A/N: Hey look! Chapter titles!
"Tasha now!"
On top of the elevator, Natasha clicked her radio to channel 7 and held down the call button. The muffled roar of the blast echoed up the elevator shaft as the grenade ignited, destroying the control relays. The elevator lurched down then ground to a halt as the emergency breaks engaged, trapping it between floors.
Clint twisted on his hip and wasted no time kicking out as many legs as he could reach. Natasha pulled open the emergency hatch and flipped down into the elevator. With her hands still clinging the rim of the hatch, she wrapped her legs around the nearest guard's neck and chocked him out. The next one she sent spinning into his neighbor, then let go, following their momentum and slamming them into the grimy metal wall.
Clint flipped himself up into the fray. He grabbed on to the nearest man's vest and smashed his forehead into his own. The man reeled back and then wound up to strike. He landed a heavy punch to Clint's stomach. Clint drove his knee into the man's diaphragm and crashed a fist into the side of his head. Another guard jumped onto Clint's back. Clint looped his hand around the guard's calf and grabbed onto his opposite wrist as he flipped him over onto the floor.
Suddenly, the unmistakeable clap of a gunshot rang out in the tiny metal room. Clint and Natasha threw their bodies to the ground. The bullet ricocheted around the elevator, grazing one guard's arm and burying itself in the light on the ceiling. The plastic splintered and sparks rained down in the center of the room.
"Are you stupid?" One of the other two remaining guards cried at the one who had fired the gun. He grabbed him angrily by the shirt. "This is a metal box, you idiot! You could have gotten us all killed!"
Clint looked over at Natasha as the two guards duked it out. She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. In sync, they each struck one of the bickering guards over the head, sending them both cascading to the ground. The final guard tucked the precious container in one corner and stood before it, gun draw.
"Don't move!"
"Really?" Clint replied. "You're going to risk taking yourself out with us? How heroic."
"I'm warning you!" he screamed, brandishing the gun.
As Clint continued to taunt the guard, Natasha launched herself up on the wall. She ran up and bounded down from the corner, crashing down on the man's spine and dragging him to the ground.
Clint offered Natasha a hand as she took it. "Well, that could have gone worse," Clint said.
"We're not out of the woods yet," Natasha puffed. She stood bent over bracing her hands on her thighs as she drew in short, rapid breaths.
"You alright?"
She gave him a little smile. "It's been a while." She straightened up. "Now come on, let's get out of here. Give me a boost?"
Clint interlaced his fingers and boosted Natasha up to the trapdoor. She pulled herself onto the roof of the elevator then extended her hands back down. Clint handed up the case and she slid it carefully beside her. She reached her hand down again and braced her arm and Clint pulled himself up to join her.
"So," he said as they both stood looking up at the elevator cables rising before them.
"So," Natasha replied. "This plan seemed so much better twenty minutes ago.
"Can you make it?"
She brushed him off. "I'm fine. Let's go."
"How do you want to do this?"
"Pass me the knife." Natasha took the blade and severed the hem of her dress, cutting the strip of sparkling fabric into two equal pieces. She bent down and looped one of the strips through one of the cases's two handles then tied a slip knot around Clint's ankle. "What happened to your shoes?"
"It's a long story."
"I don't even want to know."
"What? Why not? You might actually be impressed. I was up on the ceiling and there was this hot water pipe and -"
With the other length of cloth, she tied the other handle to her own foot. "Congratulations MacGyver, now can we get a move on?"
They each selected one of the eight cables racing up from the center of the elevator and began to climb. The slip knots choked around their ankles as the case lifted off the ground. Their hands grated into the steel cables as they climbed.
"Seriously, a bunch of guys were shooting at me and I even used your dangling leg choke thing."
"My what?"
"You know, that thing where you dandle and choke people out with your legs. You just did it."
"Shut up and focus."
Clint quieted and turned his attention back to the climb. His thick muscular arms pulled him up with relative ease, although the cable bit painfully into his palms. Their feet dangled precariously over the growing distance before the elevator roof, weighted down by the case suspended between them. Clint paused to allow Natasha to make up the few feet she lagged behind.
"What?" she spat when she reached his eye level.
"Tasha, I'm sorry."
"For. . ?"
"I made a mistake."
"Yeah, I know. We both did."
"No, I mean I made the mistake. I got sloppy. If I hadn't given you that picture then maybe -"
"Maybe something worse would have happened."
"Always the optimist. But Natasha, you were right. You said this would happen and I didn't believe you. I -"
"No, I wasn't."
"How can you -"
"Clint stop! Please, okay. I can't do this right now."
"Are you alright?"
"No! No I'm not alright. I'm on my last legs, and if I plummet to my death, I'm taking you with me." She swung her leg, making the yellow case shake between them. "Even if we make it up to the fourth floor, we'll still be in the middle of a tinder box with no escape plan! So can we please just stop talking and try to make it out of here alive."
She gritted her teeth and continued climbing. Clint hung his head and followed.
By the time they reached the top of the shaft, Clint could feel his arms jittering dangerously. As Natasha looked over to the open door leading to the conference room, Clint could see her arms and shoulders fighting to keep still. Without speaking, he climbed as high at the case would allow him, then swung horizontally over to the cable nearest the shaft. "Ready?"
"Just do it."
Clint swung back and forth to gather a little momentum. On his final swing, he touched the soles of his feet to the cable and tried to push off. His burnt foot slipped, but his hands were already in the air. Clint flew awkwardly toward the open door. His heart pounded as he watched the elevator shaft pass below him. His vision filled with lines and angles, continually adjusting to match his movement. A second before he touched down, Clint breathed a sigh of relief as the vectors in his mind predicted his path of motion. Clint touched down and immediately tumbled over in a summersault to break him fall. Not a perfect jump, but at least I -
A scream pieced through his train of thought. As Clint rolled away from the shaft, the case bound between them had ripped Natasha's ankle out from under her. She hung face-down in the shaft, staring at the hard metal elevator box waiting for her almost two stories below. Natasha could feel the blood rushing to her face. At least she was upside down so Clint couldn't see that her heart was about to fall out of her mouth. She turned her shoulder to look back at him with wide, petrified eyes. The sparkling dress hem groaned and frayed, threatening to let go at the next movement. "Clint!" she screamed.
Clint instinctually took a step forward. The case slid closer to the shaft and Natasha's body lurched forward. He stepped back and the fabric tie frayed further. Natasha's hands slid desperately along the walls as she panicked to find a grip on the smooth concrete. "Tasha? I'm sorry."
She didn't get a chance to reply before Clint wrenched his foot backward. The fabric snapped and Natasha fell forward. Her whole body jarred painfully as a hand caught her ankle. Clint hauled her up to her feet.
Natasha stared blankly at his face. With one fist trembling from strain and adrenaline, she landed a punch to his jaw. Clint reeled back and massaged his face. "I suppose an argument could be made that I deserved that."
"It's not funny!" said Natasha as she slumped down beneath the control panel. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath and calm her nerves. She rested her head on her knees and thought she might immediately fall asleep. "What the hell happened tonight Clint? I've never made so many mistakes. . ."
Clint eyed the blind-covered glass walls. "I have a feeling we're about to make a few more."
Two battered guards turned the knob and cautiously entered the conference room. Their eyes flicked around to the open elevator, the smashed picture frame, the two wooden panels leaning against the conference table. Suddenly, the closest panel shot forward. It smashed into the closer man's nose and he cried out as blood dripped from his face. The windows shattered as the other guard fired into the room. Natasha sprung out from beneath the table and landed on the underside of the thick wooden wall piece, crushing the man beneath into silence. "They're here! They're here!" the second guard yelled as he turned and ran down the hall. Clint buried a bullet in his back.
The musical click of a radio broke the silence that followed. "We've got them. Fourth floor conference room moving east."
Natasha looked up a Clint. "We're made."
Clint loosened the slip knot from his ankle and tightened it over his wrist. He loaded a new magazine into his gun, then grabbed the case's plastic handle with his free hand. Natasha grabbed the other and they took off down the hallway.
"This is my last clip," said Clint.
"Maybe not." Natasha ducked into her office through the broken door.
"They really did a number on this place. What makes you think anything's still here?"
"I passed this on my way up." She ran her finger along an ugly split in her desk. "They found the one I left for them to find." Natasha righted her desk chair, ripped off the seat cushion and pulled out a small black handgun.
"That's all you've got?"
"I wasn't exactly anticipating this scenario," she said. Natasha tossed the gun to Clint and he tucked in behind his back. "Use it wisely."
They made for the door, but Clint held up his hand to stop them. He peered through the splintered crack left between the broken hinges. As the nearest guard stepped over the threshold, Clint slammed the door hard against his face. He then ripped it open and punched him hard in the gut. Natasha tore the rubber bottom off of her desk stapler and shook out the sand weighing it down inside. She threw the sand grains into the next guard's eyes, then swiped a long shard of glass off the floor and tossed it like a knife into his neck as he staggered backward trying to clear his vision.
"Hostiles are on the fourth floor, currently inside Charlotte Welch's office," the remaining man whispered nervously into his radio as he scanned the walls around him.
Natasha nodded. Clint knelt down and she slid out into the hall as the last guard approached. The man's foot caught on the case suspended between them and he tumbled to the tiled floor.
"Let's get out of here," said Natasha. They adjusted their grip on the case and sprinted down the hall toward the stairwell. Clint threw open the door and immediately slammed it shut again as a swarm of guards charged toward them. Bloodied, disheveled men burst out of the stairwell, shouting insults and rallying cries. Several of the guards Clint and Natasha had just taken down rose and joined their comrades in the main hall. The man Natasha had launched the wooden panel at led the pack, his blood-stained nose off hideously to one side. The guards formed semi-circular ring around them, forcing Clint and Natasha back to the end of the hall. Their backs hit the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window over looking the river. Between the black river water and the cloudy night sky, the window only reflected the wicked, vengeful sneers drawn across the guards' crooked faces.
"What's happening?" Clint asked when the guards failed to make a move.
"They're waiting for András to make the call."
Clint glanced over his shoulder. "Tasha, we've got to jump."
She felt like her heart had stopped in her chest. "What?" she squeaked, not bothering to hide the panic in her voice. "Are you insane? Clint, we can't. I can't."
He looked over at her face, cold and clammy with fear. "Look at this. Look at them." Guards continued to arrive, strengthening the semi-circle to three, four, five rows deep. "You said yourself you were running out of steam. I'm not much better off. Tasha, we can't fight them all."
Natasha turned and glanced down at the churning black water four stories below. She felt like throwing up. "And if we hit the rocks?"
"Then at least maybe the current will sweep away the case before the Szabos can get to it," said Clint. The stairwell door squeaked open around the corner. Heavy steps echoed off the tile. "We're running out of time, Natasha, please."
"I . . ." Every strand of muscle in her body screamed at her to fight it, but Natasha leaned her head against the glass and nodded. "What's the plan?"
The wall of guards parted down the center as András Szabo strode to the front. He shook his head. "You two just do not give up, do you? Well you've caused me enough headaches tonight, and I'm all out of patience. So allow me to end this right here." András stuck out his hand and one of the nearest guards handed over his weapon. "Make this easier on yourselves and stand still."
"Okay, okay," said Clint. "We've just got to do this one thing first." He tossed his gun up in the air and Natasha caught it, swinging around shield both of them with the case. Natasha fired off all six shots randomly into and above the crowd. The guards scattered for cover.
András was the first to resume his place in the formation. "Your aim does not leave me impressed."
"Who said I missed?" said Natasha. András's eyes widened as he noticed the web of cracks splintering out on the window behind them. As Natasha fired into at the guards, Clint had pulled the small black pistol from under his jacket. Each of her shots he matched, aiming one after the other at the same point on the thick pane behind him.
Clint took a deep breath. "Feet first, stay as straight as possible."
"Stop them!" András yelled as Clint and Natasha charged backward at the window. The glass shattered around them and they fell backward out of the building, gripping the case tightly between them.
András shouted and shot at them as they sped toward the river. "Nooooo!" he screamed, then kicked at the wall. "Get me István. We have a problem to solve."