Chapter 28: Retaliation

September 20

District One

It hadn't even been a week since Osborn was elected, and for as much as everyone was expecting for things to go terribly, they hadn't… Not yet, anyway.

Sure, the guy had pulled all support for SHIELD and replaced them with his own 'Avengers' team, but it seemed like he was honestly taking the presidency seriously. He didn't do anything terribly alarming or try to come after Hill or any of the kids.

They were just… waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Of course, that in and of itself was completely calculated. It was no secret that the citizens of Marvel were livid with how the election had gone down, and there were constant calls for the election to be re-done. But … rather than deny any wrongdoing, Osborn had promised to do just that — promising that there would be a new election if the 'investigation' into the claims of election fraud turned up any truth.

Which was all well and good and slightly mollified a few people, but it didn't convince everybody — certainly not the people who had lived it.

Which was why they were putting together their own evidence. They had a few things that the spiders had brought from their lab, of course, but the most damning evidence would obviously have been the program and the tech itself that Tony had used. And while Tony was doing his best to recreate it — and fast — with Skye, Osborn was going on and on about 'unfounded' accusations and how he was confident he'd be able to move past the whole thing.

And Clint… just wasn't going to stand by and let the guy run his mouth any longer. So after a little confab with Tony and Kate to get some salient details on more or less where they had been held in One, Clint and Natasha headed down to Fisk's neighborhood to see if they could find something to speed the process along.

It was entirely possible that Osborn wanted everything destroyed in that lab Tony had been working in, but the one thing that you could always count on when it came to slimeballs working together was that they kept stuff like that on file to use against each other later.

If there was evidence that the election had been rigged, Fisk would almost certainly want to keep it, have it in his back pocket, so he had leverage. Power.

So they were pretty sure the drive Tony had worked off of for weeks in One hadn't been destroyed; it was just a matter of finding it.

They'd learned from the last time they tried to infiltrate Fisk's building as well — bringing along gas masks and a half dozen grappling arrows, not to mention Natasha's gun that Fitz had specially designed to shatter glass, particularly the bullet-proof kind, since it didn't shoot bullets anyway.

The two of them stuck close together as the infiltrated the building, hardly a word spoken; years' worth of partnership was more than enough for them to communicate with each other with just a look. Sure, they could have covered more ground if they split up, but neither of them was going to risk that with a known kidnapper and murderer, not to mention the distinct possibility of traps like the gas Natasha had encountered the last time. No, they wanted to be able to bail each other out if necessary, and as Natasha infiltrated one room, Clint was always in the next — or in the vents on the way to the next — and they were always within calling distance of each other even without the comms.

But so far, they simply weren't finding anything — and not for lack of trying. Clint had already cracked two safes and found plenty of money — and an entire folder full of crooked property deals that he'd made a mental note of to get into later. And Natasha had disabled three alarm systems by the time they were halfway through the building. There was plenty of corruption, plenty of secrets to be uncovered. They just weren't finding the exact secret they were looking for.

Natasha had taken a little longer than usual in the room at the end of the hall going through some of the records of 'business deals' that Fisk had made — not that she thought she would find the drive there. She was just making a quick note of his partners so that they had other places to look when they found themselves in more trouble with this guy. After all, people like him didn't just drop off the radar from one prisoner breakout.

Clint was supposed to be in the room next door on safe number three. This one was a little more promising simply because of its location; they had been working their way up, and the closer they got to the suite that took up the top floor, the more interesting things they found. He would probably be a little longer anyway — she'd heard him muttering over their comms about how the safe this time around was going to take more doing and a little more finagling to hide their tracks so they didn't sound any alarms.

So she was surprised when she heard a scuffle from the room next door — sure that Clint hadn't set off any alarms or he would have been swearing up a storm in her ear — and she dropped the files she had been reading through in order to rush for the door, somehow not surprised to find that someone was blocking it on the other side before she simply broke through it, not in the mood for games.

By the time she burst through the door and got to the room next to hers, it was pretty clear that Clint was in trouble. The men in the room must have surprised him — he hadn't called her on the comm — and a couple of them were all but sitting on him to try to keep him pinned, despite the fact that he was doing his level best to make their job as miserable as possible. He twisted to jam his elbow into one guy's side and swore at him —and that was the guard that Natasha shot as she rushed in to help.

Clint shot her a crooked grin that was reserved for exactly this kind of thing — the two of them against rough odds — as he managed to push the now-dead guard off of him, though the second guy tried for a tackle, making it hard for Natasha to get an open shot as she instead turned her attention to the other players in the game.

There were only about half a dozen of them — to start. And really, the only reason they'd been able to get the drop on Clint was the fact that neither he nor Natasha had known there was a connecting passage into that particular office. So by the time Natasha had dropped three more of them and Clint had managed to twist out from underneath his second would-be attacker, the fight was going much more to their usual advantage.

It wasn't going to last, of course. There were reinforcements coming in for Fisk's men from both the hallway and the adjoining passage — so once the first six men were down, Clint and Natasha shared a look and a silent nod and made a rush for the door, not surprised to find men blocking their path but intending to push through all of them anyway.

And had this been a simple snatch attempt, that strategy would absolutely have worked. The problem was that neither of them had expected one of the men that Natasha moved against to take down to simply draw his gun and shoot her.

Natasha was shocked — and Clint was downright upset. He forgot for the moment about fighting through the men to get out and instead switched directions to get to her with a half-shouted "Nat!" that seemed to surprise her as she sank to her knees — before she switched gears and got upset instead, realizing that this meant they were after Clint specifically.

Without backup and quickly getting more outnumbered by the minute, it wasn't long, then, before Clint found himself in a position frustratingly similar to the one Natasha had found him in — three guys on him to get him restrained despite how hard he was fighting to get to Natasha. Someone grabbed his arms to drag him back — he couldn't see Natasha — and then he found himself in that passage. The door slammed shut, so he had no idea where she was or if they'd decided to finish her off.

He was panicking and fighting them hard enough that, eventually, one of the guys just knocked him out — so he had no idea how long it had been since the fight when he woke up a while later in a moving car. It was light enough to be morning, so it had been a while.

He managed to push himself up on his elbows to look out the window — though one of the goons in the front seat pushed him back down on seeing that he was awake. Still, it had been quick enough to see that they were somewhere in the Capitol; so they'd moved districts while he was out. It wasn't the center of the Capitol, more residential, and lesser used since the war — though that didn't exactly narrow it down.

While he'd been out, someone had done a little better job of tying him up, too — not the hastily-done stuff from before that he could have gotten past given five minutes of inattention from the guards but tight ropes that dug into his wrists and ankles. Not to mention the … yeah, Clint was pretty sure it was someone's tie that he had shoved in his mouth and tied around his face. It tasted like creep.

They pulled around behind a taller building — it cast a deeper shadow over the car — before they came to a stop and had to drag Clint out and into the condemned apartment complex. The elevators were still working, though, so it couldn't have been that 'condemned', Clint thought as they got in and one of the guys punched the 'lower level' button and Clint did his best to be as obnoxious as possible as they tried to manhandle him out.

At that point, he wasn't even surprised to find Norman Osborn there at the center of the whole thing, just standing there looking smug as Fisk's (or maybe they were Norman's — Clint was losing track) men dragged him into the repurposed office space. Tired of having to prop him up between them, they dropped him into the chair there, putting heavy hands on his shoulders while Clint was sure to give Norman the deepest glare he could muster.

Clint was sure this was Norman's cue to gloat — and frustrated he couldn't beat the guy to it with a witty something first — so he just wasn't expecting it when Norman, apparently still distracted by something on his tablet, glanced up at Clint and simply let out a noise of annoyance. "I really could have done without the trouble of covering up that girl's death. It's just a whole extra set of problems I don't have time for right now."

When Clint's response was just to glare deeper, Norman shrugged at him, seemingly unbothered. "You see, Mr. Barton, I've been reliably informed that it simply isn't as effective to take a mind that's already been molded and try again — too much previous damage. And as you've made clear, showing leniency to anyone incidental to my plans just makes for more witnesses. If you'd simply come alone, without Miss Romanoff, I wouldn't need to go to such lengths."

Clint tried not to show the panic at that, tightening his glare instead. He remembered what Pete had said about Osborn's tricks — though this one was, frankly, a little more believable. He'd seen Natasha go down, and the truth of it was that they didn't need her alive. They'd have a heck of a time keeping her down and out, but shot and outnumbered — that was about the only way they could take Natasha on.

Norman was silent for a good long time, still working on whatever it was — arrangements about Natasha; Clint wasn't sure — before he finally looked up at Clint again. "Now then," he said as he set aside the tablet at last. "You, Mr. Barton, are going to help me clean up the mess you made."

District One

The jump out the window hadn't exactly been one of Natasha's most graceful moments, but even she knew the basic principles of Clint's grappling arrow, even if it had spit her out into a dumpster, of all places. She was starting to suspect there was some kind of magnetic pull between the grappling arrow set and these things.

She lay still for a long moment, not only listening to the rapport of gunfire above her head as Fisk's men tried to find and finish her but also simply trying to get a handle on herself after a fall like that. She had taken a pretty bad shot to the stomach, and then falling a few stories, even slowed by the rope, hadn't done her any favors.

She only allowed herself the one moment, though, already hitting the distress of her comm that every one of them had as she waited for the men to pass — then outright calling for backup as she gingerly, carefully, tried to pull herself up and out, managing it on the second try and wincing through the whole motion. "Mayday," she said through gritted teeth as her back hit the brick and she slid down.

"Where are you?" Skye asked when she was the one to pick up on the other end. "And how much help do you need? Medical? Backup? A ride?"

"Yes," Natasha said, trying and failing to get up again before she finally decided to just sit down and try to at least get the bleeding under control.

"Is your aircraft damaged or … what happened?"

"I've been shot. Clint's gone; I didn't see where," Natasha said.

"Two pilots and a bodyguard for each of you. Got it," Skye replied. "Just turn on your beacon. The upgrades to the jets should have them to you in no time. You can tell me about it while you wait. Just ... don't go to sleep on me." Skye turned to Tony and flipped off her mic. "Keep her going. I'll get her a team."

Skye abandoned Tony as he started gently teasing Natasha on losing her Hawk — though he agreed it was absolutely a temporary situation. She made her way into the living room area where many of the kids liked to gather — and she was relieved to see some of her top picks there.

"Scott, Ororo, I need you two to do me a favor. Well, two favors," Skye said. "Natasha needs a ride — and someone to fly her plane back. Take Clara with, please, Scott. She's been injured. And it sounded like they hit a pretty nasty group, so if you could maybe bring Luke too?"

Both Scott and Ororo were already getting to their feet, and Scott nodded. "Of course, yeah," he said quickly.

"Where are they?" Ororo asked.

"District One," she said. "The beacon on Natasha is on; it should lead you right to her. She's talking to Tony too, so we know she isn't going to pass out."

"What were they doing in One?" Ororo asked as Scott rushed off to go get Clara and Luke.

Skye let out a heavy sigh as she and Ororo headed to where the very small group of jets were stashed. "Honestly, they shouldn't have gone. They went looking for hard evidence against Osborn where Tony said he and Kate were held … but it was kind of unnecessary. We've almost got it replicated already."

"Well, replications ... I can almost see the logic," Ororo said, trying to give the two lunatics the benefit of the doubt. "Osborn could just say you made it up."

"Yeah, I get it. I do. But still."

"Yeah, they shouldn't have gone. But the two of them together are impossible to stop — usually," Ororo added with a little frown. "So what happened?"

"Sounds like they got ambushed," Skye admitted. "And Nat is hot about it. Clint is gone, she's been shot … it's a mess ... And you and Scott are probably our best pilots."

Ororo looked pleased at the compliment, but it didn't shift the alarmed, "Clint is gone?" that followed that statement. "Dead or missing?"

"Yeah, I'm … I am pretty sure that it's just missing. But I'm on it. Looking for chatter right now." Skye shook her head. "But … keep it quiet for now, or our resident hotheads will be right out there pushing buttons. And we don't need Osborn saying that they're 'foreign agents' — and you know he would."

"It's not going to be very quiet once Natasha gets her feet back under her, especially if Clint is still gone," Ororo pointed out.

"I think you're underestimating how nasty she can be when she wants to," Skye said.

"Oh no, I'm not. She'll tear the world apart, I'm sure. But I doubt she'll be quiet about how mad she is." Something twinkled in Ororo's eyes as she added. "Especially if he's not there to see it."

"Totally different story, yeah," Skye agreed. "Just be careful. Please."

"Don't worry," Ororo assured her. "With a little luck, we'll have both of them here safe and sound so you can give them your best impression of an irate SHIELD director for getting in trouble like that."

"Yeah, I'm hoping to not have to impersonate anything like that anytime soon."

"That's not what Logan says," she teased. "You need the practice for your future title."

"Don't start; he's got more than enough people on his side for that," Skye laughed.

"Then you're not planning on running things?" Ororo asked, one eyebrow arched up.

"Well, I'm not planning on saying he's right …"

"And that's totally different," Ororo laughed before they got to the jet and she climbed in. "Tell Tony to let us know if Nat stops talking to him. I'm going to fly as fast as possible, but I'd still like to know."

"Will do," she agreed.

By the time Ororo had the pre-flight finished and was ready to take off, the rest of the group burst outside as well, ready for a fight — with Clara leading with her bag slung over her shoulder. Ororo got them in the air the second the other three set foot in the jet, and she punched it — hard and fast.

They were about twenty minutes out from the district when Tony radioed in to let them know that Natasha was dropping off — so by the time Ororo got them remotely close to a landing strip, all three passengers hopped off while she hovered and then let her find a better landing spot while they went into the district proper, since there wasn't anything in the main strip of buildings and businesses that Fisk didn't control.

They had come in expecting trouble, so they weren't entirely surprised to see a stronger than usual concentration of guys doing a terrible impression of people who weren't carrying guns, though they kept to the shadows and alleys as much as possible to avoid drawing attention - especially since Natasha had been silent for a while now.

The beacon was still active, and they found Natasha not far from the dumpster where she had fallen in the first place — thankfully, it seemed Fisk's men thought that was as unlikely a place to find the Black Widow as ever. Clara immediately rushed over to assess Natasha and get her in a condition that was safe to move, biting her lip and frowning to herself over the whole thing.

"I got her," Luke offered once Clara had even slightly stepped back, scooping Natasha up like she weighed nothing and rearranging her tighter to his chest.

The little blonde looked around the alley with a frown, almost daring someone to come out of the shadows, before she simply followed Luke and Natasha back to the plane. "Is Scott at the other plane yet?" Clara asked.

"Just got here," Scott said over the comm. "There's a few guys, but nothing big. I'll radio when I'm ready to take off."

"If you need backup," Luke said, "I'm pretty sure the girls are all squared away."

"If I'm not through here by the time you get the girls in the jet, sure — but there's not too many," Scott promised. "I'll radio if any backup comes in for their side."

But, it turned out that Scott was perfectly fine — just as he'd said — though Clara didn't relax until he'd reported that he was in the air. Ororo lifted off shortly after, following for a moment until they were out of One's airspace before she leapfrogged over him and shot off toward Seven.

"When are you two getting married again?" Luke asked Clara as she looked over Natasha a little closer now that they were out of One.

"You'll be invited; don't worry," Clara said distractedly as she started an IV on Natasha.

"I'm just saying: if you're going to be this testy, just marry him and be done with it.

She glared up at him for just a moment. "I haven't been out on many missions lately, alright? I usually mop up the mess with Dr. McCoy."

Luke held up a hand with a smirk. "Hey, it's not a bad thing. I'm just sayin'."

"Yeah. I know what you're 'just saying'," Clara said. "You'd have to ask Heather the date. I'm sure she's pushing too."

"Mmhmm," Luke said with that same smirk as he leaned back, and she just had to roll her eyes at him.

She barely looked up before she socked him in the arm. "Go … do something useful. Like … bring me a bottle of water."

"Sure, sure," Luke said, still grinning as he got up to do that, though he did get a little more serious as he watched Clara work. "What's the damage, anyhow?" he asked quietly.

"Honestly … it's hard to say without the diagnostics," Clara said as she blew her bangs out of her face. "But I don't think they hit anything vital. From the look of it — and judging by how long it took for her to pass out? — it's probably a combination of shock and blood loss."

"Can't help the shock to have lost her partner," Luke said with a small frown. "We know anything on him yet? Skye say anything?" he called over to Ororo in a slightly louder tone.

"She's still searching for his beacon," Ororo called back. "He didn't have it turned on, and she's trying to do it remotely."

"Yeah, well, if we get a hit, drop me off," Luke said. "I didn't get to get a hit in last time, and this guy is pissing me off."

"I'm sure you'll have a shot," Ororo said before she dropped her voice lower. "It seems like everyone's getting a turn with this guy."

"Yeah, there's a line forming," he had to agree, leaning back and falling into a bit more silence for the duration of the flight back to Seven.

September 21

Howlett Manor

When Natasha woke up in District Seven, safe and sound in the manor, the first thing she asked was, "Where is his beacon?"

"We really don't know," Skye said. "I can usually flip them on remotely, but it looks like they probably destroyed it. None of the traffic cams showed anything, so whoever it was had to have left from an underground garage or helicopter."

"Probably underground," Natasha said, already trying to will herself into more alertness as she started to push herself up. "There was a passage leading into the room, which tells me there was a secret exit — and there's no way that man puts a helipad on his roof that close to his plush suite."

"I'm going through blueprints of all the buildings near where you were found," Skye said, "and looking for anything that might match Osborn's vehicles."

"Let me know once you have a hit," Natasha said. "I'll go back myself."

"About that," Skye said, presenting Natasha with a laptop. "I figured you wouldn't be able to just sit here like you need to without something to keep you busy."

Natasha raised an eyebrow Skye's way, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "I don't need to be busy. I need to move forward before Osborn or Fisk has him too long."

"And if you move anywhere before you're healed enough, you're not going to be able to go on any missions to anywhere," Skye reasoned. "I have some of the stuff going — on four different computers. This … if you follow the bookmark … this is a tap right into Osborn's personal email. I'm sure you could find something worthwhile while I am digging through blueprints."

"I need one into Fisk's as well," Natasha said. "That man has dealings with more than just Osborn."

"I'm working on a route into that one — which, believe it or not, is harder to get into than Osborn's. So much for security." Skye had to smirk a bit. "But as soon as I get through, it's yours."

"Good." Natasha opened the laptop but was still meeting Skye's gaze over the top of it. "I don't have to tell you we need to get him fast."

"No, you really don't," she agreed. "Seeing as I'm married to the perpetual damsel in distress."

That got a little smirk out of Natasha. "Yes, well. Clint's a handful as well. If you ever need a hand…"

"I'm good," Skye said with a nod. "But ... we'll get him back."

Natasha let out a little hum as she keyed in the bookmark. "You should know," she said without looking up, "it was targeted. They didn't care about bringing me in — but they sent six after Clint."

"So … I was right to keep the Awesomes and the victors out of it."

Natasha nodded. "You definitely don't want anyone out there that was on the public broadcast against him, anyone who campaigned for Hill…"

Skye blew a breath out and put her hands on her hips. "So that means it'll be about oh … twenty minutes before Logan's pushing to fight back."

"If he finds Clint, I won't complain," Natasha admitted.

"You'd also never hear the end of it," Skye pointed out.

"Skye, I don't need my feelings babied," Natasha said. "I can take the teasing; I know I lost my partner. Tony already let me know. I just want him back."

"I'm not babying; it's called 'reassuring'. Now … heal up so you can take them down and bury them."

"If I'm feeling generous, I may even kill them before I bury them."