I AM SOOOOOO EVIL! ENJOY!
Slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, Clint dragged himself out of sleep. He found he was in a large room filled with tables and chairs.
He tried to move but found he was chained up again.
His hands had shackles encasing them and a long chain circled his abdomen, pulled tight.
He noticed that he was chained to a large pillar. His arms chained at either side of the pillar and the chain at his abdomen seemed to go right around it in a complete loop.
The room was bright but had no windows in it and food was scattered all over the floor.
Clint felt his stomach rumble under the tight grip of the chain and it occurred to him what he hadn't eaten or drank anything in what he perceived as two days.
Natasha? Where was Natasha?
"Nat?" He called out into the bright room.
"She is not here." Said a guard behind Clint. Clint couldn't see him because his view was limited by the pillar and the tight chains that bound him to it.
"Where is she?" He said defiantly, trying to twist around so he could see the guard, but the chains were cutting into him and Clint felt warm blood trickle down his abdomen.
"Not here" the guard said again.
"Thanks for being so specific, it really helps." If Natasha wasn't here, he could be a bit more cheeky with the guards and not risk her getting hurt.
"I would watch your mouth," the guards voice said. "You can still earn her pain no matter how far away you are."
Clint suddenly wasn't so convinced that Natasha was else where, something in the tone he used.
Clint heard the guards footsteps receding as a door creaked open. "Your in the lunch hall," the guard said stopping halfway through the door, "and we tend to bring our weapons to lunch."
Brilliant, Clint thought, now he was going to be target practice. At least Natasha wasn't here, or so the guard had said.
"Nat?" Clint called out again, just to be sure. There was no reply. He was alone.
He had to find a way out, had to find Natasha. At the rate things were going, they wouldn't survive very much longer.
He had no materials suitable for picking a lock and the chain around his abdomen was too tight to slip under.
Great plan! He thought to himself sarcastically.
Clint spent the next while trying to think of a way out, eventually his thoughts veered away from escaping and towards what had happened to Natasha.
_
Time passed and Clint found himself lost in thought, when the doors to the lunch hall opened behind him and were flooded by hundreds of guards. Clint looked up from where he had been staring at his legs and straightened up a bit. He had to look strong and confident in front of his enemies.
Wow, Clint thought, how many people do HYDRA employ?
The guards all carried some sort of weapon or another. From small pistols to machine guns, from whips to ninja stars. Every weapon he could think of was packed into this room.
The guards walking past him sneered and taunted, laughing at how weak and restrained the great Hawkeye had become.
It would be funny to see one of them trip.
Actually, that's not a bad idea, he thought.
Clint waited for a group of guards to walk past before sticking his leg out and tripping a particularly big guard up.
The guard fell flat and got up again seething. Clint merely smirked amused at making the guard fall.
HYDRA tend not to employ very bright people. He concluded in his head
But before Clint knew it, a fist was flying towards his temple. A blow like that could knock you out cold or even kill you, if enough force was applied, so Clint had the sense to lean forward so the blow missed his temple but hit the back of his head.
Clint was stunned by the sudden knock to his head but looked back up at the guard still smirking.
The guard was shaking with rage now and drew his pistol. Wait, Clint thought suddenly on full alert, is he gonna shoot me?
The guard took aim.
No, no. He couldn't die. He still had Natasha to think about. There was no way she could escape with a broken leg.
As if in slow motion Clint saw the guard beginning to tighten his finger around the trigger.
Clint expertly kept the panic he was feeling, concealed and faced the gun proudly. But he was freaking out inside.
He couldn't... die. He had to stay. For Natasha. No... Don't shoot don't shoot... Clint was practically begging in his mind but still showing no outward sign of fear.
"STOP!" Both Clint and the guard heard the loud exclamation.
Clint's first reaction was relief but the guard had flinched at the sound of the shout and pulled the trigger.
But then Clint felt the pain of the shot. The pain radiated from his left shoulder, thankfully the shout had thrown off the guards aim and the shot hit his shoulder.
At the sound of the gun the whole hall had fallen silent. Clint vaguely heard the guard who had shot him and, who Clint assumed was, the leader of this HYDRA branch talking in raised tones. But he wasn't concentrated on that. His shoulder was his main concern.
He had shut his eyes tight to try and control the pain but he forced them open again to assess the wound.
When he looked, the first thing he saw was blood. It was pouring out of him like a tap turned on too high.
He had to stop the blood flow. But he was still chained up and his hands wrapping around the pillar was stretching the wound.
Was he really going to die? Bleed out in a dirty food hall, with out seeing Natasha ever again and probably getting her killed in the process.
Clint struggled against his bonds trying to get his right hand free so he could try and stop the blood flow.
"Clint?!" Immediately Clint stopped struggling. Was that Natasha?
But... she wasn't here... She was somewhere else...
"Nat?" He called out to her, ignoring the pain on his shoulder.
None of the guards were paying any attention to them. They were all focused on the fight between the guard with the gun and the leader of HYDRA.
"Clint! Are you alright?" Her voice was urgent and full of worry.
"I'm fine, don't worry." He lied.
"What happened?" She said obviously not convinced of Clint's act. "I heard a shot."
"Shoulder wound." He said quickly not wanting to make her worry. "Listen-"
"Shoulder?" She exclaimed. "Clint how much is it bleeding?"
"... Natasha, don't worry..." He said considering every word. "There's nothing we can do. We are both chained here."
Natasha spoke quickly, "and what? You expect me to just sit here while you bleed out?"
Clint didn't have an answer for that.
"We have to get help or... something." She said, not giving up.
That was the Natasha he knew, determined to her last breath.
"From who?" Clint asked, still in pain from the lead bullet shifting around inside him.
Natasha fell silent. She must be chained the same way as him, with her arms stretching round the pillar, because Clint felt a hand groping around for his. He took it and held onto her tight. She returned the pressure on his.
The blood was still pouring out of his shoulder and a puddle was forming on the ground, it would take a while for Clint to bleed out.
He would die slowly. There was no point lying to himself. None of the guards would help him, he and Natasha were chained to the point where they were hardly able to move.
Eventually the guard and the leader came to an agreement of some sort, Clint wasn't sure what it was because they were talking in German and his head was starting to get dizzy from blood loss. The guards started filing out of the room.
Last to walk out was the leader. Natasha must have been getting very concerned because Clint heard her call out to him in German:
"hey! während Ihr Idioten Wache zu verwirren, Clint erschossen. er braucht Hilfe."
Clint vaguely heard them talking but he was being distracted by the growing pain in his shoulder. He had to stay focused, stay awake, stay awake, he told himself over and over.
Clint shut his eyes tight and put his head against the pillar. Natasha was still holding onto his hand, not wanting to let him go.
He could feel himself slipping... "Nat?" He called out to her.
He wasn't going to give up just yet, he would hold on until he could no longer. But his strength was ebbing away, pooling on the floor. Soon he wouldn't have the strength to talk so he needed this moment with Natasha.
"Clint. Hold on" she said softly, "we're going to get you patched up."
"Natasha..." He trailed off as a man, Clint recognised as the leader, crouched down beside him with a bandage.
None too gently, the leader started wrapping the bandage around his shoulder, tightly so it would stop most of the bleeding.
"Natasha, you didn't have to..." He breathed, running out of strength rapidly.
"Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Clint." She warned, concern still laced into her tone. "Don't think that lowly of yourself."
Clint smiled, squeezing her hand lightly.
Clint grimaced as the man in front of him pulled the knot tight. He then got up and walked out of the room.
Every so often Clint would feel Natasha squeeze his hand to make sure he was still there. Clint would then return the pressure on hers.
The bandage wasn't very effective in stoping the blood flow but it slowed it down, if they were kept in the hall like this, he would still bleed out but it would be slower. He would live longer but that also meant the pain would continue to get worse.
Pain. It was such a small word, it was too small to describe the amount of pain Clint was feeling. It radiated out of him, causing waves of agony. But he had to hold on. He had to always be there for Natasha.
After about 10 minutes of silence, Clint heard a door creek open. Natasha's hand tightened oh his.
"Natasha? What is it?..." Clint asked weakly, strength still ebbing slowly away from him.
"Clint!-" she was cut off and Clint heard a few seconds of struggling before Natasha fell silent, her hand slipping from his grasp.
"Natasha!" Clint called out, suddenly alert. What had happened to her? He was answered by a cloth, being placed over his mouth.