Frozen Web

Chapter 11

Natasha slammed the door behind her and locked it, even though she knew it wouldn't hold against Loki for long. But it was better than nothing.

She flew down the steps, scanning the main room of Clint's basement for him. He wasn't anywhere she could see, but his basement was big. He was paranoid enough that he liked holing up underground, so the basement was nearly as big as the rest of the cabin. The main room was the entertainment area, and off to one side was his kickboxing and workout area. Across the room was where he kept all his weapons. And in the back was his walk-in freezer, where he kept all the deer and other animals he hunted for winter food.

Natasha headed for the weapons case first. She knew he kept all his crossbows and guns loaded, because they weren't much good in an emergency if they couldn't shoot. Surely there'd be something there she could use to keep Loki at bay. She could hear the demi god slamming against the door and shouting threats, but she blocked him out and focused on the task at hand.

Hastily scanning the rows of drawers, she tried to pull one out but found it was locked. Of course. Clint was prepared, but he wouldn't want just anyone accessing his weapons. It was the same when she tried to jerk open the glass display case where all his bows and arrows were hanging. Even when she delivered a ringing kick into the middle of the glass, it didn't budge. It must have been bullet proof. And she certainly didn't know the code for his keypad lock.

"Clint, you paranoid bastard," she muttered under her breath.

Luckily, there was a set of hunting knives hanging above the drawers, and she grabbed two—the biggest one and the smallest one. It hurt for her to use her broken hand, but the adrenaline pushed her through. By now, she'd already come up with a hasty plan: she could untie Clint (he must be subdued, she figured, or else he would have come to her aid) and they could escape out of the window in the corner of the room—Clint always liked to have emergency exits. Or maybe together, they'd be able to take Loki out for good, depending on how hurt Clint was.

"Clint?" she called out. "Where are you?"

She heard a muffled groan coming from his workout area and ran through the doorway, and she gasped when she found her partner. He was strung up spread-eagle on one of his workout machines, dangling from tied wrists and with duct tape across his mouth. His legs were tied to the bottom, but it was obvious most of the weight was on his arms. One leg was bandaged crudely, and the bandage had already turned rusty red from the blood leaking out. Natasha wasn't a medical professional, but she'd been in the field long enough to know that Clint had a nasty break. He might not be able to help her against Loki after all.

"Oh my God," she breathed, blood draining from her face. She'd seen far worse in battle, but she'd never seen Clint this bad. He was hardly recognizable under the blood and the bruises. But the horror only lasted a second before she repressed it with clinical professionalism. At least he was alive, and conscious. She could work with this.

She ripped the tape off his mouth and started working on the rope tied around his legs. She had to get that first, or else he'd fall forward and hurt his leg even worse. Loki had done a terribly good job at the knots, though—there was a lot to cut through.

"Natasha, you should get out of here," Clint urged. "Go through the window and get some help!"

"I already called Steve," she replied curtly, sawing at the rope determinedly. "The team will be here soon. And I'm not leaving without you."

"You can't take Loki on your own," Clint said, worry coloring his voice. "My leg's fractured, Tash. I'm useless… worse than useless. I'm a liability."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, finally managing to cut through the one rope and moving on to the other one. "We've gotten through worse than this. Remember the firestorm in Colombia?"

Clint let out a pained chuckle. "You are so stubborn."

Natasha let herself smile back. "You know it."

Then she heard the basement door break open.

Clint heard it at the same time, both of them snapping their heads around towards the sound.

"Watch for me," Natasha ordered, going back to sawing as fast as she could. She might not be able to get Clint free before Loki showed up, but she would try. She wished there was a door to Clint's workout room that she could lock, instead of the open doorframe that made her feel achingly vulnerable. She heard Loki's light steps as he slowly descended into the basement, and she was surprised he wasn't going faster. Maybe he was wary of an ambush, or maybe he just wanted to draw it out. He did love to gloat. At any rate, it didn't matter. She couldn't worry about him right now.

She managed to cut through the rope around Clint's other leg and moved on to his right wrist, sawing frantically. But halfway through, a long shadow washed over her.

"Natasha…" Clint warned, but she was already spinning around to see Loki leaning against the doorframe, still holding the knife she'd stabbed him with.

"Now isn't this touching," he sneered. "What a darling pair of lovebirds the two of you make."

Natasha stepped in front of Clint protectively. "This isn't going to end well for you," she said tightly, both knives poised to strike. "The rest of the team will be here any minute. Just get out of here while you can."

Loki just laughed scornfully. "That's not very grateful after all the effort I put into trussing up Agent Barton for you. Besides, I haven't paid you back for our last scuffle." He held his wounded hand up, showing the blood that had washed over his palm and down his arm, and the mockery in his voice was replaced with fury. "By the time I'm through with you and your precious archer, you'll beg me to kill you."