The feeling of the earth underneath his feet again prompted Clint to slowly open his eyes. He hadn't realized that he had squeezed them shut. Taking in a slow breath, Clint forced himself to be alert and take in information about his surroundings. The rising sun spilled light across the rocks, playing with the shadows. He was on the other side of the mountain range, facing an ominous hole in the cliff face that seemed to lead to a cavern. He had been in the valley with Natasha… chasing after this guy… a quick glance up revealed that the man with the metal arm still stood near him, apparently waiting for the paralyzing effects of whatever that light had been to wear off. "I can't move either," Clint observed absently. "I really hope Nat found the supplies in that bag. I'll never hear the end of it if she thinks I just abandoned her."
Movement from the man with the metal arm snapped Clint's wandering thoughts back to the situation at hand. He felt pins and needles as feeling began to spread back into his limbs, and the man with the metal arm succeeded in taking a few steps. Clint groaned. It would be much more convenient if the guy would just stay paralyzed. Moments later, Clint succeeded in taking his own steps away from the man, strength surging back into his extremities. The metal armed man turned to look at him, and when their eyes met Clint felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He noticed for the first time that the man's eyes were an unnaturally blue color, almost as if they were glowing. Clint braced himself for an attack, his heart beating furiously as the image of Natasha bleeding on the ground pushed itself into his mind.
The man's gaze lingered, but he made no move towards Clint. Instead, he turned and headed into the mouth of the cave. The surge of adrenaline that had pulsed through Clint suddenly had nowhere to go, leaving him feeling sick on his stomach. "Or maybe that's just the gut feeling that this is a trap." he told himself. His wariness, however, was overruled by his anger at being ignored by this guy. He walked cautiously over to the cavern's entrance, glaring at the retreating figure. "Hey!" he yelled out, his voice hoarse. "You can't just walk away from this!"
Apparently, he could, because the man gave no indication that he was listening as he continued into the cave. Clint muttered under his breath. Yelling wasn't going to be effective, which was just as well because his throat still hurt. Reaching behind him, Clint's fingers brushed the shaft of one last arrow. Unhooking his bow and holding it tight, he placed the arrow gently onto the string. Eyes narrowed, he began following the metal armed man down into the abyss.
The tunnel began to twist, offering more turns the farther they went. The darkness saturated the walls and roof of the cavern path, and Clint had to rely on the sound of the footsteps ahead of him to know that he wasn't wandering off. This trek continued for a while, a thin layer of sweat accumulating on Clint's brow as he concentrated on where he was going. At last, the tunnel took one final sharp turn to the left and ended, the light at the end of it coming from an underground room which gave off a feeling that was nothing short of sinister. The irony of the situation was not lost on Clint. The metal armed man had disappeared from in front of him. Taking one last steadying deep breath, he pulled his arrow taut and entered the room, his eyes scanning every corner before finally landing on a new figure- a man with black hair and green robes. "Who are you?" Clint demanded, bow held in a defensive position.
The robed figure rose and strode through the dimly lit room towards Clint. "Who I am is none of your concern," his low voice spoke as he circled Clint the way vultures circle a possible meal. "Who you are is of much more importance." his mouth twisted into a wicked smirk as he stopped just short of the tip of Clint's still drawn arrow. The devilish grin widened as his eyes lingered on the eagle-shaped crested embossed on his quiver.
A tremor ran down Clint's arm, a side effect of keeping his arrow straight and the string of his bow pulled tight. He stared at the newcomer boldly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's not how this goes," he said. "I try to make it a habit not to reveal any secrets to creepy robed guys in underground caves."
"No matter," the man said. "I already know your one secret that matters for now, the rest can be revealed in time."
Clint was confused, which made him annoyed. "Look. I didn't come here for you. A man with a metal arm came in this way," he explained tersely. "He hurt someone important to me and I'm going to find him. If you stay here, fine. But if you get in my way…" he adjusted the arrow to hover over the man's heart. "I will shoot you. Clear?"
The man smiled and raised his hands defensively, "My sincerest apologies. It was not my intention for my servant Barnes to hurt your partner." He slowly reached behind his back and grabbed a strange staff with a stone that glowed bright blue. "You see, I ordered him to capture a member of this "Order of the Shield" and kill the any others that followed. I suppose it matters not as, with a wound like that, your partner's death will come soon enough," he spoke as his lips stretched into a wicked smile.
Anger flared up in Clint's chest like a flame, making his blood boil. His knuckles turned white as he kept his strained hold on his bow, still aimed at the man's heart. "Shut. Your. Mouth." Clint hissed at him through clenched teeth. Another tremor ran down his arm, almost making him release his hold. He couldn't keep this up much longer. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, to the point. Clint really didn't want to kill the man, at least not until he had figured out what business he had with the Order of the Shield, but he also didn't want to keep him talking for so long that his arm gave out and he ended up being the one killed.
The man snickered as he looked down at the quivering arrow. "I really do not see what all the fuss is about. If I was going to kill you," his words faded as he disappeared in flash. "You would already be dead," he whispered into Clint's ear from right behind him.
Clint shuddered, turning on his heel and leveling his arrow to fire in one smooth motion. The action was short lived, however, as the man swiftly wrenched the bow from his grasp and twisted his strained arm painfully behind his back. Wincing, Clint tried to focus his senses on his attacker's movements, but the dull throbbing of his bruised throat and the uncomfortable fluttering of panic that bloomed in his chest made it nearly impossible. The man gave a smirk as he assessed the situation, bringing his staff closer and tapping the center of Clint's chest with it's pointed tip.
Immediately, Clint knew something was wrong. The man released his arm, but Clint had no urge to run. "This… this is bad. Very bad. Very….bad." his mind was becoming sluggish, The world slowly became tinted blue. "A calming color," Clint thought blurrily. As if in response, all of his instincts to fight left him, his heart rate going back to normal. The wide grin of the man with the staff was the only thing Clint remembered before his mind was no longer his own.