They strolled into the theatre, Clint in a suit, Natasha in a fiery red ballgown, under which she had strapped an array of weapons. As they were posing as a couple, Barton had placed his hand gently on her waist. He was polite enough not to grope about, and she was thankful of it. They took some time mingling about, noting the exits, careful of the security cameras.

'We aren't the only ones,' Natasha murmured at Clint as she inclined her head towards a number of men in black suits standing stiffly by the side.'

Coulson, their handler, spoke in their comms then, 'We realised that too. Plans changed. You guys will have to go get her during intermission.'

'Copy,' Clint stated as he followed up quickly with 'Am I right, baby?' at Natasha as one of the men in black walked towards them.

Natasha caught up with that quickly enough, 'Of course you are, you always are.' She then shot a dangerously sweet smile, making him wonder if she was going to maim him after the mission was over for calling her that- he normally wasn't even allowed to call her by her first name.

They entered the theatre and then the performance began. Clint could not help but note how tense Natasha was for the entire time. When complicated, painful looking motions were performed, the audience ooh-ed and ahh-ed whilst Natasha flinched. She shivered every time a new song began. It was almost as if the recital itself was inflicting pain upon her. She was good at hiding it, at acting as if all was normal, but Clint had always had a good eye, hence nothing she did went amiss from him.

The first intermission began and they slipped out of their seats. They turned the corner and slipped into the backstage area. They caught a glimpse of a number of suited men further in front of the corridor. Shooting a glance at each other, they grasped onto their respective weapons and continued down the corridor.

They were halfway down some corridor when Clint suddenly pushed her against a nearby wall and kissed her. Natasha instinctively reached for her knife strapped at her leg when she caught a glimpse of two suited men turning down a nearby corridor. And so she pushed herself against him, buried her hands in his hair and allowed her natural instincts to take over. The men came over and one of them cleared his throat.

'I'm sorry, but only authorized personnel are allowed here.'

'Oh I am so sorry,' Clint apologized offhandedly. 'We needed someplace private, you see.' Natasha giggled in response, pecked him once again on the lips and pulled at his hand gently, 'Come on, let's go somewhere else.'

'Yeah, let's,' he responded as he pushed away from the wall. As they walked by the guards, their hands still intertwined, they simultaneously pulled out their handguns and shot. Both guards crumpled to the ground.

At that, Clint turned towards her, 'Sorry about what I did there. Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable, lowering their wariness in the process, and I didn't want to give them the chance to contact others.'

'If I hadn't known that you'd be dead by now.'

'It would have been a pretty nice way to die,' he responded teasingly.

'Tell Carlos Montgomery that,' she said. Carlos Montgomery was how she ended up on SHIELD's radar. He was a US government official who got a little bit too handsy with her. His personality made completing the job much more easier for her.

They turned the final corner and got a clear view of the men in suits standing at the door of the ballerina's room.

'Shoot to kill, don't give her a chance to even get out of her chair,' one of the men told the others.

Natasha and Clint shot a look at each other and honed in. Natasha shot thrice, and three men crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Clint whipped out his bow and took out two others. Then the ballet music playing from the loudspeakers changed once again. From the corner of his eye, Clint saw a tremor run through his partner's body, the strongest one yet. She slowed and at that one of the men threw a short blade at her. She noted the eerie purple glow at the tip of the blade. There was poison on it. But there was no time for a clean duck. At that, an arrow flew from the side and pinned the blade to the wall on the other side of the room. She swiftly raised her handgun and shot the man, spinning around and taking down another. She turned to look at Clint. Shooting the arrow that saved her life (yet again) had placed him at a disadvantage and there was a nasty gash on his forearm. Two men launched themselves at Clint directly, and his eyes widened with fear as he realised the situation he was in. He couldn't duck, for that would mean giving them clear access to the door and the ballerina behind it. He could, of course, disarm one of them but the other was definitely going to stab him. Probably in somewhere fatal. But then was that not exactly what he signed up for? And so he gritted his teeth and turned towards the man on the right. He plunges an arrow into the man's heart and braces himself for the cold muzzle of the shotgun the other man had to press against his back. But surprisingly,that did not happen. He turned around and saw his partner, wiping a bloody knife with the jacket that once belonged to the man that was originally at his left. The man concerned was now lying lifeless on the floor, his shotgun kicked to the other end of the room.

'Coast's clear,' Natasha commented.

'I'll go get her,' Clint told her, 'Go and ready the helicarrier. Backup for them may be coming soon.'

She nodded and swiftly slipped away. The quicker she could leave this blasted place that reminded her a bit too much of her past, the better.