Clint actually debated calling in Coulson to send a team along with him to the facility. For about five minutes.
He was already skating on the thinnest ice possible and doing anything else at this point would likely leave him without a job (best case scenario) or dead (the more likely one). Despite this Clint just couldn't shake the idea that the only outcome he could expect with a SHIELD strike team behind him, Coulson's orders notwithstanding, would be the Black Widow's death.
For some reason he still didn't want that.
It wasn't like he wasn't used to disregarding orders anyway; in for a penny, in for a pound, right?
Maybe they could both go freelance. Yeah great, two assassins trailed by both SHIELD and the Red Room. What a life.
He could always throw himself on Fury's mercy. The thought put a crooked smile on his face.
Shaking his head Clint decided to jettison the rumination. He'd made his decision days ago, now he just had to follow it through. Hell, he'd never worried too much about the consequences of his actions before, why start now?
Clint spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting his equipment and watching the clock. He didn't have a time frame for her arrival at the facility, but he knew it would be soon and it would be after dark. He was patient, he could wait her out.
Natasha didn't know what had happened to Barton since they'd spoken, or what SHIELD was going to do once they discovered their agent's failure, but until that became apparent she still had a job to do. If she was going to die at the hands of another for the crimes she had committed so be it; she'd continue on her path until the bitter end.
It had taken her a few days to put things in order, collecting the various items she'd need from the caches she had stashed throughout the city. Avoiding surveillance had been challenging, but it had been a welcome diversion from her current train of thought.
What the hell had the SHIELD agent been playing at? He must have had plenty of opportunities to kill her. But who could believe that story about bringing her in, helping her even? Was he trying to throw her off her game? She had to admit that if that was his goal it was working.
She kept running through their conversation in her mind and had to admit that he'd been very convincing. Hard to believe that a sniper could be such a talented undercover operative, it took a lot to deceive the Black Widow.
So what if it hadn't been a trick?
She shook that off right away. No. No second guessing. She'd let him live against all of her better judgement, that was the most she could afford to give him. Her trust? Her life? She could almost laugh if the situation didn't nearly bring bitter tears to her eyes.
Gritting her teeth Natasha put all else from her mind. She raised the night vision binoculars to her face and surveyed the seemingly abandoned facility across the empty car park.
The best intel she had been able to gather pointed here. Barton might be close, but she thought she had the drop on him…he and his handlers would probably even assume she had cut and run and if she was lucky their resources would be divided.
As to what Cross might or might not figure out as a result of her absence she couldn't say. He was a slippery one, but ultimately he was a small fish. She was confident she could take anything that degenerate could throw at her.
A final survey of the perimeter didn't raise any alarm bells in her mind. Everything seemed much as it had since she had first staked out the facility. It was time to set the finale in motion. It was time to let her former masters know that they toyed with the Black Widow at their peril. It was time to add some black to her ledger.
Entering the facility like a ghost, Natasha slipped easily into her accustomed role. She became a whirlwind and a shadow.
Her intel had definitely been good, something was going on here. There were more guards here than in the main labs at Cross Technologies and Natasha actually had to work to get past the initial layers of security without tripping off any alarms further in. Good. She needed the workout anyway.
Cross might be heavily defended, he might think himself secure from any kind of retribution for his greed and hunger for power, but in the face of the Black Widow's fury all of the mercenaries in his pay were little more than chaff before the storm.
One by one they fell to the graceful ballet of death which she had mastered: knives and hands and garrotte all working as one in a fluid exchange as she inexorably made her way to the heart of the building, towards the engine of death Cross was constructing for the Red Room and their twisted dreams of murder and destruction.
Natasha allowed a bitter smile to crease her face as she entered a pilfered security code into the panel in front of her. It had been laughably easy to get it, the guard had squealed like a pig and she hadn't even started on her more interesting interrogation techniques. Cross should have put more effort into his hiring practices, she imagined tougher members existed in the Boy Scouts. As the door whisked open she spared a glance for the hallway behind her. Her smile deepened as she surveyed the trail of bodies that lay sprawled on the floor.
Bow at the ready Clint made his way gingerly through the snaking hallways of the facility shaking his head at the destruction that lay all around him. One person had done all of this? And hadn't yet set off any alarms? He was glad that he wasn't really responsible for Cross' security…he would never have been able to live this down if this had happened on his watch.
How had she done all of this so quickly? He had watched from his perch as the Black Widow had entered the facility and he'd only allowed her a five minute head start…no use letting her know that he was already on her trail. In retrospect perhaps he should have just sprinted after her immediately.
Clint picked up his pace and made his way to the central lab. Luckily for him Cross had provided him with detailed schematics of the building and its security profile. He just might be able to head off the Black widow before she got too deep into the shit.
The final two guards lay at her feet when she heard the strange swift whistling sound followed by a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the ground. Swiftly turning on her heel, her arms outstretched in a protective stance, she saw the body of a guard she had apparently missed slumped on the ground twelve feet away from her, an arrow protruding from his back. Beyond him stood Barton, now arrayed in a tac vest and infiltration gear with, of all things, a bow in his hands, an arrow nocked and ready.
Natasha breathed deeply, but otherwise remained motionless. It looked like now was when she would pay for letting him live when she had fled her apartment. That had been a stupid mistake, an error in judgement brought on by emotion. Then again maybe she had always known that decision would lead to this moment. Maybe she didn't want retribution after all, maybe it was justice she wanted. She realized that justice at his hands was something she could accept.
By sheer force of habit she ran through several scenarios where she drew her gun and fired before the arrow found its way to her heart, but then she catalogued the red that remained in her ledger and compared it with the wash of black that would be her death at his hands. Slowly she closed her eyes, dropping her arms to her side and standing straight. "This is it then? Will you grant a last wish to the dying?"
"What?" said Clint, apparently confused.
The Black Widow scowled, was he thick?
"I assume your employers don't want Cross to have a weapon of mass destruction on his hands any more than I do. I've opened the way. Just promise me you'll destroy it. The plans have already been taken care of."
She waited for a response, either his voice or the whispered hum of the arrow singing through the air, but when neither came she opened her eyes to see his infuriating smirk again.
Rage stifled her for a moment before she could shout, "Is this a joke to you?! Just do it, don't play games sniper!"
He merely shook his head, his bow dropping as he relaxed his arms. "I think you've got the wrong idea darlin'," he drawled. "If I wanted to kill you I would have done it a week ago when I had you in my sights at your apartment. I already told you what I want."
She shook her head, confusion apparent on her features, "Then what- what the hell is this?"
"This?" said the archer, his smile widening, "this is us taking down Cross for good."
It was strange having this SHIELD agent walking beside her, giving her a debrief on the full layout of the facility and the known security profile as though they were actually partners. What was he thinking? Was he really this simple? Was he blatantly irresponsible? Or was this some incredibly clever long game playing out to an end even she couldn't see? To what end? He had already had her in his sights, multiple times apparently. One thing she had to admit: Clint Barton was a man who could keep her on her toes. It was a strange feeling.
"So anyway," he concluded, "you're lucky I caught up to you when I did - I mean besides that guy you somehow missed – Cross has some pretty interesting things cooked up from here on in."
She shook her head.
"Not to downplay your contribution, but I find it hard to believe that Cross could have 'cooked up' anything I can't handle."
The archer snorted, "I know, right? CIA douchebag, thinks he's got it all figured out, and you're obviously…well, in a class all your own…but trust me he's had some help on this one. I assume the Red Room gave him some 'advice' he just couldn't say no to…not to mention some resources he wouldn't otherwise have access to."
Natasha quickly stifled the warmth she felt at this man's praise of her skill and centered in on what mattered: the Red Room had provided both instructions *and* resources and she hadn't ferreted it out? She stopped walking and turned to face him, an accusing glance in her eyes.
"That's simply impossible. There is no way the Red Room provided those things and I wasn't aware of it."
His infuriating smile was back in full force.
"Look Natalia…"
"Natasha," she interrupted. The minute the word left her mouth she widened her eyes in shock. Why had she just told this man her name? Her *real* name…or at least the one she kept for herself? The one that she didn't share with others except those few that had been allowed behind her barriers? She quickly composed herself and decided that she had more important things to worry about.
He stopped, nonplussed.
"Um, ok…Natasha. Look, I understand that you're pretty much the unparalleled expert on all things Red Room, and I can also understand how it might be difficult for you to believe that anything associated with them and an op you're on could be a surprise to you, but I can guarantee you that there are things waiting for us over there," he gestured vaguely to the deeper levels of the facility towards which they were walking, "that you are *not* expecting. I don't need to die because you're unwilling to accept that maybe your former handlers weren't as surprised by your defection as you had thought." He shrugged, "I've got enough other reasons why this is likely to end with me in a classified body bag."
She didn't miss the chagrin in his voice, or the sour grimace he made. She wondered what exactly he meant by that.
"Alright," she said tersely, "what have you got?"
She was surprised at how well they worked together, and she had to admit his intel had saved them a lot of time and effort. Cross might not have been the genius he thought himself to be, but he had made good use of the extra resources the Red Room had provided him with to make the facility nothing short of a fortress. Fortunately for them a fortress was only as strong as its back door.
Her initial scorn at seeing him carry a weapon from out of the stone age was quickly changed to grudging admiration as she saw his skill with it, as well as his impressive arsenal of high tech arrows. One thing she was finding with Agent Barton: he was consistently able to surprise her. That was a rarity.
For his part Barton couldn't help but admire the Black Widow. She was just as deadly in combat as she was under cover and he nearly had to suppress a shudder at the thought of possibly having to fight her. So far they had worked together seamlessly, but he had no idea how long that would play out, or what she would do once they reached their destination. One thing you could say about the Black Widow: she was a cipher. There was a good chance she was only using him until she reached her objective. He had to hope that his show of good faith had not been misplaced…and be ready for the alternative.
"Ok, this is where we split up," she said.
Clint shook his head. "I don't like it. We're stronger together."
The Widow suppressed a sigh and looked at him as if he were a recalcitrant four-year-old. "We don't have time to debate this again, Barton. You know it's the expedient option. There are two key stations ahead and unless we take them out in tandem we risk an alarm getting to the control room."
"You really think they haven't figured out something's up by now?" he asked incredulously.
A momentary look of concern passed across her features at his question, but she simply shook her head.
"I don't know. It does seem odd that nothing obvious has been sounded at this point. There could be a silent alarm going off as we speak…we don't know. All we can do is work with the intel we have and prepare for the worst. Either way, this is still the most efficient use of our resources…you're running low on arrows."
"I can still handle myself," he growled.
"Then prove it," she said as she turned and stalked off down the corridor towards her objective.
Clint shook his head, "Shit, her and Hill should go out for coffee," he mumbled under his breath.
The guards at the station seemed surprised when Clint busted in on them, taking the first two out easily with his bow. Apparently a silent alarm hadn't been tripped. Despite this Clint still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. They had fought through some fairly stiff resistance, but it still seemed too easy.
He moved in to engage the third guard and nearly had him incapacitated when someone grabbed him from behind in a choke hold.
Clint pushed back with his legs and flung them around the neck of the man he had been fighting as he reached up to grab the arms around his neck. A quick twist of his legs took care of one of them. Unfortunately the other one had tightened his hold and didn't seem interested in letting go. Clint let go with one hand and tried to elbow his captor, but despite getting in a few good strikes the man refused to loosen his hold.
Clint thrashed around, finally pushing backwards with his legs and slamming the man into the nearest wall. Still no good. His vision was starting to blur due to lack of oxygen.
That's when he saw her step in through the doorway and take in the scene. She was blurring, but it was obviously the Widow. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. What was she waiting for? He saw her take in the fallen guards and then look up at the two men still struggling against the wall. Finally she raised her gun and suddenly Clint was taken with the conviction that he didn't want her to shoot. As everything started to finally fade out Clint couldn't be sure if she was aiming for him, his captor, or both of them.
Finally the shot went off and he fell to the floor.