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“You two can hang out back here,” Clint said, and jerked his head at Natasha, indicating that she should follow him into the cockpit of the Quinjet.
“You can just take us back to Japan,” Felicity said. Her reaction to Clint Barton had been babbling, but Natasha had already gotten the picture that Felicity’s reactions to anybody would have been babbling, even if there weren’t giant circles under her eyes and she weren’t determinedly leaning toward the man in green leather next to her. The human trafficker was unconscious thanks to SHIELD drugs, strapped in to the seat nearest the cargo doors. “We can make our way from there.”
“And be inhospitable? My boss would kill me.” Clint flashed them the Barton grin. “Just a pit stop to fuel up and we’ll have you right back in Starling City where you belong.”
Before either of the pair in the cargo bay could argue, Clint headed for the cockpit. Her head was only pounding a little from the aftereffects of the tranquilizer as Natasha followed him. She took the gunner’s seat. “They speak Russian,” she said in Tagalog.
“Both of them?”
Natasha nodded. Clint made a noise in the back of his throat as he flipped switches, doing the preflight checks with ease before the Quinjet lifted into the air. Natasha knew the Starling City team had something similar at their disposal—benefits of the vigilante being a billionaire, she had to figure—so she wasn’t surprised that there hadn’t been much of a reaction to such advanced technology from either of the two in the back. She let Clint fly in silence for a couple of minutes.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
Natasha shrugged.
“That bad, huh?”
“It will clear.”
“So…he’s the vigilante.”
“He was on our short list for a reason. Unaccounted for whereabouts, suspicious timing, access to funds.”
“Dead best friend.”
The death of Tommy Merlyn, son of the Dark Archer, had been flagged as significant by the analysts, but Natasha figured they hadn’t really known how significant. “Yes,” Natasha said.
Clint adjusted a couple of dials. “Think that’s significant?”
Natasha looked at him, surprised. “He was arrowing bad guys in the throat before the friend bit it. I don’t think it’s been revenge this whole time.”
“Could be part of it.” Clint hmm’d.
“That’s always been your trigger more than mine,” Natasha said, as if she hadn’t spent over fourteen months buried so deep in vengeance that, clawing her way out of it, she hadn’t even recognized the hollowed face in the mirror. Clint knew about that time—there wasn’t much he didn’t know about her by this point, which was a little awe-inspiring—but it wasn’t one he ever dwelt on.
His own lust for revenge had been longer, deeper, and still haunted him, Natasha knew.
“So what’s your take?” Clint asked.
Natasha didn’t bother to glance back at the cargo bay. If Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen were as smart as she gave them credit for, they had to know Clint and Natasha were talking about them, but she didn’t want to add to fuel to that fire. So she shrugged. “I think our roster for the Avengers is a little full of archers already. Let’s toss him back.”
“Just like that?”
“He’s doing good work.”
“Illegal work.”
“But good work.”
“I care about the means just as much as the end, you know.” Clint’s smile was a little crooked. He’d acquired a tan in their time apart, and Natasha quite liked it. “But maybe I agree with you this time.”
“So why are we going to the Helicarrier instead of Starling City?”
“Orders.”
“Figures.” Natasha sighed. “WSC?”
“Who else? I already spoke with Fury. He rolled his eye at the orders.”
“Should we warn them?”
“We’re in hot water with the Council already. If they’re as good as we think they are, they’ll be fine. And me, I didn’t notice any distress signals, did you?” Clint’s eyes cut to the console, and Natasha could see the flashing red light—which he covered with an elbow, nonchalantly.
Natasha took a peek at the pair, who were sitting silent in the cargo bay. Oliver Queen’s jaw was clenched, his fists closed, but interestingly enough, Felicity had her hand on his arm. Which of them had sent the distress beacon to the rest of their teammates?
Natasha would put her money on Felicity.
“I’ll take the blonde, when it happens. I’m fond of her,” she said, and they flew on. Things, Natasha thought, were about to get very interesting. She hoped the trainees staffing the Helicarrier had gotten enough sleep the night before. They were going to need it.