The Hunters and the Prey - Chapter Thirty-Seven
Author: Milady Dragon
In the end, getting into Madame Aida's brothel turned out to be pretty easy.
Jack had argued that it should have been him to go in, mainly because being Deathless meant that any sort of traps or curses wouldn't do lasting damage, and if they did manage to kill him he'd just come back. That had both Natasha and Bobbi telling him that Hydra knew who the Deathless was, and Whitehall – and any other Hydra fugitive in there they didn't know about – would recognize him at once. There would have been no way he'd be setting foot inside that brothel without tipping off the bad guys.
Clint, Toshiko, and Hunter had just stood back and let the three of them hash it out.
It had finally come down to drawing lots.
Natasha won.
Clint was pretty sure she'd rigged the game somehow. After all, she was good at that sort of thing. He'd lost a lot of money to her over card games, after all. Her cheating was practically legendary.
Jack hadn't been happy, but he'd accepted the outcome, even though he had to have been aware of the fact that it hadn't been an honest draw. They'd come up with the rest of the plan, which went into action as soon as Natasha had enough of a disguise to suit her…which wasn't much of one, because the Widow wasn't as well-known as the Deathless, and she'd just needed to fit into the ambience of the place.
Still, she'd found a nice dress that wouldn't have been out of place at some sort of upper crust ball, showing more bare skin that was actually necessary. It had meant she'd had to hand over her most overt weapons, but Clint had seen the dagger tucked into the garter on her right leg, and had grinned at it. Her fancy Teleport bracelet looked as if it belonged with the ensemble.
Truthfully, his best friend was just as dangerous empty-handed as she was with a knife. Clint loved her to bits for it.
When it was time to move in, Clint took a position across the street on the roof of a rooming house that was a couple of stories shorter than the building Madame Aida operated out of. From the plans that Bobbi and Hunter had managed to scrounge up, the upper two floors were the bedrooms for the sex workers who plied their trade within, the middle three the 'play' rooms, with an attic topping off the rest of the building. They didn't know what was in that attic, but everyone guessed it was Madame Aida's private residence, and perhaps businesses offices. At the moment, there were no lights on up there, no movement showing through the dormer window Clint had a perfect vantage point on.
Toshiko was on another building, this one was facing the rear of the brothel. She'd told Clint that, while she probably wasn't as good with a bow as he was – the Hawk did have a certain reputation for never missing, and it was completely true – she would be able to stop anyone coming out the back when needed.
Bobbi was stationed in the alley below Toshiko's position and, while Clint couldn't make him out due to the angle, Jack was seated in the rooming house's tiny bar, nursing a beer and keeping his own lookout. Hunter was in another alley, doing a really good impression of being drunk off his ass and busily getting people to underestimate him. With his Elven hearing, Clint could just make out the man's raised voice as he was telling someone else off for doing something they hadn't and for disrupting his solitary attempts at alcohol poisoning.
As he watched, Natasha made her way down the street, her hips swaying a little more exaggerated than how she usually moved. She was also going in without the anti-magical manacles she had; Hunter had those, ready to move forward in order to subdue Whitehall if he came out the front. The problem was, they only had one set, so their plan was predicated on both Whitehall coming out the front door and there being only one Wizard in attendance.
Clint really didn't think they could get that lucky.
The plan was sound. It would work. If they could only get Whitehall to follow it without knowing he was doing it…
Clint kept his eyes on Natasha as she sashayed her way right up to the dark red front door of the brothel, knocked on it, and then be let in by a boy who looked no older than sixteen. Probably not one of the prostitutes himself; he was more likely just the kid who'd been assigned door duty that day. From experience, the archer knew that most of the support staff would be children, usually those born of the workers whose birth control had somehow failed.
Poor kid. Not exactly the best way to grow up.
Now, they just had to wait.
Nearly half an hour later, one of the hells decided to erupt within the brothel.
Fire began licking at one of the first floor windows. A piercing scream came from within the house, then a second as flame erupted from the second story. People began to stream out of the house, mostly young men and women in whatever they wore to attract the attention of visitors to the brothel…in other words, not much at all. They were followed by whatever support staff was on premises, mostly kids too young to service the clients in the way the adults did; for the most part, they were wearing rather fancy uniforms of dark green tunics and black trousers, both boys and girls dressed exactly the same.
Madame Aida was obvious by her rich brocade gown, also in shades of green and black, her dark hair piled upon her head in what would have been a rather nice chignon if not for the few strands that had come loose and were flying into her face, her eyes lined with kohl and making them look that much darker than they were.
She was also rather gorgeous. Back before meeting Phil, Clint might have been interested in a night with her.
There was no sign of Natasha, but the Elf wasn't worried. His partner knew what she was doing, and could be trusted to carry out the plan to the letter…until she had to improvise.
Jack had left the bar and had approached Madame Aida, in the guise of a concerned citizen. Apparently, their concern over anyone recognizing him had been overblown, because Madame Aida began haranguing him, as if yelling would save her property any faster. The sirens signaling the coming of the fire brigade echoed up the street as Jack backed off, pretending to capitulate to whatever demands she'd made and drawing her attention away from Hunter, who'd been making his rather stealthy way toward the milling brothel workers on the sidewalk. If their suppositions had been sound, then Whitehall would be coming out the front, in order to hide among the crowd gathering outside the burning building.
And, right on cue, he did.
Clint recognized him easily. His arm was still in a sling from where the archer had put an arrow in it a couple of days ago, which meant he was at a little bit of a disadvantage if he had to defend himself physically. His dragon was with him, but it had launched itself into the air once it was past the now-burning threshold, screaming angrily as it gained height in the warming air.
The problem was, Whitehall wasn't alone.
Raina was with him.
Clint cursed. He vividly recalled what that bitch had done to Phil, using whatever magic that had corrupted her voice into something that had easily put a very powerful Wizard under her control. Clint hadn't seen it all, but he had the aftermath, and he had one of the enchanted arrows on his bow string before he could think of what he was doing.
He couldn't allow her to say one single damned word to Hunter. It was going to be hard enough for him to get those manacles on Whitehall, even incapacitated as he was, but with Raina in the picture…
He'd switched out the magicked arrow for a regular broadhead, and it was in flight even as Hunter managed to get the first manacle cuff around Whitehall's wrist, surprising the Wizard with his sudden presence.
Clint Barton never missed.
He'd been aiming for Raina's heart.
She'd been one of the responsible parties who'd attempted to murder his lover. For that offence, Clint's justice would always be at the end of a fletched shaft.
There was a sudden scream, and Raina's dragon dropped down beside her body, dying as its Wizard died.
If Clint regretted anything, it was the death of that poor dragon. It had only been following its instincts when it had gone in search of its particular Wizard. That was a dragon's nature. What Raina had done wasn't on its soul.
Dragons were creatures of love. Of loyalty. Its only crime had been in choosing Raina in the first place.
Clint mourned that dragon more than he would its Wizard, because it was a victim of what Raina had done just as much as Phil had been.
The ruckus grabbed Whitehall's attention from what Hunter was attempting to do. Jack managed to join the mercenary, and together they got Whitehall on his knees as the Wizard's dragon moved in to attack the ones who were going after its Wizard. Clint knew he should take a shot, to put the dragon down before it could hurt someone in its rage at what was being done to the person it was bound to, but he couldn't. Instead, he took another arrow from his quiver, and let it fly; as it arced through the sky, it broke apart to form a net that caught in the dragon's wings and bore it to the ground, where it flapped against the steel mesh, trying to escape, its cries pitiful as it attempted to get to its Wizard.
Clint was down from his perch as Madame Aida began yelling at both Jack and Hunter, as they were hauling Whitehall to his feet, the manacles now around both wrists, the Wizard grimacing in pain at having his injured shoulder pulled back like that.
By the time he'd joined the chaos on the sidewalk, both Bobbi and Toshiko had left their places as well. Jack was shouting at Madame Aida, his charm replaced with hard-edged anger, and he was threatening her with her business being shut down as she screamed at him about murdering her clients and assaulting others…and oh, destroying her house in the process.
"That was surprisingly satisfying," Natasha said as she sidled up to Clint.
He certainly did not jump at her sudden appearance.
"You just love to cause trouble," he accused lightly.
She didn't answer, but then she didn't have to.
"It was you!" Madame Aida shrieked, the moment she caught sight of Natasha.
Natasha simply shrugged. "That's what you get for harboring fugitives."
That was about the time when the magistrates and the fire brigade showed up.
Clint watched as Jack took over, leaving a furious Whitehall with Hunter and Tosh. Bobbi had gone over to Raina's corpse; she didn't bother to check it, knowing immediately that she was dead because her dragon was dead as well. Her eyes met Clint's, and she nodded once, acknowledging his shot and, even though she didn't really know the reason behind it, she accepted that he'd done it for a reason.
They'd been amazing together. They'd just taken it too far. Him and Bobbi would always be better friends than lovers.
Natasha, who had heard the full story of what had happened in Hydra's hideout, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "You did good."
He really didn't need her approval, but Clint was grateful for it, nonetheless. "None of us would've been able to stand up to her voice." He didn't even sound defensive, which was good for him.
She squeezed his arm in response. In support. She'd always had his back.
What was odd, was that killing used to not bother him. He'd killed a lot of people in his time as an assassin, and hadn't needed anyone to tell him he'd done the right thing.
This time…
And he knew exactly why…it was that dragon lying across Raina's dead body.
Raina had deserved it, after what she'd done to the man Clint loved.
That dragon hadn't.
Fuck.
Clint felt sick.
He suddenly needed Lola to tell him it was alright what he'd done.
Natasha knew him so well. She moved to Jack, tugging him down in order to whisper in his ear. He nodded, giving Clint a sympathetic glance. "I've got this," he said, just loud enough for Clint to hear. "Let's get you home."
Clint wanted to argue.
But he couldn't.
"It's fine," Toshiko murmured. She'd snuck up on him, just as stealthy as Natasha had been, and this time the Elf admitted to himself that he did jump at her sudden presence. "Believe me when I say I know exactly how you feel."
He did believe her. Toshiko was older than Clint himself was, and she'd seen Wizards in all their horribleness and all their glory. Had she had to do what he'd just done? Had she been as upset as he was at the death of that innocent dragon?
From the expression in her dark eyes, he knew the answer to that was yes.
"Come on," Natasha urged. "Let's go home."
Clint let his best friend pull him even closer, as she twisted the Teleport bracelet on her wrist, tugging them away and trusting the others to handle the mess they'd left behind.