Understudy

"Ты идиот, Бартон,"* Super spy Natasha Romanoff growled through clenched teeth as her attention snapped toward her teammate, Clint Barton. Fine pieces of her red hair were stuck to the sides of her face with water since they had been caught in a heavy downpour. She did not think her partner could hear her. The man was mostly deaf, and she would not be surprised if he had the volume level all the way down. Clint had accidentally allowed them to get spotted by allowing an arrow to slip out of his belt quiver and clatter on the ground. It was supposed to be a simple information extraction mission that Tony assumed they would be fine going alone on. Once they could break into the facility and transport all the information from the computer database onto a flash drive, they could hand the information over to Director Fury at SHIELD. When Clint accidentally dropped their cover, one of the men they were after wiped the computers and put the information on his own flash drive.
She pressed her back against the rear doors of a black SUV, which served as a barrier between them and the Watchdogs. She rolled her head to the side, slowly and carefully peeking out from behind the vehicle.
Natasha counted three Watchdogs suited up in tactical gear and armed with military-grade guns, but she knew there had to be more awaiting a signal. Their ugly masks were made to look like a rabid mutt with snarling teeth.
The Watchdogs; one of the more prominent groups who aim to destroy the life of each Avenger. They were a rogue group of soldiers who had close connections with Hydra. Before the Battle of New York, they only attacked SHIELD agents; the lives of many good men and women were lost because of the squadron. Once the Avengers project initiated, the Watchdogs were ready to destroy them.
To make matters worse, they had teamed up with Adrian Toomes, an inventor who used salvaged Chitauri technology to construct weapons of mass destruction. Clint and Natasha knew his file well; he was responsible for several robberies that happened on SHIELD cargo trucks and planes. Clint had crossed paths with him before. A person would think that a man with explosive arrows would be no match for a guy with metal wings, but it was the complete opposite. Clint managed to escape with three broken ribs, a bad concussion, and several deep cuts, but if it had not been for his SHIELD issued maroon and black vest, the claws at the bottom of the Vulture's boots would have pierced through the archer's heart. He became famous throughout the Hydra community by being known as the man who almost killed the infamous Hawkeye.
A deep chuckle from one of the men caused the two Avengers to turn their attention toward each other. "We know you're there! So, come out and make this easier for us!" Natasha's green eyes met Clint's blue eyes in the dim glow of the streetlight above them. Natasha noticed the look of determination in his eyes and immediately shook her head. No. Don't, Clint...
I have to...Natasha knew he felt guilty about blowing their cover, but she couldn't let him risk his life. She reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could step out from behind the car. Her nails dug into his skin. Her other hand was currently gripping a SHIELD-issued Glock, finger hovering above the trigger. "Clint...don't. Stand down. We need to get out of here and wait for backup. Toomes will kill you."
Clint pulled away and rubbed his wrist, noticing the nail imprints Natasha had left behind. "Then where the hell is Tony with our backup?" His eyes squinted. "I'll take the left flank." He snapped out his collapsible recurve bow, pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, then loaded his weapon of choice. He straightened his back, took one final look at Natasha, then swung around and jumped out into the open.
With a single arrow, Clint took out the first man to aim a firearm at him.
As soon as the masked man's body fell backward and smacked the pavement, the bullets started to fly. It was as if the two Avengers were taking on a military firing squad.
When Clint ducked for cover behind the cab of a white tractor-trailer parked in the alleyway, Natasha checked the magazine in her handheld gun to make sure it was loaded at max capacity, then stepped out from behind the SUV, and started shooting. The masked men were fast. They seemed faster and smarter than the Hydra agents they fought on a regular basis. These men possessed the same training as Clint since SHIELD had trained him in military combat. They were on the same level, and although she would never show it in front of an enemy, Natasha was terrified.
One masked man immediately confronted Natasha with a gun in her face, but she was quick to kick it out of his hand. She turned her head and fired shots at another man aiming a firearm at her. With her free hand, she pulled a baton from the holster attached to her back and blocked a knife attack from the man she had kicked the gun away from. As she blocked the attack, she shot him twice in the stomach.
She caught a glimpse of Clint chasing one of the men into the darkened facility. "Clint!" Natasha screamed, then attempted to rush after him. One of the few remaining Watchdogs stared at her with the dead eyes of his canine mask, then drew his own gun as he rushed toward the exact door she was heading toward. He made her stall by shooting several bullets in her direction, forcing her to seek cover behind the semi cab Clint had hidden behind earlier.
There were multiple gunshots. Natasha caught the reflection of the flashes of light from the gunfire in a puddle's reflection. There was a short period when the loudest sound Natasha heard was her heartbeat.
Then an upstairs window of the facility shattered. The Russian assassin closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard her best friend shout, along with his bow slamming against a surface. She jumped out of hiding and rushed to his aid.
He'd be hard to get to since he was currently on top of the semi's trailer.
"Clint, behind you!" Clint turned his head to see one of the Watchdogs preparing to jump and tackle him. The archer grabbed the dagger out of his belt loop and threw it at the man. A pained scream signaled that Clint had hit his target. Hawkeye smirked and glanced down at Natasha for a second before green LED lights in the corner of his left eye caught his attention. He had just enough time to look up and gasp before the claws on the bottom of the Vulture's boots shredded through the front of his slightly long maroon and black jacket and threw the agent backward.
Toomes turned around when he heard the bullets pelt against the alien metals his wings were constructed out of.
"Kill him now!" One of the Watchdogs hollered.
Natasha was quick to silence him with a widow bite.
Before Adrian Toomes could rush at him again and crush his chest in, Clint, while on his back, reached to his left and grabbed his tossed bow. He snapped it, causing it to straighten into a modified bow staff. Moments before the metal claws sank into him, Clint used every ounce of strength in his body to hold the staff above him as a barrier between him and Toomes. The madman fought to push against the archer for a few seconds before latching onto the staff and picking Clint up off the surface of the trailer. It would be much easier to carry him far above the trailer, drop him, and hope the fall kills him on impact.
"Good to see you again, Barton. I see you brought your girlfriend this time." Clint only growled at the mockery. With his left hand, he let go of the staff and reached behind his back to grab an acid arrow. They were not that far off the ground yet; the worst he could get from this height was a broken ankle. Even with a broken ankle, he could still kick ass.
Clint smirked after he pressed the arrow tip against the metal claws on the Vulture's right foot. The metal started to dissolve immediately. The archer was about to let go until a bullet ripped through his left elbow at an angle and managed to become lodged in the inventor's thigh. Two more bullets hit the Vulture before he went down. Clint let go of the staff when the Vulture lowered slightly below the trailer's height. Toomes lost control of his wings as the pain in his leg and hip flared up his body. The remaining Watchdogs rushed to his aid, leaving Natasha and another man rushing to Clint's side.
"One of the damn Watchdogs got me! I should've let go sooner!" Clint squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back in pain as Natasha pulled his upper body onto her lap, slightly elevating him. Dark red blood oozed out of the black material hiding the crook of his elbow. He never did well with pain. He squirmed as Natasha struggled to keep him still to slow the blood flowing out of the wound. Natasha did not know the extensive details of his wound, but she knew he would need some sort of surgery.
"Clint, stop moving!" Natasha growled lowly, one hand wrapped around the back of his head and buried in his hair as her other hand stayed on his chest. His heart was racing. Both their hearts were racing. "Tony, we need evac! Barton's down! He took a bullet in the elbow...don't know how much damage. Have Bruce and Doctor Cho's team on standby. I've got a bad feeling about this."
"10-4, Natasha. Get him on his feet. We'll be there soon." Tony did not seem that concerned. Didn't this happen often with the two assassins?
"Hey, Clint," The new man at the scene was someone Natasha had never seen in her life. He was holding a sniper rifle, which seemed odd for a civilian to have, but she was too focused on Clint's wellbeing to stop and ask questions. She figured he was only a bystander, who happened to be military, wanting to help. "I got him...are you okay? Do I need to make a tourniquet?" His worried expression spoke a thousand words. Clint struggled to control his breathing as his eyes widened at the sight of the other man.
"B-Barney?" The other man simply nodded and offered a comforting smile.
Natasha was overwhelmed by shock to listen to what Clint called the other man. She had her gun aimed at Toomes. She fired the first few shots. She fired the shot that hit her best friend. She hurt her partner. This was all her fault.