Chapter 12
Clint sagged in an open doorway, bow tucked out of sight, and waited for Natasha. He stretched out a leg and grimaced at the tightness. His body couldn’t go from zero to sixty easily anymore and swinging through the rafters without stretching first had been a poor decision.
Natasha emerged from an adjacent hall and he let the light pressure of her hand guide him back through the open doorway. The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Clint slouched against the wall.
“What’s going on?” He asked when she said nothing. A sliver of light shone in from the hall and his eyes adjusted quickly to the dark meeting room. She watched him unblinkingly and the lines around her mouth tightened.
Natasha waited. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he abruptly hated how well she knew him.
‘I’m fine,’ he signed. ‘It’s fine. Now isn’t really the time.’
Natasha tilted her head.
‘Fine,’ Clint added after a moment in frustration, his shadowed fingers almost indistinguishable in the dark. ‘I didn’t mean –’ He stopped. ‘I could have –’ He froze again. ‘I should have been more careful.’
‘The doctor is seeing him now.’ The former assassin responded to his rambling calmly. Her moving hands created long shadows on the wall. ‘It doesn’t sound like any permanent damage was done.’
Clint swallowed and pulled at the hair on his head. What a massive fuck up. “I was just…”
“I know.” Natasha stepped into his space and tugged Hawkeye’s hand away. She hauled his head down until he could breathe in the scent of her shampoo. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck tightly and his muscles relaxed. He wrapped his arms around her in a loose hug.
“It isn’t your fault.” She shook him briefly and spoke vehemently. He nodded but said nothing. “It is not your fault,” Natasha reiterated fiercely, as if she could make him believe.
“I got it the first time.” His skin seemed abruptly too small. Clint stepped back and couldn’t meet her eyes.
“He’s not helpless,” Natasha added. “No way would a normal teen even attempt something so foolish.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He crossed his arms briefly before letting them hang at his sides. His entire body seemed suddenly awkward and out of place.
“Alright, case closed.” She didn’t bother to lie convincingly.
Natasha regularly bent world leaders to her will. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use every dirty underhanded tactic she knew to get what she wanted. Wonderful.
“Nat – ”
“No,” she steamrolled over him, “you’re right. We have other pressing things to discuss.”
She turned on her heel and walked back into the hall. The red head took a hard right and Clint trailed behind her.
“Nat -”
“Everything about this is all wrong,” Natasha stated. Her ponytail bounced as she took the stairs two at a time.
“I mean it, Nat.” He cajoled, heart abruptly in his throat. She stopped in the stairwell and he grimaced. “Nat – ”
“It’s okay Clint.” She kept her hand on the railing and her attention focused forward. “I won’t ambush you, I promise. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”
Natasha stood two steps above him. The line of her back stood strong and straight beneath the fluorescent lights.
“Really?” Clint asked in disbelief. Natasha hated being told to wait.
“Nope,” she answered and exited the stairwell. Clint trailed after her, feeling both fond and nauseous.
Lab equipment, machinery, test tubes, long tables, and papers filled the immense space. On the nearest table, a half assembled Iron Man shoulder piece rested next to a cup of coffee. At least a dozen more cups littered the space.
“Tony?” Natasha called.
The billionaire’s head poked out from under a table. He held a handful of wires in one hand and coffee in the other. “Natasha! Clint! Did you see the ninjas???”
“How could you miss them?” Clint responded. A guandao still sat wedged behind the receptionist's desk.
“Well,” Tony lounged in a nearby chair and waved the wires he held as he spoke, “I said that the first time and Natasha – ”
“Tony.” She raised her eyebrows.
He looked chagrined momentarily before taking a long swallow of coffee and continuing. “I know right? Ninjas! Just so you’re aware, I prefer single-malt scotch.”
Clint looked between the two of them in confusion. “What?”
“I know you’re Russian and you’ve got all that going on… but I’m going to trust you won’t buy me some garbage and feign ignorance.” He gestured with his coffee cup. “Only the good stuff.”
“Fine,” she conceded dryly. Clint knew without a doubt she’d find a way around his request. “Though, technically, they’re assassins.”
“I know a ninja when I see one.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “They had masks. I saw at least five katanas and a dozen other ninja-like weapons. Scotch.”
“Jarvis?” Natasha ignored the words.
Clint walked over to a nearby couch covered in papers and collapsed. The reports crunched under him and he shifted his weight enough to slide most of them onto the floor.
“Yes, Miss Romanoff?”
“Can you search the SHIELD files for 'Nightwing’? Cross reference with any pockets of unusually high vigilante or mercenary activities. Focus on the United States, please.”
“One moment.”
“Nightwing?” Clint asked, curiosity piqued. He opened one eye.
“Our man in blue,” she replied with a grin. He smiled faintly back.
Tony rolled his chair back. “You know, Jarvis and I were working before you two got here.”
“Anything useful?” Clint asked. He grabbed at a nearby mug balanced on the arm of the couch. It was half full of coffee.
Grimacing, he looked around for a coffee pot. When none appeared, the archer braced himself and took a sip, desperate for the caffeine hit. Ice cold. He grimaced and finished the cup.
“Welllllllll…” The billionaire swiveled and opened a large screen. Lines of undecipherable code filled it. “These guys got a techie who knows what they’re doing; they managed to get around security multiple times. Jarvis keeps shutting them out, but they keep making new backdoors to slip through.”
“What are they searching for?” Natasha asked. She waded up a piece of paper and threw it at Clint. It bounced off his nose and he made a noise of irritation before pushing up and walking over in stocking feet.
“Patient info. Floor schematics. Piggybacking off our towers for communication.” Tony shrugged. “Ninety percent of it isn’t enough to trip any of our usual warning sensors. If we hadn’t been looking, it may have gone unnoticed indefinitely.”
“They wanted just enough info to get in, get what they wanted, and get out.” Clint muttered to himself.
“Yeah?” Tony probed. His eyes flicked between the two of them. “But what exactly are they sneaking around for?”
Clint tilted his head. “Pull up the security video from the hospital room.”
Iron Man’s fingers flew across the screen and a grainy black and white video popped open.
Clint leaned forward. “Can you make it bigger?” Tony enlarged and sharpened it. Next, he pulled up security feed from inside the elevator. The archer studied the two figures silently interact. “Audio?”
“No, disabled.”
“Nightwing and this guy,” Natasha motioned to the kidnapper, “are brothers. I know that much. In fact, I would bet they’re all related. Nightwing all but confirmed it."
“Hmmm.” He studied the hospital room. “Can we play it from the beginning again?” Clint switched his hearing aids off and propped his hands on the table.
In the quiet, the video played two more times and Clint watched their mouths with focus. When he’d gotten all he could, he studied the other video. He flipped the volume back on.
“Nat’s right.” Clint gestured to the teen. He re-watched the adult scold the kid for disappearing. The teen’s stubborn jaw trembled in embarrassment and shame. “I think our patient got in over his head and these two are the cleanup crew. Sounds like the kid’s been missing and everyone’s been scrambling.”
He could practically hear Natasha’s mind slotting pieces together. On the far video, the masked man held the kid while he puked. Without the kidnapper’s harsh grating voice or bravado it seemed obvious.
The man wanted to protect, not harm.
“Brothers?” Tony asked. He scratched his goatee and pulled a coffee pot out of a drawer. Huh. “So, like, they’re in the ‘family’ business?” He made air quotes, gestured to the teenager with the pot, and refilled his cup. Without waiting, he poured another and handed it to Clint. Thank god. “All of them? This one isn’t even old enough to vote.”
“He asked for a gun.” Clint cringed at the thought of having to fight a child. “And he’s emancipated. At least, he said he was.”
“Miss Romanoff?” Jarvis’ voice broke in. Dozens of new windows opened and Clint surveyed the wall of information. A file with SHIELD letterhead and mostly blacked out text caught his eye first.
He reached out, scrolled, and read a few indecipherable words about a clash in Hong Kong between SHIELD and another organized unknown group.
“Gotham?” Tony cut in after a few minutes. Clint studied a blurry image of a figure jumping between roofs, then examined several more unfocused photos. "That cesspool?"
Iron Man double tapped the screen and his article tripled in size.
‘Batman Claims Another Victim: Who is to blame for the widespread violence?’ Another indistinct image of a night sky and a dark shape accompanied the article.
“Gotham,” Natasha echoed with comprehension.
“What’s a Batman?” Clint asked out loud.
"Fucking, Gotham." Tony bent his head enough to knock it against the edge of his desk.