There was an unnatural darkness about the building as Steve pulled the car into the parking lot. Clint was bouncing his leg quickly waiting for him to park. Not a single other car was in sight.

"Hey, Clint…? Maybe we should wait until the police get here…" Steve glanced around as he put the car into park, leaving the engine running.

"No," Clint replied simply, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'm not going to let Tasha get hurt." He opened the car door and stepped outside. There had been a cool breeze and the low hum of the city at night just a few miles away. But here, all that greeted Clint was stale air and silence. He glanced at his phone as Steve turned off the car and stepped out. 4:09. It had been almost ten minutes and there was still no word from Natasha. Steve shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stifle a yawn.

Without so much as a glance at Steve, Clint started walking towards the front door, only to stop abruptly in front of it. How were they supposed to get in? They couldn't just have her buzz them in.

"What are you waiting for?" Steve asked almost impatiently, reaching past him and pressing the call button for her apartment.

"Wait, no, Steve, you can't-"

Bzzzz.

The lock on the door clicked and Clint blinked. Cocking an eyebrow, Steve opened the door and gave Clint a look.

"Can't what? Go inside?"

"Think about it, Steve!" Clint shot back, exasperated. "Who opened the door if Tasha's locked in the bathroom?" Glancing at his phone again, tempted to try texting her.

"It's open. Let's just count our blessings for now, shall we?" Steve rolled his eyes and walked inside, stopping short, still holding the door open for Clint to follow. Clint scoffed and walked inside. Bumping into Steve's shoulder, he looked up from his phone, about to yell at him for being in the way. It was only now that he had noticed that the hallway was completely darkened. Immediately putting away his phone, he glanced towards Steve in the darkness, putting a finger to his lips, hoping that Steve would see. Exhaling slowly and silently, he looked forwards again into the darkness, trying to remember which way Tasha's apartment was.

"Which one is hers?" Steve whispered quietly in the darkness, voice serious now. "Upstairs, right?"

"Mhm… Seventh floor," Clint whispered back to him and slowly started to move his way forwards, knowing that something could be hiding behind any one of the doors, just waiting to pounce. He put the tips of his fingers very gently against one of the walls, being careful not to move anything or make any noise. After a few moments, he found his way to the stairwell and glanced upwards, trying to see if there were any lights shining through, but he could still only see darkness.

"Anything?" Steve asked softly, glancing up through the middle of the stairs.

"No. We're going to have to just deal with the darkness…"

"Wonderful." Steve scoffed very quietly and shook his head. "Just what I was hoping for." Clint shushed him and he sighed quietly. "Fine."

They silently started making their way up the stairs, each holding onto a railing just in case.

"Two..."

"...Three..."

"Fouuuuur..." they took turns whispering the floor number to keep track of where they were, being unable to see the numbers over the doors leading into the hallways.

"Five."

"...Ssssssix."

"Seven. This is it," he whispered as he looked for the doorknob. Finding it, he slowly wrapped his fingers around it and opened the heavy door a small crack as quietly as he could. "Still dark," he whispered again, peaking his head through the crack in the door. "Do I still have that flashlight on my keys?" Silence. "Steve?" Clint looked behind him at where Steve had been. Squinting through the darkness, he realized that he couldn't even see his outline anymore. He was alone.