Whumptober Day 2

Talking is Overrated

Prompts - garotte/choking/gagged

Today was opposite day; that was the only reason Clint could give for the hell that was taking place on this mission. "Twenty years of this shit, and you'd think I wouldn't fall for it, but no, I'm their huckleberry, every time." 'Go in, get the intel, get out. No problem,' he was always told. Most of the time, 'they were wrong. He'd bet that Fury removing his eye patch would happen before anyone gave him the truth. He figured the conversation would go something like this – "You're going to go through hell, there will be three times as many guards as we thought, the intel will be in a different location across town, and you'll break the rest of the bones in your body that haven't been broken yet." 'Now, if I can figure out how to get that on a t-shirt,' he thought.

He was in the middle of another underground bunker belonging to AIM. He had no clue how that organization was still around. "Probably hired ex-HYDRA agents," he muttered to himself. Clint had made his way through two of the building, having not met much resistance. Of course, the third time was the charm, isn't that what the saying was? As he approached the next building, lights started flickering, and alarms were blaring. "Damn, I hate when they discover I'm here. Must be losing my touch." Before going any further, he started choking as gas was released from the ceiling. Clint held his breath as long as he could until he couldn't

"I swear to God, Shell head, if you can't figure out a way to stop losing track of Clint, I'll, I'll," Mikayla was pacing around Tony's lab, doing her best not to pick things up and throw them across the room.

"Maid Marian, we were misplacing him before you came along. That's what he gets for being a lone wolf. If you'll recall, I gave him a tracker to keep in his precious quiver, but does he use it? About as well as you use your glasses."

"I'm done." Mikayla spun around and stormed out of the lab.

"Well, that went well," Tony muttered. "Friday? Continue the search."

Mikayla ran up to her room. As she went to pick up her laptop, her phone pinged. "Got a location, Ladyhawke. I sent it to you and Widow. Go get our bird."

"And it only took a threat to mess up his precious lab to kick his ass into gear," Mikayla said to herself. She texted Nat. "Get that?" Nat responded the Quinjet was taking off in ten minutes.

Five minutes later, Mikayla met her fellow Avenger in the hangar. "What did you know about the mission?" Natasha asked her.

"Not much. Fury found a group of AIM people manufacturing weapons more destructive than Stark ever created. That's why he didn't call in the whole team. Fury still doesn't trust that Stark can keep his ego in check."

"We've got this, right, Nat?"
"Doubts creeping in, again, Mikayla?"

Mikayla buckled into the co-pilot's seat. "I keep thinking, just how much damage can a body take before it breaks down completely." Before Natasha could answer, Mikayla started talking again. "I have complete faith in Clint."

"Then focus on that, use that as motivation to kick the bad guys' asses." Natasha finished the pre-flight checks, and the Quinjet lifted into the air, heading to get the missing Avenger.

Clint woke up in a cell, arms, and legs tied to a chair. "Two dislocated shoulders, great."

"About time you came to, Hawkeye." Clint tried to turn his head to see who was talking, but when he woke up, he failed to notice the collar around his neck, the chain on it attached to his arms and legs. He tried to move his head and almost choked. "Not so powerful now, are you, little bird?"

"Didn't realize I'd joined a BDSM club." Clint may not have been able to move, but they hadn't touched his most valuable weapon, his brain. He saw a typical cell, bars too thin to crawl through, two guards with automatic weapons in front of him, at least one person just out of his view, so he assumed there were at least three times that many in the general vicinity. 'Easy,' he thought, 'all I have to do is fix my shoulders, break the chain, pick the lock, then take these guys out. Not the worst position I've ever been in. Here goes nothing.' Clint distracted his guards with his second valuable weapon, his mouth. "Got a question for you? Think you could give me the number of the shop where you buy your toys? I know I could put them to good use." He grimaced. 'One shoulder down, one to go.' "Let me tell you, the things that woman can do. She should write a book." One more grimace, second shoulder back in place.

Before he could get another word out, he heard a whoosh and saw the two guards in front of him fall, each with arrows in their windpipes. "Really? Sharing our sex life with the bad guys? Boundaries, Barton, might want to try them sometime." Clint smirked as he heard Mikayla's voice in his comms. Thank God for Stark Tech hearing aids, so small no one noticed them.

Clint shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever it takes to cause a distraction." He heard a thud behind him. From the man's grunts, he recognized the sounds of someone being garroted. "Glad you could make it, Romanoff."

"Meh, it was getting boring around the tower. I needed something fun to do."

"Clint," Mikayla said, her voice quivering a little. "I'm going to need to do something hard for you to do – shut the hell up."

"I thought you loved my voice."

"I do, and I'd like you to be around so I can hear it more. That won't happen, though, if I can't get this collar off you. Warning, this may hurt a bit. Don't worry, though. I'll make it up to you." Mikayla took a deep breath, drew the arrow back, focused on the small collar ring the chain was hooked to, then let the arrow go. It flew across the room, striking the ring at the perfect spot, slicing through the metal, releasing the collar from the chain, and embedding into the wall across the cell.

Clint's head slumped as he slid to the floor, hands, and feet still attached to the chain. "Almost there, Barton," Natasha muttered, picking the lock on the cell.

"Thanks," Clint said, winded. "I've got this part." As Mikayla ran up to the cell, he spat a pin out of his mouth, rolled over, and was able to grab the pin. Once he did, he was able to pick the lock binding the chain around his hands. Before he could reach his feet, Natasha had finished with the locks on the door, and Mikayla rushed in.

"Hey, Barton," Mikayla said, taking the pin from him and freed his legs from the chain.

"Hey, Barton," Clint replied. "Thanks."

"Still don't know when to shut up." Mikayla crashed her lips into his.

When they came up for air, Clint smiled. "Ever thought you'd be picking locks?"

"Nope, but never thought I'd meet and marry a real superhero, either. My life has been full of surprises since I met you." Mikayla stood and helped Clint to stand, putting his arm around her shoulders for support. Natasha shook her head as she stepped on the other side of Clint, helping to support him.

The trio made it back to the Quinjet. "I got this. You take care of birdbrain number one," Natasha joked as she went to the cockpit.

"You heard the lady, take care of me." Clint grabbed Mikayla and pulled her into his lap. "Take care of me as only you can, babe."

"Medical first, fun later," Mikayla tried to resist by gently trying to push away from his chest.

Clint sighed. "Fine. Two dislocated shoulders which I repaired myself, no broken ribs, no concussion. Now, fun time." Mikayla knew she'd lost, but really, could it be considered a loss?