It's that time again - Whumptober 2022, time to torture our favorite archer! Once again, this will include the Avengers and my original character, Mikayla Fitzgerald Barton. The plan is NOT to have them appear in my main story, but as in prior years, you never know!

Prompts: Tears/Unconventional Restraints/"This wasn't supposed to happen"


Clint woke up and found himself in a moving vehicle, bound up, laying on his back, only able to move his head. 'That's different,' he thought. 'Usually, I'm unconscious during this part. Guess I couldn't hope to have suddenly gotten a dose of the serum. Oh, right, that's Mikayla. This was one of the oddest kidnappings he'd been a part of. Usually, he'd wake up and find himself tied to a chair, leaning up against a wall, or, in a few instances, hanging from a meat hook. But lying down? That was a new situation.

Clint wondered who it was that had taken him this time. 'Think. What's the last thing you remember? Not any battle, that's for sure. I was on my way to get coffee when someone bumped into me, and here I am.' He looked around inside the vehicle to find clues about who had taken him. There was nothing on the grey walls of the vehicle and, oddly enough, no one guarding him. 'First mistake leaving me alone.' Clint tried moving his arms and hands but realized his hands were tied behind him with duct tape. 'This must be some new kind of duct tape. Normally, I can tear it apart with no problem, but this isn't budging.' The more he fought, the more stress he put on his arm and shoulder muscles. Clint decided to preserve his strength and focus on what else was wrapped around him, limiting his movement. He started rocking back and forth and heard popping noises. 'It's freaking bubble wrap!' Clint decided he would never use bubble wrap to pack anything again. He noticed the vehicle was slowing down and turning, finally coming to a stop. The engine was turned off, and he heard footsteps walking by the van, ending at the rear. He listened to the lock being removed and the bar being lifted. Clint had to close his eyes to block the sun as his eyes were sensitive from being in the dark for so long.

"Bro, you hard to get."

"Aw, tracksuits, no. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"We wish, bro, but you've been causing trouble for the big guy."

"Yeah, bro," one of the others spoke up, "time to pay for it, bro."

As soon as Clint heard "big guy," he knew he was in deep trouble. Up to that point in his dealings with the Tracksuit Mafia, he'd only had contact with the low-level idiots. Clint tried to figure out what he'd done lately to piss the group off. Tony had cleared up the issue with the apartment building, and he owned it free and clear, and according to Simone and Aimee, the tracksuits hadn't been around lately. His SHIELD assignments had been out of the country, and the Avengers had been fighting AIM, Doctor Doom, and the Atlanteans, none of which had ties to the tracksuits organization, as far as he knew anyway.

As Clint was going over his most recent enemies, one of the tracksuits stomped into the van, leaned over, picked up Clint, and easily carried him out fireman style. "You're in trouble now, bro." All he could think was how humiliating it was to be treated like a rag doll. For God's sake, he was a high-ranking SHIELD agent and an Avenger. The only time he should find himself being carried by another male is if he was too injured to walk; this was definitely not the case now. The guy took him into the building, with the rest of the group following and murmuring amongst themselves. Clint was unceremoniously dumped on the ground. The tracksuits laughed as the bubble wrap popped. "Sounds like popcorn, bro." "The great Hawkeye turned into snack food." "Making me hungry, bro." Someone reached down and slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Barton." Clint recognized the voice. It might be the only human he feared, the Kingpin, Wilson Fisk. "I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I am glad to finally make your acquaintance after hearing so much about you from my, ahem, colleagues." The large man in the white suit over a red Hawaiian shirt motioned to the tracksuits, so they all scurried out of the room, leaving Clint alone with Fisk. "You know, it wasn't supposed to happen this way." Fisk kicked Clint in the ribs. Because the bubble wrap was wrapped so tightly around him, Clint couldn't prepare for the blow, grunting when Fisk's boot slammed into his ribs, probably breaking a few of them. Kingpin continued kicking Clint for several minutes. When Clint was gasping for air, the crime boss finally stopped. "All you had to do was give up the apartment building. Had you done that, I could have continued my business dealings from there. Since you refused, I had to relocate to a less desirable location. As you can see, your actions have put me in a precarious position, Mr. Barton. You have something I want, and I will very shortly have something you want." Clint saw him motion to someone. A shorter, skinnier man with blond hair appeared over Kingpin's shoulder. His face was covered in white makeup with one black tear just below his right eye. "Kazi, please take care of the problem."

Kazi nodded as Fisk walked away. The man, who Clint labeled in his head "the clown," walked at a slow pace around Clint. Clint decided this would be a good time to start trying to escape. As Kazi was making his way around Clint, the avenger focused on trying to rip the duct tape tying up his hands. Unfortunately, the man caught him, then brought his boot down on Clint's hands. Had Clint's mouth not been taped shut, he would've screamed out in pain. Instead, all he could do was moan. He knew the damage would be unrepairable if he didn't escape soon. The torture was just beginning, however. Kazi walked away and then returned with a pistol. Clint immediately tensed up, not liking where this was going. A sharp pain went through Clint's shoulder as a bullet tore through it. While trying to wrap his mind around what was happening, another shot went through his kneecap. Satisfied with his work, the clown strode away, leaving Clint presumably to die.

Back at the tower, Mikayla was pacing. She knew it never took long for Clint to make his morning coffee run. After walking around her suite, she decided to talk to someone. "Friday? Is Natasha here?"

"She's sparring in the gym with Captain Rogers."

"Can you please patch me in?"

Mikayla soon heard the sound of a body landing on a mat. "What's up, Mikayla?"

"Clint's gone."

"Define gone," Steve said.

"He went for his morning coffee run over two hours ago. He didn't take his phone, so I've got no way to reach him. It normally takes him an hour tops, and that's if he stops to pet a dog."

"Meet us in Tony's lab," Natasha said.

Several minutes later, Mikayla, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky (who'd also been in the gym), converged on the lab. "Tony, we need your help."

"Always happy to drop the important work I'm doing to help my teammates." Tony put down a wrench and looked at the group.

"Clint's missing," Mikayla said, trying not to let the panic bleed into her voice.

"Isn't he on a SHIELD mission?"

Natasha sighed and shook her head. "Stark, how long have you been here? He's been back for two days now."

"Friday?"

"You've been in the lab for forty-seven hours and thirty-three minutes."

"Nowhere near a record." Tony walked over to his computer. "Where was he headed?"

"She Brews Coffee, a couple of blocks away."

"Supporting local, I love it." Tony's fingers flew over the keyboard. "You know, Maid Marian, you could've done this yourself." Mikayla held up her hands, hands still bandaged from injuries that occurred during a fire. "Oh, yeah, forgot about that. Just figured you were consulting with the greater power." Mikayla rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm working on it. Here he is." The group gathered around the computer screen, watching Clint walk down the sidewalk, avoiding people until one person seemed to jostle him. Clint took a few steps, then started falling to the ground. He was caught by two other guys in tracksuits who tossed him into the back of a green moving van.

"Oh, crap," Mikayla said. "Not the damn tracksuits again." Mikayla pointed to the screen. "Remember them? The prior owners of Clint's apartment building?"

"Didn't we get rid of them already?" Bucky asked.

"Apparently not. Tony?"

"On it, Maid Marian. Friday?"

"Searching traffic cams now, Boss."

A few minutes later, the van reappeared on the screen. "There," Steve pointed. "Anyone recognize that building?"

Tony searched and came up with an address in Queens. "Grab your gear." The group split up, got suited up, then met Tony in the garage. "I'll fly over and meet you there." The group stepped back as Tony fired up his suit and took off. They climbed into one of Tony's sedans and sped off to catch up to him. When they arrived, Tony was waiting for them. "There's one heat signature, was just waiting for you to get here."

Bucky strode forward and busted the lock; Steve kicked in the door. "Where's the heat signature, Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Main level, center of the room."

Mikayla pushed her way through the group and ran straight toward the middle of the room. "Oh, no. Clint!" She dropped her bow, and the clatter echoed through the building. The group followed her and saw Mikayla kneeling next to her husband, his blood seeping through her clothes. She reached over and ripped the duct tape from his mouth. "Clint! Clint!" Mikayla unsuccessfully tried to take off the bubble wrap, so Bucky took a knife and cut it away. Clint was silent, barely breathing.

"Mikayla, step back. Let Tony take him." Natasha grabbed Mikayla's arms and maneuvered her away from Clint. Looking at all the blood on the ground, all everyone could think was, hopefully, Tony could get their archer back to the tower in time.