Holy crap I love you guys!

As promised, the next chapter! Enjoy :)

This is bad.

The world had tilted upside-down and the air was thick with smoke and dirt that had him hacking and coughing. Ears ringing and disoriented, he almost didn't react fast enough when a slight figure appeared though the smoke and launched a kick at his face. He dodged out of the way and swept a leg at his attacker's feet, throwing the deadly brunette to the ground. Without a doubt this was the red room operative who had helped to kidnap him and Natasha in Sao Paulo.

She growled at him in a fashion similar to Natasha when he backed her into a corner during a fight, and aimed a dangerous high heel at very unfortunate part of Clint's anatomy. Seriously! Who the hell wears high heels like that when they are infiltrating an enemy base? He caught her foot just in time, the stiletto dug painfully into his palm, but it was a lot better than the other option. He didn't have time to be relived however, because she deftly pulled her foot from the shoe and nailed her target.

"-oof."

Bitch seemed to like that move, he hadn't forgotten about their little tussle in Brazil. "Fucking hell." He managed to squeak out. Her shoe still in hand, he whipped her across the face, opening a gash on her pretty little face. She threw herself at him, biting and scratching, using every little dirty trick in the book to gain the upper hand, while Clint fended her with a shoe.

He stuck her in her wounded shoulder, digging the heel into it, and then lashed out with a well place kick to her knee that brought to down. She howled in anger when he managed to grab a handful of hair and slammed her face first into the unforgiving concrete wall with all his might.

She sputtered, spitting out blood and bits of teeth and tried ineffectively to pull herself to her feet. He stood over her, gasping for breath in the polluted air.

Clint has had to fight and kill women before, it came with the job, but he'd never taken pleasure in it and tried to avoid unnecessary brutality. Right now though, he couldn't help the satisfaction he got from seeing this woman, who had probably just killed and injured a lot of hard working men and women, fumble around bloodied and dazed from the harsh blow he'd dealt. He had neither patience nor compassion left in him at the moment for her.

How the fuck had she even gotten into the base?

There would be plenty of time to drag the answers out her later, right now every fiber of his being was screaming at the moment he needed to get to Natasha. He needed to make sure she was okay.

Crouched in a nearby doorway a junior agent, Gomez he recalled, was staring at him wide-eyed; barely managing to contain her terror. The first time in an actual battle always sucked, and being taken by surprise only made it worse. A response team in full tactical gear poured into the corridor and he gave Gomez a brief, reassuring smile before returning his attention to the Natasha wannabe.

He turned to find her smiling up at him like a bloodied Cheshire cat.

Oh shit.

In the field, making assumptions could get you killed. He'd missed something, and by the time his brain caught up with the situation, it was too late. He'd already allowed them to get too close and the butt of an assault rifle collided with the back of his head, knocking him to his knees.

"Sir!" Gomez cried out, snapping out of her shock and suddenly on her feet. She attacked the man nearest to her, surprising him and jabbing the heel of her hand hard into his nose. She was a promising agent and an excellent fighter, but very few experienced agents were capable of taking on a heavily armed six man team alone. By the time she moved on to her next target, four guns were aimed and ready to shred her to pieces.

Fuck.

Clint shoved his shoulder into the nearest guy, knocking him off balance while his attention was focused on Gómez, and flung himself at the junior agent. He scrambled to pull her around the nearest corner as the women shouted and the men to open fire on them.

Hot lead slammed into the back of his thigh, but they managed to get to cover in one piece. Next to him Gómez hissed, pressing her hand into her side where she'd been hit. The gunfire ceased while, and Clint peeked quickly around the corner. They were cautiously creeping closer, moving in for the kill.

Quickly, Clint took stock of the situation. Neither one of them had a gun; he'd lost his in the explosion and Gómez, in her sweats was off duty and unarmed. To his left, the corridor had collapse in the blast, cutting off their exit. To his right was a hall that was unobstructed, but to get to it they would have to leave their cover and rick getting shot. Judging by the way Gómez was leaning heavily into his shoulder, she was going into shock and he would have to drag her across the hall.

Fuck.

He hated the feeling of being a sitting duck. He steeled himself to take them on hand to hand as they came around the corner. Outnumbered and wounded, this was going to suck balls.

Thankfully, he was saved from attempting the impossible as the real cavalry arrived; opening fire and forcing the intruders to beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. When bullets stopped and the smoke cleared, one SHIELD agent was down for the count and two of the Russians had gotten away. Four were dead and the woman had been left behind, her injuries preventing her from fleeing with her teammates. So much for no man left behind.

"Clear!"

"Sir! Are you all right?" an agent appeared at his side, pulling out a pressure bandage as he took notice of Clint's injuries.

"No, help her." he jerked his head toward Gómez and took the bandage to wrap his leg himself.

"Sit rep. How bad is it?"

"Not sure yet sir."

really fucking bad.

Clint let out a frustrated sigh, curing under his breather in ever language he could manage.

"Alright, get these two to medical now. Make sure that one," he nodded toward the Russian woman, "is secure. Check and double check, make sure she hasn't got any nasty little toys on her."

"Yes sir!"

"And someone give me a fucking gun!" a side arm and an extra magazine were hastily placed on his waiting hand.

Taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth, Clint forced his body to walk briskly in the direction of the nearest stairwell that would take him three flours down to the gym where Natasha was likely to be. He could swing by the armory on the way and grab a bow, it wouldn't be his bow but he was far more comfortable with a bow than a gun.

I bet you all are dying to know what going to happen to Natasha. Will Clint get there in time? what other nasty surprise are in store?

Stay tuned to find out! And don't forget to review and encourage me to write faster!