Chapter Four: Bruises on Bruises

The thin man stepped to the side of the room. A clicking noise was heard and suddenly both the men tied to chairs were blinded. Bright light flooded the room, illuminating ever corner, every box, and two men now standing in the door way. They followed the first man, both much larger than he was. It was obvious what their role in the interrogation was going to be.

"You were in bar, why?"

The dark clothed man spoke, but did not move from his place in the room. He was observing his captives, watching their reactions. Clint was first to respond.

"Just getting a drink."

He spoke the truth, but his tone made it seem otherwise. He sounded as if he was lying, just to piss the man off. His eyes gleamed, smile brightened, daring the man to call his nonexistent bluff. Tony wasn't exactly known for making the best decisions, but even he didn't think it wise to smile at a man like you just finished making out with his sister; especially when you were tied to a chair and completely at his mercy. Still he kept quiet and let Clint handle the situation. He figured the man had more experience dealing with these kinds of situations.

Their interrogator simply nodded, opting to move on to his next question.

"Who are you?"

"Simon and Garfunkel, obviously. If you let us go we'll sign some autographs."

The man smiled, chuckling softly at Clint's retort. With one hand he motioned to his goons. They stepped forward, looking all too eager to start their portion of the questioning. Ominous, and slightly clichéd knuckle cracking proceeded punches, knee jabs, and kicks.

The beating stopped, but only after another signal from the interrogator. Both Avengers looked worse for wear, lips split, faces red with freshly formed bruises and streaks of blood. Pain and adrenaline had Tony's head reeling once more. His heart was beating rapidly and his breathing refused to drop below a heavy, irregular pant. He turned his head to his partner who looked no better than he did, if not a bit worse. Clint's smile though, his damned smile, had never faltered once through the whole thing. It stayed set, teeth eerily exposed and seemingly out of place. Tony exhaled sharply. He was certainly not as pleased with their situation.

"Would you stop being such an ass Cl- Agent."

Tony corrected himself quickly, thankful he had not let slip Clint's identity. The archer guarded that information much more than the billionaire ever had his own. It had been weeks before Tony had learned his first name was Clint, and that was only after overhearing Natasha speaking with him.

Still, calling him Agent had roused the dark man's suspicion. One eyebrow raised, he stepped closer to his captives, still studying their faces. After a few moments study he moved closer, positioning himself directly in front of Tony. He reached forward, grasping the collar of Tony's shirt. One quick movement ripped the garment open, bathing the room in blue light. The man smiled at the exposed arc reactor.

"I know exactly who you are."

He motioned once more to his men before leaving the room. They stepped forward, their demented smiles taking over the captive men's field of view.

After the second round of beatings, the two men had been left alone. Tony was thankful for the brief reprise, even if he knew it wouldn't last for long. He didn't feel like he could take much more abuse, at least not without his lungs caving in. He closed his eyes, concentrating on getting his heart rate to slow down. His partner on the other hand, was just fine. Clint was still smiling and it wasn't long before he began to whistle some overly cheery tune. Tony glared at the man, finding his good humor unamusing.

"Now would be a real great time for you to organize a miraculous escape Birdy."

Tony let his head fall backwards, his natural joking manner long gone.

"This is going to kill me." He said with a dark chuckle. "They'll probably just kill me anyways. I'm sure someone has a huge bounty on my head."

"Nahh they're not going to kill us."

Tony looked up at Clint, surprised at how optimistic the archer sounded. Moments ago when there were sitting in this room, unharmed, he had grumbled and cursed, but now everything was ok? Either Clint had received one too many punches to the head, or he was a serious masochist. Tony's expression must have conveyed his thoughts, because Clint responded promptly.

"I feel better now that we've seen who has us captive. I've gotten the gist of how things work around here."

"Yes the gist. We sit, you snark, they beat. That was real hard to figure out."

Clint ignored the malice in the inventor's voice and tried to explain himself. Having no hands to use, the archer gestured towards the door with his head.

"I'm not sure why these guys are keeping us hostage, but I do know they don't think of us as threat. Our interrogator is not the head of their organization, he's high up for sure, but not their best."

Tony could believe that. The man had signaled to his goons as if asking them to beat the crap out of their captives, not ordering. The Matrix reject must not be that much higher up the ranks then they were.

"Ok sure, but how are you so sure he won't kill us."

"He didn't tell us his name."

Tony tried his best, but he couldn't contain his exasperated retort.

"What the ever-loving fuck does his name have to do with our lives?!"

The way Clint looked at Tony, you would think the billionaire had just asked him what color a blue crayon was.

"Him not telling us his name means he's making sure we can't find him if we escape. We have to be alive to escape, therefore he is not going to kill us."

It was Tony's turn to wear a look of disbelief.

"That's stupid. How many of your targets do you shout your name to before you shoot an arrow through their eye or something equally horrible?"

"He's an interrogator Tony, not as assassin." Clint said, as if this clarified the inventor's confusion. It was evident after some silent stares that it had not, so Clint continued.

"Where as my work requires not to be seen, his work requires the exact opposite. To successfully interrogate someone you need to make your presence painfully obvious. The more his victims are aware of him, the damage he could do, the damage he has already done, the more information he gets. "

The smile faded from Clint's face as he spoke, his expression darkening slightly.

"Only once he had bled everything from you will he tell you his name. That is when he kills you, after you serve no use to him."

Tony shifted his gaze from Clint to the floor. He was more than a little creeped out by what he was hearing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how the marksmen had become such an expert on the subject, but he didn't want to press the issue.

"Well then… I'm glad I don't know the bastards name."

"He'll be back." Clint said dryly. "And he'll keep coming back until he's ready to tell us his name. We're not the kind of people you just let go after interrogating."

"But I thought you just said we weren't going to die…"

The inventor was affronted once more. He had thought Clint's speech was supposed to be uplifting and optimistic.

"Oh don't worry. We'll have escaped before then."

Tony felt slightly better now. He had no doubt that Clint would be able to break free from simple rope constraints, it was just a matter of when.

Sharp footsteps echoed down the hall once more. Both men turned to each other, knowing what was coming down the hall for them.

"Most people would talk by now."

The dark clothed man moved away from a small table. It had been set up in the room upon his return, its surface covered with the various tools of his trade. He had gone through just about every instrument in the last hour, trying to extract the information he desired. He had yet to receive satisfactory answers, so now he picked a new tool. A pair of brass knuckles rested upon his hands, gleaming in the light. He adjusted them on his hands, making sure they sat just right.

"You are persistent."

"Most people would just say I'm a dumbass."

Clint sat, still strapped to his chair, watching every move the interrogator made. He didn't know what the man was trying to get from him, but he made sure to meet every blow with smile.

"Myself included." Tony muttered from his chair.

The archer's grin stretched wider across his face, marred only by the dripping cut on the lower lip. Their interrogator chuckled at the two men. He approached Clint's chair, still fingering the metal wrapped around his hand.

"I heard rumors about the great Hawkeye, but…"

Their interrogator emphasized Clint's codename, his heavy accent only making the sentence more sinister.

"I never heard that he was stupid. In fact most people say you would escape by now."

"Oh please, don't flatter me. You're making me blush."

The brass covered hand struck the archer's face, leaving new gashes atop already present bruises. The man stepped back, just as calm as ever.

"I also hear you do not work alone. Not anymore."

He moved away from Clint's chair, drifting his hand through the blonde's hair as he walked away. A few steps to the left placed him in front of Tony.

"Certainly you don't work with him. The only thing bigger than his public presence is his ego. He would do more harm than good as partner."

The restrained inventor did not look pleased to be the focus of the interrogator's attention. He let some of his hatred, mixed with sarcasm drip into his tone when he responded.

"Actually there is one other thing larger than my public presence. Or perhaps it is the reason my public presence is so large, quite a few people have had the pleasure of seeing it."

Tony interrupted the man's monologue, and suffered for it. New wounds were added to those already marking his face.

"I am not talking to you."

The man in black turned back to Clint.

"I think maybe, you respond when it's not you in danger. Now tell me…"

He brushed his brass knuckles over Tony's cheek. The inventor's jaw clenched at the contact.

"Where is your partner?"

"Right next to you shit face."

Tony was struck again.

"Where is the Widow."

"So she's what this is all about?"

Clint's cocky grin faltered for a split second at the mention of Natasha. It was so brief a change, Tony barely noticed it. He would have never seen it had he not been staring so intensely at the archer, trying to focus on something besides the man assaulting him.

"She has very little to do with this. I just wouldn't want her interrupting out little chat."

The man twirled his pointer finger, picking one of the numerous bruises on the inventor's face with great care. He took his thumb and pressed the tender skin, digging and twisting as he increased the pressure he applied. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. He attempted to swallow his cries of anguish, but was only partially successful.

"Does that hurt?" the man asked, only jabbing his thumb into the bruise harder.

"It will stop. Your friend just had to tell me where the Black Widow is. When is she coming to rescue you?"

Tony reopened his eyes. They met the archer's from across the room, clearly stating he would take any punishment to keep the other's safe. This would stay between the two of them.

"How about I tell you about the date I took your mother on the other night? Boy can she move between the sheets."

Their interrogator was not impressed. He grabbed a fist full of Tony's hair, pulling the inventor's head up to look into his eyes.

"This time I think I'll break the jaw."

The hand that was not tangled in dark hair drew back, ready to strike.

"No!" Clint shouted.

The interrogator turned, lowering his attacking hand.

"You don't have to hurt him. If you had just asked I would have told you everything without all this senseless violence."

Clint's acting skills put Oscar winners to shame. He looked tired, broken, like the beating had finally gotten to him. His blue eyes darted to and from the inventor's bloody face before finally hanging his head. Tony would have been fooled, had he not known what a crafty bastard Clint was.

"Really? Why didn't you say so." The interrogator sneered. "I never thought you would be so easy to break."

The man in black actually believed the archer's performance. A smile spread across his face, pleased that he had broken the defiant blonde. His gloating was cut short however, when Clint stopped acting. He lifted his head, smile returned to his face, his eyes gleaming with frightening amounts of hate. Clint had lied to Tony earlier when he had said he only knew one phrase in Hungarian.

"Baszd meg magad!" Clint spat, and then actually spat at the interrogator.

The man looked just as calm as ever, no emotion passed over his face, but his eyes flashed with hostility. He struck Clint, harder than he had before.

"You will regret your insolence."

Turning on his heels, the man left the room.

It had been hours since the captive men had heard from outside their room, but eventually familiar footsteps echoed down the hall once more. Tony and Clint looked to each other, confirming what they already knew. Their interrogator was coming back.

"Now?" Tony asked.

Clint answered the question with a nod, not willing to risk saying anything with the footsteps so close. They had used their second break wisely, taking advantage of every hour they had been left alone. Detailed escape plans had been made, taking into account every possible variable to ensure their desired outcome. They were ready to go home.

The interrogator soon entered the room for a third time. He looked over his captives, taking pride in their deteriorated condition. The two men were haggard looking, dark bags under their eyes, faces covered in ripe bruises, dried blood caked around numerous gashes. He imagined they would pass out in exhaustion at any moment.

"'Are you ready to talk, or do you need more convincing?"

Tony wished he could just escape right away, but Clint's plan was very clear. They needed to pump the man for more information first.

"Maybe if you would tell us what you want, things would go more smoothly."

The interrogator donned another dark smile. He moved over to his table, running fingers over his tools but selecting none.

"I want to know why two of … 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' were at my employer's meeting."

The man circled Tony and Clint, still leering at them. He moved out of sight, behind the two men, bringing a chair with him when he returned to their field of view.

"Were you waiting for my employer? SHIELD has been looking for him as of late. Did they send you?"

He placed the chair in front of his captives, choosing to sit backwards. He straddled the wooden seat, placing his arms on the back of the chair. His expression was expectant, he was waiting for one of the men to answer him. Tony responded. It was his job to do the talking this interrogation round.

"I'm not sure we even know who your employer is."

"Oh you don't Mister Stark, but your companion does."

The man turned to Clint, focusing on the blond while he continued to talk to Tony.

"Before the Manhattan Invasion the crime-world was stirring with activity. A call to arms had been issued, beckoning all enemies of SHIELD to come help usher in a new order."

The man's smile grew more ominous with each world.

"Men came from all around, many out of hiding, dying to get the power promised in return for helping a god rise to power. Loki was going to take over the world, assisted by none other than Hawkeye, SHIELD's greatest agent."

The interrogator shifted his attention away from Clint. He chose to focus on Tony instead.

"My employer found it rather humorous, providing weapons to a man destined to take down his own organization so he joined in on the scheme. My employer, like all the others, was promised power, a prominent position in Loki's new world. He almost had it too. Unfortunately the whole operation went sour and within a week S.H.E.I.L.D. was going doorstep to doorstep rounding up those who had helped with the invasion."

He chuckled.

"Can you guess who was leading the round-up? The man who was trying so desperately to pay penance for the crimes he committed in the name of Loki?"

In one smooth motion, the interrogator stood from his chair, straightening his jacket before he moved. Once he was satisfied with his garment he made his way over to Clint.

"My employer worked very hard to disappear. I do not know how you managed to find us, but I know my employer is displeased with you. There is nothing he hates more than a spy."

The interrogator was now crouched, his head lowered enough to rest by Clint's ear. He dropped his voice to a whisper, his words sliding off his tongue like a snake slides through grass.

"How did it feel to be Loki's pet? What was it he always called you again? Oh that's right, you were his 'Deadly Little Hawk.' Oh the stories you told to please him were most enjoyable. The best ones were always about your partner, about the horrible things the Wido-"

The rest of the man's sentence was reduced to a shocked outcry. Clint, having heard his fill, smashed his head against the man's forehead. The archer stood from his chair, wrists slipping from the bonds he had long since escaped from. He grabbed the rope previously used to contain him and threw it around the interrogator's neck. Clint's hands wrapped around both ends of the rope, pulling it tight enough to keep the man from moving, but not tight enough to choke him.

He was behind the interrogator now, pressing his knee painfully into his back. He positioned his head next the man's ear, growling commands through clenched teeth.

"Mention her one more time and I will pull this rope tighter, understood?"

The man managed to gargle a yes through his constraints.

"Great!"

A smile returned to his face as Clint walked the man over to Tony.

"Now if you would please follow me, I need some help untying my friend."

He forced the interrogator to his knees, setting him near the billionaire's restraints. The man had no choice to comply and quickly set about freeing Tony. As soon as he was released, Tony jumped from his chair, stretching out his sore muscles. The interrogator was forced into the vacant chair, tied down and left to struggle.

"You will regret this! Do you think you can get away from me? There are men everywhere; you won't make it five feet bef-"

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Shut your trap."

Clint grew tired of the man's rants. He ripped a portion of the man's shirt of and made a gag which he quickly shoved in the man's mouth.

"Birdy?" Tony began, voice full of precaution. "Do you know who this man is working for?"

"I'll explain after we leave." Clint answered quickly, making it clear there was to be no more questions.

Now that both men were standing over him, the interrogator began to thrash around more, flipping the unzipped edges of his jacket open. The inside pocket was exposed, and Tony could see his possessions contained with its depths.

"Hey! The arrogant little shit was carrying my stuff with him."

The inventor reached into the pocket, snatching his phone and wallet away from the dark man.

"Thanks." he said with some genuine gratitude. "Now I don't have to cancel all my credit cards."

A smile formed on Tony's face, but it quickly diminished when Clint ripped his phone from his hands. The archer threw it to the ground with great force. Tony watched horrified as his electronic devices shattered into millions of pieces.

"Noooo my baby! Why would you do that!?"

Tony turned his horror-struck face to the archer, mouth agape and eyes wide with dismay. Clint just rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the engineer's morning.

"I don't want to be tracked. Now come on, we need to go!"

He grabbed his friend's wrist, pulling him towards the window that was their only escape. They arranged the various boxes around the room until they had a viable set of makeshift stairs. The archer climbed first, kicking out the window when he reached it. Their room must have been in the basement because the window led out to a back alley. Clint crawled out on to the street, and then turned to help Tony through. Once they were on both outside they booked it, trying to run as far away as possible before someone found the interrogator.

There we have it, Chapter Four! That got a kinda dark for a bit, but it can't all be giggles. I promise the next chapters will be mostly humor and adventure now that I've inserted the drama and foreboding I need for the rest of the plot.

Clint's Hungarian phrase translates to "Fuck off!" or "Go fuck yourself!" You can pick.

Thanks again to those who have followed, reviewed, and favorited this story. I'm glad you enjoy it so much.