Alright, everybody, here's the new chapter! I'm sorry for the extended wait, but I was out of town for the weekend, and I got this out to you as soon as I could. I want to thank everyone for the reviews (That I am in the process of trying to reply to) and the alerts and favorites. I'm just thrilled you all seem to be liking it.

I'm kind of surprised that I didn't get more of a response to Bruce punching Ross, though. ^_^ I am very happy with all of your reviews though, so keep them coming! I want your feedback.

Please enjoy this chapter.

As always, I own nothing.


Clint scowled furiously as he was pulled roughly to his feet and more or less shoved down the hallway after Bruce had already been dragged away. He still had one guard on either side of him, as well as one behind him holding the gun to the back of his head. The handcuffs restraining him had been tightened to the point where they cut painfully into his wrists, not that he was surprised.

He was also aware that Ross was following behind him and his entourage, which he could only take as a good thing. If Ross was with him, he wasn't with Bruce. And maybe, that meant that the doctor wasn't being hurt or poked or prodded.

He didn't make a sound despite the waves of pain that came from the bullet graze across his back when he was slammed back into the chair in the room he'd escaped from earlier.

The body and still unconscious guard had been removed, while Clint's arms had been yanked over the top of the back of the chair and then secured by his wrists to the other side. The position tweaked both of his shoulders but he showed none of his discomfort on his face, instead expressing a mask of indifference, looking up to Ross.

The former general had stood back beside the door, arms crossed over his chest with a positively gleeful expression on his face as he watched the two remaining guards in the room secure Clint to the chair.

Once the assassin's arms, as well as his ankles had been restrained, they stepped back and Ross stepped forward, giving his head a slight shake.

"I'll admit, I underestimated you." he said lightly and Clint scoffed, giving a roll of his eyes.

"You think? Let's see, what was my body count? One from here, two from the hallway, three more from around the corner, two from emptying my first gun, then Bruce got three too, and I emptied another pistol, so that's eight... Total of what, sixteen? Not including the ones Bruce dropped. So yeah, you dumb ass, I think you underestimated the highly trained assassin." Clint said mockingly, eyes narrowing as his chin rose.

Ross' eyes narrowed angrily, giving an almost invisible signal to one of the guards at Clint's side. The archer noticed the motion and braced himself for the blow he knew was coming, and showing almost no reaction once the closed fist slammed into his stomach. In fact, all he did was give the former general a cocky smirk, pushing down the pain that stemmed from the hit.

"Come on, that it?" he taunted, raising an eyebrow as Ross' own almost seemed to twitch. "Hey, can I make a guess as to why I'm actually here? You're all peeved because of the whole 'fired from the Army' thing, aren't you?"

Ross' jaw visibly clenched, and Clint grinned, even as both guards began using him as a punching bag.

All through the beating, the archer gave no audible or visible clues to the pain he was in, keeping his breathing as even as possible. Even so, he was sure that at least a few ribs had been cracked or broken, sending sharp, shooting pain through his chest with every breath he took. His right shoulder was dangerously close to being dislocated, and his jaw ached from the solid punch that had been delivered to it.

When the men finally stepped back, Clint gave his head a quick shake and quickly realized that had been a horrible idea when he nearly threw up, and the waves of pain from his worsened concussion made his vision swim.

"See, this is what I'm talking about." he started a few moments later, looking up to Ross again and stubbornly meeting his gaze. "You are the one that's pissed at me, and yet, you have yet to even take a swing at me yourself. I'd be insulted if I didn't think you were just a damn coward."

"You don't know when to shut up, do you?" Ross asked condescendingly and Clint just gave a snort, trying to move himself into a more comfortable position and instantly freezing and biting his cheek to keep from making a sound when he accidentally pulled on his shoulder and pain shot through the limb like fire.

"Nah." the archer gave an admittedly strained smirk, his eyes dull. "Especially not when I can do something fun like piss you all the hell off. For example, I have to say I think your nose looks better broken. Bruce definitely did you a favor there."

Ross growled and Clint relaxed back into his chair carefully, adopting an expression that hinted that he was exactly where he wanted to be. He knew that his nonchalant attitude would just serve to enrage the former general. He understood how men with his type of personality worked, and it was his goal to keep the man with him and away from Bruce for as long as he could, despite the repercussions to himself.

"And I hope you're well prepared for the rain of holy hell that is going to be brought down on your ass." Clint continued, watching the emotions flicker across Ross' expression, confusion, fury and haughty disbelief being a few. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, you've only got two of six Avengers here. The other four are going to be pissed, and none of them are light weights. They will find us, they will come, and they will kill you and everyone else here." Clint's voice lowered and darkened, matter of fact certainty entering his tone.

The guards on either side of him shifted uncomfortably, but the archer didn't spare them a bit of attention, his eyes locked on Ross'.

"I think you have too much faith in your friends." Ross spat out the word 'friends' as if it was a curse, but Clint's expression didn't change. "And I certainly hope you don't think you'll get another chance at your own escape."

Clint didn't respond, his eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts moved over to a mess of 'what if's that didn't bode well for either him or Bruce.

Ross must have seen something of the change in the archer's attitude, because he gave a dark smirk of his own.

"The tables have turned, Hawkeye." the former general said condescendingly, and Clint gave a roll of his eyes, cutting the older man a sharp glare.

"Coming from a coward like you, forgive me for not trembling with fear." the assassin all but sneered, eyes flashing when Ross turned slowly back towards him, his anger visible in every line of his body.

Before either of them could speak again, the door to the room opened, a middle-aged dark haired man entering with a slightly bemused expression.

"Mr. Ross, I would ask you to ignore the man." the newcomer said as almost a sigh, casting a considering glance over Clint's bound, and now obviously uneasy form. "He's simply trying to anger to the point of spending more time here, in an effort, I think, to keep you from Dr. Banner."

Clint frowned, before swiftly wiping his face of any expression not knowing who this man was, or how he had been able to realize his intentions so easily. The face was somewhat familiar, one he had seen from a SHIELD file, but he couldn't quite recall the who or why.

"It's commendable, but we could use your help with some more tests on the formula." the man continued, and Clint gave a jolt of recognition at the word 'formula'.

This man had featured in Bruce's more classified SHIELD file, from an incident two years ago when a team of agents had been dispatched to keep the man off the doctor's trail. He'd been interested in recreating the formula of radiation hidden in Banner's blood.

"Simmons." Clint said matter of factly, his eyes narrowing when the man looked up in recognition. "Well, that's where I recognize you from. SHIELD has had to keep you off Bruce before."

"I'm impressed." Simmons said lightly, turning more to face Clint himself, his head tilted to the side slightly as if interested. "Your skills certainly live up to your reputation, Hawkeye."

"Did you catch the, oh, about twenty dead bodies strewn across the place?" Clint asked with another smirk, relaxing slightly. He knew SHIELD still had eyes on this man, which gave them a much better chance of being found.

"I did, though I have to say I wouldn't encourage that behavior." Simmons said, his eyes hardening but not giving away any sort of emotion. "You might not like the repercussions."

"Trust me, I don't care what you do to me, I've been through worse." Clint deadpanned, eyes narrowing. "And you can also be damn well sure that the moment I get the chance I will take pleasure in taking out whoever I can get my hands on. Yourself included."

"I admire your perseverance, especially in light of your injuries, but I don't think you would be so… enthusiastic… if it was not you that suffered the repercussions of your actions, but Dr. Banner instead." Simmons actually gave a smirk of his own with his words.

Clint froze, feeling anger boil through him, pushing away the constant throbbing and aching pain in favor of stiffening and instantly moving his hands to the metal around his wrists, giving a few fruitless struggles. He remained stubbornly silent though, his eyes burning with fury that was directed at Simmons. He already knew though, that he would never be able to bring himself to make another move, unless it was guaranteed to get Bruce out. He couldn't be responsible for causing them to hurt Bruce, no more than he would be able to physically hurt the doctor himself.

"Maybe that's what it takes to clip a Hawk's wings." Simmons mused, his own eyes glittering with malice, before he turned to Ross, leaving his threat hanging open in the air. "We have a few more tests to run in the lab before we take them to Banner himself. I want this taken care of quickly."

Both men turned to leave the room, leaving the two guards beside the assassin. Clint watched them go, a long, loud sigh leaving his body as he all but fell back limply into the chair, allowing a small wince to cross his face when the action put pressure on the wound across his back.

Hours seemed to pass, the guards as silent as ever, and Clint not in the mood to start another bout of mocking banter. Instead, he thought back to everything he'd ever heard or read about Simmons, which unfortunately wasn't much.

All he knew was what had been in Bruce's file when Coulson had read him into the Avengers Initiative, which was that Simmons had spent a lot of time, money and effort trying to track the doctor down, probably about two years ago now. SHIELD had sent a team to make sure that the man didn't get within 500 miles of Bruce, as well as get rid of any information the man had compiled about the research and incident that had led up to the creation of the Hulk. Apparently, Simmons had worked past that set back and was still very interested.


He only glanced up again when the door opened, Ross stepping back through with a vicious smirk on his face. The sight made Clint stiffen, despite the fact that all it did was make his whole upper body throb worse.

The man didn't speak, though he gave a nod to the two men flanking the archer, who then quickly moved to release him from the chair.

Within minutes, Clint was standing between them, hands still sharply pulled behind him. His chest and shoulder had flared with pain the second he was forced up, but all he allowed himself was a quiet hiss.

Even that was enough to make Ross' smirk widen, and consequently Clint's eyes narrow into a glare.

"Perverted bastard, aren't you?" the archer commented mildly, his own grin forming when Ross' expression morphed into a scowl.

"Let's see how cocky you are when you get a taste of the wrong side of Banner's temper." Ross growled and Clint felt his eyes widen.

"What did you do?" the assassin demanded as his two guards forced him to follow the former general out of the room and down the hallway.

"We needed to run some tests on the monster. Don't worry, it's contained, but it's certainly not happy. I wouldn't want to deny you time with your friend." Ross told him lightly, and Clint couldn't help a quiet muttered curse.

Under normal circumstances, he wasn't afraid of the Hulk. The Big Guy liked him, knew him as a member of the team and had even saved him a time or two. But under these circumstances, with Ross, and the drugs and how terrified Bruce had to be, he didn't know if the familiarity would be enough.

The loud, bone-rattling roars became audible as they continued, and Clint recognized the Hulk's furious voice behind them. Ross led him into what was probably a viewing room, what looked to be one-way reinforced glass making up one wall, while the other long wall was a mess of beeping and flashing machines manned by a small handful of people.

They all looked up when Ross, Clint and the two guards entered, but the archer paid them no attention, his eyes turning to the Hulk's massive form that was currently trying to beat his way through one of the walls to the room he was in that was roughly the size of half a football field, with a thirty foot ceiling.

"We're very safe in here, there's no spot in the room that hasn't been reinforced to deal with its strength." Ross explained, his tone almost mocking.

Clint didn't respond, relaxing himself quickly. If Ross was going to put him into that room, he couldn't seem even the least bit wary if he wanted to keep all of his limbs attached. Besides, Bruce would never, ever forgive himself if the Big Guy ended up killing him, so he was just going to have to be sure it didn't happen.

"How does it feel to know you're going to be killed by the very thing you were trying to protect?" Ross asked, but Clint just gave him a slight glare.

"He is not a thing." he said matter of factly, making Ross raise an eyebrow at him. "And I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but he's not going to kill me."

The former general cast one speculative look at the raging monster in the room that was currently letting out another frustrated roar that physically shook the one-way glass before looking back to Clint.

"At least you'll die optimistic." he said dryly, before walking over to a control panel and hitting a button that made a small narrow door only a few feet in front of Clint open a slight bit.

The assassin's two guards gave him a rough shove through the door, and his ribs screamed out in protest as he rolled into the room to keep from falling onto his face, wrists still tightly handcuffed behind him.

He heard the Hulk give a furious snarl as he slowly looked up and stood from his crouch. As soon as he was noticed, the huge, green form launched himself at the archer, landing only a few feet in front of him and giving a menacing growl, emerald eyes flashing dangerously.

"Hey Big Guy." Clint said lightly, keeping his body relaxed and as non-threatening as he could manage with his wrists still cuffed and his ribs, shoulder and back giving him constant, painful protests.

The Hulk bared his teeth in another snarl, before his head cocked to the side and he too almost seemed to relax slightly.

"Cupid." he grunted, his tone not questioning who he was, but more why he was there.

Clint gave a grin and a nod. The Big Guy had nicknames for everyone on the team. He was Cupid, courtesy of a stray comment from Tony during a battle. Stark himself was Metal Man, Thor was Hammer, Natasha was Red, and Steve was simply Cap. It also helped that he was second or third on the list of people that Hulk actually liked.

"Yeah, buddy. Looks like me and you are in some deep shit, huh?" he asked, only to take a small step back when the anger returned to the jaded eyes looming over him.

"Ross hurt Bruce. Hurt Hulk." he snarled, fists clenching angrily, before he turned to Clint eyes narrowing, but not in anger. "Cupid hurt?"

"Yeah, a little bit." Clint hedged with a nod, before turning slightly so that Hulk could see the handcuffs binding him. "Think you could give me a hand, Big Guy?"

The massive hand that then reached for his wrists was surprisingly gentle, snapping the chain between the cuffs with ease, and then working to get the metal bracelets themselves off without crushing the archer's much smaller hands.

"Thanks." Clint said sincerely, letting his relief color his tone, even as he sent an 'I-told-you-so' smirk through what he knew to be one-way glass.

He could only imagine the horrified disbelief on Ross' face at this moment, watching as he held what amounted to a basic conversation to what the former general believed was nothing but a rage-fueled monster.

The Big Guy grunted a few moments later and Clint felt the last of the cuffs fall away from his wrists and he slowly brought his arms forward, well aware of the green eyes watching intently as he hissed when his right shoulder moved and he got a look at his bloodied wrists.

"Cupid bleeding." Hulk grunted as he sat heavily in front of Clint, expression actually concerned as his eyes flicked to the archer's wrists, and then his back. "Bruce help?"

By now, the Big Guy was well used to the fact that Bruce acted as their medic when they were in the field and didn't have access to SHIELD medics. It made sense that he would ask if the doctor could help him now as well.

"No," Clint shook his head, knowing that Ross had a hell of an easier time controlling Bruce than he did Hulk. "Why don't you just stay with me for now, alright? Could you do me a favor and tell Bruce that I'm alright? I don't want him to be worried."

Hulk gave a grunt of agreement before his eyes narrowed as the door clicked open again. Clint turned sharply as well, glaring as a team of four guards edged cautiously into the room. Maybe Ross had been stupid enough to think that Hulk wouldn't attack anyone, and wanted to test that thought. Either way, he'd just sent four men to their deaths.

He raised both his hands in a motion to signify that he didn't have anything to do with them when the Big Guy's questioning glance turned to him. In the next moment, the green giant had launched himself with amazing speed at the guards, knocking them in multiple directions and slamming the door shut before any more could enter. He then took to smashing the guards thoroughly to make sure they wouldn't be getting up again before he gently pulled Clint closer as he sat directly in front of the door, preventing it from being opened.

Clint laughed at the action, which made Hulk bare his teeth in a smirk too, giving a huff of satisfaction.

"Ross no hurt Cupid." he said matter of factly and Clint nodded.

"Thanks, buddy." he said, settling himself down in a sitting position as well, ignoring the stabbing pain from his ribs. He knew that there had to be another way into the room somewhere, and that eventually Ross and Simmons would find a way to get Hulk drugged again and shrunk down to Bruce, but he liked to think just for a minute or two that they were safe.

"Why Cupid here?" Hulk asked after a few moments, his head tilted to the side curiously.

"Well, Ross is angry at me because I was trying to protect you and Bruce, and he thought that if he put me in here with you that you would kill me." Clint said truthfully, noticing how the giant snarled at the mere mention of Ross.

"Hulk no hurt Cupid." he grunted, giving a shake of his head that looked almost comical. "Cupid like Hulk; Hulk like Cupid."

"Exactly." Clint smirked, patting the Big Guy's knee, which was the easiest thing to reach, reassuringly. "See, Ross is a dumb ass. He doesn't understand… well, anything really."

Hulk gave a snort of amused agreement, before he cocked his head to the side again.

"Metal Man?" he asked hopefully, but Clint just sighed and shook his head.

"The others are looking for us, Big Guy, but they haven't found us yet." the archer explained, and found himself agreeing with Hulk's dissatisfied grunt.

It made sense that the Big Guy would ask about Tony first. The billionaire and the massive green embodiment of Bruce's temper had always gotten along the best, even before the rest of the team had trusted him. Clint had been the third person that Hulk actually acknowledged, right after the Captain. It had taken the archer a few seconds at most to understand that there was more to Bruce's alter ego than just an ever-furious monster.

He did, however, think that this was the longest conversation anyone had had with him.

"How's Bruce doing?" Clint asked after a minute or two of silence, finally acknowledging the worry that had settled into the pit of his stomach after Simmons' threat. He had to make sure that the doctor hadn't been hurt because of something he had done.

"Scared." Hulk grunted, sounding unhappy with his statement. "No like drugs, no like tests."

"You tell him to just hang in there alright?" Clint prompted, scowling when he noticed a flash of movement from above them. A formerly hidden catwalk had descended from the ceiling, and Clint could see a guard slowly moving across it in the shadows. "Hey, Big Guy." he pointed a finger up when Hulk looked to him, giving a smirk and covering his ears when the giant let out another ear-splitting roar and leapt for the catwalk and the guard on it.

Clint was forced to move when pieces of debris started falling, the catwalk evidently not Hulk-proofed. He frowned when only moments later, Hulk fell to the ground as well, letting out quieter, incoherent snarls as he slowly began shrinking back down into Bruce. The archer was confused for a moment, before he noticed the grouping of darts that now littered the doctor's back.

Within a few moments, he was at Bruce's side and removing the darts, even though he knew they had already taken effect and left the doctor unconscious.

He turned slightly at the sound of the door opening, glaring as Ross, Simmons and a handful of guards entered. Without even thinking about it, he took a protective stance in front of Bruce, pushing down his own pain with the ease of practice. Sure, his injuries were painful, but they weren't bad enough to keep him from being able to fight back.

"Hawkeye, I ask that you remember my earlier words before you do something rash." Simmons said calmly, and Clint growled but forced himself to relax, though he didn't move out from in front of Bruce.

"I'm not above an 'I told you so'." the archer directed his words at Ross, his tone almost smug despite the situation.

Above anything else in the world, Clint Barton hated feeling helpless. He made a point to do everything in his power to keep control of whatever situation he was in, and seeing as he'd lived this long as an assassin, he was pretty good at it. But right now, even though his every instinct screamed at him to put down the five guards before moving on to Ross and Simmons, he couldn't shake the fear that he would get Bruce hurt. And knowing that the older man trusted him wouldn't allow him to make a single move against the guards.

Trust was a fleeting, rare thing in his eyes, in the forms of both giving it, and receiving it. The fact that he was an assassin alone sparked distrust in the eyes of many, even at SHIELD, and the incident with Loki had only proved to deepen that distrust to the point where he couldn't walk through a base without being constantly stared at like he was going to snap at any moment and kill them all. The team, however, had given him their trust the moment they let him watch their backs from above, and that had translated to a trust off the battlefield as well. And in return, in only a few short months they had earned his as well, breaking through the walls of cold, unapproachable indifference he had around himself. Neither he nor Natasha could explain it, seeing as the same thing had happened with the red-headed assassin too, but they couldn't find it in them to be unhappy about the situation.

So, for that reason, Clint once again didn't move as he allowed the guards to force his arms behind him and bind his wrists, hissing as the rough action made new blood flow from the lacerations from the cuffs they'd used before.

"Get Banner back to the lab." Simmons ordered of the other three guards, while the remaining two held Clint firmly between them.

The archer felt his blood boil again, but he didn't so much as move, instead running through the satisfying mental images of all the ways he could kill the two men holding him, even with his hands bound behind him. It occurred to him that it wasn't helping him keep calm very well, but the vicious satisfaction that he could flowed though him, followed quickly by the guilt that he didn't as he watched Bruce's limp form being dragged away again.

He just couldn't win in this situation, even in his own head.

He was pulled out of his own thoughts when he was shoved to his knees, one of the guards' boots coming up and catching him full in the chest, making his ribs ignite into a blazing wave of agony. The only recognition he outwardly gave the blow was a quiet grunt, his eyes closing tightly for a few moments before he glared up at Ross and Simmons.

"Can a guy get a little warning next time?" he growled, but neither man looked amused.

"How did you do that?" Ross demanded, obviously furious, but Clint just gave a grim smirk. "How did it not kill you?"

"You heard him. 'Hulk no hurt Cupid'." the archer said as if it was obvious, causing another kick to be directed at his stomach this time. He took a few moments to recover his breath before he continued. "You bastards just don't get it. I'm not afraid of him; I don't need to be."

Ross and Simmons shared a glance, and Clint gave a snort.

Out the corner of his eye he saw another boot flying toward his chest and he instantly acted to protect himself, knowing that the more his ribs were hit, the worse they would shatter and the greater the chance of them puncturing some vital organ.

He rolled to support himself on his bound hands, catching the leg attached to the boot with his own legs and using them to flip the guard onto his back, knocking the air out of him. In half a second, before anyone else could react, Clint had moved to position himself over he guard, knee resting on the man's throat where it could easily be used to crush his windpipe with only one, quick motion.

He hesitated though, his eyes narrowing as he cursed to himself and looked up to Simmons and the other guard pulled his pistol.

The dark haired man wore a knowing smirk, eyes dancing with amusement. Clint scowled, hating the fact that he was being forced to play by his captors' rules.

Even so, he stood fluidly, backing away from the guard he had had dead to rights. The actions themselves had been instinctual, even if he was pretty sure he had sprained his left wrist in the process seeing as he had put no weight on his right arm due to his injured shoulder.

"So the Hawk can be tamed. Good to know." Simmons said mildly and Clint scowled at him, narrowing his eyes but not bothering to fight again, watching as the guard scrambled to his feet, one hand on his right hip and the other on his throat, eyes wide with shock.

The second guard approached and grabbed Clint's arm again, holding his pistol to his head in a threatening motion.

They all froze, however, when there was a huge thunder clap that practically shook the entire building, Clint's eyes turning to the ceiling as a vicious smirk formed slowly on his face.

"I'm still not above an 'I-told-you-so', Ross." he said coolly, a muted, relieved shine to his eyes that none of these men would be able to pick up on.

"A thunder storm, that's all." Simmons blew off his comment, though Ross had become distinctly uneasy, looking around himself.

"If you hadn't pissed off the Asgardian god of thunder, that'd be a bit more believable." Clint pointed out, readying his body to spring as he recognized the muffled sound of Iron Man's repulsors blowing a part of the building. "And that'd be the billionaire genius in the metal suit."

Simmons quickly tried his radio, staring at it with an unreadable expression when he got nothing but static. Clint just gave a low chuckle.

Letting out a long breath and embracing the adrenaline that shot through his system at the thought of rescue, the archer ducked down out of the range of the gun pointed at his head, picking up his foot to deliver a sharp kick to the thigh of the guard that caused his leg to collapse on itself. Another spinning kick had the man's windpipe crushed, and he rolled just in time to avoid the second guard's attack.

Clint spat out a curse when he stumbled when he tried to return to his feet, his chest, back and shoulder flaring with pain. As a result, the guard caught his arm and flipped him onto his stomach, knocking the air out of him in one loud huff. Clint narrowed his eyes as he fought to regain his breath, struggling when he felt something wrap around his ankles.

Closing his eyes tightly against the agony that ripped through his torso, he bucked his legs to unbalance the guard before rolling over, pinning the man beneath him long enough to awkwardly drive his elbow into the other man's spine, giving a grim snort when he heard the vertebrae snap beneath him. Luck alone had landed the guard on his stomach when he had rolled, but now, even if he wasn't dead he wouldn't be moving.

Rolling into a sitting position, Clint couldn't help a short gasp of pain from the way his ribs moved in his chest. He could feel a sticky wetness beneath his bound hands, so he also knew that the bullet graze had been ripped open and was bleeding again. He scowled though, when he realized that Simmons and Ross had left the room, and closed the door behind them.

'I guess, Hawkeye, that I will just have to use you as leverage against your friends.'

Clint stiffened when Simmons' voice came over a speaker, his eyes narrowing at the words.

'After all, you don't think that I wouldn't have a fail-safe to destroy the beast that was meant to be in that room in case of an emergency, do you? All I have to do is push a button and you will be reduced to ash.'

The archer let out a long breath but forced himself to relax, working at his bonds instead of dwelling on his situation. As long as the team got Bruce out, he was fine with it. After all, dealing with him had given Ross and Simmons at least some distraction instead of having been able to go straight to Bruce at the onslaught of the attack. That would have given them time to work with, that would maybe save him as well. After all, he didn't doubt that Natasha's only objective in the rescue would be to find him, despite anything Steve said.

The Captain may be their unofficial/somewhat-official leader, but Natasha would point-blank tell him what she was going to be doing if he was threatened. They were partners for years before they were Avengers, despite the strong bonds they'd formed with the rest of the team; he would do the same for her without hesitation.

But maybe, if he could get himself loose, he could hunt down another way out of the room for himself.


So, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I don't really know if I count that as a cliff hanger, but if you do, rest assured that the next chapter will be out shortly. Please keep sending in your reviews with your feedback, they make me so happy!
~Dogstar