How many times had she been in this exact situation? How many times had she gotten out of it? Enough times that if someone paid her a dime for it she’d be as rich as Stark. And most of the time she’s in these situations alone.
“I can’t get a clear shot.”
The voice echoes in her ear.
Today she isn’t alone. But it seems she may as well be.
She can’t reply to the archer tucked away, waiting for his chance. She can’t make them aware of his presence.
So much for this being a simple in and out job.
But things never got as planned do they?
She coils then, like a snake getting ready to strike. Only there’s no rattling warning sign. She’ll just have to do it herself. But then, just as she feels the muscles in her knees contract and her balance shift to the balls of her feet something changes.
It splatters across her face along with thicker, wetter things. She blinks, hesitating only for a second before making the most of the opportunity.
“I thought you didn’t have a clean shot?”
There’s a tremor of concern in Clint’s voice, worry and she sighs again. “Don’t move. I’ll come to you.”
Something isn’t right. But she doesn’t stop, not even when a second shot hits its intended target. More blood and more other things. What the hell was going on? And was this a good thing or bad? Something twists in her gut, a cold familiar sensation telling her that none of this is good.
“On second thought. I’ll try to meet you at the rendezvous point.” Then she decides to probably do something very stupid. She removes her communicator and crushes it beneath her boot. She doesn’t want or need something happening to Clint, not again. Never again. And as she gives a glance around her perimeter she’s all too certain this is about her anyways. She just hopes whoever made those shots intends to follow her as she begins running once again towards the parking garage.
He spares half a thought on giving her credit, Romanoff was silent. Dim lights in the structure might as well have been nonexistent. He didn’t doubt she was tucked away behind some car, waiting to see who her pursuer was. If she was worth anything, then she was also preparing to end the threat – to finish him before he could drive a blade through her heart.
Though he had already been disappointed once, who was to say she wouldn’t continue her trend?
He had hidden the rifle before he had dared to pursue, intent on recovering it after this exercise was over.
It wasn’t hard to believe that they both were slinking through this structure with the intent of catching the other unawares.
Yet it was Soldier who found Romanoff first. He had come in through another entrance, crept around behind her and weaved through the larger vehicles.
He moved to close the distance, drawing his sidearm quickly.
Then gunfire, but not from his own weapon. Instead, a bullet ricocheted off his shoulder, pinging off the sedan next to him. Soldier whirled around, spotting one of the men who had originally caught her. Perhaps the only henchman with some semblance of intelligence, he must’ve dove out of sight when Soldier had originally began firing.
Not that it mattered now.
A flicker of annoyance sprouted as Soldier returned fire. A single shot cut a small hole through the assailant’s forehead and burst out through the back.
Soldier’s attention shot back to Romanoff, gun following his sightline.