She woke disoriented, with a raw aching in her head like she'd been hit by a bus. She groaned, rolling onto her side and shutting her eyes against the sharp light. Opening her eyes just enough to see though her lashes, she was met with the sight of SHIELD's operative sitting on the floor dismantling and cleaning a sniper rifle.
Great. This was just what she needed.
"You must be the worst assassin in the history of the profession."
He laughed at her without even looking up. "Says the woman who's made more amateur mistakes than a housewife playing spy over the last few weeks and is now handcuffed to a bed in a shitty motel at the mercy of an enemy operative." The sass in his tone made her want to break his nose. He met her gaze, raising his eyebrows at her and giving her the most egotistical fucking smile she'd ever laid eyes on. She could work with that.
"Who says they were mistakes?" she said cocking an eyebrow at him, she could still salvage this.
"You lookin to defect?" this might be too easy.
"Maybe…" she replied tentatively, putting just enough uncertainty, regret, and a touch of fear into her voice to be convincing. His eyes lit up at the prospect of bringing her in.
Hook.
"Man, can you imagine that look on my bosses face if I turned you and brought you in?" arrogant prick.
Line.
His face suddenly dropped and he rolled his eyes at her. "Yeah right." He scoffed at her, shoving his now assembled rifle into a duffle and moving it out of the way.
She always hated fishing analogies anyway.
He wasn't as dumb as he looked.
And God her head hurt!
Stifling a groan, she let her head fall back against the pillow and brought an arm up to cover her eyes as best she could while awkwardly handcuffed. Taking deep breaths to soothe the pain and she listened carefully as he moved around the room checking and packing his gear.
"You know, I'm starting to think this was some grand ploy to fake the death of the fearsome Black Widow. To what end, I don't know. It wouldn't be terribly difficult. It's not like we have a picture her. Leave a trail, hard enough not to be too obvious, but easy enough that any agent worth their salt could probably pick it up." He was thinking aloud, charming. "Then put a pretty red head in place. Give her the Widow's poison for a positive ID, well…it's at least enough to satisfy some people. Give her an assignment to keep her busy. Then bang. The world thinks she dead."
She almost wanted to laugh at him, he sounded like he thought he had it all figured out.
"You really think I'm pretty?"
He ignored her, "Naw, that's not it…" he said pensively.
She heard him snap something open and uncovered her eyes just long enough to see him holding a masterfully crafted bow in his hands, carefully…no…lovingly polishing it. He wasn't an inept baby assassin after all. She knew exactly who he was.
Just. Fucking. Great.
"You could be trying to infiltrate SHIELD, or I suppose you could be actually trying to defect, but let's admit it, who the hell would be stupid enough to take you in?"
God he liked the sound of his own voice didn't he? She just wanted to punch him.
The bed dipped next to her as his weight settled down next to her. She had to stifle a pleased smirk as she uncovered her eyes to look up at him.
"I gotta admit, it's a pretty elaborate way to get yourself killed. Suicide by trained assassin, that's gotta be a new one." Great. A bleeding heart. Just what she needed.
She propped herself up on her elbow, scooting her butt back to make it easier to sit up and leveled a glare at him. He laughed at her as if she were some harmless chained animal; but he too was close, leaning over her to look her in the eye like he had all the answers.
Her head connected with his nose giving a satisfying crack and sending him sprawling on the floor, cursing the whole way down. The pain and stars in front of her own eyes were less satisfying, but entirely worth it.
Pulling herself together quickly, she drew a pin from her hair and made quick work of the cuffs. For some reason men never thought to check a woman for hairpins, especially if their hair was down.
He recovered quickly, and made a grab for his quiver, but she was already on him, knocking him back onto the ground.
He got enough leverage to get on top so she sank her teeth into his arm and drew blood. The panic in his eyes as he realized he hadn't wiped off her lipstick while she was unconscious was enough for her to turn the tables. She had him trapped beneath her body and drew his own knife on him, placing it against his exposed throat.
He gave in, staring up at her hopelessly and probably cursing his own stupidity. The look in his eyes told her he undoubtedly thought he was dying. She wasn't actually wearing poisoned lipstick, but she laughed cruelly just to encourage the idea. Asshole.
She was just going to knock him out and leave, but then there was the distinct sound of a bullet being audibly chambered just outside of the door. They both tensed, sharing a surprised look.
Before she could make up her mind, she was unexpectedly lying flat on her back. The guy had flipped her over and covered her with his own body just as storm of bullets began to rain down.