Snapshot (фотография)

XI

 "The guy who was in the car? He must have dragged himself into the woods." A shrug. "I'll get some of my officers to search the forest, but I'm telling you, lady, with the amount of blood that's here, he's probably dead already."

Natasha scowled as she surveyed the scene. She tuned out of the deputy's explanation, cursing about incompetent police. They were about 40 or so minutes away from Tony's safe house in Isle of Palms, on route 41. This was definitely not a coincidence. Peter had been here.

"Nat!" Clint called from behind a pine tree. She jogged over, her eyes widening as she took in the bloodied ground and burnt seal in the tree. It was only about the size of her palm, but she recognized it and the tool used to make it. Running her fingers over the smooth and blackened wood, she pursed her lips and turned into Clint.

"The wood burning pen." Clint's eyes locked with hers as he seemed to realise in real time whose signature this was.

"She's come out of retirement?" He hissed. Nat nodded silently.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but who are y'all talking about?" The flummoxed Officer Davis cut in. Nat turned to him.

"S.H.I.E.L.D will be taking this over. We will contact the local services when we need your help."

"Ma'am!" He protested, but Natasha would hear none of it.

"This isn't a joke, sir." She said as she ushered the bemused policeman to his car.

"What are all y'all talking about!?" He was shoved into his painted honda. Irritated now, Natasha grabbed her collar and pulled it down to expose the high part of her left collar bone. The otherwise clear skin was marred with a scar- the same brand as the tree. It was a faded pink that looked like she had bubblegum stuck to her shoulder. It was raised and ridged, a blemish, but a testament to what she had gone through.

"This is what we're up against." She didn't dare raise her voice louder than a furious whisper to the horrified officer. "I received this brand as a reminder that I could never leave. I got it because I dared to show emotion; because I was brave enough to plan my escape."

A beat. "Go." With a frightened nod, the deputy slammed the door to his cruiser closed and started the engine. Nat was distracted for just a moment, running her fingers over the scar that had been burnt into her skin, and looked to the tree. That would be a fatal mistake.

Perhaps, if she had been paying attention to her surroundings, she would have noticed the sniper in the tree, adjusting their scope to hit the temple of the officer's head. Perhaps, if she had just looked up and drawn her gun, the deputy would have lived.

A sudden shot rang out as the glass window of the car shattered. Without a flinch or even a blink, Natasha and Clint immediately crouched down in a ready squat and drew their guns. Another gunshot; an officer taking crime scene photos dropped, his camera smashed. One more, and the final officer that the Charleston police had sent was on the side of the roadway.

It was a massacre, but Natasha somehow didn't lose her composure. Clint steeled his nerves, looking away from Officer Davis's body in the car. He reminded himself that this wasn't the first body that he had seen. He had just met the man barely 10 minutes before, and now Davis was dead. He wondered if the man had a family, and who would tell them.

"Clint." Natasha brought him back to reality as more gunshots shattered the windshield of the police car, mutilating Davis's face beyond recognition. Clint flinched then. A shard of glass embedded itself in his thigh, and he pulled it out with a grimace and a squelch, wrapping a kerchief around the wound.

"They're shooting from an upwards angle. They look to be covered in one of the trees on the other side of the highway. Do you have your bow?" Clint nodded silently, his eyes trained on the trees on the other side. Could he make it? He'd made farther distances before. With a dry swallow, he pulled out his bow, crouching behind the destroyed vehicle and aiming for the area that Nat directed. It was not the time to be unsure. It was time to act before it was their spinal fluid on the concrete.