2012-08-07 You Were Missed

It's been a few days since Clint has been back from his undercover assignment and subsequent vacation. But despite officially being back on duty, Clint has been fairly scarce around the Helicarrier, occasionally seen in the mess hall or training his trickshooting skills. What he hasn't done is debrief with his partner on what precisely he had missed in his time away. Which means...well, he's been a bad partner. Newsflash, film at 11.
Still, he has eventually gotten around to his duty, which is why he travels down the hall, in uniform, towards the quarters of one Natasha Romanov. Once arriving, he raises a fist and shave-and-a-haircuts on the door, waiting to be allowed entrance from the woman he suspects is inside.
The door slides open. Natasha is sitting at a small desk in the office area of her "lounge", working on a laptop. "Bad partner, no donut," she deadpans, not even looking up to make sure it's him. No one else knocks like that on her door.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been busy," Clint says, as he gets comfortable in a chair in the room, leaning back slightly as he takes in the room for a few seconds. "Besides, when my welcome home party is getting threatened at gunpoint by some stranger with a Russian accent--by the way, why do I get the impression you two are friends? An old comrade from ze olde country?" he asks as he discovers this chair spins. Left, right, left, right, full circle!
"There is beer in the minifridge, or harder stuff in the cupboard," Tash offers, as she continues typing up junior agent evaluations. Wait. She has a minifridge? Who did she bribe for that!? "The Winter Soldier is another product of the Red Room and their brainwashing. Much as I'm not sure whether I was actually a ballerina, or the memories were programmed, he has no idea what is real and what was implanted for him. He is trying to break their programming. I knew him only as James many years ago."
Ohhh, booze. Clint stops spinning in place and rises, helping himself to the mini-fridge. He's not going to ask how she got it, just be grateful she does. Pulling out a cerveza for himself and using his own personal bottleopener, he takes a long refreshing pull for the bottle before plopping down again. "So we're not sure who he is," Clint summarizes, "Only that at some point some Soviets got their hands on him, screwed around with his brain some and likely used him as a high-end agent. I suspect our experts can untangle that knot, but I suppose to be thorough I should ask--how did he end up here?"
"And replaced one of his arms with a bionic one," Natasha notes calmly. "He's about as good of a sniper as I am a spy," she adds for impact. She finishes typing and pushes back in her chair to look at him, in gym shorts and a t-shirt. "I wasn't present, but Captain America and Agent 13 ran into him, fought, and brought him in. We have a few new recruits as well. Languages genius and a mini Iron Man."
The sniper bit gives Clint pause, pursing his lip thoughtfully as he takes a long gulp of his beer. "That...will be noted," he says, his tone taking a turn for the somber. Clint can appreciate a sharpshooter, natch, and if he's got Natasha's attention, definitely worth his. As the topic shifts, Clint nods his head a bit. "Met the linguist the other day, yet to meet mini Iron Man. He come with the same sized ego, or is that 'mini' too?"
"The jury is still out on that. He's another tech genius though, so better on our side than making things for HYDRA," Tash quips with a smirk. "Oh, and by the way, I joined the Avengers while you were gone. Just thought you should know that." Cute head tilt. Cute smile. This is her cute face.
"Hey, I'm all for having the genius egomaniacs on our side. Just didn't know if I had to bring him down a peg," Clint says with a shrug, smirking as he draws at his drink again. He does love torturing the newbies. His grin fades a bit at the mention of the Avengers, punctuated by the Cute Face. He leans back in his seat again and nods his head. "Good luck with that..." he says, deadpanned, quick to follow it up with, "Don't anticipate me to join you anytime soon."
"We could use your skills, and I could use your relative sanity. I'm dealing with a man with a 1940s mindset, a couple Asgardians, and Stark. When I'm the normal person in the mix, something is very wrong," Natasha quips with a faint grin. "But I won't push you. I will push you to tell me about this mission you were on though."
"Yeah, well I don't play so nice for the cameras," Clint respond dryly. "And don't expect to see me in some ridicilous get-up. You can't cover this up with a mask," he adds, gesturing towards his oh-so-handsome face. "The Dublin mission? A bit of a dead end I'm afraid. We tried to penetrate this drug ring for the local Vice associates, with our vested interest being that they were running arms on the side. We get a key in-on where those weapons are going, and the Irish government gets to know where this poison was coming from. Problem was neither answer was terribly exciting; the guns were staying on the streets of Dublin, mostly to street gangs which is definitely small time as far S.H.I.E.L.D. is concerned. And the 'Product' was American-born, so out of their jurisdiction as well. DEA is handling that end now, I have a buddy who is going to keep me posted if anything major crops up."
He pauses for a second before adding, "I will say that if this garbage is as potent as my experiences suggest, it might be worth our while to investigate it ourselves. Seriously hyperactive dissociative that makes PCP look like a cake-walk, with a chemical compound that made the eggheads in Ireland go a bit sideways. They suspect it's an organic compound, non-synthetic, but if it is, it's not from any known plantlife."
"Understood," Natasha says to the Avengers issue. She'll let it lie for now. She listens intently as he speaks about Dublin, folding her arms over her chest and slumping back in her chair. "We might want to look into it ourselves, yes. If it originated in the US, it could be actually run by any number of countries and their organized crimes representatives in the US."
"Like I said, I got a friend on it," Clint says with a nod of his head. "...but I might have also put some feelers out with some old contacts I have in the underground. If there's any leads in the City, I'll be sure to let you know. I know how much you love to bust up some drug pushers this time of the year." He pauses before reaching into a pocket to pull out his cell phone. "Speaking of friends, I wanted to use that super computer brain of yours to see if you could place a face for me. Someone I saw in a coffee shop in town. Couldn't place the face, but it sent off serious warning klaxons in my head, so was curious if you recognized him."
He hands the phone over to Natasha, a rather candid ans surprisingly well done photo of a man who's trying to be inconspicious. Baseball cap, low profile, working on a laptop with a five-o-clock shadow. "If not, not a huge deal. Was planning on running it through the SHIELD-o-puter face recognition software anyway."
"Better to run it through facial recognition. Did you get anything he picked up? We can run prints against AFIS and check saliva against CODIS," Tash offers. She squints at the picture. "He does look familiar, I'll give you that."
"Naw, he was clearly in a 'don't mess with me, I'm just hear for my coffee' mode, so trying to swipe something from him was going to be difficult," Clint says as he tucks his phone away. "I probably could have swiped his cup before the busboy got it, but I also got the feeling he was the kind who would wipe everything down, and I wanted to get that snapshot before he clued into the fact that I was watching him." He shrugs. "Probably nothing, but I'll run it and see if we get a hit. If anything comes up, as always, you'll be the first to know."
"Sounds good. Did I mention you missed kicking all of HYDRA's many heads in on an island the other week? I got to beat the piss out of Viper and drop a ceiling on her. Good times," Tash says with a grin.
"I actually did hear about that," Clint says, sounds disappointed to have missed the action. "Also heard you got a dose of Viper's bad medicine, but we're feeling better nnow, right?" Is that concern on Clint's face? Couldn't me. Must be gassy.
If Natasha notices, she doesn't call him on it. She must be happy he's back if she's not teasing him. "I did, and I'm better. She just grazed me with a dart, thankfully." She glances at the clock on the wall. "Speaking of, I have to go for my checkup in Medbay. Nurse Ratchet is not happy unless she's jabbing me with needles."
"I believe it's Nurse Yanish, but I follow you," Clint says as he raises from his seat and polishes off the rest of the drink. Best to not be drinking in the hallways, so he tosses the bottle away. "Good luck with all your shots, remember you get a sucker at the end of it, if you have to curse, do it in Russian," he offers helpfully before cracking into a grin. "Good to see you Tasha. Promise I won't be gone for so long again anytime soon. Besides, you're much better than Ireland any day."
Natasha rises and she gives Clint a brief, impulsive hug. "You were missed. I'll talk to you soon."
The hug catches Clint off-guard, but it is returned, as short as it is. "Indeed. Now off to your shots. I'm sure you'll be a brave girl." With that, Clint helps himself off and wanders back towards target practice. Got to stay fresh.
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