"I'm coming."
Natasha looks at him and he looks at Tony, "what?"
"I'm coming." Tony states again. "If this hermit or whoever is the most likely candidate to beat Pierce and save whoever Coulson was talking about, then I'm coming. I'll convince him. I'm good with words. And if that fails, money always talks. Maybe we've got a mercenary on our hands."
"Your dad…" Natasha asks, "can't he give us more information? Like a name? Or something?"
"My dad's brain has been scrambled since the accident."
"Accident?"
"Car accident. Killed my mom and gave him a massive brain bleed. He remembers some stuff. And forgets the rest. Over and over. I don't even know if he remembers the address right. But we will start there." He grabs a phone and starts tapping away, "I'm going to code a bug for Pierce's files on the way there. Who is driving?"
Natasha just shrugs at him, and Clint sighs, "I guess that's me."
—
The drive to Philadelphia is filled with Tony talking to or at his phone. Natasha quietly flicks through radio stations, somehow always finding a good song at the beginning. Clint keeps his eyes on the road, and on the rear view mirror.
They'd used techniques to make sure they got lost in the city cam footage of DC, but one could never be too careful. Shield's job was to find people. And Clint isn't about to test how good they are, he's determined to avoid a tail.
Pierce has to know by now that they're onto him. Once they didn't show up at HQ, alarm bells were sure to have gone off in his mind.
Clint glances in the rear view mirror. They've got to work quick.
—
They park three blocks away and meander their way to the small brick townhouse that is smooshed between almost identical brick townhouses.
Neighbors and kids and people walking their dogs pass them by.
"Ever been to Philly?" Tony asks them both.
"Briefly." Clint responds. "Did the Rocky steps."
"No." Natasha says with a casual glance around.
They stop at the right house and Clint goes to knock.
"He's not home."
Their three heads swivel to an old lady poking her head out of her door. Grabbing a newspaper.
"How do you know that?"
"He's at work." The woman says with a smile, "who are you three?"
"We're just here for a visit." Tony says with a charming grin, not answering the question, "do you know what time he gets off work?"
"Should be home in 30 minutes." She gestures to them, "come on inside and wait if you'd like."
"Is this a trap?" Tony asks behind closed teeth and a grin.
"Probably." Natasha says quietly, with a smile, "sure." She says louder, "thank you!"
—
The house is charming and quaint.
She offers them lemonade and they all accept without taking a sip.
"So," the woman says with a smile as she settles in the final seat around her small circular table, "what brings you to see Roger?"
"Uh," Clint says eloquently.
"My dad and he are old buddies."
The woman chuckles, "oh really? I'm always telling that kid he needs to get out more and make more friends. Such a solitary creature."
"Oh yeah," Tony laughs, not missing a beat, "that's what my dad always says, such a hermit." He pretends to sip at his lemonade, "that's why we're here. My father wants him to come out and visit."
"Oh, where are you from?"
"New York." Tony says, "his old stomping grounds."
"Roger lived in New York?" The woman asks, "I thought he said he was from Vermont."
"He's moved around." Tony continues unphased, "so we're excited to see him again." He stands, "you know, I left our gift for him in the car, we will go grab it and maybe a coffee and we will just catch him after he gets home." Clint and Natasha get the memo and they stand, waving their goodbyes and walking out the door and back down the street. The opposite way they parked the car.
"So?" Natasha says when they turn the corner, "that was painful."
"Hey." Tony snaps, "at least I was talking. Both of you sat there like big dumb apes. Way to help a guy out."
"I'm assuming you didn't forget a hostess gift in the car." Clint mocks, "so what gives."
"We'll break in." Natasha says, "right? Check it out before he gets back."
"Bingo." Tony says turning left and slipping into the small alleyway that runs behind the two rows of houses. Garages, carports and small driveways line the street. They get behind the right house and Clint "unlocks" the door. Letting the other two slip in the house before stepping in himself and locking it back up behind them.
"Okay," Natasha says, "spread out and search for anything useful. If we hear him get home, we will get the drop on him—"
"But if we want him to help us—" Clint starts. "Should we really be starting this off by breaking in?"
"We know next to nothing about this guy." Tony responds, "I'd like to feel on more even footing if we're going to try to convince him to help us."
Clint says nothing as they spread apart.
—
The house feels wrong. Something about it makes Clint's nerves on edge and his hands fidgety.
He can't explain why, but he's always trusted his gut and his gut is saying that the walls are wrong.
He hears a thud.
It came from the room Tony was in. "Tony?" He whispers.
Then the hairs on the back of his neck stand up for a brief second before a muffled yelp from Natasha's direction.
He turns around, knowing they've made the wrong choice. They should have waited outside.
He hears something fly in his direction. On instinct he catches it, glancing down in the dimming light to see a small circular device resting in his palm.
He looks up to see a looming figure in the doorway, shadowed by the afternoon sunlight. The device makes a click sound and he looks down.
And that's the last thing he remembers.
—-
He wakes with a headache.
And absolutely no range of movement.
There's no lights, and the air is a tad damper. So they're probably underground.
Shit.
He tries to move but he's held fast. His wrists are tied together but his elbows are wrapped around something, pulling his arms tight and allowing no wriggling. His ankles are tied together and he's kneeling. It must have been awhile because his legs are killing him.
A groan from close by makes him flinch. Then he clocks the sound. It's Tony. Right by him.
He shifts again and the groan repeats.
Oh shit they're tied together. It must be his arm he's wrapped around. But he's not flat back to back with someone. He shoves the other direction and meets something soft on that side too. Natasha.
"Wake up." He hisses. Now that he has context he takes stock. Both of his arms are locked in theirs. His right arm locked with Tony's and left with Natasha's. He assumes their other arms are locked as well, making them a human triangle. They're all kneeling and he assumes that not only are their ankles tied but they're probably tied together.
Effective.
Which means they've already underestimated this guy.
"Wuh—" comes a sound from Tony.
"Tony." Clint says, "wake up!" Then he tries to wriggle again but he can't, "ugh! Nat!"
She doesn't respond.
"Was goin' on…" Tony says in a slightly slurred voice, "wuh hap'ened."
"We got jumped." Clint recognizes the feeling in his head. Shield does gas training. "Gassed."
"Headache."
"Yeah." Clint grits out, "it will fade, just wake up."
It takes a few minutes but Tony starts to be more coherent. "So." His voice is dry, which Clint can relate with, he feels dehydrated as hell, "we may have miscalculated."
"Nat." Clint tries again, "Nat."
"She's coming around."
The deep voice startles both of them, heads flinching back as if slapped.
Clint's heart pounds in his chest. How long has that guy been there?
"I'm very not in the mood to deal with this." The voice says, coming from Clint's left, "so tell me who you are, what you want, and I'll decide what to do from there."
And it's every instinct Clint has to not do that. Shield had beaten the vulnerable side out of him. If captured, he could survive under duress for a very long time.
Natasha then moves and shifts. And Clint feels the way she wakes up and goes still, assessing their situation while still pretending to be unconscious.
"No use pretending." The voice says with an annoyed air, "welcome back to the land of the conscious."
Clint senses Natasha raising her head. "Where are we?"
A dry humorless chuckle is all they hear until his voice rumbles, "why, you're in my house. You broke in, I'm assuming that's where you wanted to be."
Those words make Clint want to shiver.
The voice gets closer, "I'll say this one more time. You have 17 seconds to tell me who you are, what you want, and why I shouldn't bury you in a cement vat in my basement."
Clint's not sure what makes him speechless. The words that were said or the icy powerful tone in which they were spoken.
"12 seconds."
"We're—" Natasha says in a clipped tone then she changes her tone, "we need your help."
"My help." The voice is flat, unbelieving.
"Yes, our boss told us to find you."
"Your… boss."
Clint hears a zing and the lights flood on. His eyes burn at the sudden light and he snaps them shut, wincing.
A groan from Tony and a hiss from Natasha tells him they're experiencing the same discomfort.
"You're all like 16 years old." The voice says, "try again. Don't leave out the details."
Clint's eyes finally adjust and he looks around. He was right about how they're being held. His arms and legs ache like hell. And there is no leverage or way to get free.
"I'm 20." Tony snaps.
"Yeah," Clint adds, "we're not kids." His throat is dry and his head is pounding.
"Oh, ho, ho, ho." The guy laughs, somewhere off where Clint can't see them, "20, huh? Wow, such world travelers. What experienced minds you must be. Practically senior citizens." The cold mocking tone makes Clint more mad. "And once again the female proves herself more intelligent." The voice adds, "what, don't want to give me more ammo by telling me your age?"
"Go to hell." Natasha grits out, trying unsuccessfully to yank her wrists free, causing them to scrape against the rope and bleed in the process.
"Haven't you heard?" The man says in a flat tone, then Clint hears a crunch as he steps forward. Into the light, where a massive frame and piercing blue eyes meet his, "you're already there."
—
Clint takes in the person before him. At least six and a half feet. Muscles enough to write home about, blonde hair and blue eyes that make you think all American but an expression that makes you think trained killer.
"5 seconds."
"I already told you." Natasha spits out, "we need your help."
"So you broke into my house?"
"We may have not thought that all the way through." Clint admits, "we should have waited." His knees are killing. "We're from Shield."
The man goes rigid. Then he turns and eyes the three of them like they're bombs that might go off. Then he's gone. Clint blinks and he disappears.
"Wha—" Tony says, "where did he go?"
"There's stairs back there." Natasha says, still trying to get loose. She growls in frustration and then goes still. "I've never been tied up like this—" she yanks again, which causes his arms to pull uncomfortably.
"Stop moving." Tony bites out, "we're not getting free."
They hear a scrape above them and all of their heads tip back.
"Okay…." Clint says, his brain whirring, "he's obviously not a Shield friendly. So who is he? Someone they contracted?"
The other two stay silent. They have no idea.
—-
Five minutes later, the man reappears. He has a water bottle and three cups in his hands.
He pours water and puts it to Clint's lips. Clint wants this water. He needs it. His mouth and eyes are drying out by the second. His head feels like it's a skull full of sand.
But he doesn't open his mouth. Shield 101 is not to accept sustenance from those keeping you captive when they could have poisoned or drugged it with something.
The man rolls his eyes and glares at Clint, "The gas I knocked you out with will only dehydrate you further until your insides are so dry I can crack you in half like a wafer." He puts the cup back to Clint's lips. "Your choice." he still doesn't drink. "It's not poisoned."
Clint licks his lips, the dry scrape of his tongue against the cracking skin of his lips. "How can I know you're telling the truth?"
The guy rolls his eyes, "I think I've made it pretty clear that if I wanted you dead, I would have done so. And still can do so." His head turns to Natasha, "Listen, it's cute of you to think that nail file is going to cut at these ropes, but they're made of carbon fiber mixed with organic material. If you cut through the soft stuff, all that's left will be the metal to tear your skin to shreds."
Clint turns to see Natasha glaring at the man. He hears a sharp clatter and Clint sighs, he hadn't even known she was trying to saw away at the ropes.
The guy turns to Tony, "water? Or do you have some vendetta against staying alive like this guy?"
"Water." Tony rasps out, his eyes on the cup, "definitely water."
The guy helps him drink and Tony doesn't even hesitate, downing each drop and then sagging in relief.
The cup appears in front of Clint, "change your mind?"
Clint frowns but he opens his mouth. A slow stream of water passes his lips and he gulps it down, feeling it practically revive his body.
Once he's had enough the guy moves to Natasha, "Sorry about ignoring the "Ladies first" rule. But you are in much less dire of a situation. Would you like some water?"
Natasha has a defiant look in her eye, but she sighs and then nods, accepting water.
Once they've all drank, the guy sits on a chair pulled from somewhere. "Who at Shield knows you're here."
He looks at all three of them but it's Natasha who answers. "No one who is alive."
The curious head tilt from the guy makes him seem younger, "that's a curious answer. Who did you kill?"
"No one." Clint snaps, "we didn't kill anyone, we're here because Alexander Pierce killed Phil Coulson and we need your help taking him down."
The man goes deadly silent, he stands and looks at them with eyes that seem to pierce their very souls, "start at the beginning."