A/N: I have no idea why the first chapter uploaded into the first chapter, sorry about that, but here's Chapter 3!
"Cut him down until he finishes having his little tantrum." Agrafena barked as she watched the man in front of her shake uncontrollably as his head thrashed back and forth. Their party would be over prematurely if he died. She needed information from him before that could happen and she planned on getting that information. Anatoly stepped forward and sliced through the rope holding Clint up, letting him hit the ground unceremoniously. Clint flinched as he hit the ground, consciousness hitting him like a hammer to the face. The flinch was lost among the convulsions still running through his entire body. Small grunts broke through, against his will, as Clint continued to seize with his jaw clamped together painfully. He knew his nerves were totally overwhelmed and reacting from the repeated hits to the solar plexus and God, did it hurt. He knew that eventually his system would right itself now that Anatoly wasn't continuing his assault, but it was a very painful process until it was over. Seizures had a specific place in Hell for the destruction that they caused to the body. His hands clenched and unclenched from where they were still tied together up above his head. Clint just wanted the seizure to stop so badly. He wanted to be back home, hopefully with some good IV drugs to keep the pain at bay while he slept this off. He knew it had to hurt for him to want IV drugs.
Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire. His left side had taken the brunt of the fall and was smarting, the pain somehow making itself known amid the burning muscle spasms that were tearing through his body. It felt like hours had passed before the tremors started to slow down. Clint almost cried out in relief when he felt his muscles finally start to relax. The pain from the beatings to his chest, stomach, and face were starting to flare more from the muscle contractions that the seizure caused. It took a few minutes before he finally started to feel like everything was coming together.
"Oh look, the little bird is done throwing a fit." Anatoly's voice was gruff as he strode to kneel next to the man, random twitches still running down Clint's body. Anatoly smirked at the pained grimace on the man's face. He enjoyed inflicting pain on others. He had started a young age, with a neighborhood boy, and never stopped. It was just an added bonus that he got paid to do it.
"Fuck you." Clint grunted out between bared teeth. The shaking was infuriating and made it so that he was seeing triple. His body really fucking hurt. The beatings and the seizure were taking a toll on his body. He also figured he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in at least a day and it was making him even weaker. He was really ready for the rest of the team to come bursting through the door. He wondered if maybe even the Hulk would come. Bruce was plenty happy to stay on the jet or even back at the base for missions but watching the Hulk pummel Anatoly's face into the ground repeatedly was really appealing.
"More like, I'll fuck you." Anatoly's voice somehow went lower and took on a sick tone that had Clint's one good eye snapping up to meet Anatoly's before he could stop himself. Clint had lived through that type of nightmare before and he was keen to never repeat it. He had worked to overcome the scared child that hid in the night. It just took three words for Clint to start to feel genuinely undone and to put a twinge of fear into his heart.
"In time, Anatoly." The woman stepped forward, putting a light hand on Anatoly's shoulder. Anatoly gave her a nasty side eye before standing back up, his height dwarfing hers. He might be the muscle but from his body language as Anatoly looked at her, she was in the person in charge. She beckoned him and they both strode to the door. "You better rest while you can." Her words were ominous as the door slammed shut behind her, a heavy bolt sliding in place a few moments later. The clang of the lock engaging reverberated through the room with a deafening finality. Clint felt his body relaxing, desperately needing sleep to recover, but fighting with the constant knowledge that he wasn't in a safe spot.
"He couldn't even fight because he was fucking drugged." Sam announced to the rest of the room as he stormed back in from evaluating the car. They had the car loaded up and brought back in case there was anything useful in it, but they had a feeling that it would be a dead end. These people hadn't messed around and Sam figured they wouldn't make a mistake so basic as leaving DNA in the car. While the four had been out in the field, the others had been setting up various tracking software. The biggest concern was the amount of space that they needed to cover and how many places that the archer could be hidden.
"The team is taking the car apart to see if there is any trace DNA left." Natasha added, only a half-step behind Sam. Steve had a look of utter defeat on his face as he walked in with Wanda. He was unrealistically hopeful that Agrafena or her thugs had left something behind, but from the initial investigation, they were not hopeful they would find anything.
"We've got a running list of people who have had contact with Agrafena or one of her henchmen." Tony pointed to the holographic display emitting from the middle of the circular table. There were names being added in different colors, blinking and moving to different sides of the list. "The algorithm is sorting them by the priority."
"Who's up first?" Steve asked as the eight of them gathered around the table, grim looks on their faces. They knew that the task at hand would be a difficult one, but Barton was already hurt, and they wanted to get him home before he suffered more damage. Tony tapped on the interface at the bottom of the interactive display. A mean looking face popped up, along with a name. Sam suppressed a shudder. He knew that stepping into the Avengers meant he would be in danger, but the eyes on this man promised that he would have no regrets for doing unspeakably awful things.
"Anatoly Volkov. He is Agrafena's second-in-command. He has a grossly long list of crimes. He seems to specialize in pain." Rhodey chipped in next, looking at the picture with disdain. "He's been overseeing the moving of products and ensuring product quality."
"We haven't been able to locate him yet." Bruce added, with a sad look in his eye. "He doesn't keep his phones for longer than forty-eight hours. They're burners, so they're not equipped with the same tracking software as most phones. He also has an uncanny knack for being able to blend into crowds." He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose once he was finished speaking.
"The last place that we saw him was in Hawaii. We are pretty confident that isn't where they took Clint. The private airport has no flight manifests for anywhere in Hawaii." Tony tapped and brought up a world map with twelve blinking dots. "These are the flights that left from that airport during the timeframe." Tony couldn't deny that it would make things a lot easier if all of these assholes were all just blown to pieces or left to die from radiation poisoning.
"Can we tie Anatoly to anywhere close to the flight manifests?" Steve asked, looking at the blinking lights on the map. They were spread out all over the world, from India to Korea to Canada. They couldn't split up and be spread that thin, plus there was no set location within the cities where the private jets landed, and they would waste so much time just trying to locate where Barton was being kept. Plus, if Agrafena got word they were close, she might hurt the archer more, or worse, kill him. Maybe, though. Anatoly would be tied to a location and they could find Clint through him.
"He's been spotted in three of the locations. The latest was in Italy." Bruce answered, pointing at the map. It was a daunting task, but they would not stop searching until they had Clint back.
"Let's start there. Are there any known associates or how about tracking his entire itinerary?" Steve thought aloud. Tony nodded and typed in the perimeters, bringing up a timestamped list of everywhere that Anatoly had gone. Tony didn't have to remind anyone that they were racing against the clock to get to Clint.
It felt like the door had just swung shut when it thrown open again with a loud bang. Clint jumped, his good eye snapping wide open while his heart throbbed in fear. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He hadn't even realized his eyes had closed. He realized that Anatoly was advancing towards him, dragging a chair with chains attached to it, and Clint grunted and forced his floppy body up into a sitting position. He didn't plan on making it easy for the man to get him into this chair if he could help it.
"Fight and you're only going to make it worse on yourself." Anatoly seemed to notice the tension rising in the archer's body. Clint resisted rolling his eyes and prepared to fight. He wasn't sure how many hostiles were in the building, but he had gotten himself out of some sticky situations before. Anatoly set the chair a few feet from Clint and grabbed an electric drill hanging from the tool belt around his waist. He carefully installed eight long screws from the metal plates on the bottom of the chair legs. He gave the chair an experimental tug and gave Clint a disparaging smile as he tucked the drill away, knowing he would be using the drill again later. He advanced on Clint and picked him up like he was a rag doll. Clint tried to kick the man, but Anatoly simply laughed and blocked the maneuver and tied Clint's wrists, forearms, chest, calves, and ankles to the chair with thick iron chains. He pulled off Clint's socks and shoes once he was done, leaving Clint in just his tactical pants.
"Was this little display meant to scare me?" Clint taunted Anatoly as Anatoly reached for something in his pocket. Anatoly pulled out a pair of pliers, not letting Clint's taunt get to him. Anatoly was known for his cruel torture methods, something that Clint was about to experience first-hand.
"How much do you like your fingernails?" Anatoly smirked as he leaned over to get a better view of Clint's fingers. "I looked at footage of you shooting, so I know you're left-handed. We can start there." Clint's heart dropped, most went automatically for the right hand, but losing the fingernails on his left hand would make shooting painful and definitely would cause his accuracy to take a hit. Anatoly didn't wait and used the pliers to grab onto the tip of Clint's thumbnail. Clint braced himself as Anatoly started to tug, swallowing the shout of pain as the nail ripped free. Blood dripped off the edge of the pulpy part that had been covered by his nail a few seconds prior. Anatoly blinked, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Clint's face. Clint glared back at him as another nail tore free. A vein popped on Anatoly's face when Clint refused to scream, and he quickly took off the last three nails on Clint's left hand. Clint was panting, his forehead beaded in sweat as he held in his screams. "You are tough, but even the toughest break."
"Good luck, big boy." Clint couldn't help but taunt Anatoly. He knew that getting under his skin might mean he would be facing more pain. He also knew that it meant Anatoly might mess up, giving him an opportunity to escape. Clint looked down at the mess of his fingertips. They were a throbbing mess, adding to the one giant ache that was his body. Anatoly looked down him, an evil glint in his eyes as he grabbed onto Clint's jaw roughly. Sharp pain shot up as he squeezed on the hinge part of the joint. Clint's jaw was forced open, the pliers jammed in before he could do anything. Anatoly looked almost excited as he clamped down on one of Clint's molars, before yanking hard. Clint moaned as the tooth came flying out, blood erupting from the exposed roots.
Anatoly reached back into his pocket, tightening his grip on Clint's jaw as he pulled out a small packet. He emptied the contents onto the space where Clint's tooth had just been, and the searing pain erupted instantaneously in Clint's mouth. Clint's eyes watered as he started drooling. Anatoly had smeared wasabi into the incredibly sensitive area. Clint grunted as he accidentally swallowed and inhaled an excruciatingly hot, but bloody mixture of saliva and wasabi in his pained haze. He moaned louder, Anatoly's smile growing larger as he began to struggle. The chains rattled as Clint fought him, but Anatoly's grip on Clint's jaw as like a vice. Clint felt himself gag before he wretched. Anatoly leapt back to avoid the splatter as Clint's abused stomach and ribs protested the vomiting. Tears streamed down Clint's face from the spiciness and pain. His stomach churned and he vomited again before he let his head fall to his chest, exhausted. His mouth was still on fire as he bit back another moan. Fuck, that was worse than the seizure. He was really ready to go home now. Where the hell was everyone?