Budapest

Chapter 15

Coulson had taken Barney away without a word. Clint watched as his once loved brother was dragged across the ground, his shoulder being held in place by his swelling hand, the knuckles split open. The side of his face had turned a light purple.
•
Clint had waited until the chopper disappeared completely before getting back to the mission at hand.
He shook himself, but was unable to get rid of the queasiness. Being one of those people who liked everything to make sense and tie together, made his whole past blowing up in his face even worse than it should be. He now felt like he knew nothing. What if it had all been lies? He wouldn't be able to cope with that.
That's when Clint remembered his target.
What had she experienced in her past?
Were her horrors something she would share?
Unlikely.
•
Clint kicked the corner of the door he had seen his brother staring at while he was being dragged away. It was the very same door Barney's accomplices had stopped in front of. Now they were all headed to SHIELD. For interrogation.
•
As it slowly swung open, Clint shifted his stance into a defensive position, preparing for an attack that never came. His face contorted. The smell coming from the apartment made him gasp for fresh air. It smelt like rotting meat.
Pulling his shirt up to his nose, he used the sweat on the shirt to protect himself from the smell. Clint shuffled awkwardly forward. He couldn't see anything. It was pitch black. The vulnerability he felt could not be explained. His eyes were his most important sense. And he didn't like them suddenly being out of commission. Even if it were only temporary.
Even with his nose now moistened by the sweat, he knew he was getting closer to the source of the smell. It was getting stronger.
Something brushed against his shoulder. Clint leaped into action, dropping his "mask" and raising his fists. His body weight was mostly on one foot so he could kick at a moments notice. The only noise he could hear was his ragged breathing and his unsteady heart beating.
And that's when he saw it.
Something was swaying...more like twisting right in front of him. It seemed to be hovering off the ground. The ceiling creaked as if it had been burdened with too much weight. Clint's eyes began to adjust. He could make out a rope that was hung around what seemed to be the apartment's ceiling fan. Following the line of rope, he slowly began to work out what was hanging in front of him. And what had brushed his shoulder.
Something in his mind clicked.
The rotting meat smell, the rope, the ceiling creak, the twisting and swaying, the brushing against his shoulder and even the darkness of the apartment.
He had found the source of the smell. And he pitied whoever it was hanging by their necks in front of him.
The Black Widow, it seemed, had recovered. Or at least enough to be mobile. And overpowering.
•
Unable to stand the smell anymore, Clint turned and made his way directly away from the body. He found a door. Opening it, he was happily surprised by the light that entered through the slits between the closed blinds. Taking one sweeping glance of the room, he worked out he was in the bathroom.
Clint turned on the sink tap and washed his face. As he turned the tap off, he slowly lifted his head. There was a mirror above the sink. Even from here, he could see the swinging body of the unfortunate. Or at least their reflection.
The bright red attracted the attention of his gaze. It was lipstick. On the mirror.
Clint dropped the towel he had just picked up. He did not even look at it. He was too busy processing what he had just read.
"Not even the hunter's are safe."