Thanks for reading and reviewing. I had some extra time tonight so I polished up this chapter and decided to post it. Its short but sets up the rest of the story.

Oh, and I guess I should revise my note about high school students. If you're in high school you probably shouldn't be reading this as its rated M! :)

Chapter 3

That evening Clint met Natasha on the deck of the carrier, as they got ready to board a quinjet on their way back to the city. She seemed a bit distracted and gave him a quick smile before boarding the jet in front of him. Clint called out a brief greeting to the pilot, taking a quick glance to see who it was but not recognizing them for the aviator glasses and black cap, he would have preferred to pilot himself but there wasn't really abundant parking for jets in New York City.

Clint sat in his seat and began buckling himself in as he turned to Natasha to see her buckling her seat belt in when as the hatch closed. His question about what Natasha had to see Bruce about was on the tip of his tongue before he stopped. The hairs on the back on his neck stood up as he felt a sense of uneasiness hit him. The doors were closing and no one else was boarding which was unusual because other senior members of the organization often left for the weekend as well. Clint felt a sense of uneasiness hit him, something was off and as he turned to Natasha, he could tell she felt it too.

"Clint, I think-"she started but was cut off by a loud hissing sound. They both looked up as the cabin began to fill up with smoke. The last thing he remembered before passing out was staring into Natasha's panic stricken eyes.

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Pain, that was the first thing he felt as he blinked open his eyes. His mouth was gritty and his throat was dry. He groaned as he struggled to sit up amidst the pounding headache he had.

"Clint." He heard a voice say. He groaned again. "Clint!" The voice was more insistent now.

"Nat?" He tried to sit up again and then realized his hands were tied behind him. He rolled over on his back and used his ab muscles to bring himself into a sitting position. The room they were in was dim but he could make out stone walls and cell bars. He searched around for Natasha and saw her sitting against the wall, knees drawn to her chest and hands bound in front of her. She didn't seem to be hurt or scared, in fact, she seemed a little pissed off. He asked anyway, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, besides the fact that I feel like my skull could split open any second now and," she lifted her hands in front of her, "I'm tied up but I'm fine."

He started shifting his hands trying to slip the restraints but they wouldn't budge.

"Don't bother, I already tried," Natasha said. He mashed his eyes shut, "Are you okay?"

"Major headache, but fine. Where are we?" He scooted towards her.

She shook her head, "I don't know, the last thing I remember is boarding the jet."

"It was some kind of gas, that knocked us out. I remember that after we boarded."

"Someone compromised SHIELD security?"

"Or it was an inside job."

"Who would do that? Stark beefed up security, the last time someone breached it…"

"Was me." Clint finished.

"Now, now, Agent Barton, you can't really take all the credit for that."

They both looked up as they heard the familiar voice. Clint stiffened in terror as Natasha gasped his name, "Loki."