Chapter 3

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" I wonder aloud as I turn and walk back the way I came.

Steve sighs and looks up from his charcoal lined paper. "Clint, seriously, calm down. Please. The girls can take care of themselves. I don't know why you worry so much."

"That," Tony interjects, mid-spin on a chair he stole – sorry, borrowed – from one of the offices. "and your pacing is making me dizzy. Seriously, cool your jets, I think I can find a Hunger Games rerun if you want."

I sigh and nod resignedly as I slump into one of the overstuffed couches.

I try and focus on the screen, I really do, but even critiquing Katniss can't divert my mind enough.

Just as she finds Peeta in the mud my brain kicks back into worried rant mode.

"I mean, she is only eighteen. And she isn't fully armed. And she might be drunk. All of them might be drunk. Well, not Tasha, but everyone else. What if she gets hurt? Or alcohol poisoning? Or mugged? Or attacked by an animal of some sort. Or-"

"Clint!" I snap out of my frenzy to see Bruce sending exasperated looks my way from his bar stool. "Breathe."

I do.

"Taylor will be perfectly fine. She is just going out with some female friends to release and have fun. Most of those people have high enough IQ's to rival Einstein-"

"-or thirty eight points higher-"

"Yes, Tony, I know. Anyways, they will not lose all inhibitions because of one innocent drink. Even if that does, by some miracle, happen, Natasha will die of alcohol poisoning before she gets drunk."

"Yes," Thor adds in his two cents. "Our shield sisters are simply enjoying a night of merriment. Even if they are not armed with the sharpest of blades, their hands and feet serve better than most weapons. Furthermore, I am of the utmost certainty that Lady Darcy carries what you call a 'tazer'."

"So, Clint, your feathers are needlessly ruffled. Taylor will be fine. She is in great company, responsible company, and I can tell you right now she has at least one knife somewhere on her person. Plus, you are forgetting that all of them are either dating world renowned superheroes or are world renowned superheroes themselves. That takes guts and thick skin." Tony points out.

I allow myself a small smile as I relax back into the couch as I lock the frantic worry in the back of my head.

Nobody notices me grab my phone and fire off a quick message.

To: Taylor

Hey. Just checking in, making sure you're in 1 piece. Stay in 1 piece please. Everything good here. Have fun. Love you.

I sigh contently as the message sends. I settle back to surf channels and watch Steve, Thor, and Tony debate the modern world while Bruce tries not to laugh.

"Clint, you were in the army, right?"

I blink at Tony. "Uh, yeah. Before S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Rank?"

"Specialist…why?"

"Cap here thinks that the army has lost all of its grit to government 'ruffles'. Captain, Evidence A." Tony waves a hand dramatically at me.

Steve and I just roll our eyes as Bruce distracts Tony with science and big words Taylor would understand, but not me.

I flick through more channels and the chatter eventually fades to uncomfortable silence.

"So…guy's night. Poker, anyone?"

Bruce shakes his head as I snort. "Tasha won't let me play anymore on the promise of a painful death. She says I can somehow see the cards."

Tony shrugs.

He and Steve end up playing a high spirited game of War, while Bruce explains the absence of any weapons in the game, and I find a game show that is better than nothing.

I glance at my phone to see it still silent and black.

Maybe she is just having a good time and missed it come in.

She is just enjoying herself, no need to panic…

No panicking…

I flip channels again as the game show ends.

Drama…no.

Music…nah.

infomercial…never.

Explosion…okay.

I tilt my head as a news reel comes on talking about a bar in Australia.

"Hey guys, come check this out."

The guys gather around the couch as an Australian reporter drones on and on about a shockwave type explosion that silenced the bar. One guy was impaled on a glass shard and two more were flown out to nearby hospitals.

"Wasn't Australia where the girls were?"

All heads swivel to Bruce as he cautiously voices his thoughts.

"Australia is a big place, Bruce."

"I get that, Steve, just pointing out a thought."

I bite my lip as the attention is turned back to the reporter.

"-witnesses say the glass flew towards-"

She is cut off mid-sentence by a deafening burst of static and white noise. Tony immediately rushes to check the T.V.

"Huh, that is weird."

"What?"

"I don't think it is our problem. Someone try and change the channel."

I snatch the remote from Steve's bewildered gaze and press the 'up channel' button.

The white noise is overtaken by a Spanish talk show.

"So not on our end then."

I run a hand through my hair and turn a questioning gaze on Tony.

"She is fine, Clint."

"Come on. One phone call?"

"…fine. Jarvis, patch me through to Taylor's cell number."

"…Ms. Stark did not answer, sir."

Without missing a beat, Tony continues.

"Her press line?"

"…no response."

Tony's brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

"Private line?"

"…negative, sir."

By now Tony is frowning fully.

"That's odd, she usually picks that up."

"Sir, I am having trouble reaching any devices within a five mile radius of her location. Shall I-"

"Yes, Jarvis. Voice authorization: activate line Delta, Oscar, Oscar, Mike."

"Voice authorization complete. Establishing connection…"

Jarvis goes silent.

"Sir, the line is not connecting."

Tony lets out a string of vehement curses.

"She would never, ever ignore that line. That is a doomsday, worst case scenario precaution."

"I don't think it's a problem of them not answering," Bruce cuts in, "but of the line not connecting in the first place." He points to the T.V.

"So something is blocking all signals…Give me a second." Tony jogs towards the elevator.

I fiddle with my phone awkwardly as I wait for him to return from wherever he is.

When he does, there's a little more panic in his eyes.

"Taylor left her bow, quiver, all her guns, and two knives. Which means-"

"-she is guarding three civilians with two of her presumably smallest knives. And we can't reach any of them."

"Can't we scramble the jet?"

"No, Steve. We don't know how high the block goes, and our plane could just hit it and turn into a falling hunk of metal."

I sigh and plop onto the couch. "What now?"

"…we wait and hope for the best."

I groan.

I hope she's okay…

A/N

I'm going to make this a split POV story. Taylor and Clint.

Also, is tazer spelled with an 's' or a 'z'?

Please read and review, review, review!