Chapter 8: Well, Somebody's Ass Is Getting Kicked

"Fuck."

They had come all this way just to die. And Natasha could have lived, Stormfields only wanted to kill Pietro and Clint. But now they'd all blow up, along with the hundreds of people at the gala.

"We're fucked, we're all gonna die..."

"No, we're not. We can stop this," said Clint.

"Oh yeah?" Pietro said, his voice an octave higher than usual out of panic. "How do you know she's not just gonna flick a switch the moment she's clear of the building?"

"Because I'm a damn good spy and I know approximately where the bomb is and how it's guarded," said Clint. "So calm your tits."

"It's guarded?" Natasha said. "Do you know how many guards?"

"Not exactly," Clint replied. "But between the three of us, taking them out should be a breeze."

"Are you sure about this?" Pietro said.

Clint put his hands on Pietro's shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"Absolutely sure," he said. "We've beat worse odds before. So are you ready to kick some ass?"

"I'm always ready to do that," said Pietro, letting a little smirk sneak its way onto his lips.

"Then let's go."

Clint led the way through the crowd and into a hallway, coming to a stop outside an elevator. He hit the down button; they only waited a couple seconds before the doors opened and they stepped inside. Clint pushed the button for the basement and the doors slid shut.

"The basement," Pietro muttered. "Why is it always in the basement?"

"Take out the foundations, the whole building is more likely to go down," said Natasha.

"That was a rhetorical question," said Pietro.

Clint rolled his eyes.

"Have you guys got weapons and shit?" he asked.

"Yeah," Natasha replied.

"You don't happen to have any extras, do you?"

Natasha handed him a gun. Where she pulled it from, Pietro couldn't figure out.

"Seriously, Nat, you've got to tell me how you're hiding all this shit," he said.

"When designers decide your gender don't need pockets, you start to get creative," said Natasha, now loading a second gun that Pietro once again had no idea where she'd kept it.

"I've asked her at least a dozen times and I still haven't gotten a real answer," said Clint. "So that's about the best one you're gonna get."

Pietro chuckled and pulled out his own gun as the elevator jolted to a stop.

"Ready?" Natasha said.

"Ready," Pietro and Clint said in unison.

Then the doors slid open. There was a split second of calm as the doors opened out onto the corridor, lined with armed men, and Pietro, Clint, and Natasha stood on the threshold. Then they burst out of the elevator with guns blazing. They mowed down the first few men with ease, having caught them off guard, but after that, they had to put up more of a fight to get passed them. They were about halfway down the corridor when Clint pointed ahead.

"That door," he said. "It's through there."

"I'll go take care of it," said Natasha. "You two finish up with these goons."

She bolted off, expertly taking out any of the men who tried to stop her. Pietro and Clint kept fighting their way down the hall. They had both long since run out of bullets and had to rely on nothing but their fists. Pietro knocked down a guy and turned just in time to see Clint crumple to the floor, unconscious.

"Clint!"

Pietro ran to his side, completely forgetting that he was still surrounded by enemies. He didn't even see the metal bat aiming right for his head.