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He is nearly 2 months into his search until he finds her. But here he was now, right within viewing distance of her. Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow. She has a small, slender figure, and beautiful orange hair. The only quality about her that directly gave away the danger she really was, was the malice glistening in her eyes. Clint watches her stealthily from the rafters of the warehouse she currently stood in. She regards the fallen bodies around her with a cold gaze.
Clint takes into note the way her eyes flashed warily for a few moments as her gaze trails upward. He knows that she senses his presence as she ever so cautiously makes a start for the exit of the warehouse. It took him by surprise as he noticed from the corner of his eye, another individual, stalking in the corner of the warehouse, unbeknownst to Natasha. Clint lowers his readied bow, waiting for this other presence to strike out. And finally he makes his move, charging forward and as Natasha whipped around to face him, the bulky man shoved his elbow heftily into her side. What startled Clint was that Natasha didn't make the slightest effort to counter the attack. Going by her records, and the bodies littering the blood stained floor below her feet, she wasn't a threat to be meddled with. Yet she didn't dodge this simple offense.
The impact didn't send her to the ground, but she still stumbled back a few steps with a grunt. The man did what should've probably been done already, and slipped a blade out of his belt. He made an attempt to plunge it into Natasha's stomach, but she slipped around the blow with ease. Clint knew immediately that she'd only been playing weak as she pulled out a blade of her own, but in the dark the man must not of noticed, if it was anything going by the smug expression on his face that showed he thought he had the upper hand. The moment seemed to spill into a blur as Natasha jumped to her feet and suddenly her attacker crouched below her, a knife planted in his throat, with Natasha planted above him, a blank expression on her face. His screams didn't last long.
The red-headed assassin reached down and pulled her knife from the body below her and rose up. She inhaled sharply, and a spark of recognition lit her eyes as she stared down at the one she'd just killed. She looked briefly unnerved and the look vanished so rapidly into her blank expression that Clint momentarily wondered if he'd just imagined it. There was an odd shine in her gaze that remained, though. It was a look Clint knew all too well. Exhaustion. In fact, she looked lost, like she had nowhere to go. It was in that moment that Clint really took into consideration the way she was trembling, and just seemed.. tired. Defeated, even. She stood for a few moments, seemingly waiting for her breath to steady. Clint surprised himself by wondering if she'd gone rogue. It would explain the way she recognized the dead man lying at her feet. Had he been one of her captors? Clint tried to slam a wall over all his thoughts and focus his mind on his target. He lifted his bow and aimed as Natasha turned toward the warehouse's exit.
His bow was at the ready for a clean shot, the arrow pulled back and poised straight at her throat. So take the shot, Clint willed himself as Natasha made a slow start toward the exit of the warehouse. Whatever made him do it, Clint rose his voice to call to her. "Stop!" Clint cursed himself as the word escaped his lips. So much for stealth.
Immediately Natasha stiffens, and whips around as Clint drops down to her level from the rafters. He let his bow down, knowing if he had to turn to fighting, he'd be better off with something more suitable for close-range attacks.He sees her analyzing him from top to bottom, assessing him. Her lip curls into an almost imperceptible smirk as she pulls a blade on him. Not the one she'd just murdered a guy with, but a wickedly curved dagger.
Clint knows she only sees him as another threat. An obstacle preventing her from getting to.. wherever she was headed. As she lunges out at him, blade in hand, Clint dodges the blow and her knife hits the wall a few inches from his forehead. Clint shoves his knee into her stomach and she doesn't even wince as she stumbles a little. When she's composed herself again, she goes to land a punch on Clint and he counters it with his fist, and continues to knock her head into the wall.
He knows she's tired out, was before he even arrived in the warehouse, from the way her body shakes with exhaustion. It's the only factor keeping her from putting up a decent fight, he knows. He cracks her in the jaw, the blow not strong enough to knock her out but strong enough to keep her dazed.
Clint makes a run for his bow and before the assassin can get up and stop him, he picks it from the ground at readies an arrow with practiced speed. He would end this once and for all. He whipped around to direct the shot at Natasha, who was standing now, but still looks dazed. With little hesitation, Clint releases the arrow. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to point it at a vital point in her body. Maybe it was the look in her eyes. The look of someone who could grow to be beautiful and a trustworthy asset, but was restrained from any positive future. Maybe it was the way she stopped dead in her tracks as his bow pointed right at her, the way hopelessness made its way across her features. Maybe he was insane. He didn't dwell on it long as the arrow embedded itself precisely into Natasha's lower thigh. She fell to the ground with a shriek of pain.
Clint allows his bow to drop once more from his grip and replaces it instead with a knife from his belt, proceeding to pad slowly towards the fallen figure of the assassin. Natasha's breathing came in ragged gasps of pain, and she directed her gaze from her injured leg to meet Clint's eyes.He'd expected hatred to take presence in her eyes, maybe pain, in her rare state of vulnerability. It startled him, the look of helpless terror that spread across her face. She tried to stumble back a little, using her hands to support her weight and it made her look disconcertingly vulnerable and in that moment Clint knew he couldn't kill her. She looked young. Because she is, Clint thought darkly. And there was something in her eyes that made you look twice. She seemed to not fear death alone, but the idea of never becoming something more than a cold killer. And she could, if given the chance. Clint had already made up his mind. He wouldn't kill this young, trapped girl. He'd give her a second chance. A chance to restart.
He dropped his blade, and rose his emptied hand into a fist. Her features shifted in confusion at the fallen blade before he shoved Natasha's head into the wall behind her. He didn't miss the way her eyes flinched close in hopeless defeat before her head hit the wall.
With that, Clint carefully leaned down and although he knew it would make the wound bleed more, pulled the arrow from the unconscious assassin under him, knowing medical attention wouldn't see to her for hours. Her leg was bleeding heavily, and gushed even quicker as the arrow left her skin, leaving an angry red gash. Her skin was paling, and Clint reached for some gauze in his suit. Once he'd had some out, he continued to carefully wrap the leg of the still figure below him.. He put pressure on the wound for a few silent moments before lifting the small, slender figure before him. She was lighter than he'd expected, and Clint made a start out of the warehouse and towards the point he'd been assigned by Fury.
As the thought of his directer passed through his mind, his insides seemed to twist with anxiety.
Fury's gonna be pissed.
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