Disclaimer: I do not own "The Avengers" or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works. I do not claim any of the directly quoted lines from "The Avengers" as my own, they belong to Marvel and the writers.The cover art came from a google search with the original source being pinterest where it was credited to Anthony Genuardi.
Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism, remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
Special thanks to all who reviewed Chapter One: jrbarton, batghost, well done you, faithfreedom, hawkeye-mockingwidow, LostHawk, The Spoiled Duchess, Wolfsdrache, ClintandNatasha, Cello06, pengineer, GremlinX, manusoccer, jaguarspot, Kylen, CyanB, RAGAnne, BatmanOtaku, Sandy-wmd, weathergirl17248, animexluva13, truefairytales, yevguine, BooksAreMedicine, moi1992, J loves JS, Lona Beth Undorina, MoonCheesy, Zoeff, CallToMuster, Qweb, wickie4, quiet-raindrop, burningupastar, ImaSupernaturalCSI, Gummybear1178, Kait-WIN3, Kirstiej104, ILuvClintasha, Neyite, TheNaggingCube, TheRagingHawk, jensmit75, amanipaz, Ms. Fairweather, discordchick, GreenLoki, Alice of Scots, Natalia Grayson, Sara, Beth, Simplyafan, Autumnights, Viviannafox, R1dDL3M37h15, bookworm1517, thababes, Arlothia, BrieCheese16, Black Betty and Guest x7
Can I just say, seeing the wide array of names in the review list was awesome. There are some of you that have been with me since VANTAGE POINT, where this all started YEARS ago and some names that I'm seeing for the first time and many that have joined us along the way. Thank you to each and every one of you.
The hunt for the title of the song that inspires the chapter titles is on! Guess in a review and you'll get a shout out if you're right!
Continued thanks to my wonderful betas Kylen and JRBarton for their wonderful support and beta-powers throughout this story. Further thanks to JRBarton for acting as my Italian translator :D
Also, thanks to Rain In The Dark who translated the Russian parts of the movie for me so that it'd be accurate and correct.
Now to answer some questions posed in reviews:
to well done you: I suppose the reason Natasha seems tame in my fics compared to some others is because of her mindset in my 'verse. She doesn't WANT to be a feral murderer in the VPU. She wants to be better. She wants to be what she sees Clint as. So she keeps herself tightly controlled. Further, while she's a killer, no doubt, but she's a calculated one. She's smooth and deceptive. I don't know that I'd call her 'docile' per se, but perhaps we haven't seen her at her most ruthless in the VPU yet. While we've gotten a lot of her character in Clint centered stories, we haven't really DELVED into HER character yet...emphasis on the YET. She has her own arc coming in "Germany" and "Love is For Children" in which we'll learn a lot about her past and see her in action a lot more. Thinking back, we've usually only see her WITH Clint right? Not so much on her own? Just like Clint appears more controlled and tame when Phil and Nat are around, the same is true for her. Clint is her center of gravity. He keeps her grounded and focused. Does that make sense?
to Guest number 3: Can I just give you the biggest cyber hug ever? My heart breaks for your loss and I pray your surgery this week goes well. Accept my *hugs* my anonymous friend. You know who you are.
to moi1992: I don't know that our story travels will take us to Sweden, but you never know! Thanks for the offer :D
to J loves JS: I made the dates what I needed them to be to fit into the VPU timeline :D I know that in the MCU the Loki Incident went down at a different time, but I took some creative license so that it worked with the timeline I have for my universe.
to wickie4: *raises champagne glass to you* Here's to 3 years together my friend! Hard to believe it's been that long, isn't it!
to burningupastar: that makes total sense! Thanks for the compliment!
to Natalia Grayson: I don't know when I'll have time to check out your story but I'll try! :D
to Simplyafan: I totally agree! I still enjoy the MCU greatly (Captain America movies anyone? And Iron Man is still gold) but the VPU is totally my canon for Clint, Nat and Phil.
to Viviannafox: there are song lyrics! I just couldn't name the chapter until I'd already published it! You'll see them this chapter ;)
to Arlothia: yeah there's a title for chapter 1 but on this site you can't see it until Chapter 2 goes up, don't ask me why lol
Sorry if I missed anyone :D I forgot to tell you yesterday that this story, as usual, IS COMPLETE and will have DAILY updates ;)
On we go!
Last time in The Untold Stories:
Phil rubbed his face roughly, willing away the emotion that was trying to overwhelm him. He had to focus. He was no good to anyone, especially Clint, if he was an emotional wreck. He had a feeling, Clint was going to need all the help he could get by the end of this.
That thought swiftly brought another. There was someone else that would be vital to saving Clint – to making sure saving him was a priority. Someone who would fight beside him just as fiercely to see their archer safely returned.
He had to find Natasha.
To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.
George Washington
April 11, 2012
12:25 p.m. Local Time (12:25 p.m. NYC)
SHIELD Helicarrier, somewhere over the Atlantic
Phil sighed tiredly, rubbing his face as he moved down the stairs from Fury's office to the main area of the bridge. He stopped behind one of the agent's consoles and gripped the young man's shoulder.
"Did you find her?"
The agent – his nametag read Mills – nodded.
"She's in Russia, Moscow specifically."
"I knew that." Phil sighed. He made it a priority to know at least the country Natasha and Clint were in at all times. But he'd been in New Mexico when she took this assignment and wasn't sure of the specifics. "I was hoping for something a little more exact."
"Well, I pinged her cell…"
"And?" Phil questioned impatiently. He was too tired for this. Too much time had already passed. It had been almost nine and a half hours since Clint was taken and between traveling to the field office in Albuquerque, traveling then to the Helicarrier, helping Fury manage sending out the SHIELD-wide alert to all the bases, and then going into a meeting with Fury, Hill and the Council – which had lasted far too long in his opinion – he hadn't had a spare moment to even pull Natasha's mission file, much less call her.
So he'd assigned the job to Mills in passing as he headed into that meeting. Now, more than an hour later, Director Fury had dismissed him and Hill with marching orders to start bringing in Avengers while he stayed behind and continued to battle with the Council. Before he carried out those orders, though, Phil had unanimously decided that tracking down Natasha, the only real thing he could do for Clint right now, was higher in priority.
"Well, her phone was turned off…"
"Mills." Phil knew he was being impatient, and that his tone reflected that impatience. But he just didn't have the time for this.
"So I pulled up her target's known associates and pinged their phones…"
"Where is she, Mills?"
Mills cleared his throat nervously and pointed at the screen.
"She's in a warehouse in Solensky Plaza. Third floor. Here's the number."
Phil nodded and fished out his cell phone and dialed. Then he waited while it rang, trying not think about how pissed she was going to be that he waited more than nine hours to let her know Clint was missing.
He was more than a little relieved that he was across the world from her right now.
April 11, 2012
8:25 p.m. Local Time (12:25 a.m. NYC)
1-14 Solensky Plaza, Moscow, Russia
Natasha touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth and tasted blood. It wasn't much, but she'd still make Luchkov's goon pay for it before this was over. She looked back at Luchkov when he spoke.
"Не так я ожидал провести этот вечер," (This is not how I expected to spend this evening) he told her with such genuine regret that she had to hold back an eye roll. He thought he was being cute, clever even. More than likely believed that, had their evening not taken this turn, what he "expected" would have actually happened. Natasha knew better. She knew, even if no one else in this warehouse did, that they had ended up exactly where she had planned tonight.
"Я знаю, что вы ожидали." (I know what you expected.) She hoped her disgust showed in her gaze, even if she kept her expression neutral. "Так лучше. Поверьте." (Believe me, this is better.) Clint's penchant for sarcasm had really rubbed off on her. She watched the dig land and Luchkov's expression darkened, the playfulness leaving his tone.
"На кого ты работаешь? На Лермонтова, да?" (Who are you working for? Lermentov, yes?)
Natasha let her eyes widen in what would appear to be real fear as Luchkov's goon leaned her chair back over the gaping hole behind her. The scared little girl act was so easy when it was a man you were trying to fool. The ploy worked, because Luchkov's voice gained arrogance.
"Он всё ещё думает, что мы через него должны толкнуть наш товар?" (Does he think we have to go through him to move our cargo?)
Well, that answered that question. She'd been trying to figure out who was working with Luchkov ever since she'd realized there was more to the story than just Solohob.
God, this was even easier than she'd expected it to be.
She feigned confusion and kept pushing for more.
"Я думала, генерал Сохолоб отвечает за экспорт." (I thought General Solohob was responsible for the export.)
She watched his scoff. She had him.
"Сохолоб? Курьер. Он прикрытие. Твоя устаревшая информация подводит тебя. Знаменитая Чёрная Вдова… оказалось, просто ещё одно красивое личико." (Solohob? He's a courier. He's a cover. Your outdated information fails you. The famous Black Widow…nothing but another pretty face.)
She smirked as more pieces to Luchkov's operation fell into place.
"Вы правда думаете, что я красивая?" (You really think I'm pretty?) She couldn't help it. The sarcastic quip was rolling off her tongue in a purr before she could stop it. Clint would have been proud.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, however, the goon grabbed her jaw and forced it open. She watched Luchkov reach for a tool off the table behind him, recognizing it immediately from her own schooling on torture techniques.
Why did they always go for the teeth? There were so many more effective torture methods. All pulling teeth did was make the victim less inclined to put their jaw through the stress of talking. It was good for inflicting pain, though. But pain had stopped scaring her when she was just a child so it took a bit of effort to force fear into her expression.
She'd gotten too playful, she had to reel them back in and make them think she could be intimidated. There was still more she needed to know.
"Скажи Лермонтову, что он нам не нужен, чтобы толкнуть танки," (Tell Lermentov we don't need him to sell the tank,) he went on. "Скажи ему, он выбыл. Так… You may have to write it down." (Tell him he's out. Well…)
Jesus, really? It wasn't like he was spouting some diabolical master plan that she'd have hard time remembering. The man wasn't worth the effort this was taking – Lermentov and Solohob, though? She still needed more on them. She was plotting how to turn the conversation back in that direction when the sudden ringing of a cell phone cut through the momentary silence that had come over them.
For a moment nobody moved. Nobody appeared to know whose phone was ringing. Then one of Luchkov's thugs seemed to realize it was his. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and answered it.
He blinked in shock at whatever response he got.
"Это её." (It's for her.)
Natasha's heart rate picked up. There were very few reasons for SHIELD to call an agent while they were on the job. None of them were good. She watched Luchkov take the phone and speak into it. Whatever reply he got silenced him very effectively and had him swallowing and handing her the phone.
She balanced it between her cheek and shoulder and waited.
"We need you to come in." Phil's demanding, but also incredibly vague order sent a shot of annoyance through her.
"Are you kidding? I'm working."
"This takes precedence."
Natasha felt something tighten in her gut, but she pushed it away. She'd been working to get to Luchkov for weeks. She wasn't going to throw away her progress because the powers that be had decided to rearrange their priorities – again. If it was that important, she happened to know another highly effective SHIELD agent that would love to be reassigned from his current detail.
"I'm in the middle of an interrogation, and this moron is giving me everything."
Luchkov looked suddenly affronted.
"I not…give everything," he defended lamely.
Natasha tossed him a look. Jesus, this job was practically a vacation.
"Look, you can't pull me out of this right now."
She was so close; she'd be done in a few hours anyway. She'd have what she needed to find who was really running the whole operation and take him out.
"Natasha…" something in his voice gave her pause and sucked the air out of her lungs. She knew that tone. She'd heard it before. That tone meant… "Barton's been compromised."
For one horrifying moment, her entire world stopped spinning. Luchkov and his goons disappeared, Phil's voice faded away, her heart might have even stopped beating…nothing in the world mattered but those three words.
Barton's been compromised.
Then everything started moving again, faster than it had before. Her heart pounded, her focus narrowed. Suddenly Luchkov didn't matter anymore, whoever was running the transport operation didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Clint.
"Let me put you on hold."
She walked away from where she'd left Luchkov hanging over the pit and picked up the cell and her heels.
"Where's Barton now?" Somehow not saying his first name made it easier to take. His first name was personal; it would make it feel personal.
"We don't know."
Natasha swallowed down the rush of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her at that news.
"But he's alive?" She didn't even want to think about what she would do if the answer to that was no.
"We think so."
She forced herself to breath, to embrace that thread of hope and move forward.
"We'll brief you on everything when you get back," Phil assured her. "But first, we need you to talk to the big guy."
Natasha bit back a flash of anger. He was sending her out? Now?
"Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me." She hoped her use of his last name let him know how annoyed she was. As far as she was concerned, she only had one mission now: finding Clint and bringing him home.
"Oh, I've got Stark. You get the big guy."
She stopped, momentarily shocked.
"Мой Бог." (My God) She reached up and rubbed her eyes wearily. "There are more subtle ways to keep me from looking for him myself. You don't have to send me to India."
"I think we both know sending you to India is one of the only ways to stop you."
Natasha frowned.
"Exactly how long has Clint been missing?" she demanded abruptly. There had to be a reason Phil was keeping her busy. Because she wasn't stupid enough to believe she was the only one or even the best one to go talk to Banner.
His hesitation on the line just confirmed it as far as she was concerned.
"Over nine hours."
"Jesus, Phil!" she snapped, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Why the hell didn't you call me sooner? I could have been there hours ago! I could have been looking for him!"
Phil sighed over the line.
"Natasha, you wouldn't even know where to look. If you did, I'd be right there with you. I'm doing everything I can from here." For the first time, she heard the desperation and barely controlled fear in his voice. "I need you to do your job. I need someone I can trust to bring Banner in. If anyone can convince him, it'll be you."
Natasha sighed. Maybe that was true. She made her living by convincing people to do what she wanted them to do. And when it came down to it, the more people they had in their corner to try and find Clint, the better.
He was right. She needed to do her job.
"Fine. I'll go to India."
"Thank you." He paused and then came back, quieter. "We'll find him."
Natasha swallowed and looked up at the roof as if calling for help from the heavens and couldn't find the words to answer.
April 11, 2012
7:27 p.m. Local Time (1:27 p.m. NYC)
Palermo, Italy
Clint pulled his hand back from the buzzer and rolled his neck, hoping the action would loosen the tension there and ease the headache that he couldn't seem to shake. It had started the moment Loki had touched him with the spear, a pressure in his head, constant and unyielding. It was worse when the god was nearby, which, thankfully, he wasn't at the moment. He was back with the truck, waiting for Clint to call him in.
As painful as it was turning out to be to have Loki in his head, not having to carry any sort of transmitter to communicate with the god was going to be useful, especially here.
Luca Bertolini didn't take too well to anything electronic being brought into his midst, unless he was the one bringing it. He was paranoid that way and for good reason. After all, being one of the heads of the Bertolini Crime Syndicate came with a certain need for paranoia. You never knew if the next guy walking into the room was there to kill you or kiss your feet.
Last time Clint had met Bertolini, he'd been the former.
It had been more than four years ago, though, and Clint hadn't actually ended up killing him, so he hoped Bertolini wasn't holding a grudge.
Clint glanced up at the security camera nestled carefully in the shadows above and to his right.
They were sure taking their time answering the door, but then, if Bertolini recognized him they might be making sure their weapons were loaded.
Finally, the door opened and Clint was staring down the barrel of a mean looking Beretta.
He looked over the gun to the man wielding it.
Nicoló Bertolini – Luca's nephew and a second-rate enforcer for the syndicate.
"Immagino che ti ricordi di me?" (I take it you remember me?) Clint asked lowly.
Nicoló nodded, mouth twisting into a sneer.
"Mi ricordo il rumore delle tue ossa che si rompevano sotto i miei pugni,"(I remember your bones breaking beneath my fists), Nicoló replied angrily.
Clint found the corner of his mouth turning up in a dark smirk.
"Oh, non me la ricordo proprio così la cosa Nico."(Oh, that's not quite how I remember it, Nico.) The enforcer scowled at the nickname and Clint smirked wider. "E se ci pensi bene anche tu... ricorderai anche," (And I think that if you're honest with yourself…you'll remember,) Clint let his smirk fall away, leaving behind nothing but the face of Hawkeye, "che se non punti quella pistola da un'altra parte, sono capace di convincerti io a farlo." (that if you don't get that gun out of my face, I will take it from you.)
Nicoló snarled and stepped forward, pressing the barrel of his Beretta to Clint's forehead.
Clint blinked calmly, gave Nicoló half a breath to bask in his bravado, then he moved.
He grabbed the top slide of the gun with his left hand and reached around the back with his right. He pressed the slide release at the same time he forced the slide forward, disengaging it from the rest of the gun. He pulled it free and then threw it back, rocketing it straight into Nicoló's nose. Then he twisted the gun from the enforcer's grip with his left hand, grabbed Nicoló's left thumb and twisted out with the other, and slammed his boot into his thigh, right above his knee.
They both heard something in his knee snap almost in harmony with his thumb dislocating and wrist breaking.
Nicoló screamed even as he fell, collapsing to one knee.
Clint stepped forward, driving his knee up into Nicoló's chin even as he spun the gun in his hand and brought the butt cracking down against the other man's temple.
Nicoló's scream was abruptly silenced as he collapsed in a boneless heap.
Clint tossed the gun down as he stepped over the fallen body and swept his gaze over the semi-circle of automatic rifles pointed at him.
"Dite al vostro capo che Tyler Kent vuole vederlo."(Tell your boss that Tyler Kent is here to see him.) Clint let the corner of his mouth turn up again. "E che se non mi fa entrare, entro da solo. E vi posso assicurare che non sarà piacevole per nessuno." (And that if he doesn't agree to meet, I'll just invite myself in. And believe me, none of you will enjoy what that looks like.)
The group of men exchanged nervous glances and shifted where they stood. Obviously his reputation preceded him.
Finally, just when Clint thought he'd have to start making good on his threat, one of the older men nodded to the guy next to him. The younger man turned immediately and left the room.
Then they all just waited, Clint standing calmly just inside the doorway with a body behind him and an arch of armed men surrounding him.
He'd been in worse situations…in this very compound, in fact.
Without warning, the pressure in his head intensified and it took every shred of self-control Clint had to keep from reaching for his temples. Loki was getting impatient. He was digging around looking for a status report.
Clint clenched his jaw and did his best to ignore the intrusion, but it wasn't easy. The urge to mentally tell Loki to 'get the hell out' was getting stronger the longer the god poked around. Finally, the pressure eased, if only slightly, and Clint felt a little less like someone had stuck an ice pick in his eye and swirled it around.
Just in time too, because the door behind the group of men barring his way suddenly opened. The man that had scurried through it just a few moments ago, came back out and then a large form filled the doorway.
"Il Signor Bertolini la attende."(Mr. Bertolini will see you now.)
Like a magical switch had been flipped, the line before him parted, allowing him a clear path to the door. Clint moved forward, pausing when the man in the doorway blocked his way with a raised hand. Clint met his gaze and then stiffened slightly when he recognized him.
Marco Carrara. Luca Bertolini's top enforcer. They'd had more than one run in last time Clint was in Palermo.
"I trust you remember the expectations when meeting with Mr. Bertolini," Marco growled in richly accented English.
Clint raised his arms out from his sides to show he did, in fact, remember. He endured the rough pat-down without complaint and could only shrug in dismissive indifference when Marco recovered the two knives sheathed at Clint's back.
"I better get those back."
The man straightened, meeting Clint's gaze, and didn't answer.
"You try to make a move against my boss and I'll finish what I started last time you were in Palermo."
Clint returned Marco's glare with matching intensity but didn't bother replying. Marco held his gaze for another long moment and then stepped aside, allowing Clint entrance into the room beyond the door. Clint fought against the instinct that warned him not to put his back to anyone in a hostile situation and headed through the doorway.
He found himself in a hallway and couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been in this hall – or, rather, the last time he'd been dragged down it.
Marco appeared next to him and urged Clint with a slight shove to his shoulder to keep moving.
The hall branched off here and there and had various doors peppered along it. But it was the furthest door they headed towards.
Marco pushed the door open and held it for Clint to enter. Clint stepped in, taking in the details of the large ornate office with his periphery vision and focusing the rest of his attention on the man sitting behind the large mahogany desk.
Luca Bertolini.
The last time Clint had seen this man, Natasha had been making a trade for Clint's life.
They'd parted, then, with a mutual agreement to remain indifferent strangers.
Bertolini looked incredibly intrigued to see Clint – or rather Tyler – now.
"It was our agreement, that we would never meet again, Mr. Kent."
Clint came to stand in front of Bertolini's desk, hands loose at his sides. He met the mob lord's gaze evenly and cut to the chase.
"I need men. I'm willing to pay."
Bertolini's eyebrow arched.
"No talk of the past? No ruminations on old feuds?"
Clint cocked his own eyebrow in challenge.
"You wanna re-hash what's done? Go talk to a therapist. I'm on a timetable and I don't have patience for double talk or reminiscing. Do you have men for sale or not?"
On his left, Marco tensed, seeming to barely restrain himself from reacting violently to Clint's less-than-respectful answer. Clint honestly wished he'd try it. Loki was getting nosey again and Clint was starting to feel twitchy at the invasion.
Bertolini stood slowly from his desk and rounded it, coming to stand just in front of Clint.
"I am in the business of buying and selling such…goods, as I'm sure you well remember."
Clint refused to step back when Bertolini stepped up into his space. Instead, he just lifted his chin and met the man's eyes unflinchingly.
Bertolini searched his gaze, seemingly unfazed by the icy blue that had taken the place of Clint's normal eye color. He smiled suddenly, a dark and chilling smile.
"Yes, you remember."
Clint did. He remembered every horrible, violent minute of it. Forcing those memories forward seemed to be Bertolini's goal because he stepped back without another word, casually moving to his desk again and retrieving a cigar from an ornate box on his desk.
"I have men. Though I am curious…"
Clint stayed silent and waited for the other shoe to drop.
"When we parted ways four years ago we agreed to become as strangers. I have done my part and forgotten you and your little red-haired savior. Yet here you are, darkening my door."
"I'm here to make a deal. If I remember, money's always been your bottom line."
Bertolini turned back to face him again.
"But never yours," the Italian replied with a level of respect Clint hadn't been expecting. From what he remembered, all denying payment for his combat services had gotten him four years ago was persuasion by brute force instead.
"You got your money then." Clint clenched his jaw when Loki delivered the equivalent of a mental jab. "You'll get your money now. My boss is very eager."
"Well then, Mr. Kent, shall we make a deal?"
Clint cut straight to the chase.
"I want a tac-team's worth of skilled combat mercs."
Bertolini arched an eyebrow.
"That will come at quite the price."
"My boss will pay. Whatever it is."
"And if that price is you, conscripted into my ranks?"
Clint smirked, knowing full well that Loki wouldn't be fulfilling his end of any bargain made today.
"I'm sure he wouldn't even hesitate."
Bertolini chuckled.
"Then we will have a deal. A team in exchange for you and two hundred and fifty thousand euros."
Clint tilted his head mockingly.
"You can't have your cake and eat it too, Bertolini."
"Fine." Bertolini waved him off. "The money then, but five hundred thousand. I don't know if my ranks could handle you in them a second time anyway."
Clint nodded, mentally responding to the incessant prodding and pressure in his brain. Immediately he felt Loki's response and knew the god would be heading his way.
"You know," Clint commented idly as he felt Loki draw closer, "we never stopped watching you."
Bertolini tensed, eyes narrowing.
"And one day," Clint let his mouth curve into a dark smirk, "someone will be back for you. Might not be me, but it'll be someone."
"That was not the deal we made," Bertolini replied darkly.
Clint smirked wider.
"Deals are made to be broken."
A knock came at the door.
"That'll be your guy telling you my boss is at the door. He'll have your payment."
After receiving a nod from Bertolini, Marco moved to the door, exchanging quick words with the man there and then closing the door again. A few tense moments later, another knock came.
Marco opened the door to reveal Loki, who smiled silkily.
"I've been told we have a deal."
"Five hundred thousand euros and the men are yours." Bertolini had moved back behind his desk, puffing his cigar.
Loki moved to stand next to Clint. He nodded slightly, Loki nodded back.
Then there was a blur of motion. Clint dove at Marco, scaling his large, hulkish body like a monkey so he could reach his thick neck. He had him subdued in a choke hold before the other man even knew what was happening. Marco tried to shake him off, but Clint held firm.
Loki moved to the desk, extending the spear – which had appeared as a cane before now – to touch Bertolini's chest.
"You've been paid your fee and will willingly release the men I purchased into my possession," Loki instructed lowly. Bertolini nodded and Loki withdrew the spear. Even as Bertolini started to recover, Loki turned and moved to where Clint was holding tight to a struggling Marco. He winced when the larger man backpedaled sharply into the wall. Clint's back hit the plaster so hard it cracked.
"Any time now," Clint wheezed irritably.
Loki smirked and touched the spear to Marco's chest.
"You've seen your employer and I come to an arrangement. You saw currency exchanged. All ended well."
Clint felt Marco go still and cautiously released his hold, dropping to the floor. When the large man didn't suddenly lash out, Clint blew out a breath and moved around him.
He and Loki resumed their places in the middle of the room and waited. Marco and Bertolini regained their senses after only a moment. Bertolini blinked at Clint and Loki and then cleared his throat.
"Now that the payment's done, I'll have Marco collect your team. Marco?"
Marco nodded, though his expression was confused. He headed to a door off to the right and disappeared.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir," Loki smiled widely at Bertolini, who nodded.
"And I with you."
Clint smirked. Having mind control on your side did have its perks.
April 12, 2012 (April 11, 2012 NYC)
5: 35 a.m. Local Time (8:05 p.m. NYC)
Kolkata, India
Natasha rested her head back against the wall of the shack she was waiting in. The girl she'd paid should be back any minute, hopefully with Banner right behind her. The faster she got this over with, the faster she could be back on the Helicarrier helping in the search.
Phil had filled her in on a few of the details during the six and half hour flight from Moscow to Kolkata – she'd never been happier for a SHIELD jet's ability to shave an hour off normal flight time than she was tonight – and the more she knew, the more worried she got.
Mind control. That's what Phil had called it. She still couldn't quite believe it. It was like something out of a science fiction novel. She couldn't even imagine Clint like that, so not in control. Part of her hoped he had no idea what was going on, because if he did…she didn't even want to think about it. Control was vital to Clint's sanity. He needed it in some form to be able to function. It didn't always have to be something overt or obvious…it just had to be there.
The thought of him being stripped of that and forced to cater to the whims of another, it made her fists clench and her temper flair. She couldn't wait to get a shot at this Loki guy.
A sudden sound at the door had her refocusing on the situation at hand. She heard the little girl run through the shack and then leave out the window. Heavier, slower footsteps followed and then stopped.
"Should have gotten paid up front, Banner."
That was her cue.
"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress," she stepped out of from behind the curtain she'd been concealed behind, "you picked a hell of a place to settle."
She kept her gaze sharp on Banner's movements as he set his bag down, watching for any signs of anything green.
"Avoiding stress isn't the secret."
She forced a smirk and moved closer, trying to call forward the womanly wiles she was famous for. It was harder than it usually was.
"Then what is it? Yoga?"
Banner didn't look impressed or amused. He looked nervously at the window.
"And you brought me to the edge of the city. Smart. I, uh, assume the whole place is surrounded."
Natasha smiled and slid her scarf off her shoulders.
"Just you and me." It was a lie, but Banner bought it easily enough.
"And your actress buddy? She a spy too? They start that young?"
Natasha quirked her lips wryly.
"I did."
That caught Banner's attention and he met her gaze.
"Who are you?"
"Natasha Romanoff."
She could tell by the change in his eyes that he recognized the name.
"Are you here to kill me, Ms. Romanoff? 'Cause that's not going to work out for anyone."
Natasha understood how he'd think that, it was what she was known for. But it wasn't all she did, not since she'd come to SHIELD. Now she was more than the killer the Red Room had made her.
"No, no. Of course not. I'm here on behalf of SHIELD." And SHIELD tended not to kill people without a really good reason.
"SHIELD." The beginnings of anger lit his expression. "How'd they find me?"
"We never lost you, Doctor. We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent." She'd handled one of those 'interested parties' herself. Clint had handled another. Neither of them had escaped those missions unscathed.
"Why?" At least Banner seemed to understand the concept of goodwill.
"Nick Fury seems to trust you." That was probably a stretch. She was pretty sure there were maybe two people Nick Fury really trusted…maybe only one. But that wasn't the point at the moment. "But now we need you to come in."
"What if I say no?"
She curved her lips seductively and set her tone to match.
"I'll persuade you." It came out sounding halfhearted and contrived.
God, she didn't even believe herself right now. So much for staying focused.
She'd ask herself when Clint had become that important to her – important enough to throw her completely off her game – but she knew. It had been years ago, in an abandoned hunting shack in the forests of Vietnam.
Banner – unaware of her current distraction – smiled a little sadly and shifted nervously.
"And what if the other guy says no?"
"You've been more than a year without an incident." That, at least, was what his file said. "I don't think you want to break that streak."
He huffed a sad little laugh and nudged an old wooden cradle, listening to it creak as it rocked.
"Well, I don't every time get what I want."
Natasha thought of his file again, of a girl named Betty. She felt a wave of unexpected empathy, but forced it aside. There were bigger concerns at the moment than the doctor's lost love.
"Doctor, we're facing a potential global catastrophe."
Banner chuckled, tossing her a sideways look.
"Oh, those I actively try to avoid."
She could understand that given his condition, but she didn't have time to break it to him easy. She moved over to the table and pulled up a picture of the tesseract on her phone.
"This," she sat and looked up at him, "is the tesseract." She slid the phone across the table and watched him try to fight against his inherent curiosity. Scientists. They were so easy. "It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet."
That definitely got his attention and had him coming closer, sliding a pair of glasses onto his face and reaching for the phone.
"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"
Natasha wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny, so she just blew right past it.
"He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. No one else knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be."
"So Fury isn't after the monster?" Now he sounded a little intrigued.
"Not that he's told me." But she knew that didn't mean much. Banner apparently knew it too because he gave her a patronizing look.
"And he tells you everything?"
Natasha gave up trying to play games. She was wasting time.
"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this."
"He needs me in a cage." Banner replied sharply.
Natasha frowned in confusion, wondering where that accusation had come from.
"No one's going to put you in a-"
"STOP LYING TO ME!" the growl in his voice was unmistakable and his hands slamming on the table had her standing from her seat and drawing her weapon in one swift movement. She didn't know what a bullet would do but she'd sure as hell find out if she had to.
He drew back, smiling slightly.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Was he…apologizing?
"That was mean." He smiled again, apologetically this time. "I just wanted to see what you'd do."
Natasha kept her gun up and her eyes trained on him, searching for any signs of green. God dammit, she was off her game. Worry had made her jumpy and exhaustion had put her on edge. Banner had used that and managed to honest to God scare her.
That was not an easy thing to do and for a moment she thought about shooting him just on principle. She reluctantly listened to the little voice inside her that warned her that would be really, really stupid.
Banner seemed to realize he might have pushed her a little too far and tried to soften his tone.
"Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use that and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay?" When she still hesitated, he added a little awkwardly, "Natasha."
She ignored the use of her first name for now and firmly told herself to pull her shit together. She was the Black Widow for God's sake. And while a healthy fear of someone as powerful of Banner was a good thing, acting like a jumpy school girl in a haunted house was just unacceptable.
She lowered her gun and spoke to the men she knew would be closing in outside.
"Stand down. We're good here."
Banner looked a little vindicated as he gave her a stern look.
"Just you and me?"
She resisted the urge to ask him what the hell he expected and focused on reengaging the safety on her gun instead.
"Where do keep that anyway?"
Now it was her turn to shoot him a look.
"The men outside will take you to our jet. I promise you no one will harm you."
"I haven't agreed to help."
"But you will." She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Because you're a good man." She headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to make a call."
April 11, 2012
8:20 p.m. Local Time (8:20 p.m. NYC)
Stark Tower, New York, New York
"I got him."
Phil breathed a sigh of relief as he attached a decoder to the keypad on the private entry door. He turned on the device and returned his attention to the phone conversation.
"Well done. I'm at Stark's now and Director Fury has gone to bring in Steve Rogers himself."
"Does the Council know that? Did they even know I was going after Banner?"
"They've agreed to activate the Avengers Initiative, specific timing of related events is beyond their purview as far as Fury is concerned."
"So what now?" Natasha asked.
"Now we regroup. We prepare." He watched the decoder start working on the last three numbers of the entry code. "Fury's called up all the ground forces that were on base in New York. He's bringing them to the carrier in case this goes to a boots on the ground situation."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Anything new?"
He didn't have to ask what she was talking about, even if Clint hadn't been on the forefront of his mind too, he could hear it in her voice.
"Nothing yet." Phil replied in the same tone. They were both worried. That wasn't a surprise.
He could almost hear her mentally pulling herself together and when she spoke again her voice was stronger.
"Banner is on board. We'll be wheels up in less than 10 minutes. We should be on the carrier in just a couple hours."
"As soon as I talk to Stark, I'm collecting Rogers and heading to the carrier myself. But even with the jet, it'll take me 12 hours to get there."
"12 hours alone with Rogers. Try not to drown in drool. See you then."
He ended the call and dialed a new number even as the last digit of the code came through. He typed it in and stepped through. A short exchange with Jarvis ended with his call being rejected.
"You want to do this the hard way, Stark? Fine," Phil muttered to himself as he accessed a program the SHIELD techs had installed on his phone back when Stark first came onto their radar. A few clicks and he was in the system and the elevator doors were opening.
He stepped inside and called Stark again.
He knew Jarvis would have no choice but to put him through this time and looked into the camera positioned on the elevator wall.
He heard the call connect and watched the screen on the elevator come to life with an image of the genius.
"Mr. Stark, we need to talk."
"You have reached the Life Model Decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message."
Phil barely kept a hold of his, admittedly shorter than normal, temper and forced his tone to remain calm.
"This is urgent."
"Then leave it urgently."
The elevator came to a stop and the door opened. Phil stepped out in time to hear Tony proclaim a security breach.
The billionaire looked at Pepper Potts accusingly.
"That's on you."
Pepper, for her part, stood, smiling warmly.
"Phil! Come in!"
Stark frowned in confusion.
"Phil?"
"I can't stay," Phil spoke to Pepper, hoping he conveyed the urgency of the situation with his tone. Stark had followed Pepper like a lost puppy and was trying to draw her attention back.
"His first name is Agent."
Pepper – practicing a skill Phil had mastered when dealing with Clint on his more sarcastic days – ignored Stark and beckoned him further into the room.
"Come on in, we're celebrating."
Stark came to stand next to her, granting Phil a wide, fake smile.
"Which is why he can't stay."
Phil ignored him and instead held out the laptop he'd brought with him.
"We need you to look this over, as soon as possible."
Stark stared at him.
"I don't like being handed things."
He hadn't even finished talking before Pepper was moving.
"That's fine because I love to be handed things." She exchanged the laptop for her champagne glass. "So let's trade."
She then exchanged the laptop for the glass in Stark's hand, making the whole thing look far too normal and practiced. He didn't know how she dealt with Stark on a daily basis, much less maintained a relationship with him.
Stark still put up a token protest, even though Phil could already see the genius's curiosity was piqued.
"Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday."
"This isn't a consultation." But he needn't have bothered clarifying, Stark was already moving away, opening the laptop and turning it on.
"Is this about the Avengers?" Pepper asked with a note of excitement.
Phil looked at her, somehow not surprised that Stark had told her. He had enough experience with Clint and Natasha to know that there were rarely any real secrets between people in a true relationship. The thought of Clint had him sobering, and his countenance darkening. The look was enough to quell her excitement.
"Which I know nothing about," she stated with an overwhelming amount of sincerity.
Stark spoke from across the room.
"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought, and I didn't even qualify."
"I didn't know that either," Pepper piped in.
"Yeah, apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others."
Pepper smirked.
"That I did know."
Phil blinked and moved past the fast talk to focus on the matter at hand. Lives depended on them getting the ball rolling here, Clint's life depended on it.
"This isn't about personality profiles anymore." He didn't add that the Avengers Initiative had never been scrapped, had only been tabled until the time was right. That time was now, and Stark was vital, no matter what the personality profile said.
"Whatever," Stark dismissed him. "Ms. Potts, got a moment?"
Pepper trotted over to Stark with a snarky, "Half a moment."
After that they spoke too lowly for him to hear. He used the time to check his watch. It had been more than 17 hours now, since Clint had gone missing. More than 17 hours without a word or a sign that he was even still alive. Phil swallowed thickly, forcing himself not to think that way. Clint was alive. He had to be. Phil would know if he wasn't, that was a fact he was damn sure of. Phil had made the mistake of not trusting that instinct once, when all evidence had said Clint was dead in Cairo. And that oversight had almost been the difference of Clint living and dying.
He wouldn't make that mistake again. Clint was alive until Phil knew in his heart it wasn't so and Clint's body was laying before him. Until both those things were true, Phil would not be convinced otherwise.
He looked at his watch again.
He turned his attention back to Stark and Pepper in time to see them kiss, which had him averting his gaze. He suddenly felt like he was intruding on a private moment, not unlike when Clint and Natasha got that 'I'm all in' look in their eyes and started speaking in Russian.
A moment later Pepper was heading towards him.
"So, any chance you're driving by LaGuardia?"
He wasn't.
"I can drop you off." Because Pepper was a friend. That had happened out of nowhere 18 months ago when she'd stumbled upon him out with the woman he was seeing at the time. And Pepper, being Pepper, just wasn't someone you could turn away.
"Fantastic!" she walked with him towards the elevator. "Oooh, I want to hear about the ah- cellist! Is that still a thing?"
Phil couldn't help but smile as he thought of Celine. He was suddenly very grateful for the distraction.
"She moved back to Portland."
Because as far as Pepper knew – as far as she'd learned during that impromptu lunch – that's where Celine was from. She didn't know anything about Paris or that Celine ran the SHIELD office there. Because friend or not, Pepper was a civilian and she could only ever know the cover story. So she knew Celine as a cellist from Portland who traveled with her symphony…and who had decided after a time that coming second to Clint just wasn't how she wanted to live.
Clint may have been more upset about that than Phil had been, but maybe that was because Phil still had hope.
"What?" Pepper exclaimed. "Boo!"
Phil couldn't help but smile as they got onto the elevator. How Stark had won over this woman was a goddamned mystery.
End of Chapter 2
Hope you enjoyed it! Drop me a line to let me know ;)
Until we meet back here tomorrow, have a preview
Clint couldn't hold back the slight flinch when Loki's hands locked around his temples once again, the pain in his head – never having faded – amplified exponentially.
"I will break you and leave you shattered on the ground. You've just given me the weapon."
Then the ground dropped out beneath him.