Two For Extraction (Avengers. Natasha, Clint. Gen. PG)
Title: Two For Extraction
Pairing/Characters: Natasha, Clint Gen
Rating: PG for fight scenes
Warnings: Violence
Summary: When Natasha met Clint
A/N: Because when I said ‘Help, give me Avengers prompts so I can start writing again’, becca_radcgg said ‘I want Black Widow and Hawkeye het backstory’. So instead I wrote a mostly Gen/perhaps Pre-het story about when they first met. I hope you like it anyway! Beta-read by mintyfiend, all remaining mistakes mine because I was just far too eager to post!
It makes barely a whisper in the air, a noise probably not audible unless you’re listening for it- and Natasha is always listening for it.
As soon as the whisper hits her ears, Natasha starts to drop, intending to roll to the side. She has a plan to find cover, to find out who’s sending projectiles towards her and find a way to stop them. But before she can hardly move, the projectile- an arrow, she thinks, from the blur of it passing her, whizzes barely an inch past her ear.
Ignoring the surge of something that’s probably close to panic- that was a close call, and Natasha doesn’t live in a world where close calls are an option- she continues to drop down, turning as she does to end up with one knee on the ground, and her guns raised.
It all happens in the space between heart beats, no time to think, just react, but she doesn’t immediately start shooting. Natasha wants to see what she’s up against before she takes them down.
Her attacker is a solitary man standing on one of the beams that runs across the width of the abandoned factory she’s found herself in. He’s dressed from top to toe in black, in something that’s probably a uniform. There’s a badge on his chest that she can’t quite make out, but it makes her wonder what organisation he’s from, and what she’s done to piss them off. He has a bow clasped in his hand, and Natasha would smirk if he hadn’t already proven to be so adept at using it.
“It’s not nice to shoot a lady in the back,” she says. Out of the corner of her eye she can see a circle of red on the floor beside her knee- a lock of her hair, apparently severed by the arrow. Irrationally, it annoys her, when really it should be ramping up the panic- the arrow was even closer than she’d thought. She refuses to let her annoyance show, and she turns her full attention to the man.
“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” the man says.
“So you’re not here to kill me?” Natasha raises a sceptical eyebrow. Most of the time, if someone comes after her with a weapon, they’re trying to kill her. So far, they’ve all found themselves failing their mission.
“No, I’m here to kill you,” the man reassures her. “I just believe in a fair fight.”
Natasha knows what that means- she’s used the line herself, because only people confident that they’ll win talk about fair fights. When you’re scared you’ll lose, that’s when you shoot someone in the back. She allows herself one steady, smooth breath, a millisecond to centre herself. This isn’t going to be as easy as she’d expected.
She shoots a warning shot up at the beam. It goes wide, which is her intention, but the man doesn’t even flinch.
Natasha tries to look as non-threatening as possible. “Seems a little unfair, you perched up there, and me down here. Don’t you want to give me a fighting chance?” She fakes a pout, and thinks she sees a smile flash across the man’s face.
“Sure,” he says easily.
Natasha expects him to scale down somehow- in fact she’d been counting on it to use his distraction to get into a better defended position or maybe even to shoot him in the back, if he were stupid enough to turn from her.
Instead he jumps down from the beam, landing in a crouch on the floor with a soft thud. It’s at least a ten foot drop, but his eyes never once leave her, nor does he show any exertion or pain from his fall.
It’s possible that Natasha has underestimated the man- she has to acknowledge that he’s an amazing shot- the red curl of hair lying on the dirty floor was proof enough of that. If he’d wanted her dead already, she would have been. But she’d been sure that in close combat he’d be no match for her. Instead, he’s a man who lands on his feet without wincing.
She levels her guns at his head, firing off a round. There’s no time to waste, and she isn’t afraid to end it. The moment she pulls the triggers, she feels a tiny surge of relief- the man who has pushed her off balance is about to be dead in only a few more seconds.
Except it’s as if he’d pre-empted her move- he’s already rolling to the side, out of the line of fire, and fitting an arrow to his bow as the bullets whiz past where he had just been. Natasha doesn’t have time to react before the arrow hurtles towards her, stinging as it runs over her hand.
She drops her gun, sparing a second to glance at her hand, but there’s only the barest of grazes- no blood has been drawn.
Natasha narrows her eyes. He’s toying with her, and she doesn’t like that at all. Actually, that’s a lie- normally she loves it when her attackers toy with her- or at least think they are. It gives her time to get into a better position, to find out some useful information or even just as something to stave off the boredom before she kills them. And she always does. No one has ever been a match for her before, not really. Sure, there’ve been some close calls when luck had clearly been on her side, but she’s never been as out-matched as she feels right now. And being toyed with only makes her feel more and more off balance.
She scrambles behind a large wooden crate, grateful for its shelter, just as a hail of bullets rains down on the position where she’d just been. Natasha hadn’t seen a gun in the archer’s hand, which means he must have backup. She curses herself for being so stupid, so caught up in the fight that she hadn’t given it any consideration. She could be surrounded by now, her fight with this man merely a distraction. The arrows are bad enough, but his back up has guns and who knows what other kind of weapons. She’d become unfocused and she’d let herself be not just outmatched but also out-numbered.
Natasha peeks over the top of the crate, catching a glimpse of movement from across the room. She fires, ducking back down as they open fire back. This is not how she likes to fight, blind firing in the vague hopes of hitting a target. She’s more precise than this, usually.
The gunfire stops, followed swiftly by a yell and then an explosion. Natasha looks up, confused, as a ball of fire erupts from where the gunmen had been standing. Had they meant to throw a grenade at her, but accidentally set it off themselves? She doesn’t have much more time to think- the explosion has brought more men- some she recognises as goons working for the man who had hired her. She’d known that with hired bodyguards like these guys, the man in charge had to be up to something bad, but she hadn’t stopped to ask questions. Normally they waited at least a bit of time before trying to kill her and get their money back, and Natasha had planned to be long gone by then.
For some reason, they aren’t aiming at her and are instead targeting something or someone across the room. Natasha can’t see what’s going on but she wonders if maybe this isn’t about her after all, if maybe she’s inadvertently become caught in the crossfire of another battle. Or has someone come to her aid? She pushes the thoughts aside- it doesn’t matter and she can see a chance, a way to take out three of the goons and maybe make it to the exit, leaving the goons and the dangerous archer behind.
As they shout and fire across the room, she runs, dodging a stray bullet and taking out one, two, three goons with one bullet apiece. She reaches the door, taking down another with a swift roundhouse kick and a punch to the jaw.
Another explosion rocks the warehouse and she turns, finally seeing who the real target is. The archer stands in the shadows, firing arrow after arrow as the goons persistently try to approach. Like Natasha, they obviously had thought that they’d be safer within arm’s reach, and are quickly learning how wrong they were. As she watches, pausing only to sidestep a new goon who runs in through the door, delivering an elbow to his windpipe, Natasha sees that the explosions are coming from some of his arrows, taking down multiple attackers at once. She can’t help but be impressed.
For a strange moment Natasha is almost jealous of him. She likes the feeling of the fray, the feeling of forgetting about everything else besides the fight to stay alive- particularly when she was sure she’d win.
He’s outnumbered, although from what Natasha has briefly seen of his fighting ability, the guy can probably take care of himself. Plus she knows she should be glad that something is at least going to slow down her assassin. It gives her the chance of a headstart, to get somewhere on her own turf and ready herself for the next fight which surely must be coming. He doesn’t look the type to give up.
Natasha is about to run, to put as many miles between herself and this place as possible, but something stops her. She doesn’t know what it is, so she labels it as curiosity- maybe she wants to see whether the man really is a match for her, maybe she wants it to be a fair fight when he finally catches up to her and doesn’t want him to be wounded, giving her an unfair advantage. Maybe she’s just tired of running from things. And maybe she hated the way that some of the goons had leered at her earlier that night, as she’d handed over the information to their leader and they’d handed over a tidy electronic transfer of money that would last her until her next big job.
Natasha turns around and raises her guns, taking down three goons from behind. By the time they’ve realised the attack is coming from both sides, the archer has noted Natasha’s involvement and is taking down those closest to him.
It doesn’t take long for the sound of gunshots and shouts to die down, leaving them surrounded by bodies- some dead, some dying and some who Natasha thinks should count themselves lucky that they’re just unconscious.
Natasha’s never let herself be bothered by her death toll, at least not the ones where she’s killed out of necessity or to save her own life. She knows most people are shades of grey on the scale of good and evil, and that there are things in her past that certainly don’t make her pure and innocent. There’s something about the man, the only other person left standing in the room, currently retrieving arrows from his nearest victims while keeping a steady eye on her, that makes Natasha think he’s a black and white kind of guy- there are bad guys and good guys in his world. Natasha wonders where she falls on his scale.
As if reading her mind again, he raises his bow, arrow pointed at her.
“Thanks,” he says and there’s a contemplative smile at the corners of his mouth as she raises her guns.
There’s a long pause as they stand-off, neither lowering their weapon. Natasha lets her gaze flick around the room- her body count is pretty high, but nothing compared to his. If she could get closer, then maybe she’d have an advantage, could separate him from his weapon. Then maybe she’d win. But like this...she didn’t like her chances.
“Is it true what they say about you?” he asks, conversationally, as if they aren’t levelling weapons at each other.
“They say a lot of things,” Natasha says. It’s the truth. Sometimes she worries that the idea of her is scarier than the reality, and one day she won’t live up to it. She hopes today isn’t that day.
“The famous Black Widow,” the man says, stepping to the side. She moves as he does, keeping the distance between them as they circle each other. She hadn’t been sure, until now, that he knew who she was- plenty of people had come to kill her, without knowing her name.
Natasha shrugs, as if to say ‘you caught me’. It gives her a chance to eye the exit, which is now closer to her after their circling. She plants her feet, not moving anymore, and the man cocks an eyebrow and readjusts his aim. She wonders if she can sprint fast enough to the door before the arrow embeds itself in her back.
“They say you’re as deadly as you are beautiful,” the man says, and Natasha frowns- it’s not that she hasn’t heard that line before, but she hadn’t expected it here. It takes her another moment to realise he’s stalling, probably waiting for her arms to tire from holding her guns out for so long. She rolls her eyes, and he shrugs, realising she’s caught on.
“It was worth a try,” he says, and she can’t help but grin. Natasha pushes the smile away, forcing her face to relax into a steady glare at her target. “They also say you’re a gun for hire, loyal to the money, rather than the cause.”
Natasha frowns. That isn’t exactly true- she has her own motives, people and organisations she wants to take down for personal reasons. And between times, to be able to survive, sure, she takes some jobs and doesn’t ask too many questions.
“What does that matter?”
The man tips his head to the side a little, as if he’s assessing her. “I was thinking you could put your guns down and come with me.”
Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t let anyone take me prisoner,” she says, perhaps too forcefully. “Not without an escape plan.”
The man smiles. “I was thinking of offering you a job.”
Natasha can’t hide her surprise. She stares at the man as he adjusts his stance, letting her finally get a good look at the badge on his chest. She recognises it instantly.
“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she says, not bothering to hide her sneer as she adds, “Want me to fight for truth, justice and the American way?”
The man looks amused. “No. It seems to me you enjoy the fight. I’m offering you a fight, with the best damn weapons technology you can imagine. And the pay isn’t bad either.”
Natasha isn’t sure whether to trust him or not. “Do you even have the authority to offer me a job?”
“Do you think the guys in charge wouldn’t want the Black Widow on the books?”
“Those the same guys who sent you to kill me?” Natasha asks, giving the arrow trained on her a pointed look.
The man glances at the arrow then lowers it. Natasha knows he could raise it and fire it in a second if she tried anything, but she appreciates the gesture. It indicates at least a little trust.
“You’re more valuable alive and on our side, than dead,” the man points out, and Natasha laughs, embarrassed by the fact that she feels pleased to be wanted by an organisation that people keep trying to hire her to spy against.
The man smiles in return, and Natasha nods.
“Okay,” she says, lowering one of her guns, unable to deny that she’s intrigued by the prospect. “I’m listening.”
He stares at her until she lowers the other, and then slides the arrow back into his quiver in one smooth movement.
He smiles as he lifts his hand towards his mouth. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun,” he tells her, and there’s something in his eyes that tells her he’s not lying, that this isn’t an elaborate trap.
“This is Agent Barton,” he says into the communicator on his wrist. “Two for extraction.”
He walks towards her, and she stiffens, still half expecting a fight. Instead he extends a hand, and when she takes it, he gives it a firm shake. “I’m Clint,” he says. “Welcome to the team.”
Pairing/Characters: Natasha, Clint Gen
Rating: PG for fight scenes
Warnings: Violence
Summary: When Natasha met Clint
A/N: Because when I said ‘Help, give me Avengers prompts so I can start writing again’, becca_radcgg said ‘I want Black Widow and Hawkeye het backstory’. So instead I wrote a mostly Gen/perhaps Pre-het story about when they first met. I hope you like it anyway! Beta-read by mintyfiend, all remaining mistakes mine because I was just far too eager to post!
It makes barely a whisper in the air, a noise probably not audible unless you’re listening for it- and Natasha is always listening for it.
As soon as the whisper hits her ears, Natasha starts to drop, intending to roll to the side. She has a plan to find cover, to find out who’s sending projectiles towards her and find a way to stop them. But before she can hardly move, the projectile- an arrow, she thinks, from the blur of it passing her, whizzes barely an inch past her ear.
Ignoring the surge of something that’s probably close to panic- that was a close call, and Natasha doesn’t live in a world where close calls are an option- she continues to drop down, turning as she does to end up with one knee on the ground, and her guns raised.
It all happens in the space between heart beats, no time to think, just react, but she doesn’t immediately start shooting. Natasha wants to see what she’s up against before she takes them down.
Her attacker is a solitary man standing on one of the beams that runs across the width of the abandoned factory she’s found herself in. He’s dressed from top to toe in black, in something that’s probably a uniform. There’s a badge on his chest that she can’t quite make out, but it makes her wonder what organisation he’s from, and what she’s done to piss them off. He has a bow clasped in his hand, and Natasha would smirk if he hadn’t already proven to be so adept at using it.
“It’s not nice to shoot a lady in the back,” she says. Out of the corner of her eye she can see a circle of red on the floor beside her knee- a lock of her hair, apparently severed by the arrow. Irrationally, it annoys her, when really it should be ramping up the panic- the arrow was even closer than she’d thought. She refuses to let her annoyance show, and she turns her full attention to the man.
“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” the man says.
“So you’re not here to kill me?” Natasha raises a sceptical eyebrow. Most of the time, if someone comes after her with a weapon, they’re trying to kill her. So far, they’ve all found themselves failing their mission.
“No, I’m here to kill you,” the man reassures her. “I just believe in a fair fight.”
Natasha knows what that means- she’s used the line herself, because only people confident that they’ll win talk about fair fights. When you’re scared you’ll lose, that’s when you shoot someone in the back. She allows herself one steady, smooth breath, a millisecond to centre herself. This isn’t going to be as easy as she’d expected.
She shoots a warning shot up at the beam. It goes wide, which is her intention, but the man doesn’t even flinch.
Natasha tries to look as non-threatening as possible. “Seems a little unfair, you perched up there, and me down here. Don’t you want to give me a fighting chance?” She fakes a pout, and thinks she sees a smile flash across the man’s face.
“Sure,” he says easily.
Natasha expects him to scale down somehow- in fact she’d been counting on it to use his distraction to get into a better defended position or maybe even to shoot him in the back, if he were stupid enough to turn from her.
Instead he jumps down from the beam, landing in a crouch on the floor with a soft thud. It’s at least a ten foot drop, but his eyes never once leave her, nor does he show any exertion or pain from his fall.
It’s possible that Natasha has underestimated the man- she has to acknowledge that he’s an amazing shot- the red curl of hair lying on the dirty floor was proof enough of that. If he’d wanted her dead already, she would have been. But she’d been sure that in close combat he’d be no match for her. Instead, he’s a man who lands on his feet without wincing.
She levels her guns at his head, firing off a round. There’s no time to waste, and she isn’t afraid to end it. The moment she pulls the triggers, she feels a tiny surge of relief- the man who has pushed her off balance is about to be dead in only a few more seconds.
Except it’s as if he’d pre-empted her move- he’s already rolling to the side, out of the line of fire, and fitting an arrow to his bow as the bullets whiz past where he had just been. Natasha doesn’t have time to react before the arrow hurtles towards her, stinging as it runs over her hand.
She drops her gun, sparing a second to glance at her hand, but there’s only the barest of grazes- no blood has been drawn.
Natasha narrows her eyes. He’s toying with her, and she doesn’t like that at all. Actually, that’s a lie- normally she loves it when her attackers toy with her- or at least think they are. It gives her time to get into a better position, to find out some useful information or even just as something to stave off the boredom before she kills them. And she always does. No one has ever been a match for her before, not really. Sure, there’ve been some close calls when luck had clearly been on her side, but she’s never been as out-matched as she feels right now. And being toyed with only makes her feel more and more off balance.
She scrambles behind a large wooden crate, grateful for its shelter, just as a hail of bullets rains down on the position where she’d just been. Natasha hadn’t seen a gun in the archer’s hand, which means he must have backup. She curses herself for being so stupid, so caught up in the fight that she hadn’t given it any consideration. She could be surrounded by now, her fight with this man merely a distraction. The arrows are bad enough, but his back up has guns and who knows what other kind of weapons. She’d become unfocused and she’d let herself be not just outmatched but also out-numbered.
Natasha peeks over the top of the crate, catching a glimpse of movement from across the room. She fires, ducking back down as they open fire back. This is not how she likes to fight, blind firing in the vague hopes of hitting a target. She’s more precise than this, usually.
The gunfire stops, followed swiftly by a yell and then an explosion. Natasha looks up, confused, as a ball of fire erupts from where the gunmen had been standing. Had they meant to throw a grenade at her, but accidentally set it off themselves? She doesn’t have much more time to think- the explosion has brought more men- some she recognises as goons working for the man who had hired her. She’d known that with hired bodyguards like these guys, the man in charge had to be up to something bad, but she hadn’t stopped to ask questions. Normally they waited at least a bit of time before trying to kill her and get their money back, and Natasha had planned to be long gone by then.
For some reason, they aren’t aiming at her and are instead targeting something or someone across the room. Natasha can’t see what’s going on but she wonders if maybe this isn’t about her after all, if maybe she’s inadvertently become caught in the crossfire of another battle. Or has someone come to her aid? She pushes the thoughts aside- it doesn’t matter and she can see a chance, a way to take out three of the goons and maybe make it to the exit, leaving the goons and the dangerous archer behind.
As they shout and fire across the room, she runs, dodging a stray bullet and taking out one, two, three goons with one bullet apiece. She reaches the door, taking down another with a swift roundhouse kick and a punch to the jaw.
Another explosion rocks the warehouse and she turns, finally seeing who the real target is. The archer stands in the shadows, firing arrow after arrow as the goons persistently try to approach. Like Natasha, they obviously had thought that they’d be safer within arm’s reach, and are quickly learning how wrong they were. As she watches, pausing only to sidestep a new goon who runs in through the door, delivering an elbow to his windpipe, Natasha sees that the explosions are coming from some of his arrows, taking down multiple attackers at once. She can’t help but be impressed.
For a strange moment Natasha is almost jealous of him. She likes the feeling of the fray, the feeling of forgetting about everything else besides the fight to stay alive- particularly when she was sure she’d win.
He’s outnumbered, although from what Natasha has briefly seen of his fighting ability, the guy can probably take care of himself. Plus she knows she should be glad that something is at least going to slow down her assassin. It gives her the chance of a headstart, to get somewhere on her own turf and ready herself for the next fight which surely must be coming. He doesn’t look the type to give up.
Natasha is about to run, to put as many miles between herself and this place as possible, but something stops her. She doesn’t know what it is, so she labels it as curiosity- maybe she wants to see whether the man really is a match for her, maybe she wants it to be a fair fight when he finally catches up to her and doesn’t want him to be wounded, giving her an unfair advantage. Maybe she’s just tired of running from things. And maybe she hated the way that some of the goons had leered at her earlier that night, as she’d handed over the information to their leader and they’d handed over a tidy electronic transfer of money that would last her until her next big job.
Natasha turns around and raises her guns, taking down three goons from behind. By the time they’ve realised the attack is coming from both sides, the archer has noted Natasha’s involvement and is taking down those closest to him.
It doesn’t take long for the sound of gunshots and shouts to die down, leaving them surrounded by bodies- some dead, some dying and some who Natasha thinks should count themselves lucky that they’re just unconscious.
Natasha’s never let herself be bothered by her death toll, at least not the ones where she’s killed out of necessity or to save her own life. She knows most people are shades of grey on the scale of good and evil, and that there are things in her past that certainly don’t make her pure and innocent. There’s something about the man, the only other person left standing in the room, currently retrieving arrows from his nearest victims while keeping a steady eye on her, that makes Natasha think he’s a black and white kind of guy- there are bad guys and good guys in his world. Natasha wonders where she falls on his scale.
As if reading her mind again, he raises his bow, arrow pointed at her.
“Thanks,” he says and there’s a contemplative smile at the corners of his mouth as she raises her guns.
There’s a long pause as they stand-off, neither lowering their weapon. Natasha lets her gaze flick around the room- her body count is pretty high, but nothing compared to his. If she could get closer, then maybe she’d have an advantage, could separate him from his weapon. Then maybe she’d win. But like this...she didn’t like her chances.
“Is it true what they say about you?” he asks, conversationally, as if they aren’t levelling weapons at each other.
“They say a lot of things,” Natasha says. It’s the truth. Sometimes she worries that the idea of her is scarier than the reality, and one day she won’t live up to it. She hopes today isn’t that day.
“The famous Black Widow,” the man says, stepping to the side. She moves as he does, keeping the distance between them as they circle each other. She hadn’t been sure, until now, that he knew who she was- plenty of people had come to kill her, without knowing her name.
Natasha shrugs, as if to say ‘you caught me’. It gives her a chance to eye the exit, which is now closer to her after their circling. She plants her feet, not moving anymore, and the man cocks an eyebrow and readjusts his aim. She wonders if she can sprint fast enough to the door before the arrow embeds itself in her back.
“They say you’re as deadly as you are beautiful,” the man says, and Natasha frowns- it’s not that she hasn’t heard that line before, but she hadn’t expected it here. It takes her another moment to realise he’s stalling, probably waiting for her arms to tire from holding her guns out for so long. She rolls her eyes, and he shrugs, realising she’s caught on.
“It was worth a try,” he says, and she can’t help but grin. Natasha pushes the smile away, forcing her face to relax into a steady glare at her target. “They also say you’re a gun for hire, loyal to the money, rather than the cause.”
Natasha frowns. That isn’t exactly true- she has her own motives, people and organisations she wants to take down for personal reasons. And between times, to be able to survive, sure, she takes some jobs and doesn’t ask too many questions.
“What does that matter?”
The man tips his head to the side a little, as if he’s assessing her. “I was thinking you could put your guns down and come with me.”
Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t let anyone take me prisoner,” she says, perhaps too forcefully. “Not without an escape plan.”
The man smiles. “I was thinking of offering you a job.”
Natasha can’t hide her surprise. She stares at the man as he adjusts his stance, letting her finally get a good look at the badge on his chest. She recognises it instantly.
“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she says, not bothering to hide her sneer as she adds, “Want me to fight for truth, justice and the American way?”
The man looks amused. “No. It seems to me you enjoy the fight. I’m offering you a fight, with the best damn weapons technology you can imagine. And the pay isn’t bad either.”
Natasha isn’t sure whether to trust him or not. “Do you even have the authority to offer me a job?”
“Do you think the guys in charge wouldn’t want the Black Widow on the books?”
“Those the same guys who sent you to kill me?” Natasha asks, giving the arrow trained on her a pointed look.
The man glances at the arrow then lowers it. Natasha knows he could raise it and fire it in a second if she tried anything, but she appreciates the gesture. It indicates at least a little trust.
“You’re more valuable alive and on our side, than dead,” the man points out, and Natasha laughs, embarrassed by the fact that she feels pleased to be wanted by an organisation that people keep trying to hire her to spy against.
The man smiles in return, and Natasha nods.
“Okay,” she says, lowering one of her guns, unable to deny that she’s intrigued by the prospect. “I’m listening.”
He stares at her until she lowers the other, and then slides the arrow back into his quiver in one smooth movement.
He smiles as he lifts his hand towards his mouth. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun,” he tells her, and there’s something in his eyes that tells her he’s not lying, that this isn’t an elaborate trap.
“This is Agent Barton,” he says into the communicator on his wrist. “Two for extraction.”
He walks towards her, and she stiffens, still half expecting a fight. Instead he extends a hand, and when she takes it, he gives it a firm shake. “I’m Clint,” he says. “Welcome to the team.”