"Wakey wakey, Sunshine." Clint jiggled Rayner's cheek with the palm of one hand.
Sleeping Beauty didn't so much as twitch.
Clint pursed his lips. "Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard."
He'd taken harder punches himself. Half the time from his fellow Avengers. Try getting body slammed by some Sokovian kid going at full super speed, Pal. Then maybe they could talk. Heck, even that didn't compare to a blow from Natasha.
Barton's eyes darkened as he filled his lungs with a breath and let it loose. One hand dragged down the front of his face. God, he wished she were here with him. She'd know what to do, what to say. Mostly, he just wanted her here.
But he didn't have time to spiral down those thoughts. It was almost dark and he had an interrogation to do.
He reached into his back pocket for the water bottle he'd grabbed from his pack and unceremoniously poured the contents over the top of Rayner's head.
Rayner's eyes shot open. He lunged forward with a sputtering gasp, only to find his hands tied firmly behind him around the trunk of a tree.
"What? Where?" Rayner's eyes shot back and forth before settling on Clint. "Hawkeye?"
The guy instantly relaxed, back slumping against the tree. Whether that was more for the sake of bravado or he honestly thought Clint being an Avenger would save him from impending torture was hard to tell. What Clint was sure of was the fact that he'd really like to wipe that smug grin off the bastard's face.
"What can I do for you?" Rayner's voice was light and chipper, but Clint didn't miss him shifting to feel if any of his weapons were still there.
"Well, I was hoping for a little bit of information." He held his thumb and index finger up in front of his face.
"Of course." Rayner shifted in place so he was sitting with one leg crossed in. "Anything to help an Avenger."
Clint hummed thoughtfully. "I don't do that anymore."
"Nonsense. Can't unsave the world."
There was that grin again. Perfect white teeth just begging to be punched out. Oh, he'd have it fixed, but at least it would cost him to do it. Not that money was a resource someone like Rayner was short on, but it would give Clint a small sense of satisfaction to know he'd made him waste it.
"So the girl–"
Rayner let out a short bark of a laugh. "Girl? You mean Ember?"
Ember? So that was her name.
"That's no girl."
"Two arms. Two legs. Seems like a girl to me." He didn't have time for these games.
A satisfied glimmer lifted Rayner's expression. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."
"Then explain it to me." There was a hard edge in Clint's voice, almost a growl.
"I'm afraid that's top secret company busin–oof."
Clint's fist hooked into Rayner's stomach and the other man doubled over himself as far as the rope would allow. He grit his teeth, hissing out a breath. When his eyes came back up there was fire in them. Good. If he was angry, he was off balance. All Clint had to do was swing it around, boost his ego enough to get him to brag.
"Let's try this again." He pointed the barrel of the gun into Rayner's chest. "Why were you trying to kill her?"
Clint was expecting stony silence. He was expecting Rayner to fold. Maybe beg for his life? What he was not ready for was laughter. The bastard exploded into full-on, over exaggerated belly-laughs.
"You thought that would kill it? Oh boy, that's rich."
It?
"So, she has abilities?" He ignored Rayner's chuckle. "What kind?"
"You're wasting your time. It's not even human."
It was Clint's turn to get angry. "Just because somebody can do things other people can't doesn't make them not human."
"Oh but it does," Rayner hissed. "You'll see."
His face cracked into a grin that made Clint's skin crawl.
"Goodbye Agent Barton." And he let out a whistle.
Clint's grip tightened on the gun as he glanced around, but whatever Rayner was expecting didn't seem to happen.
The two men stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.
Rayner's lips twitched with irritation.
He whistled again.
Nothing.
"Sooooo," Clint started.
"Oh shut up."