Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor do I have anything to do with Marvel.
These will be short chapters of around 1000 words. This makes is easier for me to update.
I will write this to the best of my ability and apologise if it is not always of the same standard. I write this for fun!
The title for this story was given to me by my friend Krista, who also encouraged me to write and share this. Thank you, Widow-Sister!
The news that the most recent recruit of S.H.I.E.L.D. had been awarded the highest marks in the history of the program spread throughout the base like wildfire. It was common knowledge that Maria Hill was the toughest assessor around, and the word was that this new recruit had really impressed Agent Hill - an otherwise unheard of event.
When Natasha walked on to the base, her new ID clipped to her belt and Clint by her side, she couldn't help but notice the heads that turned in her direction. There were a few whispers but mostly people just stared. As someone who lived most of her life undercover, this made her incredibly uncomfortable. The blonde man that Natasha had faced in her assessment changed direction when he saw her coming down the hall towards her. Clint laughed, and it made her feel better.
Maria Hill was waiting for the agents to gather and she smiled when she saw Natasha. "Listen up, Agents," Hill called over the general murmur, "Most of you know what you're supposed to be doing, there's just a few minor changes. There was a KGB attack in Moscow last night – S.T.R.I.K.E. sent a team in and they handled it."
Natasha felt several pairs of eyes stare in her direction and the woman on the other side of her moved over slightly. Clint turned around to face the other agents, who quickly looked away. You didn't mess with Hawkeye.
Hill continued, "I want everyone up to Level 4 filtering through all our chatter from Russia. You will alert the Director immediately if you find anything. Level 9, you are required to work on Project E.X.O.D.U.S. whether you feel it's worth your time or not. If you're not there, I will know. Everyone else, business as usual."
At the end of her briefing, Maria looked towards Clint and Natasha, "Agents Barton and Romanoff – with me." Natasha and Clint followed Agent Hill to a conference table where she sat and put a file down. She looked at Nat, "It's good to have you on board, Agent Romanoff."
"Not to interrupt the pleasantries, but didn't you need us for something?" Clint was not patient, Natasha knew this already.
Hill nodded, "Yes, I did – I do. How much do you know about Gerard Molleur?"
"So this guy is the CEO of France's biggest financial corporation and he still feels the need to kidnap people? Seems unnecessary."
Natasha, sitting in a quiet café across the road from AXA's main building, resisted a strong urge to roll her eyes. She responded quietly so as not to draw attention to herself, "Of course it's unnecessary – that's what makes him the bad guy."
Clint crouched on a rooftop opposite the building, watching and waiting. "Yeah, but why the kidnapping? It's been done to-" A van with dark windows pulled up at the entrance and Clint stopped immediately. "Nat," he warned, "Eyes up."
"I see them," Natasha responded from her position below. She placed a few euros on the table to pay for her coffee and slipped into the crowd, watching as several men and women were herded into the building by security officers. A few moments after they went in, Natasha crossed the street further down. As she walked by security at the front door, she tripped herself, falling over in front of the men.
A general cry went up and Clint smiled from up above as he watched.
"Madame, êtes-vous blessé?" one of the men exclaimed, hurrying to make sure she was alright and helping her up. Natasha put her arms around him and took his security badge, slipping it into her own pocket as he helped her.
"Non, je vais bien. Merci," she smiled at him and kissed his cheek. Walking away, she tried to ignore Clint's chuckle in her ear, "Poor guy."
If she was honest, Natasha was almost mortified at how lax the security had been on the ground floor. She let herself in the back of the building and took out two security guards on her way to the surveillance room. The badge she had stolen let her in and she silenced the lone officer in the room with a kick to the temple. "Only a Level 3 clearance to get in here? Really, boys? This is just embarrassing." Pushing the unconscious man aside, Natasha shut off all cameras and the internal security locks that required higher level passes. "Alright, Barton. It's go time. I'm going for the hostages."
From the rooftop, Clint drew is bow back aiming towards the entrance. He fired, watching as his arrow soared through the air and grappled to the front door. The two guards turned to look at it; barely having time to register what it was before it detonated. The blast was small and contained, only big enough to knock the officers unconscious. As planned, Clint notified the local police.
"Front door's clear, police are on their way. They'll be waiting with EMTs when we get out," he said, standing on up on the roof.
"Great," came Natasha's reply – she sounded like she was wrestling. "If you want to give me a hand in here, that'd be good!"
"Where-"
She cut him off, "Eighth floor, south-west corner!"
He scanned the windows for a sign of Natasha and spotted her in close combat with a group of guards. Selecting an arrowhead, Clint fired, and zip-lined down. He crashed through the window, sending the majority of the guards flying.
"So glad you could join us," Natasha said, blocking the punches of the man she was fighting.
"When did you have time for a wardrobe change?" Clint asked, as Natasha ducked, leaving him free to punch the guard in the face.
Kicking the guard in the back of the head and watching him fall to the ground, she responded, "When I was waiting for you."
Clint rolled his eyes and kicked opened the door to the room the hostages were in. "Hey there. Everyone doing alright? Good. Time to go."
There was gunfire outside and Clint glanced down to the street. "Molleur," he said, looking at Nat, "Get them out."
She whirled around but jerked backwards at a pull on her hair. A lock of her hair had caught in a notch of Clint's armguard when they had both bent to help a hostage. "Shit!" she cursed, reaching down and grasping for the knife she kept strapped to her calf. "Don't move," she yelled at Clint as sirens and gunfire sounded from the street. Gripping the knife, she hacked off the lock of her hair before ushering the hostages down the fire stairs.
Clint whipped an arrow out, firing through the broken window at Molleur, realising too late that one of the guards was now conscious again. The guard's punch sent Clint backwards and he winced as the shattered glass from the window pierced his shoulder. He groaned as he started to struggle up, before a gunshot sounded from right above him. There was a blur of red hair and a hand gripping his arm. "Nat, get out of here. Go!" Clint tried to shake her off but she shifted, draping his arm over her shoulder.
"Like hell," she responded, leading him down to the lobby.
Clint's arrow from the window had pierced Molleur's shoulder, slowing him down enough for the French police to arrest him. With the hostages taken care of, Natasha had all but carried Clint out of the back door.
In their hotel room, Clint lay recovering. Natasha had stitched the wound on his shoulder before going to take a shower and giving him space to call Laura and let her know they were fine. When she emerged in her sweatpants and tank top with her wet hair down, she had a pair of scissors in her hand. Clint looked at her warily, "Nat? What are you doing?"
She handed Clint the scissors and sat with her back to him. "Cut it off."
He sat, frowning and argued, "What? No!"
Natasha turned to glare at him as she hissed, "It could have ruined everything today. I'm not having that happen again. Cut it. Now."
There was really no choice, Clint raised the scissors and cut Natasha's hair.