Chapter 9: The Obligatory Car Chase Scene

Pietro groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. His head throbbed, and he was pretty sure he had both a concussion and a lump the size of a baseball. He opened his eyes.

"Aw shit."

He was in the back of a van with blacked out windows, tied up back to back with Clint. There were three men sitting around in the back of the van with them, one sitting shotgun, and the driver of course. The rumble of the engine and jostling of movement told him they were probably speeding down a busy road, headed off to god knows where.

"Pietro? You awake?" Clint asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Pietro replied. "Are you okay?"

"Apart from being kidnapped yet again? Yeah. You?"

"About the same."

"Hey," said one of the men standing guard. "You two shut up."

"Or what?" Pietro said.

He could practically hear Clint rolling his eyes.

"Or I'll knock you on the head again," the man said, fingering the handle of the metal bat at his side.

"Fair enough," said Pietro.

"Our boss is gonna be thrilled when we bring you two to her," one of the other men said. "Blowing you up would've been pleasure enough, I'm sure, but I know she'd have a lot more fun killing you herself."

Pietro's heart skipped a beat. The gala. The bomb. Natasha. Had she managed to disable the bomb in time? Or had she and all the party guests been blown to kingdom come? He could tell from the sudden tension in Clint's shoulders that he was thinking the exact same thing, but neither of them dared to ask. Suddenly, the whole van jolted forward violently.

"What the fuck was that?" one of the men demanded.

"We've got company," the driver replied, gritting his teeth and slamming on the gas.

Pietro looked over his shoulder at Clint.

"Natasha," Clint said, grinning.

There was a gunshot and the sound of shattering glass as the driver's side mirror was blasted off the side of the car. Pietro grinned as the men guarding them turned their attention to their weapons and glanced around for something they could use to cut themselves free. A glint of metal caught his eye and he noticed a knife in a toolbox just a little out of his reach. He made to scoot toward it just as Clint tried to move the opposite direction.

"Dammit, Clint, what are you doing?" he grumbled as the ropes dug into his arms.

"Trying to get that box of nails so we can cut these ropes," said Clint. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get that knife to do the same thing," said Pietro.

"Oh. Well. Yours is better. You lead."

"Okay, on three," Pietro said. "One, two, three."

They started inching along toward the toolbox. Pietro could nearly reach it with his feet when something collided with the side of the van, throwing them onto their sides. The toolbox toppled over, spilling its contents everywhere. The knife skittered across the floor toward Pietro's face and he just barely caught the handle between his teeth.

Shit. Now what?

"Did you get it?" Clint asked.

"Err... kinda," Pietro replied.

"...It's in your mouth, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

"Brilliant."

Pietro rolled his eyes. He tried for about three seconds to figure out what to do next before giving up and letting the knife drop to the floor again.

"Fuck it, I'm doing this the hard way," he muttered.

"The hard way?" Clint echoed. "What's the hard way? Pietro, what are you doing?"

Pietro didn't bother answering, focusing instead on trying to wriggle his way out of the ropes. Or at least just one arm so he could actually use the knife. After about half a minute of struggling, he gave up again and growled in frustration.

"Clint, you're the master spy here, you should know how to get yourself untied," he said impatiently.

"Yeah, I do, but usually I'm not tied to the squirmiest man in existence," Clint said.

"...Sorry..."

"It's whatever, I just got my feet untied."

"What good is that gonna do?"

"Not much. Have you still got the knife nearby?"

"Yeah, it's right by my face."

"Okay, we're gonna try and move so we can maybe catch the rope on the blade and maybe slice through a few layers so we can break free," said Clint. "And hope we don't stab ourselves in the process."

"Great plan. Really foolproof," said Pietro sarcastically.

"Shut up, like you've got a better one."

Pietro couldn't argue with that. He scooted toward the knife, holding his breath as though that would make him impervious to stabbing, and tried to do what Clint suggested, but every time he got close the knife would spin away.

"It's not working," he said. "Wait, hang on, I have an idea."

He moved just a little farther so that the knife was closer to where his hand was pinned to his side. He reached with his fingertips and inched the knife toward him until he was able to grab it.

"Aha!" he exclaimed.

"Did you cut it?" Clint asked.

"No, but I got the knife."

Readjusting his grip on the handle, Pietro began to saw away at the rope. The angle was horrible and made his wrist ache, but he ignored it and forced himself to keep going until finally he broke through. He dropped the knife and quickly worked his way out of the tangle of rope, then grabbed the knife again to slice the rope around his ankles. He and Clint both got to their feet and burst into action.

Clint dove into the front seat and knocked the man riding shotgun unconscious on the dashboard, then kicked the driver straight out the door and into the street. He hopped into the driver's seat and took the wheel. Pietro ran at the other three men, taking the first two out before they even knew what hit them. The third man was ready for him and raised his gun, firing three shots that Pietro dodged with ease. Pietro noticed Clint watching nervously in the rearview mirror.

"Eyes on the road, old man!" he said, taking the gun from the man and tossing it over his shoulder.

"If you weren't getting shot at, it would be easier to focus," Clint said.

"Just get us out of this damn van," said Pietro.

"You want out of the van? Okay, we'll get out," said Clint. "I'm pulling up alongside Nat's car. Open the sliding door and jump out, then get in the backseat and leave the door open. I'll join you once you're clear."

"What are you gonna do?" Pietro asked.

"You'll see."

Pietro slammed the man into the wall of the van. The man crumpled to the floor and groaned. Pietro turned away and slid open the left passenger door. Natasha's corvette was racing alongside them, dented in several places from hitting the van.

"See you in a minute," Pietro said to Clint.

Then he hopped out onto the road. It was barely any effort for him to keep up with the corvette and climb into the back seat.

"Thanks for the lift," he said brightly as he slid into the seat behind Natasha.

"You just gonna leave that door wide open?" Natasha said.

"Clint told me to."

"Fuck, not again."

"What?"

"I know what he's gonna try," said Natasha. "And last time he broke his leg, his arm, and his tailbone and was unconscious for three days."

"What?!"

Pietro turned frantically back toward the van to see that the driver's door was open and Clint was perched on the edge of the seat, hanging halfway out the door while still driving. Pietro glanced ahead. Clint was aiming the van straight for the huge cement pillar of an overpass. He had probably a five second window before he crashed. If he didn't jump soon...

"Shit," Pietro said. "Shit shit shit. I can't watch, I can't..."

Clint jumped. He just barely managed to grab the door of Natasha's car, which swung inward. He ducked inside and Pietro lunged forward to pull him onto the seat as the door slammed shut, narrowly avoiding crushing Clint's fingers. A second later, the van careened into the pillar and burst into flame. Natasha sped past the explosion and up the onramp to the freeway.

"Dammit, Clint, I thought I told you never to try that stunt again," Natasha scolded.

"Well, it was broken bones or death," said Clint. "Looks like I escaped with neither."

"You're still a fucking idiot," Pietro said.

"Ah, gimme a break, guys, I've been kidnapped twice in one week," Clint said. "I need a nap. And pizza."

"I'm assuming since you lived to save our asses that you stopped the bomb," Pietro said.

"Yes, I did," Natasha replied. "But I had to fight off a few more of Stormfields' cronies since you two didn't finish them off like I told you to."

"Sorry, Nat, we were busy getting concussed and tied up in a van," said Clint.

"You're really milking this whole kidnapped thing," said Pietro.

"Well, how else am I gonna get a nap around here?"