Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Clint gripped onto her tightly, keeping her from reaching forward and choking the man in front of them.
"12 moons." The man laughed.
"Clint, let me go." She spat.
He loosened his grip on her and she started to unstack the papers on the table. "Clint, the month of April is missing."
"What?" Clint asked.
"12 moons. There are 12 full moons in a year. Once a month. There's someone missing for each month, except April." She said. "We're
looking for a little girl. There's six boys, five girls."
Clint nodded. "Tasha, maybe you should go get it."
"I will be fine. Goddamnit Clint." She growled. "Go!"
Clint ran out the door and Natasha paced in front of the man.
"You act just like him." The man laughed.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Natasha snapped, biting theinside of her cheek to keep herself from reaching forward and choking him.
"I think you do sweetheart." The man chuckled, his blue eyes glowing. "You believe you can stand up to a god, someone much greater than you. You still believe in heros." The man spat.
Natasha grabbed the papers and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut.
"You can't hide from it Natalia." The man laughed.
She clutched onto her gun and waited in the silence that followed. It shouldn't be that quiet. She fell to the ground as the building shook.
"Barton!" She shouted.
"I found out which girl it is!" He shouted.
"Go get her. I've got it under control." She said and watched as he ran out the door.
She stood up, hand trailing the railing, listening. Fourteen. Fifteen. Si- The door to the cell burst open, splinters of wood flying
everywhere.
She was lifted up by a cold hand and she squirmed. She looked down and saw soul-searching eyes.
"Lady Romanoff." His voice brought chills down her body. "It's my turn to win."
Natasha collected all the saliva she could muster and spit on him, causing him to smirk.
He gripped onto her jaw, forcing her mouth open with a loud pop. "You really think you still have a chance?"
"You lack conviction." She said, her voice strained.
"The mighty useless words of a fallen comrade. Is that really what you want your last words to be?" Loki asked, a bone chilling smile on his face.
"Fuck you." She strained to say. She launched backwards, causing them to fall to the ground.
"You really think you pain me?" Loki laughed. "I don't believe so."
He lifted his hand and a gun came flying from the desk. Clint's. "This room needs a little more color, don't you think?" He said as he placed it up to her thigh.
She cried out as a stinging burning pain rung through her thigh. She arched her back against the wooden floor, blood running down her leg.
"Red." He laughed. "The perfect color." He picked her up by the neck and threw her through the window.
She landed on the ground with a thud, her body aching. "Clint?" She asked quietly as someone ran past her. She knew he
couldn't hear her. The last thing she saw were the soles of his boots running after
someone.