftly towards the pass. As they approached their destination, Clint began surveying the area for shelter. If they were going to watch for this mysterious bounty to appear, it was only common sense that they find a place where they could see, without being seen. Slowing his light footed jog to a walk, he noticed an eroded section on the mountain face a few hundred feet up, forming a small cavernous opening. It looked just big enough for them both to fit in, and provided a perfect vantage point of the pass.
Proud of his find, Clint stretched his arms above him before bending his elbows and resting his hands comfortably on the back of his head. "See that?" he asked Natasha, nodding his head towards the cave. "Perfect. And I told you we'd get here before nightfall," he grinned, noting that the sky was still well illuminated with hues of red and orange.
"Well, you're just right about everything today, aren't you?" Natasha chuckled as she gave his shoulder a shove. "Hold the confidence off until later; we have yet to get to the hard part of the plan." She grabbed his wrist and took off towards the cave.
When they reached the rocks below the cavern, Clint braced himself against the wall, holding his hands together to give Natasha a foothold. He gave a small grunt with the effort as he helped her push off the ground so she could begin scaling the wall to the cave. Making sure his arrows were secure in his quiver, Clint slung his bow around his shoulder and followed close behind. When they reached their chosen hiding place, he placed an ear to the smooth side wall, which curved only a few feet above his head. He quieted his breathing and concentrated, but didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. "Looks like the coast is clear, for now," he said. "I don't expect we'll see anything for a while, so you might as well get some rest now to save your strength, just in case. I'll keep watch."
She gave him a skeptical glare. "You're the one who has been hunting trolls all day, but fine by me." She shrugged off her satchel and used it as makeshift pillow, curling up on the stone floor just behind Clint. "Wake me if you even think you see something," she ordered as she closed her eyes. Hearing him grunt in agreement, she let herself fall off into a light nap, weary from travel, but too anxious to get any deep sleep.
Clint could tell from Natasha's breathing that she was sleeping lightly and he wondered if she knew that he had no intention of waking her up anytime soon. She needed her rest. Smiling a bit when she began to softly snore, Clint positioned himself so that he was almost a barricade in the mouth of the cave. He surveyed the darkening land below, but didn't see anything interesting. Resigning himself to the job of protector rather than surveyor, Clint settled his bow on his lap and kept the quiver nearby. He closed his eyes, listening. Listening to Natasha's breathing, to the whistling of the wind through the rocks…
Suddenly, Clint's eyes snapped open. With alarm, he realized that the moon was at a much higher point in the night sky. He had fallen asleep, for hours by the looks of it. Silently cursing himself, he crouched down and concentrated all his senses on the ground below. He felt uneasiness wash over him as an unfamiliar presence took hold, almost blocking out everything else. Reflexively, he drew an arrow from his quiver and settled it against the string of his bow, readying it.
His uneasiness grew. It wasn't until he pinpointed his target, seeing the gleam of metal reflected in the moonlight on the far side of the pass, that he could squelch his anxiety. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could track it. "Natasha," he whispered urgently, not daring to let his eyes leave their target. "Nat, wake up."
Natasha rolled to her side and jumped into a crouching position, grabbing her flail. "Where is he?" she quietly whispered in his ear. Her heart thumped against her chest and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she death gripped her weapon.
Clint's muscles tensed out of reflex when he felt the adrenaline emanating from Natasha in invisible waves. He nodded his head towards the gleaming metal. "Over there, on the other side of the pass." he said in a low voice.
She peered out into the darkness; her eyes were not as keen as his elven ones, but she caught the flashes of moonlight reflecting off him in the distance. "They were not lying about the enchanted arm, this man must be even more dangerous than the tales say," she whispered trembling with excitement. "I am going to get closer."
Clint reached out and grabbed her arm as she tried to slide past him. "Nat, wait." he said, moving his body in front of hers. "Let me go first. I want some of this guy left to talk too before you get a hold of him." he smirked, already scaling back down the wall before she had a chance to object.
"Always wants to do things his way," Natasha mumbled as she agilely climbed down the slope. "He's going to get himself killed one day, if he doesn't start listening to me." She made sure to make as little noise as possible as she crossed the pass, wanting to make sure they kept the element of surprise on their side. Slowing her pace and carefully controlling her footing on the unsteady rocky terrain, she began to close in on the man.
Keeping one eye on his partner, Clint slid down the rocks closer to the man. "Alright," he thought to himself. "Wealth beyond my wildest dreams, here I come." He pulled his bow taut, leveling his arrow with the man's thigh. Before he could make a move, however, a low rumble caught his attention. Slackening his grip on the bow to concentrate, he realized the sound was coming from loose rocks, ready to tumble over the edge of one of the mountain cliffs- their path headed straight for Natasha.
It didn't even take a second for Clint to decide to give up his position in exchange for yelling out a warning to her. "Nat! Above you!" he cried out. At the sound of his voice, the man with the metal arm whipped around. Their eyes met. A shiver ran down Clint's spine. He tightened his grip on his bow, holding it in a defensive position.
Natasha's heart skipped a beat as she tried to run out of the path of the boulders flying down into the valley, but it was dark- so dark that she couldn't tell which way they were coming from. Cursing Clint for blowing his cover, she tore through the pass towards him when suddenly she was pulled to her knees by her foot plunging into a crevasse. She strained to pull it free, but that caused smaller rocks to come loose and bury it deeper. "Over here, you metal monster!" she yelled in a desperate attempt to distract the man from pursuing Clint, but it was too late.
Clint kept his eyes locked with the man. He could tell that Natasha was struggling, and he wasn't about to let her play the hero. "Natasha, don't," he warned. The metal armed man took a few steps closer, and Clint let his arrow fly. It connected with the metal forearm, and the man merely reached over and pulled it out, to both Clint's dismay and morbid fascination. Clint knew that this bounty was worth more alive, so he decided that the most reasonable course of action would be to subdue him in close combat. He was good at things besides archery, after all.
With a yell, Clint lunged towards the man, and in moments they were exchanging blows. Neither one took the upper hand, as one was ready with a defense whenever the other struck. Noticing this, Clint tried to force the fight away from Natasha, hoping to trap the man in the corner of two ledges. "Not one for words, huh?" Clint quipped. With a smirk, he nodded towards the metal arm. "Not exactly a knight in shining armor, are you?"
Apparently, this joke hit too close to home with the man, because the next thing Clint knew was the sensation of metal fingers wrapping around his throat. Gasping, he clawed at the arm, trying to release it's hold. He stared into the man's eyes, trying to read the emotion he saw there, but the sudden lack of oxygen was making that very difficult. "W-what? You.. you can't take..ngh..a j-joke?" Clint choked out.
In response, there was a whirring noise in the arm, and the grip around his throat tightened exponentially. Now Clint was beginning to get worried. The man turned around, pinning him to the wall. It took Clint a moment to register that his feet were no longer touching the ground. His reflexes were sluggish as his lungs screamed for air. The blood pounding in his ears threatened to drown out every other sound, and the feeble attempt he was making at removing the metal fingers from his throat slackened as stars began to dance around his vision.
He couldn't remember ever wanting to do something as simple as breathe so badly before, but he dimly made a mental note to never take it for granted again. He felt his arms drop to his sides and the stars were replaced with darkness, slowly creeping on the edges of his vision. He thought he heard a yell through the rushing blood in his head, but it sounded far, far away. Whatever it was must have been real, however, because a second later the arm released him and he fell to the ground, breathing in gulps of air and coughing.
For a few minutes he could do nothing but dry heave, and all his remaining strength focused on not passing out. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to refill his lungs with that precious, sweet, so often overlooked air. He felt pins and needles in his limbs as life surged back into them, and it slowly dawned on him that he should look up and see what had caused his attacker to release him.
A thunderous howl of pain erupted from the metal man as Natasha's flail ripped at the flesh of his back. "Don't… you… DARE… touch him!" she yelled between blows as the rage built in her eyes. Suddenly the man's metallic palm caught the ball of the flail and raised it until Natasha's feet dangled above the ground. With a swift motion she propelled her body forward and kicked him in the chest, sending him sliding down the hill.
"Clint, can you hear me? Clint!" she cried out, "Come on, you can't go down like this. I know you've got it in you. Now would be the perfect time to listen to me for once…ah!" She was cut off as the metal man plunged a knife into her stomach from behind. Letting out a moan of pain, her battered form collapsed on top of Clint's. Straining against the pain, she rolled over and lay beside him as the metal man continued on his path bleeding, but satisfied with his work.
Something sparked inside of Clint as he registered what had just happened. Natasha's body lying beside him- warm and still and tense with pain- only fueled the feeling of anger that began to bubble up inside of him. "Nat…" he tried to say, his voice raspy. He could feel a deep bruise already forming around his throat, a visual representation of how it felt on the inside. "Natasha," he tried again. "Natasha, say something. How bad is it?" He fought off the wave of dizziness that accompanied his sitting up in order to get a better look.
The dark made it nearly impossible to determine the severity of the wound. Clint quickly tore the hem of his tunic, wadding the fabric into a ball to try and staunch the bleeding. He could tell that Natasha was in more pain than she was letting on, and suddenly a pang of guilt began to settle in his stomach like lead. "I'm not going to let anything happen, Nat," his earlier promise forced it's way into his thoughts. "What a great job you did of that, Barton," his mind taunted him. "Now look what's happened- It's your fault."
Clint gave an aggravated yell, the sound more strangled than menacing. Anger pulsated through him- anger at himself, the situation, at the metal-armed man… he suddenly remembered their attacker and glared out into the darkness, his eyes straining to see where he had gone. He saw him walking down the path, as if nothing had happened. "How dare you," Clint thought, anger growing. He looked down at Natasha and gently brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Natasha. I'm so, so sorry," he said, apologizing for both the pain he had let her experience and for what he was about to do. He began to stand up, all thoughts on pursuing the metal armed man.
"No!" Natasha cried out in protest, lurching forward and grabbing Clint's wrist to hold him back. A wave of pain forced its way through her nerves from the gash in her side. "You can't do this, Clint. Stay here. LISTEN to me!" she pleaded through gritted teeth.
Clint maneuvered his wrist from her hold, instead letting her hand fall into his own. He held it tightly, an incomprehensible look flashing across his face before he gave her a half hearted smile. "I'm sorry, Nat," he repeated. "But you should know by now how much of a problem I have with listening." He gently laid her hand on the cloth stemming the flow of blood from her wound and took off running towards the man.
Biting back the surging pain, Natasha struggled to pull herself to her feet. "You're no match for him, Barton," she gasped between sharp intakes of breath. "If you leave me, you are not coming back!" She tried to follow him, but started to collapse, clinging to a boulder for balance. Already dizzy from the blood loss, she knew if she didn't bind the wound soon, she would be in serious danger. Noticing Clint had intentionally left his bag behind, she found the medicine kit and dressed her gash as she heard the sound of his footsteps grow fainter.
As Clint closed in on the man's location, he realized that he didn't have a plan. "Make him pay." his mind decided. Clint's eyes narrowed as he reached behind him and pulled an arrow from his quiver, never slowing his pace. The hawk feathers stuck in the end of the shaft softly brushed against his cheek as he positioned his bow, ready to fire. A glimmer caught the corner of his eye, distracting him. His steps faltered as he saw the man with the metal arm was suddenly surrounded by a shimmering, translucent light.
Taking in a sharp breath, Clint noticed that the man was beginning to fade from view. He was disappearing. He was getting away. "No!" Clint yelled out in frustration, releasing his arrow. The object passed through the man, burrowing into the ground behind him. Disbelief fueled Clint's anger, and his pounding heartbeat seemed to propel his feet forward. As he got closer to the light, Clint felt a bizarre feeling of weightlessness come over him, but his adrenaline wouldn't let him stop. His feet carried him on their own accord, and he was suddenly so close to the man he could reach out and touch him.
That is, if he could move. For a brief moment, both men stood frozen, suspended in space. Then, there was a flash- and Clint's eyes widened as the world around him disappeared.
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