Fears of the Widow

Bird Watching

The waiter returned with Clint and Natasha's food only to find an empty table with a nice tip of $100 under one of the glasses of water.

Clint would have handed it to the waiter personally and explained, but Fury said Natasha wasn't replying which meant she'd either taken out her piece or had her cover blown. Either way Clint had to move.

He made sure the waiter took the money rather than a mobster before sliding out the back door that he'd seen Natasha and Zarcov go down. The alley he reached was dark, and empty as far as he could tell. Clint readjusted his suit and took two steps forward before hearing the distinct sound of cocking a gun.

"Slow down, hot shot," a thick Russian accent boomed in English from behind Clint, and he froze.

It had to be Zarcov. That meant Natasha's cover was blown! But where was she? What had he done to her? What if he killed her?

"What do you want, Zarcov? Where is she?" Clint growled.

The man laughed, "turn around, kid." Kid? Clint was not a kid.

Clint turned around slowly to see a .22 placed at his forehead, and a man he did not recognize holding the pistol. "Who are you?"

"Kretsky," the man grinned with rotten teeth, "and you're girl seems to have an interest in Zarcov. But something tells me that you either knew him personally or you have a score to settle with him, Clinton Barton."

Fury was grimacing from the ear piece and yelling a Stark and Banner for not creating a strong enough cover.

The blood drained from Clint's face though he kept his thin frown, and pointed a finger towards this Kretsky character, "I swear, if you get in my way I'll happily shoot you and Zarcov."

"I'm the one holding the gun, and what exactly is you're interest in Zarcov?" The man was starting to unnerve Clint, but Clint answered evenly, "he has to answer for his crimes, and he has something of mine other than my girlfriend." If Nat heard that Clint would be dead. But there wasn't a knife sticking out of his head so she probably wasn't around. In fact she was supposedly in the room right across from him. Hopefully Zarcov hadn't figured out who she really was.

Stark snickered in the ear piece, "careful there bird boy. Okay, the man in front of you is Kretsky Kretsky. Yea, that's his name. Had a wife and a daughter, but they were killed... It looks... It looks like Zarcov might have strayed the fire that killed them. Long list of felonies. Wanted in twenty countries for hanous crimes. Not much else on here. He's Russian."

Clint had to get that gun away from Kretsky or grab his backup, but neither was a reasonable option at the moment.

"So, you're going to run after him all willy nilly and get lucky?" Kretsky frowned, "not much of a plan."

Clint snarled, "my partner is in there already waiting on me. She's probably got him tied up and ready for interrogation by now."

"You mean the infamous Black Widow?" Kretsky's eyes became distant, "I know her. Feisty. But, I think it's the other way around with your girlfriend and Zarcov." How did he know Nat? Besides that fact that Natasha was Russian and so was Kretsky.

"Why do you so that?"

"Because I anonymously told him who she was."

Clint's blood boiled as he instinctively grabbed the gun from Krestsky, flipped around, and detached the man's grasp from his weapon. Now the tides had changed. Krestsky stood with a .22 in his face. That's what he got for shoving a gun at a master assassin. Boom.

"Why would you tell him who she was?" Clint snapped.

That meant her compromise was blown. She could be dead! Captured! What if she'd past out from her wound and Zarcov thought her dead! What if he buried her alive!

Kretsky chuckled, "as much as I hate the man, I won't let SHIELD get to him before I do."

Clint vibrated with anger. This guy was loony, and Clint was completely pissed, "bastard, where is she!"

"Zarcov took off with her I think. Some black vehicle came and went just before you got out here. They were in that room there," Kretsky pointed to a partially open door across the alley, "though I doubt he left anything behind."

"I think you will wish that you hadn't given her up," Clint barked at the man. Kretsky snickered, "I'm no idiot, Clinton Barton." And then four men stepped out with very big semiautomatics. Shit.

"What do you want with me?" Clint slowly put his weapon down and held his hands up in defeat. He was far outnumbered and outgunned.

Kretsky picked up his .22 as a black van veered into the alley and the passenger doors opened up. "Let's talk in private," Krestky prodded Cint inside. A guard followed and then Kretsky and the other three men.

The back was open with seats all around the interior. Clint sat on one side, Kretsky on the other, and four guards in between keeping the creep safe.

"What do you want with me?" Clint asked again once the van drove off.

Krestky chuckled again, and Clint had to hold his tongue against the monster. "You're a front. A deal. Theoretically speaking, I hear that Zarcov has another SHIELD agent. A Natalia Romanova. I give up other SHIELD agent with one of my men dressed like one of Zarcov's. My man goes in, plants a bomb, hands the other SHIELD agent over and leaves. I blow up the bastard, sleep a little better at night, and avenge my family," he showed his rotten teeth again, "theoretically speaking, of course."

Clint growled, "So you send me in as a cover to blow up Zarcov... And what happens to the Widow and I?" Kretsky crinkled his brow as if he didn't know what Clint was talking about, and Barton rolled his eyes, "theoretically speaking."

Kretsky grinned, "you'll be truly missed. Or not. You are just pests running around. I certainly won't miss you."

Well this wasn't good at all. And then Clint came to his senses. Fury and them could hear all of this right?? He listened closely, and suddenly his heart plummeted as he realized that the fuzz coming from his ear piece meant the van was blocking signals.

Kretsky seemed to read his mind, "your friends can't hear you either. You didn't think I would be so careless, did you?"

"Of course not," Clint grunted, "I was just wondering what family you were avenging."

Kretsky suddenly turned red, his face glistening with anger, "that is none of your business."

"I'm guessing your wife by the way you hold your wedding band," Clint continued, "and perhaps a child. A daughter maybe? Daddy's little girl?"

Kretsky yelled angrily before sending a fist flying at Clint, and that was the last Clint saw before blacking out.