Pawprints

When Clint stepped into the fray, he...couldn't see anything at first. After all, he had knocked out the lights. Then, as his eyes slowly got used to the sudden darkness, he realized there were WAY more guards than he had expected. Like seriously, were these people mafia? There was an entire ARMY of thugs! Of course, thugs were no match against the infamous Black Widow at her most deadly. There were already about two dozen bodies lying on the floor- and a fair amount of blood, too.

Just then, Steve barreled past him, his super soldier-y powers probably allowing him to see in the dark. Shaking out of his thoughts, Clint joined the fight, loosing arrow after arrow. However, it soon became clear that there were too many thugs. (Like, waaaayyy too many.) They were losing steam and were close to being overwhelmed. So it was a relief when Clint heard Steve's voice on the comms, calling for a Code Green.

There was a roar as the Hulk leaped into action. The tables were turned, and Clint used the opportunity to signal to his teammates-The door to the room was right in front of them.

They fought harder than before now, the Hulk's entrance had definitely lifted their spirits. "Clint!" Clint looked up at the sound of his name. Steve, that show-off, was already at the door, and Natasha (the other show-off) was not too far behind. Shooting the last few guards in front of him, he arrived with a flourish (yeah, he was kinda a show-off too) in front of a very amused Captain. "You called, Captain?"

"Took you long enough," Natasha, that traitor, grumbled with a smile, but her expression soon hardened again as Steve tried to open the door. Clint could feel the tension coming from her- She wanted to save Tony, and fast. ("If Tony's still alive, of course," the pessimistic, and sadly, most often correct part of his brain whispered. "Shut up," the other, more straightforward part of his brain replied.)

Steve took one last glance at the battlefield behind him- Hulk was swinging two thugs around rather sickeningly, bashing thugs left and right with an almost perverse pleasure in hurting them. Wincing as a thug flew and hit the wall beside him with a sickening crunch, he used his shoulder to ram the door open. It worked only too well- the door flew across the room and hit the wall with a bang.

Clint's eyes were drawn to the interesting thing on the floor, though. It was a trapdoor, and it was currently being closed by a thug, who, upon seeing them, turned the color of curdled milk (a slightly beige-ish yellow) and shrieked, "THEY'RE COMING GUYS! YOU-KNOW-WHO!" (Clint was getting PLENTY of Harry Potter vibes. Yes, he was a fan. Yes, he was half hufflepuff, half gryffindor.)

The thug hurried to shut the trapdoor, but, upon seeing Natasha take a threatening step forward, screamed loudly (It was rather high-pitched, sounded like a whistle), and scurried down the steps instead. Quick as a flash, Natasha was down the steps as well, and Steve was hot on her heels. (Why did it seem like Clint was the only one who did not develop super speed while they were fighting?)

As soon as they embarked on the long road down the steps, then they realised that the long road...it was indeed VERY long. The stairs spiralled down and down and down and down and down and down and down and down...

After probably a few minutes of the most intense stairs workout Clint had ever done, they got close enough to the fleeing thugs, Natasha knocking out the screaming, curdled-milk complexion one. Steve's shield knocked two more out. (Clint nearly tripped over one of their legs)
There was literally only one left. Cliche, right? But this one was definitely in better shape than the other three. Or maybe, after seeing his best friends fall, he wasn't in a hurry to join them.

Finally, and Clint couldn't emphasize the relief he felt, FINALLY, the stairs came to an end. They rounded the corridor only to hear the thug's low and panicked voice address someone, "Boss, they're h-here, the Av-ven-" Unfortunately, Natasha's impeccable aim and a small bullet soon cut off the man's report. Clint nocked his last arrow, he had to make this count, he HAD to...

There was a small rat-faced man inside the office. He was standing, his chair overturned, and he was clearly in a panic. Also, he had an AK-47 clutched in both hands.

None of that mattered though, as Clint shot his last arrow straight into the man's chest.

The man swayed, not bothering to shoot anyone as he collapsed, simply murmuring, "You guys...came too...early..." Steve stepped over the man in obvious disgust, and beckoned to the others, "C'mon. Tony should be behind this door." There was a door at the other end of the office, obviously locked, but really, was there anything (except Vibranium, duh.) that could stop a charging Steve Rogers?

As Steve rammed the door open, Clint gritted his teeth in determination.

They would get Tony back.

Whatever the cost.

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Tony was bored.

Ironic, he knew. He was in a cell, with little to no hope of being rescued, and he was complaining of being BORED?

But then again, no one had quite faced the horror that was Bob and Joe holding a conversation. It was either, 1)mind-numbingly boring, 2) some question that they debated, no matter how RIDICULOUS or STUPID it was, or 3) small talk. Right now, unfortunately, it was Number Two, so they were debating how to eat salmon properly.

Tony wasn't quite sure if they were doing this of their own accord, or doing this to torture him. (Thinking about it, it was probably the latter.)

Then, Jacques (Jackass, haha) stormed in.

"But you can fry it and it still tastes might-O-oh, hey, Jacques! Nothing w-wrong here, the prisoner is all q-quiet..." Bob babbled, scuttling away from Jacques' hulking figure.

Ignoring Bob, Jacques scrutinized Tony with all his might. Tony wanted to say something, something sassy, snarky, sarcastic, or anything at all! He settled for staring Jacques down. (It didn't really work given that he was tired and aching all over, but Tony saw it as a victory anyway.)

After a excruciatingly long while, (IN REALITY, IT WAS FIVE MINUTES.) Jacques turned away, rumbling, "I thought I heard something."

He cast a suspicious eye over the cowering forms of Bob and Joe, and distinctly mumbled, "Losers."Bob cowered a lil' bit more when he heard that.

Joe, however, in a burst of courage, darted in front of Jacques just as he was about to open the door.

"Now, listen here, you! I have been h-here far longer than you h-have, and B-bob too! Now, if you t-think an upstart, l-like you"-At this, he jabbed a shaky finger at Jacques' chest- "I-is going to d-disrespect me a-and Bob, a-and get a-away with it, t-then you're WRO-"

The world suddenly became slow-motion.

Joe stopped talking and crumpled to the floor, a perfect hole in his forehead.

Jacques' took a step back, upon seeing Bob lying in front of him in an expanding pool of blood.

Bob opened his mouth, probably to scream or something.

Jacques' jerked Joe in front of him, just as a bullet came slicing through the air.

Suddenly, Joe and Bob had matching holes in their foreheads.

All this happened in a space of a few seconds.

Then, Tony was yanked up and up and up into the air, and there was a meaty THING encasing his head, and OH GOD, HE COULDN'T BREATHE, HE COULDN'T BREAT-

"Drop him," a familiar voice spoke, and the THING moved away and Tony could breathe again.

Twisting his head, Tony looked up to see the Avengers- Well, three of them anyway.

Then he looked at his capturer (Was that a word?), and saw (No surprises there) the one and only Jacques, who was scowling at Steve.

"Make any move towards me, and I'll snap his neck," Jacques growled. (God, his voice was so low) Tony tried to move his paws to at least facepalm, but found that he could not. (Seriously, Jacques? Are death traps not enough?) Huffing, he fell limp yet again.

Tony was SO done with being kidnapped.

But he was not done with being alive juuust yet. So when he heard a bang, he instinctively braced himself for his quick death...

But nothing came.

And he was suddenly falling...and falling...His surroundings were turning fuzzy and Tony just felt so tired...

The last thing he felt was a strong pair of hands cradling him as his world faded to black.