A/N: I really appreciate all of the reviews and follows! Here's the next chapter.
TRIGGER WARNING: Rape and torture. There is a graphic rape scene at the end. It will start after the last page break. If you want to stop reading before that, please stop at "The phone was ringing". You do not miss anything critical to the story. I am a sexual assault survivor and would never want to traumatize anyone so please do not read if you are not comfortable.
Strands of greenish red drool had dried against Clint's face as he flitted in between consciousness and unconsciousness. The worst of the pain in his mouth had finally subsided, leaving a deep ache in his mouth. He didn't want to think about the damage that it had done, and he knew they were well past the time where the tooth could be put in. It would be one more porcelain fake in his mouth. Anatoly stood over him with his arms crossed as he admired the messiness of his work. The Avenger was proving harder than he thought to break but he would, they all did. He was just going to have to up the pain factor a little more and then he would get into the man's head and rip him apart from the inside out.
"Wake up." Anatoly dumped an ice-cold bucket of water over Clint's head. Clint spluttered as he shook his head, his eyes wide with panic as he tried to orient himself to his surroundings. The chains rattled as he tried to bring a hand to wipe his face. Realization washed over him that he was still in this hellhole with his body in agony. His face, especially the area surrounding his swollen eye was pulsing, sending constant pain signals to his brain. His left hand felt like it had been dipped into lava and was still dripping blood from where his fingernails should be. His ribs and stomach area felt like it had been hit by a train. The pain was exhausting. He didn't stop thinking about how ready he was for the others to get here so that they could get him out of here.
"I wasn't asleep." Clint quipped. He was sure that almost passing out from pain counted as sleeping. He wished he was sleeping somewhere else, anywhere else. He would kill for a decent night's sleep with a strong cup of black coffee when he woke up. Hell, he'd stay in the hospital overnight. He knew it must be bad for him to negotiating with himself like this.
"You're just weak." Anatoly answered him as he reached back into his pocket. Clint didn't understand how so many awful things fit into the man's pockets. Anatoly pulled out a small handheld blowtorch. Cint swallowed hard. He already knew what was coming next and he was not ready. Anatoly didn't waste any time, turning the blowtorch on and teased Clint with the flame, glancing the flame lightly over Clint's exposed chest, not holding it in any one spot for an extended period of time. Clint could feel the hair on his chest fizzing away under the heat and he tried to steel himself against the upcoming pain. Anatoly gave him a sickening smile and held the flame steady against the upper part of Clint's right pec muscle. Clint sucked in a shaky breath as he felt his skin starting to melt in the flame. The pain flared worse, spreading from the blistering, peeling mess under the dancing blue and yellow flame. It was like someone was using a dull blade to carefully flay all of the skin off of his chest. The pain was unbearable, please, make it stop, Clint begged inside. He couldn't say the words out loud, but he was screaming them on the inside. Anatoly grunted, frustrated that Clint didn't scream. He shifted the flame to a new area, widening the affected area, blood starting to drip down Clint's chest as the more blisters started to give his skin a frothy appearance. Clint could feel blood in his mouth from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek to stop from screaming. Any time now guys, he thought wryly to himself, you guys are sure taking your sweet time. He really missed the Laura and the kids. He just wanted to be back on the farm, working on his latest project, tearing up the kitchen floor.
"You can stop this, just ask me nicely, or give me your access codes." Anatoly touched a knuckle to Clint's face. Clint looked up at Anatoly, defiant in his silence. He couldn't give up those codes, no matter what. They would give these evil assholes unfettered access to all types of weapon plans. Anatoly moved the blowtorch flame again, sliding it to the incredibly sensitive skin on the side of his chest, a few inches under his armpit. Anatoly outright laughed at the sizzle of skin. He saw a flash of white light as he squirmed, trying to get way from the unrelenting pain. Clint's eyes grew wide before the pain was building and building inside of him, threatening to burst at the seams as he let the darkness consume him.
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Tony was trying to stop himself from having a temper tantrum or a panic attack. He wasn't even sure which direction he was headed but he was taking in big gulps of air, trying to steady himself. A horrifying picture of Clint with a burner cell had been dropped off in front of the Tower about thirty minutes ago. There was no note, just the picture and the cell phone. So far, no text or phone call had come through. The messenger who had dropped it off had been apprehended and all he had to say was that he was paid by some guy who grabbed him and pulled him into an alley. He had given him a thousand dollars to give this to the front desk receptionist. There were no fingerprints on the phone, picture, or the money and the guy had been smart. He wore a hoodie and disappeared into the crowded subway station. There was no tracing him and the hoodie he was wearing was found in a trash can an hour later, drenched in gasoline to destroy the DNA on it. These people weren't making any big mistakes and it was causing further delays in locating Barton.
"He looks awful." Wanda's eyes were swimming in unshed tears. She was trying so hard to keep it together but there was a red shimmer surrounding her from her powers. Clint's head was lulled against his chest with a weird greenish red vomit running over his chin and splashing onto his chest. His face was very swollen, almost beyond recognition. The area surrounding his left eye was so enlarged, Natasha knew the socket was broken. There were maybe three or four tiny spots on his face that were his normal pale, white skin. The rest was coated in blood, in varying stages of drying. His chest was a grotesque painting done in blues, purples, and black. She felt her heart panging at the pain Clint must be in, wanting nothing more than to be there, untying him from the chair and holding him in her arms until medical got him the help he desperately needed. Clint was mentally the strongest person that she knew, but every person had their limit and she was terrified he was approaching that limit.
"We just are supposed to wait on a phone call?" Sam's arms were crossed tightly across his chest as he paced the room. The others could see the lightened spots from how tightly he was holding onto his biceps. Everyone was tense and on edge, trying not to snap at each other. It was easy to displace anger and fear for the situation.
"We can't just give up the codes." Steve's voice had a desperate tone to it. He wouldn't just let his teammate, his friend, die, but he couldn't give up codes that would kill millions of people.
"We just let him die?!" Wanda's voice was borderline hysterical as the tears started to fall, imagining the worst possible scenario, of them discovering Clint's lifeless body, blood pooling around it. "What about his wife? His kids?" Clint had just sent her an updated picture of Nate, with his chubby cheeks and bright eyes.
"No, I'm not saying that!" Steve instantly defended himself, knowing there was no good answer here. "I-we, just, these codes are important."
"But Clint's not important?" Tony's voice was rising in pitch as his fists balled up, taking a step closer to Steve. He couldn't get the image of vomit running down Clint's face out of his mind. It was horrifying on a level he had never imagined he would see.
"We just leave Clint to die?" Natasha said at the same time, her eyes flashing dangerously. She realistically knew that they couldn't give the codes over, but this was Clint. Clint had a wife and three kids at home. He would never hesitate to give the skin off his back. He was too valuable to just write off, although any life was too valuable to just write off.
"No- Jesus, Tony, Nat." Steve slapped both of his hands to his face. He knew he was treading on careful ground here. "Listen to me, I am not saying Clint's not important. I just, I'm lost here too."
"So, what do we do?" Rhodey asked, feeling like he had been repeating himself since this whole disaster had started. He dared to glance at the clock. They were almost at a twenty-three hours since Clint had been taken. Twenty-three hours was a long time to be left with someone who was torturing you. Even twenty-three minutes felt like a lifetime when someone was hurting you. He didn't want to think about how badly it must all hurt when he looked at the picture that had been scanned in and was displayed digitally in front of him.
"We continue to trace down anyone we can and wait on a phone call." Steve's voice was miserable. No one had stopped to sleep, and they would not have eaten except that Pepper had brought in chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans and wouldn't leave until they had all eaten what she deemed was an acceptable amount. "Have we made any progress on narrowing down locations?"
"We're down to three different cities." Bruce pointed to the map. There were three blinking lights, but they were literally spread across the world. Romania, Korea, and Brazil were left. "Anatoly was last in Russia, but we don't know for sure he's with Clint, and these are the two other locations that we can trace Agrafena." She had been traveling to look at products herself all over the world, but plane ticket purchases and flight manifests had tracked these locations down. It had been tricky to sort through the aliases and tricks used to hide their tracks, but Tony's software was smarter. The chirping noise had heads whipping around to the source. The phone was ringing.
The pain hit Clint like hitting the ground after being dropped off a third story as he jolted awake. For the second time, a bucket of water being tossed over his head was what woke him up from unconsciousness. He took a moment to realize he was no longer in the chair but was tied up in an awkward kneeling position on the floor. His arms were tied up above his head again. He swore he could still feel the fire on his chest from the blow torch. He could feel the ghost of the knuckles against his stomach and ribs. He could see the woman's wicked smile as she rammed her elbow into his face.
"You are filthy." Anatoly's voice had a false sweet tone to it that made Clint want to shudder, but he didn't give in yet. He kept his eyes closed, hoping that Anatoly wouldn't realize he was faking being asleep. "Oh, I know you're awake. Your body is tensed up. We need to get you cleaned up." Clint flinched at the sound of a hose being turned on and then, the piercing, freezing stream hit him full in the face, flaring the pain in his body as he started to shiver. Anatoly took his time, hosing down every last bit of him before yanking off his pants and underwear roughly, leaving Clint naked before him. Anatoly licked his lips as he took in the sight in front of him. "Don't worry little bird, once you're clean, I'll warm you up." Clint bit his lip to stop himself from protesting as his heart sank. He had to be stronger than Anatoly, just a little bit longer until the others came. His brain already knew what was coming and he knew that in his current state, he wouldn't be able to get away. God, he really needed the team to hurry up. Anatoly dropped the hose once he was satisfied that he had washed off everything he could, although fresh blood was dripping from the irritated wounds. He was looking at Clint with a hunger in his eyes.
"I'm going to enjoy this." Anatoly whispered into Clint's ear as he yanks on the chains so that Clint's legs are under him again, shaking like a deer just learning to stand. The painful kneeling had left his legs asleep and cramping, but he tried to get them under him. Anatoly tapped his foot against Clint's legs, nudging them apart, then forcing them apart when Clint struggled to stop him with his legs still half asleep. Clint was surprised by the tears that had sprang up in his eyes from the fact that he knew what was about to happen, but he blinked hard to make them disappear as he steeled himself for the pain he knew was about to come. There was a zipper being pulled down, then a rustle of what Clint assumed had to be a condom. Anatoly's fucking pants, they really did have everything. He thought wryly, at least he wouldn't end up with some STI this way. Then, there was a pressure against a place he never wanted anyone to touch. He had never wanted to end up in this position again. The pressure built for a moment inside of him, then pain exploded. It was like Anatoly had shoved that blowtorch straight inside of him and turned it on high. Anatoly gave him no time to adjust before he was shoving in until his hips were flush against Clint. God damn it, Clint thought, this guy had to be hung like a horse as burning pain raced up his entire back. It was the worst pain, overwhelming all of the other tortures his body had endured since being brought to this room.
"You feel so good. You're so tight." Anatoly moaned into Clint's ears as Clint couldn't stop the full body shudder as Anatoly shoved forward as Clint felt something tearing inside of him and a trickle of blood started down his leg. More tears formed in Clint's eyes from the excruciating pain of being violated in the worst possible way and he couldn't stop them from falling this time. The pain was worse than he had remembered it being. It was like being stabbed with a sword in the ass over and over. Everything else that had hurt before this moment dulled compared to this pain. "Oh good, now you'll be wet." Anatoly must have felt the blood as he started moving and Clint opened his mouth before strangling off the scream. Anatoly set a brutal pace, slamming in as blood splattered out from him and ran down Clint's legs in streams, starting to make tiny pools in between his legs. Clint didn't know how but the pain managed to continue to grow, taking over every sense and leaving him desperately trying to get away from Anatoly. The chains rattled as he tried to get away, tried to get the pain to stop, but he couldn't get away. Anatoly sped up as he pounded into Clint. Please guys, please, Clint's inner monologue was simply a begging of someone to come save him. He'd do anything to stop this pain. Oh God, please make this pain stop. He could feel himself tearing wider and deeper and it hurt in a way that there were not words to describe. There was no pain that compared to this. Please, please make it stop.
"Please." Clint's voice came out like he'd smoked a thousand cigarettes as he broke in a way he had never done before. "Please, please stop." He lurched forward with the force of Anatoly's movements as he begged. Oh God, he was begging. He had never begged before, never, but he just couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't take the pain. He needed it to stop. Clint needed it get away as his good eye looked around desperately, trying to find something to focus on, as the pain scorched him from inside, more blood dripping from his ripped anus. He let more tears fall as he found a spot far away to focus on, and as his body rocked forward with each thrust, the spark in his eyes dulled and he let himself leave the pain behind for a bit as he went far away inside of his head, not sure if he'd ever come back from the place he was taking himself and not sure if he even cared.