The Bane of Asgard

Chapter Four: Natasha

"This is pointless," Clint sighed. "He thinks we'll find these kids by looking over all of New York?"
"It's our best bet." Natasha glanced down an alleyway and saw only a dog with its face down a dumpster. Clint paced around, obviously bored with this assignment, while Natasha studied the dog. It was massive, she realized-about four feet long.
"Clint," she whispered.
He stopped pacing, sensing the urgent tone in her voice. She didn't take her eyes off of the dog, but she could hear Clint walking towards her.
"What is that?" he gasped.
Suddenly the dog burst out of the garbage and looked at them. Its eyes were large and menacing as it bared its large, sharp teeth at them. Natasha was not afraid, for she had faced far worse. She was curious.
She stepped into the alleyway, Clint following close behind. Natasha reached to her side to grip her gun before remembering she was undercover, and her jean pocket had only lint to offer.
She quickly scanned the alley. There was a window about five feet up to her left, and she could see a maze of buildings beyond the ones surrounding them. Those were the only two escape points, for they couldn't turn around and endanger the public.
The beast pounced, and Natasha ran to the dumpster lid, leaping over the dog. She jumped up to the window sill.
"Keep it distracted," said the stare she gave Clint, who jumped back and forth until the dog was in a location that she could attack from her vantage point. She dove down and landed on its back with her legs, but it still stoof upright. Its black fur was leathery, and thick, like armor.
She hopped back onto the dumpster lid, trying to find a weakness. As it bit at Clint, she realized the only point worth attacking was it's mouth, even if it was guarded by white fangs.
Clint jumped out of the way, signaling it was her turn. Just as she kicked at its teeth, hoping to break them with her sneaker, she heard a shout.
"Hey!"
It sounded male, and young at that, but in her position she decided it was best not to take her focus off the snapping hound.
However, the next yell got her attention. "Leave her alone!"
Natasha heard the sound of metal scraping, then the beast howling in pain. It fell to the ground. At first Natasha thought it was melting, but then she saw it was turning to ash.
She looked up to see the owner of the voice. He wasn't much taller than Clint. His hair was wild and black, and he wore a blue hoodie.
He looked Natasha in the eye. Even from a yard away, she could see every little speck of green in them. She could see he was about sixteen or seventeen years old-she'd found the savior.
"Thanks," she said, looking down to see a bronze sword in his hands.
"You're welcome," the teenager said. "Now duck."