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The barely functioning overhead lights flickered. The Black Widow’s gaze swept the intersection for enemies, “Which way?”
The Winter Soldier’s voice crackled over the comms, “Keep straight to intersect the target.”
The Widow nodded and moved forward with a predatory gait, never letting her guard down, her finger on the trigger. She didn’t look behind her, trusting the Soldier not to lead her wrong and keep an eye out for anyone coming up behind her from up in his sniper’s nest. She was not his mission objective, after all.
She passed a few offshoots in the hallway before he spoke again. “I’ve got visual on the target. Next right, take him out.”
The Widow kept silent, so as not to compromise her position. As she neared the next right, she slowed and her grip tightened on the gun, preparing to eliminate the target the second she turned the corner. The archer had proven himself a formidable opponent, she couldn’t afford to give him any opportunity to get the drop on her. She had to complete the mission.
“Steady. He has no idea you’re there.” The Soldier’s voice in her ear was grounding. She would complete the mission objective. Nothing stood in their way.
Three steps from the turn. The Widow brought her gun up. Two steps. She tightened her finger around the trigger. One step. She took it and turned at the same time, firing almost before she had a full view of the next hallway, nearly identical to the one she was in.
The sound of her target’s whimpered “Oh fuck” was more gratifying than it should have been. Though she supposed, of the two of them, a Black Widow was more expected to enjoy her job than the Asset was his. The sound of his body hitting the ground sparked that satisfaction in her as well, his gun clattering loudly against the concrete.
The lights flickered to life briefly as the Soldier dropped from the ceiling to land next to her. She inclined her head, waiting for his assessment of how to go about taking out their next target. His overhead view of the op was more beneficial to them now than her experiences on the ground. She was no longer his pupil, but on a mission, she still deferred to him.
“The bird will have heard that, let him come to us.” He said decisively.
The Widow smiled, it was a predatory thing that had struck fear in the hearts of her victims for years, the Soldier simply matched it. “Then let him come.” She said, turning towards the hallway she had come from, the Soldier keeping watch for their second target over the archer’s prone body.
Less than two minutes later, footsteps could be heard pounding against the concrete down the same hallway the archer had come from; the Widow turned to keep watch next to the Soldier. She gestured to him, “You want this one?”
He smirked and brought his rifle to level, staring down the hallway through the sight, “It would be my pleasure.”
The second their target rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, the Soldier pulled the trigger and the Widow watched as he stumbled and grabbed his side, just under his arm.
The lights in the compound stopped flickering, shining brightly down on the four opponents.
“Dammit!” He cursed, and turned to look at Clint, “I almost had her!”
Bucky snorted, “Not from what I could see, Wilson. She could’ve fired at the ceiling for ten minutes straight and you still wouldn’t’ve found her.”
Sam gave Bucky an insulted look, but was distracted by a cut-off huff of laughter from the ground between them. “You all right down there, Barton?”
“Peachy,” Clint said sarcastically, though most of the effect was lost considering he was still lying prone on the ground. “Don’t lie to yourself, Sam, she would have killed us all before breakfast if she thought for one moment we were a threat to her. Trust me, accept it and move on.”
“I’m glad you’re self-aware, Clint.” Natasha said, laughter evident in her voice as Sam walked to stand with her and Bucky, bypassing Clint completely.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re so proud, that doesn’t mean you have to just leave me here to struggle to my feet all on my own. I was just shot, you know!” Clint raised a hand, not even bothering to sit halfway up, obviously expecting someone to come and help him up anyway.
Bucky rolled his eyes, not making a move to grab Clint’s extended arm, “You’re a big boy, Barton, pick yourself up. Or is your back hurting you too much? You are getting up there in years.” Natasha would probably never know who taught who that shit eating grin currently residing on Barnes’ face, but she would bet Steve was behind it. In fact, she and Clint had a bet going as to which of their two resident geriatrics was the original troublemaker. Steve and Bucky were no help in settling it.
Clint groaned as he glared at Bucky without rising from his position on the ground, “Don’t you start, I swear I’m going to shoot that fucking kid.”
“No you’re not, and you know it.” Natasha said as she walked over and grabbed her friend’s extended hand. “For starters, Wanda would kill you and there would be nothing I could do about it.”
Clint clutched his chest, “Aw, Nat, you do care.” He laughed as she shoved lightly at his head.
“Hey, Barton, you’ve got a little something right….there.” Sam said, making expansive gestures encompassing Clint’s entire chest where neon pink paint spread out from the bottom of his sternum.
Clint didn’t even look down, “Like you’re one to talk, Wilson. Seen yourself lately?”
Sam checked under his arm to see a neon green splatter of paint that spread to his back. “How did you even make that shot, Barnes? My arms were down!”
Bucky laughed, “I’m just that good, Wilson.”
“Yeah, whatever, gave the man a sniper rifle, what was I expecting? You don’t get to use your weapon of choice anymore, it’s just not fair.” Sam shook his gun at Bucky, using it to gesture to the custom made paint ball sniper rifle Tony had “gotten bored” and made after they started doing this regularly. Steve still didn’t think it was a good idea, but that’s just because he’d lost quicker than anyone the last time he’d joined in. He was still bitter about it.
Bucky shrugged, “Fine, we’ll trade. You up for another round?”
Sam rolled his shoulders but accepted the offered gun, passing his over, “You think you can handle it?”
Behind them, Clint groaned, “Aw come one, do we have to? Can’t we just call it a night and go collapse on the couch with TV and pizza? I like that idea, let’s do that.” Natasha grabbed his collar before he could take two steps and leveled him with a glare. Clint pouted. Natasha glared. Clint’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, one more round, then I’m leaving to go eat pizza and watch TV with my pizza dog and my couch, just you try and stop me.”
Sam laughed but moved off with Clint when JARVIS turned the lights back to the paintball settings. They would have three minutes to find a position, and then it was back to all-out war. He wasn’t a huge fan of this game, and he knew he didn’t stand a chance of winning in this line-up of superspies and assassins, but it was fun, and Bucky enjoyed it. Besides, Clint got hit way more and way worse than he did, and that show was always worth a few bruises.