So I'm doing a reshuffle because I'm trying to get back into writing regularly and it makes more sense to me to keep all of my one shots and short stories about Strike team Delta in one place. I've got a few more of these that used to be posted separately to put up tonight but then this will only be updated if and when I write for it, my main focus currently is trying to work on multi chapter fics that I have running. This is short and it is intended for there to be a follow up chapter so that should be coming at some point. Warnings for language and poor writing :) Please follow, favourite and review because it makes my day and there is a lot more from where this came from. Check out my other stories for longer, more plotty Clint and Natasha.
She suspected from the offset that this wasn't going to be a fun mission. Now, trudging up the sodden hill, she could confirm in fact that the mission was definitely not fun. She was soaked down to her skin, her waterproof gear deciding to just stop being waterproof. Clint hadn't stopped whining since they started and she was approaching the point of murdering him and blaming it on the gang they were hunting down. This wasn't what she imagined for her first trip to England, as picturesque as the village they were hiding in was, she had hoped for more tea and less evil masterminds. She suddenly heard voices from the other side of the hill they had nearly reached the top of and stuck her hand out to stop Clint. Misjudging where he was, she had accidently caught him off guard, knocking him over. He had grabbed onto her to try and save himself and they both ended up tumbling down the hill, coming to a stop in a slightly more level bit about a quarter of the way down.
"What the fuck, Tas-" Natasha had pushed him back down to the soggy ground, clamping a hand over his mouth, pointing to the direction the voices had come from. He stopped trying to get back up, instead listening out to what she had indicated. She saw his superior eyes flick to the top of the hill, staring through the suffocating darkness and lashing rain. He turned back to her, his hands forming shapes and patterns that she could barely see. She struggled in the darkness to make out what he was saying but got the basics. 2 men, armed. She replied, still amazed by how on earth he could make out if they had weapons when she could barely see their figures. There was unfortunately no cover around, forcing them to press themselves into the hill and hope for the best. Clint indicated to his bow, knowing it was the quietest way to eliminate them but she shook her head. If they could get away with not being seen, they may be able to follow them, hopefully being led to their base they had been hunting for.
She soon gave up all hope on that plan when one of the men reached for his gun, turning in their direction. He should have been too far away to see them yet and the rain would have covered their earlier noise. Upon closer inspection she noticed he had night vision goggles ever his eyes. She was on her feet instantly, heading for the other man who hadn't yet noticed them. Clint quickly sorted out the other one, she watched him drop to the ground gripping his throat as rivers of blood careened around the arrow shaft embedded in his neck. His partner wasn't long after him, unconscious rather than dead as his head made contact with a well placed rock in the ground. She picked herself up from where she had landed with her infamous thigh choke to see Clint pulling his arrow from the now dead man.
"What are we meant to do with them? We can't leave them here but we're in the middle of nowhere, there's nothing around for miles."
She looked at him in disbelief. "Didn't kill mine, dumbass. We take him for questioning, his friend for motivation." Her face was grim as she bound and blindfolded their prisoner whilst Clint hoisted his into a fireman's lift. She really hoped they didn't run into anyone on the way back to the small town, they weren't exactly inconspicuous carrying two bodies. They both looked down at the mud pit that had become the hill and sighed, before slowly attempting to slide trudge down it. Clint had just taken a step when his foot lost traction and both he and his human turned rag doll fell. "That's it. I'm done, this is my life now. I have climbed this hill and now I shall die upon it." The words were slightly muffled by the hill he was currently face down in, but the meaning was clear enough.
"Stop being so melodramatic. We need to get there before sunrise or I'm bolting and leaving you to explain it to the police."
The walk down was long and tiring, both of them falling, literally, subject to the hills mercy at least a few times. Aside from a few birds and the odd cat there was nothing out and about in the small hours of the morning. It took them a few hours and the sun just starting to show for them to reach their safe house, a cute little holiday home on the far side of the village. The second they walked in, Clint unceremoniously dumped the body on the floor and proceeded with the safety checks and resetting the locks whilst Natasha secured their prisoner to a chair. Tightly. She probably went a bit overkill considering he had looked terrified out of his wits and barely put up a fight on The Hill, but she was tired, muddy and the only thing standing between her and a nice warm shower was the perfect candidate to take her anger out on. Once there was no way on earth he was getting out of the bonds, they took it in turns to shower and dress in clean clothes and once they were both no longer imitating mud monsters, Clint grabbed the smelling salts.
15 minutes later and Natasha decided that she had definitely gone overkill. Their prisoner had cracked like an egg upon seeing their faces, they hadn't even needed to bring his friend out. Which she was eternally grateful for, he was messy and covered in blood and she had just about managed to get the dirt out from under her fingernails. She was in no way squeamish but if she could avoid having to spend another 10 minutes cleaning her nails, she would. He was shaking like a leaf and had told them everything they wanted to know and more. She never thought she'd be listening to a supposed 'bad guy' telling them where he kept his mayonnaise jar, but apparently this was her life now. Clint had a little dent in his cheek where she knew his was biting the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing as the man rambled on and on, flinching whenever one of them so much as breathed.
Some hours later and they were back on The Hill. It was unfortunately the only way to get to the base that didn't require a 10 hour detour and whilst it had stopped raining, the ground was no less sodden. Once they had gotten everything they needed out of the man, Clint had tranqed him (thought he was fairly sure he passed out the second he saw Clint reaching for his bow) and they headed to his house, retrieving his ID and key card to the base and got changed into 2 spare pairs of uniforms. They were now headed for the base, following the helpful map the man had drawn out for them.
"Gotta say, out of all the prisoners we've ever taken, he's got to be the most helpful. How many times have we been able to take uniforms off a hook rather than a dead body?"
"Not many." She sighed. "What are the chances that this is a trap? It just seems too easy." Natasha asked, ignoring the eye roll Clint gave in response.
"You know the world isn't out to get us right? Just because something is relatively easy for once doesn't mean it has to be a trap. Besides, I don't think even you could fake being that terrified. He looked like he was about to shit his pants."
"Oh shut up, just because I don't want another Budapest scenario." She reached up to remove a strand of hair that had fallen into her face and only succeeded in making a muddy mess on her cheek. She groaned, giving up and accepting her hair's slow descent back into filth.
As they approached the base, they slowed and turned silent, hoping to avoid detection for as long as possible. However, there was no need as the place was seemingly deserted. Creeping through the corridors revealed nothing more and Natasha was becoming suspicious. Clints eyes were excessively flicking up and down the corridors and he kept fingering his weapons, something she has noticed was a nervous habit of his, so it was safe to say that he was feeling likewise. Finally, she decided to address the elephant in the room corridor.
"Does this feel odd to you? It not even the graveyard shift, maybe what I said earlier wasn-" She was cut off mid word by a sudden blow to the head that came out of nowhere and crumpled to the ground.
Sorry not sorry. TBC.