I lose the joys of life. (For speaks_latin)

[thehawkinhisnest]

Warning: Will contain violence.

Clint fiddles with his cufflink, looking away from the window overlooking the street below. This is the last step of a mission he's been working for the last two weeks, and while he's as anxious as ever for it to be over, there's no sense of victory on the horizon. He's used to that with these missions, of knowing that once he's finished, he'll feel a sense of accomplishment, of having something to be proud of. But no matter how hard he tries, he just wants this one to be over.

He's supposed to kill a child.

Not really, of course. The girl (The Black Widow. Natalie. Natalia.) is only a few years younger than him - their intel says she is actually eighteen, though he's wondered about that in the time he's been watching her this week, while he decided the best way to play this, while his contacts set up this meeting. Natalia was his date to a dinner for some rich assholes this evening, and the longer the night goes on, the more certain he becomes that he can't go through with this. She's a killer, has taken out more targets than S.H.I.E.L.D. can actually keep up with - but he sees more when people don't know he's watching. He's seen the black cars and men that dog her heels, and the looks she gives them when she thinks no one's watching aren't to reassure herself that they're there. He's seen her steel herself before she talks to them, before she came up to meet up, tonight, and they all paint a picture different than the one in her file.

He has weapons hidden nearby, should be hiding one of them on himself now while Natalia freshens up in the bathroom - he doesn't want to think about why she thinks she needs to freshen up, she's a child and not even one allowed to make her own decisions - but he can't. He can't do it.

But he has to, and he finally takes his hand away from his sleeve, turning to find the closest handgun, to tuck it away as the sound of water stops in the bathroom and the door opens, to school his own expression and posture back into the relaxed, confident swagger this cover requires, to let himself leer a little when he turns to face her.

Another hour, and this will be done.

Comments

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint takes advantage of the hesitation to rush James, grabbing for the rifle with one hand, to point it away from himself or Natasha and hopefully use it for some leverage to get James out of the doorway.

[december_everyday]

While Clint manages to get him to point the rifle at anywhere other than them, getting him to move is another story entirely, his stance solid despite the hesitation. Gritting his teeth, he shoves back, trying to push Clint back into the room. It doesn't help that, in either case, he's a lot stronger than he looks and for more than that arm of his.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint drops his own stance, trying to keep his feet, but he's off balance already in trying to keep the gun away from either of them. It's enough for James to shove him back, but he manages to keep his feet - and to keep moving. He's the most worried about James's gun, right now, and he really doesn't want him to get a bead on either of them, even while he also doesn't really think he has a chance in getting it away from him.

[december_everyday]

He doesn't seem terribly surprised or upset that Clint keeps moving. He just keeps coming, expression unwavering, raising the gun again now that it's definitely staying with him to track Clint as he moves. When he thinks he can hit him, and really it only takes a few seconds of leading, he takes a shot. Whether or not it's true, however, Natasha moves finally, grabbing Clint by the waist to pull him out of the way. Now, he looks disgruntled.

"James, не. Он может вытащить нас отсюда. Мы могли бы быть свободными."

"Нет," he says, simply, turning the gun on her, now.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint goes with Natasha, letting her drag him to the side, the bullet embedding itself in something breakable behind him that he doesn't dare to check and see what it is.

He doesn't turn around to see what's behind him, either, just reaching back to grab the first thing that comes to hand - which, thankfully, is a glass, and he chucks it at the side of James's head as soon as it's clear whatever Natasha's saying isn't working.

(He really needs to work on his Russian.)

[december_everyday]

James recoils as the glass finds its mark, raising a hand, too late, to try and shield his face. A grunt follows, then a growl, once he's recovered, and then he starts forward again, still heading for Natasha. He says something to her, still in Russian (называть вашу собаку), but this time, she ignores him, tugging Clint back towards the balcony.

"We may want to think about the window, after all."

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Don't have to tell me twice," he returns, catching her hand as he starts moving, running toward the balcony, and he's fully prepared to go off it if she doesn't have any better options.

"Kinda wishing I'd kept that ear piece about five minutes longer," he shouts to her as they go.

[speaks_latin]

"Not sure that would change anything," she answers back, stopping short of the railing of the balcony, once they reach it and if only so she can look for something, anything better than trying to jump to the street. Dropping down to the balcony beneath them might be preferable, if not more awkward, but --

But they don't really have time to think about it.

That in mind, she moves to pull herself up onto the railing, tucking her gun away as she goes. "There's another balcony, a few floors down. Come on."

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Woulda been a nice distraction," he calls back, pressing himself into as much of the corner as he can, to cut down on James's opening, peering down himself.

"Go," he tells her - and he'll wait until he's sure she's clear before he vaults the railing himself, barely catching himself on the edge of the balcony itself, pumping his legs for an instant to set himself swinging, to make sure he doesn't hit the other balcony's railing before he lets go.

[speaks_latin]

She doesn't bother answering that. Instead, she mirrors him (or, well, more accurately, he mirrors her in eventuality), swinging over the balcony and onto the one below in a single, fluid motion that brings her to her feet again at its completion. She moves, both to avoid Clint crashing into her as he comes down, and to head for the doors, trying them first, then, once she finds them locked, pulling out her gun again so she can take a shot at the handle. It crumples and she pushes into the room, currently empty, thank God. She suspects James will be right behind them and it's better if there are as few other people involved as possible.

"Keep moving," she tells Clint, offhandedly, over her shoulder, as she makes for the door out of the room.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint hits the balcony hard and feels the shock up his ankles - these shoes really weren't made for this - but doesn't react to it, glancing up at the balcony they came from as she busts the lock. "Don't need to tell me twice," he tells her while keeping close to her heels.

"Stairs are to the right if you don't think he'll just come down 'em," he says quickly as they get to this room's door and move to pull it open.

[speaks_latin]

"He's probably already on his way," she answers, heading out into the hallway, regardless. "This was just to put space between him and us. We're going to need to think of something else, keep balcony-hopping, maybe."

Never mind the fact that she's pretty sure that, if James realizes that their play, he'll just start jumping down after them rather than wasting time with the stairs. It's still the only thing she can come up with, off the top of her head, right now.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Might be our best bet," he agrees. If he had the gear, they could make their way down the elevator shaft, probably, but any gear he had access to is in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s van.

"So pick a room, then?" he proposes, if they are going to go off another balcony.

[speaks_latin]

She hums in response, darting down the hallway to a door chosen at random. Pausing outside of it, she reaches up into her hair, pulling out what, at first glance, seems to be a bobby pin, but with a few twists becomes something more, a lock pick, and jams it into the lock, grateful that this place has traditional locks, still, kept in favor of keycard locks for the sake of atmosphere. The latter are marginally harder to pick, take more time; as it is she manages to get the former open almost before Clint's caught up with her.

Tucking the pin back away, she pushes the door open quickly but quietly, and heads inside -- much to the surprise of the room's occupants, who freeze, staring at her like she's the Boogeyman. She ignores them, even when they start shouting, and heads for the balcony.

[thehawkinhisnest]

If the hotel had keycards, Clint would likely have just applied his foot to the door. As it is, he jogs into the room after her, closing the door behind them. He, too, ignores the couple, shaking off a hand as one of them grabs at him, following her toward the balcony - and off of it, as before.

[speaks_latin]

Natasha does the same, again not quite mirroring if only because she goes first, and as before, she heads for the door, for the hallway beyond it, once she's gotten her feet under her. Good news is, there's no one in this room to try and stop them, so it's a quick thing with no one to slow them down. Bad news is that James appears in the hallway, having come down the stairwell as expected, after she's taken a handful of steps out into it.

She swears immediately, backpedaling in the opposite direction. "Shit."

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint lands easily, following after her at a near run - and then skidding to a halt when he sees James.

"Backbackbackbackback," Clint says quickly, reaching for her, to shove her behind him as he also backpedals. "Keep going!"

[speaks_latin]

"You, too," Natasha shoots back, not about to let him try and play hero. She doesn't need him to put himself between her and James while she gets away. She doesn't need to be saved, she just needs a little help saving herself.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Oh, I'm going," he promises her, because he's really not that kind of hero. Or, well, he can be, but not right now. Not when he doesn't have his weapons on him or some actual plan besides hauling ass and hoping James doesn't get a lucky shot.

[speaks_latin]

"Good," Natasha calls back, relieved, however briefly, that he's not one of those morons. She snaps back to reality a second later, unfortunately, and as a knife, not a bullet, whizzes past her ear, barely missing and if only because she hasn't stopped moving. "Shit."

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Seriously?" he all but yells as he catches sight of the knife as it flies past. He dares to glance back at James - potentially fortunately, as the knife that had been about to embed itself in his back grazes his side instead, tearing through his shirt. "Shit," he hisses lowly as he feels the bite, but it's not enough to stop him moving.

[speaks_latin]

"Don't stop," she warns, never mind the fact that Clint hasn't. Never mind the fact that she has no idea where they're headed, at this point, save away from James, who is stalking ever after them, without haste but without rest. It'd be more unsettling than it already was if she hadn't already seen it before.

[thehawkinhisnest]

He doesn't reply to that considering he hasn't stopped moving, hasn't stopped following her down the hall. "We've gotta get out of the building," he tells her needlessly, but they've gotta do something before James does get a shot off at one of them or actually strikes true with one of those knives.

"Balcony or stairs," he prompts, because those are still their best options.

Though, as they continue down the hall, he sees something that might help them, and he picks up his pace a few strides to put himself more even with Natasha. "Keep going," he tells her - which might sound like another needless piece of advice except for the fact that he abruptly stops, already reaching out for a small red panel on the wall. Easily, he hooks his fingers around the white lever and yanks, pulling hard on the fire alarm. Immediately, there's a burst of noise as the alarm goes off, and he picks up running again without a glance at James.

[speaks_latin]

While she keeps moving, as directed, of the same mind of him that they can't stop, that they need to get out, she does, however, glance back just about the time the alarm starts screaming. She's treated to the sight of James hesitating, expression confused, then angry as he starts forward again, and then he's lost in a sea of people as they all start pushing out of their rooms. Turning away, she sets to navigating through the other half of the crowd ahead of them, James not the only one they're slowing down, now. Thankfully, she's smaller and faster.

Ducking into a room as someone else exits, she grabs Clint's wrist as he moves past and tugs him in behind her. "Balcony," she tells him, as if that's not obvious. "Too many people on the stairs, now."

[thehawkinhisnest]

He doesn't look back, keeping his attention on dodging the people leaving their rooms. Clint lets himself be pulled into the room, nodding to her statement and already heading for the balcony. "This would be so much easier if we had gear," he grumbles, preparing to repeat their earlier trick.

What he wouldn't give for some rope right about now.