Okay wow this has taken me super long to upload. I have a whole host of excuses but I won't list them for you. Good news is I'm all settled into college now and once I find my notes I'll be able to get this story on the roll again.

Mild Violence in this chapter. Some dudes get shot in the knees, they're okay though don't worry.

A flawlessly white cue ball glided across the velvety green surface of Vontas' pool table. It ricocheted off the side walls three times before finally making contact with the last ball on the table. The eight ball rolled towards the side pocket, pausing for just a brief second before finally falling into the hole.

"Ha yes!" Tony cheered. "That's the third perfect game in a row!"

The billionaire danced more than he walked around the table, resetting for another game.

"It's real easy to do that Stark when you're playing by yourself."

Tony turned his head towards the source of the noise. A very disgruntled Clint Barton was walking down the stairs that led to the second floor of Vontas' entertainment room. The archer had just finished with his interrogation.

"Would have been nice to have some help you know, with the arms dealer and what not" the blonde muttered.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Like you needed my help. I've seen you have more trouble making toast in the morning."

Getting information from Vontas was easy, rather anti-climactic as far as he was concerned. One vague threat about Clint giving him a matching scar for the other side of his face and Vontas told them everything they asked. Well, not everything. He couldn't tell them exactly where Karkov was; the man had gone too far underground, only his closest men knew. There was, however, a very important shipment coming into one of the crime boss' various supply warehouses. He was liable to oversee this shipment, so they had a chance of catching him or at least someone who knew where he was.

Still, Tony was disappointed with the lack of entertainment, hence why he'd taken advantage of the fairly nice pool table in the room.

"He was still heavy!" Clint barked. "You could've helped me carry him to his room!"

"You shouldn't have knocked him out so soon. I'm sure Vontas would have followed you willingly to the bedroom, had you asked."

Tony waggled his eyebrows at his archer companion for what must have been the fiftieth time in the last hour. Clint forced himself to laugh.

"Sometimes the bad guys are gay Tony, fact of life. Now-" Clint grabbed his coat from the seats to his left, "-are you ready leave? We have a warehouse to storm and that's not going to be easy to do unarmed. I'd like to get it over with sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, yeah" Tony groaned as he set his pool cue down. He wasn't looking forward to the next step of their mission any more than Clint was.

He stretched his arms above his head and turned. When he came to face his partner, he found Clint standing still in the middle of the hardwood floor. There was a sleek silver phone clutched between his hands and he was typing out some message.

"Where'd you get that phone?" Tony asked as he walked to Clint, hands resting on his hips. "If you've had your phone this whole time after you smashed my baby I swear-"

"Calm down Stark. I took it from Vontas." Clint shut the phone off before Tony could see what was on the screen and tucked it into his pocket. "Are you ready to go?"

"You say that like it's me standing here wasting time!" Tony said.

"You say that," Clint responded back. He help open the door to the hallway, waving his friend through with his free hand. "Like I'm the one who planned this whole vacation! Just get your ass out the door."

They stood glaring at each other for a tentative moment, before Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're attitude needs some work, Clint" he declared as he walked through the door frame.

"This is a dumb idea" Tony whispered.

"Keep quiet," Clint hissed.

"This is a really, really dumb idea."

"Shut up!"

The two men perched precariously in the steel rafters of a large warehouse. Clint was perfectly at ease, resting in a half squat on the beam. Tony however, was clearly out of his element. He lay on his stomach ten feet from Clint, arms and legs clamped around the rafter like an upside down sloth. He inched his way closer to the archer at a ridiculously slow pace.

They had located the graffiti covered building in the 18th district of the city. It was one of several large cement structures in the storage complex, with a red tiled roof and large bay doors. A fair amount of effort had been spent by the men getting past the fence, up the wall, on to the roof, and in through a sky light. Their arms and legs were cut from the attempt, and sore spots promised future bruises.

Clint watched the door with unblinking eyes. Their target was due to arrive any minute now.

"Tony if you blow our cover I will never speak to you again."

"Promise?" the billionaire snapped back.

"Who's attitude needs work now?" Clint muttered under his breath.

The crawling man finally reached Clint, who extended an arm to aid his effort in sitting up. Tony sat on the rafters as opposed to crouching, but joined Clint in watching the door. They waited in silence until voices were heard from outside the building. Clint tensed, crouching lower to the beam.

Ten black clothed men entered through the door, following behind and man in a dark denim jumpsuit and a bright yellow safety vest. They looked menacing, each with a scowl on their face. One man towards the back of the group looked like the man who had jumped them at the bar.

The lead man stared intently at the clipboard in his hands, muttering to himself as he flipped through the papers attached to the board. He came to a stop before a particular shelf, smiling at the men behind him. He waved to the shelf, showing them where their packages were. A man with dark hair and an old leather jacket stepped forward. He whispered something to the worker who promptly left the warehouse.

Tony watched as Clint's eyes darted between the men. The blonde's brows creased and a frown set on his face.

"Shit" Clint whispered. "He's not here."

"He's not here?" Tony asked.

Clint glared at him.

"No Tony, he is here I just like to purposely mislead you."

"Well you do," Tony muttered, catching on to the blatant sarcasm. "What do we do now? One of them is bound to have some way of contacting KArkov, but how did we get it from them?"

Clint sighed, thinking for a moment before a terrifying grin replaced his frown.

"I came here for a fight," he announced. "I'm getting a fight."

The archer sprung from his crouch, flying forward at the rafter in front of them. His hands wrapped around a pipe, running parallel with the support beams, and he swung on it like a child would monkey bars. Tony watched with wide eyes as he flew through the air and landed on a storage rack. Clint crushed three boxes beneath his weight. The noise attracted the attention of the men, who began to shout. They circled around Clint's rack, hoping to trap the blond. Clint just laughed and jumped down, using the man from the bar to break his fall.

"Fucking circus assassins!" Tony shouted. "Always showing off and shit."

Not for a moment did he think he could recreate Clint's feat. Instead, he shimmied along the rafter until he reached the wall where a service ladder connected the beams to the floor. Tony climbed down as fast as he could. When he reached the floor he sprinted to Clint, who was encircled once more by the Karkov's goons.

The inventor came up behind one of the men and kicked him in the back. He flew towards Clint, who took advantage of his unstable situation and punched him in the jaw. The man fell to the floor, completely unconscious. A man to the left grabbed Tony by the arm and flung him at Clint. Tony stumbled, knocking into the archer before falling to his knees. Shortly after Tony fell, Clint knelt by his side as well.

The eight men still standing tightened their circle around the downed men. One reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol.

"Great" Tony grumbled darkly, drawing out the vowels "He's got a gun Clint."

"Uh huh," responded the archer.

"A gun. Imagine that, an armed henchman with a gun. Do you think the other guys have guns?"

The billionaire looked to Clint, who had a contemplative look on his face.

"I'm betting they do."

Tony did not appreciate his chipper attitude.

"Why don't you have a gun Clint? A gun is nice, portable, deadly weapon that is easy to conceal and ideal for those who can't leave the house without attracting enemies."

The man with the gun took a step closer. It proved to be his biggest mistake.

The gun in his hand was now well within Clint's reach and he wasted no time in grabbing. One shot fired into the cement floor before Clint could wrestle it from the goon's hand. As soon as he had a firm grip Clint raised one knee to steady his hand. He fired one shot into the kneecap of the gunmen and then into those of the other seven henchmen. They fell to the ground, wreathing in pain.

"Because guns are too easy Tony. That took no effort at all."

Clint ejected the pistol's clip and removed the last bullet before snapping it back in. He threw the bullet in one direction and the gun in the opposite.

"Yeah sure, for you" Tony said, rising to his feet.

The door to the warehouse opened again, and the facility worker returned riding in a forklift. He stared at the men on the floor and then at Clint and Tony. All three men stared at each other in an awkward showdown before the worker shifted into the reverse and left the building.

"He's probably going to call the police. We should get out of here."

"Definitely," Clint agreed. "One thing first though."

The blond crouched above one of the men and dug through his pockets. After a minute he stopped, pulled out his phone, and walked back to Tony.

"Okay, seriously what are you doing with the phones?" Tony asked.

Clint ignored the question and started typing a message on the outdated flip phone. Sensing the billionaire's presence behind him, Clint began to shut it, but Tony grabbed the device before he could.

"You're sending… a bunch of dots?" he asked, very confused.

"Yes now give that back to me."

Clint snatched the phone from his partner.

"Tell me what you're doing with weird people's phones!"

"Later, now can we go?"

Tony rolled his eyes, but moved toward the door. He pushed it On the other side stood what looked like the entire security detail on duty at the complex. Their chief stepped forward, demanding something of Clint and Tony. It was in Hungarian though, and neither of the men could understand.

Clint slammed the door shut and ran to the opposite end of the building. Tony was right behind him, stringing together obscenities in long sentences. They exited through the other door and moved immediately began scaling the chain link fence. Clint was at the top and Tony a little more than half way up, when the guards came around the building.

"Do you think they have-"

Tony's question was cut off by gunshots.

"Yes Tony, I think they have guns!" Clint shouted.

The blond reached his hand down to Tony. His calloused hands wrapped around the billionaire's wrist and hauled him to the top of the fence. They looked to each other before diving off the wall and landing on the ground.

"I hope what's in the phone makes up for the ruined plan!" Tony shouted as he scrambled to his feet.

"It just might!"

The ran from the building, dodging bullets before reaching the safety of the forest.

Water rippled around Bruce as he breached the surface of the hotel pool, moving away from him in ever expanding circles. It beaded on his skin, running down his face, along his jaw to his neck, and then his shoulders. Sodden curls hung in his face, clinging to his forehead. He pushed them away and swam to the opposite end of the basin, effortlessly gliding on his back.

It had been so long since he had gotten to swim in an actual pool, let alone a heated one in a luxury hotel. There probably was one somewhere in the Tower, but Bruce just hadn't had the spare time to find it. When Natasha had announced her intentions of visiting the hotel pool, he had been the first one out the door behind her. Water had always relaxed him, had always eroded away his tensions and worries. He had imagined going to the pool would have much the same affect. Unfortunately it hadn't. He was as tense as ever, worrying about his two missing team mates.

He stopped swimming, opting to tread water as he mulled over his thoughts. Steve swam by him, completing what had to be his hundredth lap of the pool. The Captain reached the end of swimming pool and pushed his feet against the tiled sides. He turned as precisely as a professional swimmer, managing to dodge the mammoth amount of muscle and hair that was Thor before it landed on his back. After discovering the diving board, the Thunder God had done nothing but plunge into the pool with little regard to what was under him. Once he was in the water he would make his way to the sides as fast as possible, lift himself out of the water, and run back to the board. He smiled the childlike smile that only Thor could pull off as he did this, shouting in excitement as he ran. Each yelp sent a small pang of guilt through Bruce. The Doctor couldn't help but think there should be two more shouting voices.

"Hey Steve," Bruce called as the blond passed him again. "Don't you think we should be doing something, other than swimming I mean."

Steve ceased his exercise. His feet sunk to the floor of the pool, easily able to touch bottom and keep Steve in place without him needing to tread water.

"You worried about Tony and Clint too?"

His blue eyes turned to gaze at Bruce. Within their depths, the doctor saw the same anxiety he was feeling.

"Yes," he said with a heavy sigh. "Don't you think it's weird they haven't come back. They're never disappeared overnight. They should have wandered home long ago, half-drunk and singing as usual."

"It is odd." Steve looked at the water surrounding them, but it was clear the liquid was not the focus of his attentions. "Do you think we should be worried? Clint is a trained professional and Tony is capable of handling himself when it counts."

Bruce snorted his disbelief.

"Steve please, we're talking about the two men who broke their arms repelling down the Tower elevator shaft."

"Oh God, you're right."

Steve made a mad dash for the side of the pool. Aqueous debris flew in all directions as his limbs violently plunged in and out of the water. Bruce followed behind him, albeit at a considerably slower place. Both men forwent ladders, simply climbing up the first sidewall they came in contact with. Predictably, Steve reached their area of the pool deck first. He grabbed a towel and threw it back to Bruce before getting one for himself. Their attempt at drying themselves off was quick and careless. They were still dripping when they slid on their shoes and ran for the door.

"Where are you two going?"

The voice stopped them at the exit. A few feet from where the anxious men were standing lounged Natasha, seemingly at ease behind a pair of sunglasses. She didn't bother to look up from the book in her hands, but it was obvious who she was addressing.

"Clint and Tony are missing." Steve stated.

"So you two are just going to run off without any information and look for them?" Natasha shot them a look over the frame of her shaded lenses. "That adventure would only end up with me having to look for four missing men."

"We need to go look for them!"

"No we don't."

Her words were cool; maybe even a bit scolding, as if Steve was her petulant toddler screaming for sweets.

"'No we don't' … Natasha what are you saying?" Steve was clearly taken aback. "They've been missing for damn near twenty four hours!"

"They're not missing Rogers. Do I look anything like I did the last time Barton was missing?"

Bruce examined the woman before him. She looked as formidable as ever, wearing a bikini instead of her tactical suit didn't change that. If anything the lack of clothing enhanced her scary aurora; you could clearly see the lithe muscles capable of ending your life. But they didn't seem to be tense, or pulsing just beneath her skin. Her ease was genuine, not the practiced act of a woman ready to scour the Earth, face the Hulk head on, and punch a Norse God in the face.

Bruce couldn't stop the dry laugh that escaped his lips.

"You know where they are, don't you?"

"I know where Barton was told to be."

Her tone gave away nothing, but then again it never did unless she wanted it to. But Bruce had learned quite a few things about the assassin recently and if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Natasha Romanoff was constantly in the know about everything pertaining to her partner.

"You know where they are," he stated half exasperated. "That whole fight was an act right? Clint was supposed to disappear."

"It would be easy enough for Clint to get a rise out of Tony; those two don't need an excuse to bicker." Steve stated. He had finally caught on to Bruce's line of thinking. "All you needed to do was play along, the rest was easy."

Now Natasha took off her sunglasses. She looked right into the doctor's eyes then Steve's, giving them all the conformation they needed. Bruce chuckled and collapsed onto the chair next to her. Steve muttered something under his breath about spies before settling in his own seat.

"When are we supposed to go get them?" Bruce asked.

Natasha's phone beeped before she could answer. The small device was in the redhead's hand within seconds, its screen flashing the arrival of a new text message. It was from a blocked number and contained no words, just a series of dots and dashes.

"That's Morse code-" Steve announced "-but the message is gibberish."

"Phonetically spelt Russian actually," Natasha answered. "That's Clint's way of quickly coding a message."

She didn't appear to have any trouble deciphering the jumble of letters. Her response was sent and her phone placed back on the table within seconds.

"We'll see them within the next twenty-four hours."

And there's that!

I hope it didn't seem to rushed or crappy. I was trying to finish up for you wonderful people who have waited this long.

Thanks your any reviews and favorites present and past!