Avengers High School

Chapter 2: Partners

Clint's POV 

Clint sat nervously in the office of the principal-or, well, director of this school. The room was entirely devoid of anything interesting to look at until he saw a movement out of the corner of his right eye. He turned to look. A beautiful red haired girl was standing there. She was wearing a extremely black catsuit that hugged her every curve, and had nearly every handheld weapon known to mankind on it. Her long red hair fell to the small of her back and her bright green eyes held him in a cool, calculating glance.

"Kto ty?" 

"Um. What?" Clint frowned. She had spoken entirely without moving her lips.

"Who are you?" Again, her mouth hadn't moved, but he had heard the voice clear as day. It was so familiar...

..."Who are you?" the redheaded girl on the playground said.

"I'm Clint. Who're you?" 

"Natasha. Let's be friends!"

"Yeah!"...

...But the girl's voice held none of the warmth, joy and innocence Natasha's had. Her voice was cold, flat and hard, like ice. No emotion whatsoever.

"I'm...who are you?"

"I am the Black Widow. Who are you? If you do not answer me, I am afraid I will have to find the answer myself." She lifted a long knife and smiled for the first time since she had entered to room.

"I...I'm Clint? Um...Agent Coulson sent me here?"

The Black Widow slipped the knife back into its sheath. "I will believe you for now. If Agent Coulson comes and says that this is not so, I will not hesitate to remove as many body parts as it takes to make you talk."

Wait. Black Widow. He'd heard about her..."Wait. You're the other girl who's in the weird Avengers or whatever program. You're from the KGB!"

Widow's POV

Although she stayed composed on the outside, she was reeling inside. This...Clint...knew her secret, and although she had known that this would happen sometime, she had harbored a small hope that her secret would remain a...secret.

The boy was still talking: "I think it's really cool that you escaped. Coulson said you'd be my partner. I hope you'll be my friend--"

She interrupted him. "What is, 'friend'?"

Clint said, "Um, hang on a sec...you speak Russian, right?"

"Yes...it's my mother tongue."

Clint pulled out an old iPhone and started tapping on it. "Um, in Russian, 'friend' is друг. Weird, it sounds like 'drug'."

"I do not know друг, either. Please explain what a 'friend' is."

"Friends are...two people who care about each other, like really care, they have inside jokes and protect each other. When the teacher says, 'Pick a partner for this game' or 'exercise' or whatever, they always choose each other."

"So like партнер, partner?"

"I...I guess, but, well, sure. Friends do anything for each other. They would die for each other."

"Would they sneak contraband for their...friend...on their...friend's...birthday?"

"Yes, they would."

Widow smiled. "Спасибо. Now I know what 'friend' is. I have had a friend."

"Who?" asked Clint. He was genuinely interested.

"Yelena Belova. She is also in the Красная комната программа Черная Вдова."

"The what? I'm sorry. I don't speak Russian." he smiled nervously at her.

Widow decided she like him. She smiled back at him. "It is, Red Room Black Widow program. Yelena is another Black Widow agent for the Red Room, the KGB, Hydra. Call it what you will. I am the best. Yelena is second best. Now she is best. It is a pity--the best always loses everything that makes her her. That is why all the other girls know who they are, on some instinctual level. I used to. I know I knew my name. I always had hope of escape. I know I knew I had somewhere to escape to. I think it was here. Америка."

"America?"

"Да. That means yes."

"Cool. Since you're teaching me Russian, can I teach you sign language?"

"I know every sign language already. But thank you."

"My best friend and I made a secret one. When we were little. Before she died."

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Yes."

"You are Clinton Francis Barton. Age seventeen and four months, twelve days. Hair color dark blond, eye color grey. Birthday September 1, 1995. You met Natasha Romanoff, hair color red, eye color green, birthday August 4, 1995 when you were five years old exactly and she was five years twenty eight days old. You remained friends until a car crash in which she was presumed dead, at seven years six months twelve days and eight hours and you lost your hearing, time unknown. Your parents died soon after and you and your brother Charles "Barney" Bernard Barton. You were placed in foster care for six months two weeks and five days before running away and joining the circus. You remained there for five years two months three weeks and five days. Then you were falsely accused of theft and chased out."

"Wow. You're good. This was all in my file? Wait. Presumed dead? Does that mean that Tasha is still alive?" Clint leaned forward eagerly.

Widow smiled sadly at her friend. "I don't know. I don't know how I know that. I assume she was probably inducted into the Program, and died. I know no Natasha Romanoff, or Natalia Romanova, in the Program."

"Oh," Clint said, looking down. Widow saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she added.

"It's alright," he said blinking. "I just...had some hope there, you know?"

She did.