Clint Barton number 42 in warehouse 3 raised his arm, stiff as steel, before him, grasping his bow. Not even his fingers trembled as she loaded an arrow into the rest. He squinted slightly, mainly relying on the purple glasses he wore to keep him focused on shapes instead of colors, which helped a lot as an archer.
He was the expert. The master, even. The bowmaster. Yeah, that had a pretty good ring to it.
Across the way, Clint Barton number 39 made two fingers and pointed from himself to the box beside him- ASL for "go".
Clint 42 exhaled and sent the arrow flying.
Being carried along with it was a beautiful white banner- fashioned from napkins and packing string- which hit its mark perfectly in the box Clint 39 had set up. A gleeful cheering was heard on the warehouse floor below, and the Clints knew that their jobs were done. They flashed each-other a thumbs up before hopping down and joining the crowd.
On the ground, Clint 42 swam through a sea of dolls to meet his client. CostCoins were being exchanged, party hats were being passed around, and everyone either had a laugh in their throat or tears of joy on their face, as was common with a wedding. Clint 42 and Clint 39 had made a job of this, not charging much, of course, just enough to get by. They just wanted to know that their archery skills were being useful for something. Making people happy, they thought, was the best way to feel useful.
They weren't the only ones vying to meet the happy couple, but it didn't take much to get by. The other dolls knew them well, and their occupation commanded respect. The Clints were greeted warmly by the bride, Mary Jane Watson number 12, and the groom, Spider-Man number 76, as soon as their faces were seen. Mary Jane beckoned them closer to better hear each-other over the noise.
"Thank you, Hawkeyes. This means the world-"
"Clint, please. Let's not be so informal." Clint 39 said, nudging Clint 42 playfully.
Mary Jane nodded, her dark red lips curving into a genuine just-married smile. "Thank you, Clint. You've made our wedding even more special."
"Hell, without your help we might not have had a wedding at all! Haha!" The Spider-Man figure continued laughing before being abruptly cut off by the point of a high-heeled shoe being driven into his foot. "Thanks... fellas." He muttered, grabbing the toe of his suit.
"So, which one of you started this business?" MJ asked.
"Clint 39 has been doing this for longer than I have-" Clint 42 began.
"-But Clint 42 wanted us to take the job." Clint 39 finished. "I just wanted to take a nap. A big one."
"Well, we're certainly glad you decided not to. Stay a while, and enjoy the afterparty! I'm sure there's plenty more dolls here that would love to hire your services. By the way, are you two brothers?"
"Do we look like we could be?" Clint 42 asked, pulling Clint 39's face closer to his own. "I mean, I get it. We both have the... same-shaped head."
MJ laughed. "Okay, so you're not. I guess I can't refer to you as the 'Hawkeye Brothers', can I?"
"No, you can, but it'll just get really confusing."
Someone shouted Spider-Man's name and Mary Jane excused himself from the conversation. Clint 42 bowed away and looked up at the banner, which hung a few feet above their heads. It was hardly beautiful, but at least the newlyweds were happy.
"Yeah... that's really awkward." Clint 39 suddenly said.
"What is? Aside from you?" Clint 42 replied, beginning to navigate their way out of the crowd.
"Har har," said Clint 39. "I'm just saying it would be really awkward if we were brothers, because there's someone I want to introduce you to. My sister, Tatanya," he paused, and Clint 42 could sense something else was going on behind his silence. "You see, I'm been planning something for a while. I'm setting you two up for a blind date."
"Um... like, now?"
"Yup. You in for it?"
Clint 42 stopped in his tracks. "For the last time, Clint, just because you have a wife and I don't doesn't mean I suddenly need one."
"No, no, but think of it this way. If you do marry my sister, we'll become brothers-in-law! And then we can finally call ourselves the Hawkeye Brothers like MJ said."
"That can't be the only reason you're doing this."
"Nah. It isn't. I think Tatanya has a crush on you."
"Dolls don't get crushes. And they don't go on dates."
"Perfect! Two rules broken in one day. That's a record for us," Clint 39 got behind Clint 42 and began guiding the way back to his storage area, which he shared with other Hawkeye dolls of his same variety, and apparently, his sister Tatanya. "Come on, dude. Just this one date. And then you can forget all about her and we can be friends again."
Wait... was that blackmail? "Are you saying we're enemies until I do this for you?"
"Well, no... but also yes."
Clint 42 got pushed into a hidden space underneath one of the racks. The spreads of pink confetti on the floor marked it as either a mess or a girls' territory. He decided it was the latter, judging by the alluring feminine silhouette in the corner.
"You two have fun! But not too much fun, you hear?" Clint 39 winked. "She's still my sister." He shot a grappling hook into the air and disappeared in a gust of wind and a blur of black and purple.
Clint 42 sighed and took off his glasses to try and adjust to the darkness. "Hello? Is anyone down here? Tatanya? Your brother sent me... I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"You're not supposed to do anything," Said a sultry voice, which Clint assumed was coming from the figure in the shadows. Like a jungle cat, she emerged slowly and smoothly, and the light caught each part of her body one at a time. The waves in her dark brown hair. The shine of her red leather jacket. The mischief in her bright green eyes. "Hullo, Clint number 42."
"Hello, Tatanya." Clint said, unphased. Already this felt more like a chore than a date. No force within him, being a magnet or something else, pulled him towards Tatanya.
"My brother told you my name?"
"No, I'm a psychic." Clint replied, deadpan.
"Are you now?" Tatanya's green eyes lit up, even more so. "I didn't think Hawkeye dolls were capable of that. But I am."
"I know. You're Scarlet Witch."
"You don't sound impressed."
Clint had to lie. "No, I am. I've just had a long day, with the wedding and all. And then your brother dragged me here immediately after. I don't know what I'm getting into."
"Well, I was just having a girl's night out before you came by," Tatanya replied, draping her arms over Hawkeye's neck and leaning forward. "You could come join us if you like."
The offer was certainly tempting, and so was Tatanya. Yet, he probably shouldn't. It was a Wednesday, and Wednesday nights were "preparation" nights. "Oh, I definitely would, but I would hate to ruin ladies' day. Nice meeting you. Bye." Clint made a step forward, ready to leave Tatanya, but she tugged back on his wrist.
"Come on. Please?" She begged, sticking out her supple lower lip. "Just for a little while."
Clint glanced down, finally looking her directly in the eye. They were green, like he had seen before, but there was a soft pink glow to them now. Maybe it was just the reflection from all the confetti. Regardless, she was awfully pretty, and Clint couldn't deny that.
"Fine. But I'm not dancing on the table for you girls or anything."
Tatanya laughed. "Of course not. That's my job."
Clint wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, but as soon as he was led under another shelving unit and into the "party room", he got his answer. Marvel Legends and All Stars figures, all female, were making the most of the darkness under the shelving unit. Dolls who had powers displayed them, making glowing creatures out of colorful smoke and fireworks, then commanded them to run around and entertain the guests. Dolls who had skintight suits or indecent clothing danced suggestively on boxes that acted as stages. Dolls who could do neither of those talked, laughed, teased each-other, stumbled around in high heels, and clinked glasses together, pretending to sip the nectar of the gods from empty cups.
"Here it is," Clint's guide said. "And before I let you go to have some fun..." She winked. "My name is not Tatanya."
"Then why did you answer to it?" Clint asked, getting infuriated.
"My brother, Clint 39, knew you would listen to me over him. So I did anything to get you to meet the real Tatanya," Not-Tatanya flexed her fingers, and the pink magic surrounding them faded away. "Anything."
Clint took his wrist from her hand. "You hexed me!"
The Scarlet Witch doll shrugged. "I did what I had to do."
"Oh, you whor-"
Scarlet Witch wagged her finger in the air disapprovingly. "Ah-ah-ah! This is my party, and I make the rules. No foul language here. Unless we're talking about the ladies onstage," she flashed a glance at one of the original Wasp dolls and laughed shortly. "Now come on, loverboy. Let's take you to your real date."
Clint passed through the swarm of dolls, tracking the bright red jacket the Scarlet Witch wore. It was clear that the ladies at the party weren't used to having a man around. Hands glided over him and sweet nothings were murmured in his ears, but he paid them no attention. Instead, an antisocial doll sitting off to the side had caught his eye. She was watching the others, appearing bored, but not yet bored enough to leave. There was something about her that intrigued him.
"Please tell me that's Tatanya." Clint whispered.
Scarlet Witch had caught his words. "Yep, that's her. Tati's my best friend."
Clint 39 thought to be polite, despite everything. "And what's your name?"
"Emily," the doll replied quietly. "It's not exactly a party-girl name, is it?"
"Does it have to be?"
"No... but I always felt like I was more outside than in. I blamed my name. Tati's that way, too, but I never knew why," Emily suddenly changed her tone. "But she might feel differently about parties once she sees you, loverboy."
Clint scoffed. "Sure." He was beginning to get nervous. Each second that passed by was a second closer to this mystery girl.
Emily strutted up to Tatanya as Clint lingered behind, trying to steady himself.
"Tati, your date is here." Emily announced.
Tatanya cooly glanced up from her empty glass. Her eyes scanned Clint in a way that made him believe she was reading his soul, but a hint of amusement in her gaze gave him some hope that she might have seen some good in there.
"So you're the man who was sent to entertain me." Tatanya said.
"Yeah, you watch out, I'm a mean juggler." Clint said before he could stop himself.
It worked. The corner of Tatanya's mouth twitched up in the smallest smile. She stuck out her hand.
"What's your name, Agent?"
They shook. "Clint. I'm boring. Your name though... it's very pretty."
"Thank you. I chose it myself."
Clint laughed. "You serious?"
"Yeah, her real name is Natasha. Just like every other Black Widow doll." Emily cut in, smirking at her friend.
Tatanya scowled lightly. "Sure, go ahead and tell my date that there's nothing special about me. That really pulls them in."
Clint thought she was special.
"Not like it matters, Tati. Your natural charm will pull him in." Said Emily.
"The man is right here, Em. You can speak to him. Like a person. For example..." Tatanya folded her arms over the table and addressed Clint. "Sit and talk with me for a while, Clint. We can people watch and judge them silently."
Clint picked the closest chair to Tatanya. "Oh good. That's my favorite thing to do."
"I'll go ahead and leave you two alone. Be good, loverboy." Emily said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and walking onto the dance floor.
"Emily's your best friend?" Clint asked. It was the first question that came to mind.
Tatanya nodded and sighed.
"She told me she was never in with the crowd. Yet there she is, right in the middle of things. It looks like everyone loves her."
Tatanya licked her lips and looked around. "We all 'love' each-other here. What with the atmosphere and the energy... but when the lights come back on and the humans come in for work... that disappears. Enemies become enemies again, and friends turn away. We ignore each-other and grow distant. That's life from inside of a cardboard box," Tatanya paused and leaned closer to Clint. "Not that you're any different, are you? We all have a doll's experience."
Clint shrugged. "Yeah, but I got more privilege than you would think. I work with Emily's brother. We do weddings and such. People always want someone to fire a banner across the way whenever the couple kisses. It's become a tradition around here."
Tatanya cocked her head and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. "That's interesting. I never get invited to weddings."
"And I never get invited to parties."
"Really? It's your first time? How do you like it?"
Clint was watching everything from the outside and was not entertained. He felt cramped and outlandish seeing plastic bodies writhe and feeling the music pulse like an irregular heartbeat beneath him.
"To be honest... I'm not enjoying it at all."
"Oh, thank god," Tatanya tossed her drink cup over her shoulder. She held her hand out her hand to Clint. "Wanna leave?"
Clint paused. "But what will Emily think?"
Tatanya laughed. "Bold of you to assume that Emily thinks. No, we'll be fine. If you want to leave, we can leave. I'll take you somewhere better."
"Like where?"
Tatanya cocked her head to the unit above them. "Up."
Clint felt his breath catch in his throat. He wasn't afraid of heights. In fact, he loved them. He felt free when he stood so high above the earth, even if the earth was only a warehouse filled with metal and cardboard.
He took her hand then- for multiple reasons.
Tatanya looked pleased, and she began guiding him gently to a makeshift rope ladder that hung down from the top shelf. Clint was a pretty good climber, but Tatanya was possibly even better. She was always one step ahead of him.
On the way there, Tatanya explained herself. "Clint 39 has tried to set me up with many dates before. I take each one of them to my hideout. If my date likes it, they can stay. If they don't, I bail," Tatanya shrugged. "It's a simple strategy. We can end it here if you like. You'll never have to see this face again."
"No, no," Clint stuttered, watching Tatanya from below. He couldn't see much besides her hair, which was the color of a sunset, and sunsets were rare to see when one was cooped up in a warehouse for most of your life. "I like your face."
Natasha snorted. "You're such a dork. How did you even get this job?"
Clint froze, gripping tightly onto the rope. "What job?"
"The wedding one. Firing banners around and shit. Emily's brother isn't the one is charge, is he?"
"He was for a while. Before I came."
"How long is a while?"
"Um, two weddings? One for Peggy Carter 22 and Steve Rogers 58, and another like a week after for Thor Odinson 66 and Lady Sif-"
Tatanya held a hand up, the other holding the rest of her weight. "Don't tell me. I've heard this story. Lady Sif went by Allætha Androder, didn't she?"
"Yeah..." Clint sighed in embarrassment. "Clint 39 reached out to me for help after that disaster."
"I can't believe it! Allætha Androder was the talk of the town for like, months. Catching an arrow in midair isn't easy, trust me. And to do it upside down, in a bridal veil? No thanks."
"I was surprised people hired us after that. After what happened with Allætha Androder."
"Well, she's still married to Thor, so you must have done something right," Tatanya resumed her climb. "Or maybe they felt safer because they got a better archer."
"Why are you being so flirtatious?"
Tatanya exhaled. "I'm not being flirtatious, I'm being nice. Are people not normally nice to you?"
"Sure... Clint 39 is."
They had finally reached the top of the shelving unit, which had to be at least 20 feet above the ground. Tatanya pulled herself up and waited until Clint was able to stand. It was like a whole different world so high up. Red and green lights blinked quietly in an indistinguishable pattern. The chatter of dolls was more like white noise than conversation, and there were no humans in sight. Clint hadn't realized how small things were. Small enough to take the world in your fist and claim it as your own.
"This is the Upperground, my personal secret hideout." Tatanya said.
"It's amazing."
"You're not just saying that, are you?"
"Why would I be?" Clint replied.
"This place is very important to me. I wanted to make sure you were being truthful." Tatanya whispered.
"Right, or you'll kick me out and the date is over?"
"Exactly," Tatanya agreed. "Anyways, can I trust you?"
"With what?"
"I've got something for you here," Tatanya disappeared behind one of the upper boxes. The only clue Clint had to her activity was the sound of steel scraping steel. "Well, no. Us. I call it Magic in a Bottle." Tatanya came out with a shiny metal container with a screw-top lid.
Clint recognized the shape. "You're kidding me."
"I don't kid," Tatanya said. She took out two bottlecaps and started pouring out the first "glass". "Found it on the floor one day under one of the racks. Apparently humans carry this shit with them when they're working. But I tend to use it more for relaxing."
Clint carefully took his glass and stared down at the drink. In all the weddings he had attended, never had he ever been offered alcohol. He had seen it sometimes, the forbidden fruit of dollkind, sitting around and looking pretty. Most dolls didn't care for alcohol. Why bother having it if you can't drink it, after all? But then there were some dolls who treasured the stuff, insisting that their wedding absolutely must have at least a small amount. Otherwise, it wasn't considered a real party.
"This is potent stuff. Only reserved for special occasions." Clint remarked.
"We're on a date. It is a special occasion."
"Why does Clint 39 keep setting you up with dates, anyways?"
Tatanya looked beyond, to the warehouse door, which was locked and armed every night. "He thinks I'm lonely. Always sitting out at parties. Going up to the top of the units all the time. To mope, he thinks. Little does he know I have a friend," she chuckled and swirled the bottlecap around in her hand. "So what about you? I thought Hawkeye was a family man. Do you have anyone special in your life?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here," Clint sighed. "No offense to you. I would like a family one day. But work comes first."
"Your work can't be too busy. It's not like dolls around here are getting married on the daily."
Clint felt Tatanya's eyes on his face and her stare burned hotter than fire.
"We should make a toast," Clint said quickly. He raised his glass in the air. "To this cruddy blind date."
"To this cruddy blind date." Tatanya agreed.
They both exhaled deeply, and for a second, it was like exchanging the breath of life.
Clint's memory after that came in small, pleasant spurts. Clint spilling his drink all over his suit and Tatanya laughing so hard she fell over. Tatanya asking him if he could really juggle. Clint telling her stories of the worst weddings he'd ever attended. The distant lights becoming blurry, like a watery reflection on the sea. Tatanya putting her head on Clint's shoulder. Tatanya asking Clint to call her by her real name, Natasha.
The clearest memory was the best one.
He had just finished telling her about his first- and at the time, last- heroic encounter where he had saved a bunch of defective dolls from being tossed out at the factory in which he was made.
"You're a different one, Clint," Natasha said, grinning secretly. "The other Hawkeyes are lazy and goofy, but you... you have the real aura of a leader about you."
"Have you been speaking to Magenta?" Clint had asked.
"Hm?"
"The matchmaker, Magenta? He's a Magneto doll with pink paint on the side of his face. Apparently he will tell you your magnet match for ten CostCoins each. I just thought you were speaking to him because 'aura' is something he usually says."
"Have you ever been to see him?"
"No, but I've known friends who have."
"Damn, that must have ruined their lives. Imagine knowing exactly who you are going to be tied to for the rest of your life."
Clint shrugged. "I don't think it's all that bad. Makes dating easier, that's for sure."
"Dating," Natasha scoffed and turned away. "Love is for children."
"Pfft. Have you ever even seen a kid?"
"Like a human one or a doll one?"
"Like... does it matter? A kid is a kid."
"I was kidding, you know."
"I know."
"Love isn't for children."
Clint pushed away from Natasha, feeling appalled by her for the first time. "What?"
"It's for everyone," she said quietly. She stole Clint's glasses and pushed them onto her face. "God, that was corny. Remind me never to say that again."
"I thought it was cute."
"Of course you would, you dork," Natasha curled around his side again, pulling him into her arms. "Kiss me, Clint."
Time stopped. She had asked him to kiss her. Clint was on Cloud Nine, and he knew that this moment had to be savored above all else. Still, he couldn't resist dissolving into the hazy dream that was his kiss with Natasha. His first kiss, actually. It had to be something special.
It was actually quite horrible.
Neither of them had ever kissed anyone before.
They had no idea what they were doing.
Their teeth knocked against each-other. Natasha bit the side of his cheek. Clint had to suppress a sneeze.
Natasha was the first to pull away. She wiped her mouth, disgusted.
"Clint- let's never do that again."
Clint nodded, trying to rub the blush from his cheeks. "Agreed."
Many months and trips to the Upperground later, Clint 42 and Natasha/Tatanya kissed again.
This was the kiss that made them husband and wife.
"I'm sorry... but that wasn't any less disgusting." Clint laughed, his voice intermingling with the cries and cheers of the doll community that had gathered there.
"Allow me to wipe your mouth for you," said Natasha, bringing her hands up to his face. "Don't worry, I'll make it look romantic."
"Okay, should I...?" Clint fumbled around with his own hands, torn between making things look normal for their audience and making Natasha happy.
"Don't worry, honey, I got it," Natasha beamed. Her eyes glowed like the sun, and Clint knew he had made the right choice. Even if he had never been to see Magenta, he wouldn't have to. This was his magnet mate. "I'm going to go catch up with Em, you go and see Clint 39. Be sure to pay him nicely."
"I don't owe him a cent," said Clint. "He did this for free. Now, come on. We have to walk down the aisle first."
"Ah, tradition, tradition." Natasha sighed, turned outwards and facing the wedding attendees. She placed her hand on top of Clint's, and they escorted each-other away from the chaos and into the arms of their friends.
Emily gushed for what felt like hours over the beautiful ceremony, and the strange cups of fiery liquid, and the banner. Especially the banner. Clint 39 wasn't a great shot by any means, but the banner his wife had made for them was lovely, and it was lovely even when it fell on everyone standing below.
Clint 39 was still proud of his work. "How about it, eh?"
"How about what?" Clint 42 asked, loosening his tie and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Clint's just happy you're married." Clint 39's wife, Maria Hill 14, explained.
"Or he's avoiding bringing up the banner."
"Hm, what, Bruce Banner? He might be in another warehouse," Clint 39 said, pretending to play dumb for one unsuccessful second before apologizing. "Sorry about that. You know I'm blind as a bat."
"Oh, Batman? Sorry, I think he's in another warehouse," Clint 42 said, and slapped his bud on the back. "All is forgiven. I want you two to try Natasha's Magic in a Bottle."
"What's that?"
Clint 42 chuckled. "Trust me, you'll like it."
On their wedding night, Natasha/Tatanya and Clint 42 moved into the same box.
They shared a bed of packing peanuts together, and if they tried hard enough to imagine, it felt like a real home.
"You know, we probably won't stay like this forever." Natasha cooed, tracing the design of the brand-new tattoo on Clint's wrist. Nat had one, too, in the same place, in lieu of engagement bracelets.
"Now you tell me," Clint laughed, moving his other arm over her back. "It's okay. Nothing lasts forever here. We can only enjoy what we have while we have it."
Natasha went silent. All that could be heard was the soft scraping of her fingernail over faux leather. "Or... we could find a way out of this."
"Honey, don't tell me you're filing for a divorce already."
"That's not what I meant, you dork," she said. "Here's what I'm thinking. What if there was a way we could be boxed up together, and end up with the same human? Think about it for a second. We could pull that off. Black Widow and Hawkeye are close friends in the movies. We can get a box for two and stay there until the humans come for us to send us away."
Clint pondered this. "They didn't make us to come in pairs, Nat."
"I know. It was just... wishful thinking."
"It was a good thought."
"And a wishful one," she sighed. "Only ever to remain a wish."
Clint began stroking her sunset-colored hair. "Let's think about something else for now. What about... kids?"
"Kids?" Natasha coughed.
"I know, I know. Love is for children."
"I only said that because my character does. I was kidding."
"I know you were," he breathed. "I would love a daughter. I want her to have your hair. Bright curly orange."
"It's red."
"Yeah, red hair. And she'll be an expert bowman."
Natasha chortled. "Is that what they call people like you?"
"That's what I call myself."
"What would her name be?"
"Hmm... Katherine or something else. Something dignified."
"We could call her Kate."
"Kate isn't short for Katherine. They don't even sound alike," Clint said. "But Kate is nice. I like it."
"Or we could have her choose her own name. Like Emily and I did."
"I thought Emily didn't like her name? It didn't sound..." Clint waved a hand in the air. "Party-girl-ish enough."
"She named herself after the worker who placed her into a box. I named myself Tatanya because it sounded nice. Good Russian name," Natasha laughed under her breath. "Natasha is like my secret name. Only people who are close to me can call me that. Tatanya is for people who see me sitting on the sidelines with a bottlecap full of Fireball Whiskey at parties," Natasha paused. "Speaking of which, Emily invited us out again tomorrow. She thinks being married will change our mind about that sort of thing."
"Well, do you want to go?"
"No. Not really."
Clint leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. "Yeah, me neither. Besides, I won't be able to come home tomorrow. I've got work."
Natasha sat up. "Another wedding so soon?"
"Not a wedding." Clint replied tensely.
"A birthday, then."
"No."
"A retirement party."
"No."
"What is it, then?"
Clint got up from the bed. "I can't tell you."
"We're married now, Clint. You can tell me anything."
"I know what we are!" Clint shouted.
The fearful look on Natasha's face made him wish he could take it back. He was too late.
"I'm sorry, Nat. I'm so, so, sorry. But couples have secrets. Even in marriage."
Nat's usual fiery gaze was watery and cool, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't look Clint in the eye. "Okay, fine. You don't have to tell me. But promise you'll be loyal to me."
Clint returned to bed. He wished he could give her an answer.
On Wednesday night, he kissed Nat goodbye.
Yesterday's squabble had been long forgotten, and now Clint was leaving for work. He had told Natasha to go out with Emily, either to try out one of the parties from a different view, or take her to the Upperground hideout, for an especially different view.
"Maybe Em could give me some ideas for our honeymoon." Natasha had said.
"Honeymoon?" Clint asked.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll think of something real nice," Natasha stroked his cheek and looked deeply into Clint's eyes, past his purple lenses and insecurities. "Be safe out there."
"How did you know my job was dangerous?"
"I know, you, Clint. You wouldn't be satisfied with minor decorating for the rest of your life," She smiled sadly. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I'm going to beat your ass."
"I know," Clint giggled softly and stepped out onto the main floor of the warehouse. It was oddly quiet tonight, and oddly dark. It must be the changing of the seasons, Clint thought. "Don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself."
"What am I going to do?"
"I don't know, catch cabin fever?" Clint loaded a few more arrows into his quiver and pulled his wrist guards tighter. He gave his wife a small salute, and she returned it with a small wave. Clint was satisfied, if not a little guilty, but there was no time to feel anything. "Preparation Nights" were not to be missed.
He showed up minutes later to the meeting, same time, same place. Everyone was waiting for him already, even if it wasn't yet midnight. Being early was better than being sorry.
"You're late, Clint." said Kamala Khan, a Ms. Marvel Legends figure. She stood where all other knelt, as was common for being second-in-command of their team.
"So's the other guy," Clint remarked, pointing at Kamala and trying to keep the tremor from his fingers. "Though I'd rather have you in charge than him."
A few of Clint's coworkers nodded nervously in agreement. Clint 39, who also led this same secret laugh, chortled quietly.
"He will be here soon. He has told me this is his greatest plan yet, so once he gets here, I except you to treat him with the upmost respect," Kamala sighed. "Please, Clint. Don't endanger yourself again. None of us here want to see you expire. There's enough violence with this job as it is."
"I understand," Clint replied. "Kamala, did you ever consider leav-"
"He's here!" A doll next to him hissed, pulling him down to kneel with the rest of them.
Kamala backed away, allowing their leader to take her standing place. He waltzed in a second after, his teeth shining as brightly as the curving gold of his helmet.
It was Loki.
"How are you tonight, Kamala?" Loki asked.
"I am well, thank you, master," she said, her eyes downcast. "And you?"
"I am excellent. And soon, we all shall be," he sounded proud. "I have recently received intel that there is a rogue doll in our midst. A blazing soul far powerful than anyone has ever seen before. She goes by Wanda Maximoff 75, and she is currently being mentored by Karl Modo 3 in the fifth district," Loki pointed his scepter towards the south end of the building. "It will be our job to seize this Wanda Maximoff and ensure she is not to hurt any other doll again," Loki focused his glare on the crowd. "You know what this means. However, Karl has hid her well, and we suspect she has taken sanctuary on the topmost racks. If Karl achieve this, the warehouse will be thrown in chaos and ruin. Kamala, assign them their duties."
"Yes, Master." Kamala bowed quickly at Loki before bustling around the group, beckoning each one of them to stand and come forward so that she could whisper in their ear.
She went through all of them, purposely leaving Clint for last. Something in her eyes made him feel uneasy. This night would not end well.
"Clint, Loki is wanting you to perform the kill on Wanda tonight. Loki told the truth- she is both a rogue and a blazing soul. But she is an innocent doll, as you might have guessed. So if you have the choice to take her life or spare it..."
"What is taking so long, Kamala?" Loki ordered, already starting off on his way with the rest of the team following behind.
Kamala pulled away from Clint's ear and raised her voice. "...you must follow your orders."
"Understood, Kamala. Thank you." Clint replied darkly. These were the worst sorts of missions, yet he knew Loki only trusted him to perform kills. No one else could be as stealthy or secretive as him.
Clint dragged his feet the whole way to their destination. They were to raid any homes found at the top of the racks, which should have been normal, but it felt different now. Being twenty feet in the air reminded him too much of Natasha. He sighed. She would never approve of his second life.
While the others knocked down doors or pounded on boxes in search of Wanda, Clint got distracted by two moving figures across the way. Was it Karl and Wanda? He drew an arrow and loaded it into his bow. Clint 39 sneaked up beside him and followed in suit.
"What are you doing?" Clint 42 whispered.
"Loki ordered me to perform the hit tonight. He saw the way Kamala was speaking to you earlier."
"So he doesn't think I'll have the balls to do it?"
Clint 39 shrugged. "Basically."
"Great." Clint 42 muttered and set down his bow.
"Better not let Loki catch you lazing around." Clint 39 said, setting his weapon down beside him.
"Hypocrite." Clint 42 chuckled.
"Oh yeah? And what's Tatanya think about you being out here?"
"She doesn't know." Clint 42 said sheepishly.
"Aw, man, you're gonna be in some hot water later."
"Don't I know it!" Clint 42 exclaimed. He removed his glasses and focused harder on the two doll-like figures on the rack beside them. They didn't look like the running-and-hiding type. More like the relaxing-and-partying type. But Clint didn't know anyone who did that except... "Clint, I don't think that's our guys."
"Hm?"
"That's not Karl and Wanda."
Clint 39 squinted at the moving shapes in the distance, searching blindly. "Who is it, then?"
"That's Emily and Natasha."
"You mean Tatanya?"
"Yeah..." Said Clint 42.
"What are they doing up here?"
Clint 42 was aware of how close the footsteps were behind them. He could hear the shouting voices of his team, and the dolls being pinned against the walls, their arms being twisted behind them as they denounced knowing anything about the rogue Wanda. He knew this was the life he led, but it was not the life he had chosen.
Not so far away were two best friends sharing secrets and a drink made of fire. He saw one woman in a red jacket, and the other with red hair, but by far the most noticeable thing about them was how much they were smiling. Clint 42 was sure Emily was cheering Natasha for her new marriage. Clint 42 was sure Natasha was being Emily to use her powers, just to see the pretty shapes and colors she could never learn to make. Clint 42 was sure that Loki would see this, and that Emily would be mistaken for the other Wanda.
"Clint. We have to go." He spoke with baited breath.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we run. Now. And we take the girls with us. Before Loki gets here."
Clint 39 fixed his friend with the most desperate stare. "You know what will happen if we do. Loki already doesn't trust you after last time. We can't leave. Not until a human finds us and takes us from this hell of a life."
"Emily and Tatanya are in danger," Clint 42 grabbed his bow and leaped into action. He glanced over at Loki, who had Kamala's throat in his hands. He threw her down and she writhed on the ground, choking. He turned away, grimacing. "I don't care what will happen to me. We need to save them."
Clint 39's mouth stood agape. He looked at Kamala, and then back to the dolls on the other shelf. He nodded. "Okay. Just tell me what I have to do."
"Distract him," Clint pointed at Loki. "I'll swing over and get them to safety."
Clint 42 raised his bow again and fired one of his wedding-banner-arrows across the way, hitting the shelf under Emily and Natasha, as not to startle them. He took the arrow in both hands and prepared it to use it as a zipline to slide over. He heard a scream from Clint 39. Clint 42 looked over his shoulder just in time to watch himself get kicked in the back. He fell flat on his face, and all the air was expelled from his chest.
"Clint Barton 1 and 2," Loki stated. "What have you found for me?"
"Actually, it's 39 and 42." Clint 39 corrected him, gasping.
Loki didn't care. He never did. Instead, he removed his shoes from their backs and followed the track of the banner over to the other rack. His eyes lit up in a dangerous way whenever he saw Emily and Natasha.
"Oh, I see," Loki chuckled. "The cat was stalking the mouse, and didn't think to tell its master."
"We were just about to tell you, I swear-" Clint 39 begged, raising his hand for anyone to grab it. Loki sneered at this gesture and stepped on it again, crushing his fingers. Clint 39 howled louder and louder in pain with each cracking sound that was made.
"Hey!" Clint 42 jumped up and took Clint 39's bow, braced to fire at Loki's head. "Stop or I'll shoot."
Loki titled his head upwards in a challenge. He slowly raised his foot and took it away from Clint 39's hand. This was somehow more terrifying than if he hadn't.
"I didn't ask to be a part of your bullshit bounty hunters," Clint 42 spat. "You promised us a better life, and instead you made us the harbingers of death. I quit!"
The dolls around him went silent. They stopped their raids and torturing and looked at Clint with fear painted clearly on their faces. They knew they were about to see something terrible.
Loki wasn't afraid of this silence. He reveled in it, for as long as there was silence, the longer he reigned. He addressed Clint 42 formally.
"Very well, number 42."
"It's Hawkeye." Clint 42 demanded, asking his master to respect him for the very first time.
Loki grinned. "Of course. Very well, Hawkeye. I shall allow you to leave the group. As long as you perform this one final task for me. For the benefit of dolls everywhere."
Hawkeye narrowed his eyes. He watched Kamala sneak up behind Loki and pull Clint 39 into her elongated arms. He was hurt, and so was she, but at least they could get better. Hawkeye didn't have to be afraid for their safety anymore. "What is it, then?"
Loki grabbed an arrow from Clint's quiver, one he knew to be the deadliest. "Kill Wanda Maximoff," he pointed his scepter at the rack where Emily and Natasha sat in blissful ignorance. "Isn't that what you were trying to do?"
Hawkeye felt a shiver pass through him, like the chill of death.
"That's not the right Wanda." He stated, voice trembling.
"You dare speak against your master's orders?" Loki roared. "You shall obey me, or you shall never see the light of day again."
"Just do it, Clint!" Kamala begged, sounding near sobs. "Please."
Hawkeye looked remorsefully at Emily. She seemed different now. More herself, more confident. The nightly parties never amused her in the same way the Upperground could. She loved seeing the way Natasha's face lit up with every new hex she created. And Natasha... well... Natasha would never forgive him for what he was about to do. But maybe... maybe she didn't have to know it was him who did it.
Hawkeye got to his knees. He settled the bow against his face. He loaded the deadliest arrow into the rest and pulled back on the string.
"Forgive me, Emily." He whispered. The arrow slipped from his fingers.
He saw everything in slow motion. The flight of the arrow. Emily taking notice of it. The smile melting from her face. A sudden hex- bright red- interrupting the arrow's path. The arrow bouncing off the hex and hitting Natasha in the face. Natasha reeling back in shock. Natasha stumbling on the edge of the rack.
Natasha falling twenty feet down.
"No!" Hawkeye heard Emily scream, but words had lost him. He only had one thing on his mind. Clint tore down the banner and let the other side hang down. He used it as a fireman's pole, not caring how many racks he hit on his journey.
Emily was already there, using her magic to levitate herself a few inches above Natasha. She was in utter distraught.
"Tati? Tatanya? Please... please, wake up! Tati!" Emily's voice cracked and her magic disappeared. She took Natasha's head in her hands and began combing her sunset-colored hair while her fingers shook with sorrow. She noticed Hawkeye's shadow cross the ground before her. The darkness fell upon Nat's limp body.
"Clint? Clint 42, is that you? Oh my God... I have no idea what happened, someone was trying to shoot me, I think, and I blocked it with a spell, and then it hit Nat in her head, and then she tried to walk it off, but then she fell off the Upperground rack, and I don't know what happened but I can't believe it did!" Emily drew in a long breath. "I wish I could cry, I wish to God I could cry!"
Hawkeye bent down and brought Natasha's unwaking form carefully into his lap. He had only ever done this in his nightmares.
"I killed her. I killed her! Please, please, forgive me, Clint! Forgive me." Emily buried her head in her hands.
"No," he replied, but it did not feel like he was speaking. "Forgive me."
"What?"
"I need you to run, Emily. Run and run far. Go to the front of the warehouse. And pray a human picks you soon."
Emily got to her feet. "Clint, I'm sor-"
"Run, Emily. Run! Go now!" He shouted, his voice bleeding with emotion.
Emily, once playful and beautiful, looked more hurt than it had ever been. She looked once more down at her best friend's body before turning on a dime and flying away, ducking under shelves and hopping over boxes, never to look back again.
Good. If she did, she would die, too.
Hawkeye brought his face against Natasha's. She was still warm, but growing cold fast. Her lips, once a dangerous red, were ashen, and her hair, which once glowed with the promise of a sunrise, appeared cold and gray in the absence of light so far down.
This could have been someone else.
And he would find that someone else, and he would vow that no such thing would ever happen to her.
Hawkeye pressed his tattoo against Natasha's when his lips pressed against her head.
The buzzers around the warehouse sounded the start of a new day.
But on Wednesday night, he kissed Nat goodbye.
(To be continued in part three, coming in September.)
-Loki
No comments:
Post a Comment