Eight men stepped out, flashlights in hand and guns clearly displayed at their sides and strapped across their backs. He bit back a curse and moved down the ladders as quickly and silently as he could until his feet hit the ground floor.

Right. Well. It took them long enough. Now where to hide?

He didn't kid himself into believing he could hide in plain sight, not in this place. They were loud and they had flashlights. They weren't concerned with people noticing they were here. And they would be here for a while.

He couldn't engage them or be seen at all. Any hint of his presence and they'd call their boss who would either call off the meeting or take it out on Natasha tomorrow. Neither was an option.

A desire to find the nearest air vent and crawl into it flitted through his mind but he dismissed it just as quickly. He hadn't checked them yet and there was a good chance they were in disrepair.

It would be less than fortuitous to fall through a weak spot with company on its way.

So he ran for the closest room that he'd blocked off. He could hear them making their way around the building, feet crunching on broken glass and dirt.

Carefully slipping his knife in, he cut the wire he'd spent so long setting up to keep the doors from opening too much and slipped inside. Now that he was in the room he could afford a cruder method and quickly wound the wire around the door handles, effectively sealing them together.

The doors wouldn't budge open at all now. And he was stuck inside in the dark.

Terrific.

He doubted they would waste the effort of breaking down the doors, but they'd probably do some work to make sure the doors stayed closed, much as he had done.

Clint just had to wait them out.

Assuming, of course, that they left at all.

His eyes had already adjusted to the dark as much as possible but he needed to find a good spot to sit where he could chance a flashlight without it being seen.

Noises rang out down the hall and he knew they were inside. Quickly pulling out his night vision goggles, he turned in a circle to get a layout of the room and everything in it.

Mostly it was junk- hard, metal junk. Not comfortable at all, but potentially useful. It would have been too easy if he'd picked the break room with a squishy couch.

With the men moving closer to his position he couldn't move anything yet so he picked the corner that would provide adequate cover and waited patiently, crouched with his back to the wall.

Clint tensed when the doors were rattled and he gripped his bow hard. He heard consistent pounding and he guessed that someone was trying to kick the doors open.

A squeaking noise made his stomach drop and he realized that one of the hinges was giving in to rust and the persistent pressure being applied. He lifted a hand and quickly pulled off his goggles; if the doors were forced open then light would come in and his vision in the goggles would be heavily impaired.

He could hear his heart thudding in his chest. This really was a terrible position for him to be in. It wouldn't take long to find him once they got the doors open and even with his skills he knew a fight would probably end in his death.

Besides, even if he lived and got rid of all the men, their boss would figure out they were missing which would jeopardize the meet and the mission.

So basically all his hopes were riding on those doors not breaking down.

The pounding continued until there was a muffled yell from further away. All at once the shuddering stopped and the doors were still.

He blinked, waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing that he was never that lucky.

But nothing happened.

At least, nothing happened to his door.

There were sounds from further down the hall and footsteps moved past him but they seemed content that the door and the room behind it were harmless.

There was a chance they were monitoring outgoing frequencies so he didn't take out his phone to send the layout to Natasha or try to contact her or Phil with their comms. If it seemed like they weren't going to leave he would chance it later, but for now he settled in to wait.

He was good at waiting.

Clint pulled out his flashlight and risked a little bit of light so he could look over the layout he'd drawn. He used his time to clean it up and emphasize the important aspects.

The men continued to move around and Clint was having trouble keeping himself awake and alert in his dark room.

Evidently they weren't concerned with barricading the doors because he heard them move past him with hardly a hesitation and then there was silence.

Moving forward he pushed his ear down to the crack under the door and strained to hear the distant whine of engines starting.

He couldn't stop the grin when he heard them but he waited for an additional half hour after the sound disappeared.

Silence was his only friend at the moment but he was very well acquainted with it so he didn't mind. When he was reasonably sure that there was no one at least in the hall near him he unwound the wire and cracked one door open to look around.

There was nothing, but he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Still nothing stirred. No sounds echoed from nearby, and nothing looked out of place that he could see.

Satisfied at his basest level that he could move he edged out from behind the door and shut it quietly behind him. If he had time later he'd go back and block the door again but it wasn't a priority.

He pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow.

If they had left anyone behind to keep the building secure he'd most likely run into them. He had a better chance of taking anyone out quietly with his bow than his gun.

He moved silently out of the corridor and towards the back door, the same one that they had entered through. He strained his ears and quieted his breathing as he moved, his eyes scanning every inch of the hall.

Nothing seemed out of place.

It made him twice as twitchy.

He turned the hall to the main room and immediately jumped back behind the corner. Clint slowly ducked his head back out to get a better look at what had caught his eye. Of course there's a guard.

At least the guard didn't seem interested in staying alert. In an almost comical imitation of every movie ever, the guard sat with his legs propped up on a second chair and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed and his breaths were deep and even.

If they left one guard inside there's probably one outside as well.

He didn't have many options, that much was obvious. He'd been able to avoid detection thus far but leaving now presented its own problems. He needed to see what they changed and ensure his own modifications were untouched. It was very unlikely that the guards would check anything over considering the team had just done that, but he had to be careful.

Ducking back out to the hallway he made his way through carefully, eyes sharp for the other guard. He used any window he passed to check outside for any hint of the other guard but found nothing by the time he got to the back entrance.

Moving extra cautiously, he edged outside, sweeping the area over several times before committing to a movement. Still there wasn't a single thing to indicate anyone else in the area. Frowning in irritation, Clint retraced his steps, trying to find something that would point to the second guard.

Nine minutes later he'd made his way through the entire building and was staring at the first guard, a frown firmly etched on his face.

If they really only left one guard they were either very confident or very sloppy. Neither boded well for the meet.

Shrugging, he decided to handle one thing at a time. One guard made it easier for him anyway. Pulling out another gas canister, his last, he poked a hole into it and rolled it to sit under the guard's chair.

At least he didn't have to be careful with the timing this time. The guard could sleep up to the meeting for all he cared. With only one man left behind it meant they expected him to fall asleep, this guy was most likely a rookie, pulling the worst job before the real deal tomorrow. It was very unlikely they'd bother to check-in with him.

Still cautious but less hesitant, he walked back through the building, checking each room and hiding place he'd set aside and finishing up the map for Natasha.

He found some changes they made; structural shifts to allow for more hallway traffic, chokepoints made close to doors and windows with access to hallways with exits, extra weapons stored in unlocked rooms and hidden on the upper catwalks.

All in all it gave the distinct impression that they were planning an ambush and that made him nervous.

He did what he could, removing the weapons, re-locking doors, cluttering the halls again with debris. He felt like it wasn't enough.

With little else to do, he did one last sweep, picked up his empty canister, and tried to erase any evidence of his presence before running back to the trees.

He trekked back to his perch and hauled himself up, tapping his comm. to call Natasha on their private channel.

She picked up on the first beep, "Took you long enough."

He grinned, "You're welcome."

"Delays?"

"Of a mercenary nature."

"What's the layout?"

He was already sending her the updated picture, "I can scan it if you need it clearer."

"This is fine. I doubt scanning it would improve the quality that much anyway. What are all these marks?"

"Presents for you, in honor of our first mission. The big x's are backups in case you get greedy. The smaller one is a loaded 19 in case you get really screwed."

"What else?"

"Upper levels are all catwalks and ladders, a lot of empty space. I cleared them all of weapons but they could still hide some men up there, even in the middle of the day. The doors I marked are unlocked and cleared, the rest are barred shut so avoid them. The shaded exit should be good in a pinch if it goes sideways and no one can follow you that way. Otherwise it's the back exit they'll be eyeballing."

"That it?"

He frowned, "No, there's something else."

"What is it, Barton?"

"I don't know yet. Coulson's working on it. I found two bodies in the woods, someone went to a lot of trouble to hide them and keep them from being identified."

"Are they part of this?"

"I don't know. It could just be someone in town finally got tired of their neighbor and the woods was the perfect dumping ground."

"You don't really believe that."

"No, I don't. I'll keep you updated. My position is marked; I have a clear line of sight. You good with the distress codes?"

He could practically hear her eyes rolling even though her scoff wasn't muted for his benefit, "Yes."

"Super. I'll just be here, in my tree for the next couple of hours," he tried to not sound pathetic but there was no way she didn't hear how exhausted he was.

"Don't complain Barton. The staff didn't fluff any of my pillows before I checked-in, it's practically barbaric here," her voice was flat but he heard the attempt for what it was.

"Was that a joke? Are you bantering with me, Romanoff?" he smiled.

"Good night Barton," she disconnected before he could read into any further.

Still smiling, he settled in for a long wait.

To say the time until the meet would be a rough would be an understatement. To try and ignore his awkward perch he called Phil on his comm. after a couple minutes of readjusting his position to be slightly less uncomfortable.

"Phil?"

"Yes Clint," Phil didn't even try to hide the exhaustion in his voice. Clint couldn't resist.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I keeping you from your beauty sleep? I have some lovely branches here if you'd like to join me and have a late start tomorrow. Really great weather we're having here, too, gotta love not being able to feel your extremities."

"I'd take a tree over these chairs, you know how uncomfortable they are. Maybe I'll grab my heating blanket out of my office," Phil teased back.

Clint practically moaned at the thought of a heating blanket, "Jackass," he huffed out as he pulled his jacket closer.

"What's the situation?" Phil finally got down to business.

"The meeting site is clear. I was working through my own adjustments when a group crashed the joint. I had to hide out until they left and then go back and undo their modifications. They left a guy there sleeping and now I'm just chillin. Literally." Clint reported. "Anything on the two bodies?"

"Yes, and it's not good," Phil said.

"Of course not," Clint deadpanned. "Lay it on me."

"They're known associates of Thomas Malcolm."

"But that's the guy Homefront's sending tomorrow," Clint felt tension beginning to coil in his stomach.

"Yes it is," Coulson agreed.

"So the two dead guys in the woods belonged to the seller. That's- fuck. That's not great. Any chatter?" Clint hated how desperate he sounded.

"Unfortunately no. At least nothing that would hint as to a potential reason for these two being disposed of days before this meet," Phil picked up what Clint had implied. "Which means that there's something else going on."

"Why couldn't they have just failed Bodyguarding 101 and been killed as punishment?" Clint muttered, banging his head lightly against a nearby branch. "As if this wasn't bad enough now this pops up."

Phil was quiet and unsympathetic on the other end. Something perked Clint's interest a beat later, "'At least'. You said 'at least', Phil. That means there's something else going on."

Phil's voice was even, no hint of nervousness, "There's nothing, Clint."

Clint remained silent, knowing that Phil would tell him what he needed to hear. He trusted the man too much for Phil to dismiss a concern he had on a mission like this.

A sigh and then, "I need you to trust me in this Clint. It's part of the mission. You know this is as much a test for you as it is for Natasha. I'm doing everything I can to help you but this one's out of my hands."

"Alright," Clint nodded despite knowing that it went unseen. "I'll check-in again before the meet or if something comes up. Barton out."

He clicked the comm. off and settled back into his perch to watch the sky begin to lighten, trying to relax enough to get an hour or two of sleep.

On the other end of the comm. Phil scrubbed his face with his hands and turned abruptly on his heels, heading for the door.

He didn't stop to rethink what he was doing but he did have the presence of mind to observe protocol. He waited to be allowed access and gave a brief nod to the man in front of him before speaking his mind.

"Are you sure this is the right call, sir?"

"Absolutely."

"This has the potential to go very wrong. Clint was right- it's too soon," Phil insisted.

"Well now it's too late, they're in position and the meeting is in less than 10 hours," Fury studied his agent for a moment. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish with this, Phil?"

Coulson gripped his hands behind his back, "There is a strong possibility that we'll lose both of them, sir. I just wanted to make sure you thought this is worth it."

Fury nodded, "I do."

"Very well," Phil gave him another short nod and then retreated out of the room, letting the door close softly behind him.

So...I'm alive?

This is so horribly late, you all have no idea how much I hate myself. I wanted this to be completed in August. AUGUST! Anyway, I have the last chapters outlined. I'm aiming for 3-4 more chapters and at worst I'll update once a week. Hopefully I'll be able to speed that up but that's my minimum.

Thank you so much for your support- seeing readers continue to add this story to their alerts kept my guilt fueled until my muse got its act together. I appreciate every hit, review, favorite, and subscription and I will continue to reply to every review individually.

Sinkme