Red beats green any day

Part title

A gun.
A knife.
A few simple, tactical, yet deadly leg movements was all that Natasha Romanoff, better known as The Black Widow needed to take down this particular mob. What information the assassin obtained was of course personal, things she needed destroyed. Thus, this particular goal pushed the redhead to get the job done quickly.
A list.
That was all Oliver Queen needed for incentive. This list was what was important, eliminating the threats particular names held, people that were destroying his city from the inside out. People who were dishonest and put the lives of people on danger, those who threatened and framed citizens with the hopes of keeping their reputation in tact. He was known as a vigilante, sure, but all he wanted was to save the ones he cared about. Protect the ones that couldn't protect themselves, and clear his fathers name.
He had been tracking this Mob for about a week now, evidence of their bad dealings was an obvious deduction, however Oliver didn't simply kill because he could. He still needed proof. The day had come for him to make his move, and that he did. Strange though, when he entered the building-- it was quiet. No one was standing guard...and when he got to the basement, he was thoroughly surprised at what he saw. The targets, the ones he was looking for, they were all dead on the floor. Clean job too, probably done by a professional.
And how right he was. Standing his ground a few steps in, he sharply turned, someone behind him just as he thought.
Natasha had hidden, the soft noises of a footstep was hardly audible, but to the trained ear it was enough to grab her attention. The assassin watched the archers movements closely, trying to get a read on him. Her attention focused so much on him, Nat's movements weren't as subtle as she hoped. The man had turned, pressing the tip of his arrowhead onto her chest, not enough to pierce the flesh, but enough to cause a bit of pain. She growled slightly, her own gun in the same matter of time pressing to his chest. Any wrong movement from either of them be their last. Oliver could tell this woman was cold, so he decided to be the one to break the silence. Although his resolve was just as cold, his tone showing that.
"Who are you?" His voice was dry and somewhat raspy, as if trying to hide the fact she could know him even though she didn't.
Natasha's sarcastic tone coated her words when she decided to reply.
"I'm the one with the gun, I'm the one that gets to ask the questions."
Oliver had the urge to roll his eyes at that. In fact he probably did, he wasn't paying attention.
"Well I'm the one with the arrow digging at your chest, so I think we should play a game of 20 questions, sweetheart."
Pet names..this was something Romanoff hated. Even from her partner. Although Barton never listened. She could dwell on that, or she could focus on the task on hand. Finding out why he's here. And who he is.
"Funny. Why are you here?"
He really didn't have a reason anymore...shit.
"To do the job that's obviously been done."
Natasha was now entirely curious as to his reasoning now..
"Well then I advise you step away."
Actually, that was looking like a good option right now considering the position they were both in, also the fact that this woman just took down a whole mob single handedly.
"Not until I finish the job. So I suggest you take your own advice, and maybe I won't let this arrow go."
Probably a bad idea, sure, but Oliver had his reasons for trying to send her off.
"You know, you'd be surprised the luck I've had with archers."
The redhead quipped, although the archer had a reply with similar sarcasm and tone of a Smartass,
"You'd be surprised with the....bad luck I've had with women?" Where was he going with this?
Of course, Natasha would build off of that. It was actually rather easy to do anyways. Serious as she may be, she could be a teaser when she wanted.
"Daw. Pick up lines too corny for them?"
Natasha's plump red lips pulled into an almost smirk, although somewhat cocky she still kept in mind she had a gun pointed to this man's chest.
"They always die, good or bad."
Oliver replied simply, not an inch of regret or sorrow was in his voice. That didn't mean he didn't have any, no, just meant he was better then she thought.
"That supposed to scare me?"
She asked softly, in a wry, silky smooth and yet "I'm going to shoot you in a moment" voice.
"Nope. Just thought I'd let you know that no woman I've been around has stayed alive."
Even though the vigilante's green hood was covering- no shadowing his face, Natasha could spot his somewhat smirk.
"Well maybe I'll break that streak."
Romanoff said cooly, Not planning on dying tonight. Plus, he was good, but she wasn't sure he was /that/ good. But he was intimating, she'd give him that.
"Or maybe I'll break your streak with archers."
Oliver pressed his cold arrow into Romanoff's chest so it broke the surface of her creamy pale skin. Copper liquid led a thin stream down her exposed chest, stopping at her suit. This hurt, sure, but it wasn't enough to do any actual damage. The cool yet somewhat heated pain in her chest was removed. Had he given up? Had he shown mercy? She certainly didn't need it. He slid his arrow back into it's quiver, and this gave Natasha enough time to unhook a small circular device off her belt, tossing it in front of her, between the two. It exploded with smoke, the temporary blur from the vapor giving her enough time to escape. Oliver could have tried tracking her, but she wasn't a real threat to his city. He knew she'd probably be gone soon anyway. Natasha could have pulled the trigger, but killing him wasn't the mission. She didn't need more red on the ledger she was trying to clean.
They both had a close call
One of them could be dead now.
But they weren't
No
Natasha Romanoff
And
Oliver Queen
Both people who killed, both had red covering their books.
Nat preferred black, Oliver, green.
Letting each other go was one step closer from turning that red book clean.