You and I remember Budapest very differently....

[agenthawk]

Who: Clint and Natasha
Where: Budapest, Hungary
When: Flaaaashbaaaaaack
What: In which Agent Barton makes a different call.

Comments

[red_in_ledger]

Natalia Romanova, codename Black Widow, stretched as she came fully awake. It had been far too long since she had received such an assignment. Silk sheets, high thread count, a bedpartner who actually knew what she was doing. Natalia couldn't recall the last time she hadn't had to fake an orgasm.

Dangerous as it could be, Natalia couldn't truly regret allowing herself to enjoy the previous night. Those who said sex never solved anything clearly had never had good sex. She had needed the distraction from her problems, from her doubts and betrayers and anger. Yelena Belova had provided that distraction

[red_in_ledger]

A sudden pain in her stomach, and Natalia was reeling back from the blow. Not much, but just enough to allow the other woman time to get her own gun trained on Natasha. Though her mind was reeling, one part of her brain kept analyzing the scene

[agenthawk]

"I have her."

"Take the shot when you're sure you can get it it in one." Clint rolled his eyes, though the affect was lost on his handler, like he needed to be told that. He always got it in one. He wouldn't have been sent on this mission if Director Fury wasn't sure of that

[red_in_ledger]

A knock at the door. Shit.

With only the barest second's delay to check the peephole, Natasha threw open the door, yanked at a laundry cart, and dragged the hapless maid inside. A sharp jerk, and the new woman fell boneless to the ground, neck snapped.

Natasha quickly frisked the woman, sighing with relief when she found a gun. A lone on-sight overseer indicated there were none others in the immediate vicinity, otherwise she would have waited for back up. And where a dead maid would call undue attention, Natalia could be sure the Red Room would make this body disappear without a fuss.

Tucking the dead agent's gun into her own holster, Natalia was about to leave, to take advantage of every second, but stopped at the doorway.

[red_in_ledger]

The Red Room wanted Belova dead? Then Natalia would ensure her survival.
The first thing they would do is lock down the building. So Natalia's first move would have to be get out of it. Moving Belova had eaten up too much precious time.

Speed, then, not stealth. Nowhere to go up, and they'd be coming in at the ground. But...

Running for the stairs, Natalia sent up a thanks for multiple-building hotels. The floor above connected to the one across the street via a bridge over the road. Better yet, the bridge was covered; less chance of being spotted as she switched buildings.

[red_in_ledger]

Natalia positively beamed up at Barton as she snuggled against him, as if seeking extra warmth to counter the cold wind.

"The ballet is in town," she practically cooed. "And you know how much I love the ballet. If we head to the theatre now, we should make the show."

Natalia continued on in that vein, prattling about nothing, playing the bubbly girlfriend to its fullest as she guided them through the streets of Budapest.

[agenthawk]

However messed up it was, Clint far preferred the Widow that was trying to kill him not ten minutes earlier to the one currently plastered to his side. It was remarkably fake and incredibly irritating, though he guessed that was her intent. Clever. He tuned it out, catching only a few words here and there, but paying attention to the tone just in case she decided to switch and tell him something relatively important.

He followed her keeping his eyes to the rooftops as well as sweeping the general area, nothing seemed too out of place, her plan seemed to be working so far.

[red_in_ledger]

Natalia had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at Clint's behavior. Instead, she surreptitiously jabbed him in the side. "People don't look up," she hissed, going up on her toes to make it seem as if she were whispering in his ear. "Stop it. It makes you look like a hunted man."

Pressing a kiss to his cheek as she pulled back, Natalia led them in the theatre, and once inside effortlessly maneuvered them backstage. Ducking into the costume room, she eyed the racks of clothes with a critical eye.

"How is your dancing?"

[agenthawk]

"Horrid." He answered shortly, not liking at all where this was going. "And if you think that's going to change in the next five minutes then you are sorely mistaken."