AN: I have decided to combine and rewrite the first few chapters of this story. Rejoice, for my muse has returned!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Avengers.
Normal speech "hello"
Hawkeye walked down the street, a bag of takeaway in hand. He had completed yet another mission just two days ago, this time to take down an anti gravity machine, and had taken some well deserved time off.
Ever since Loki had been dragged off by Thor - and hadn't that been a surprise, the Norse gods being real – and imprisoned in Asgard, dozens of Supervillains had crawled out of the woodwork. The costume wearing idiots themselves weren't really that much of a problem, he grudgingly admitted to himself, at least not compared to their hired help. The rogue scientists, minions and thugs, many from hydra, were difficult to find as they moved from villain to villain, which resulted in many badly thought out plans – seriously, whose idea was it to build giant robots with spinning rotor blades? These costumed morons usually had grand, but ultimately impossible plans that seemed to have been inspired by the Chitauri invasion, and involved the villain monologuing for a while whilst the team destroyed whatever method was being used that day. So far, they had seen freeze rays, a giant drill, a giant eldritch abomination made of glowing green slime, shrink rays and several idiots with doomsday devises.
He turned the corner, only to feel a sudden sting on the back of his neck. He had barely raised his hand to touch the dart when he collapsed. He struggled to stay awake as his world faded into darkness, and felt himself being grabbed none too gently and dragged away.
He regained consciousness slowly, head pounding form the effects of the drugs. He immediately forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily, keeping his eyes closed so as not to give himself away. He concentrated on listening to his surrounding and assessing the situation. He had, obviously been drugged and kidnapped, but didn't seem to be injured. Clint carefully slitted one eye open, keeping his expression blank and relaxed, and swept his eyes over his surroundings.
He was tied sitting up, with metal manacles chaining his wrists to the walls, and his legs were chained together. The room had no windows, and had several cells separated by bars. We're in deep shit, he acknowledged.
Clint watched through clenched teeth as Natasha was dragged back into the cell by her wrists. He kept his face in a carefully blank mask as the guards reattached the heavy steel manacles to her wrists and ankles. He struggled to remain blank as he cataloged her visible injuries. Those bastards had stripped her to her underwear and there were cuts bleeding sluggishly over her. Blood had dried and crusted around a gash on her temple, and her dazed and unfocused eyes indicated a concussion or more drugs. Yellow and purple bruises were darkening over her torso, and one of her ankles was swollen so badly that he was certain it was broken.
The guards leered at Nat as they turned to leave, one of them kicking her in the ribs on the way out. He stared stonily forward as they left, refusing to look at them. The cells were small enough to make lying down uncomfortable, though they had each been placed in separate cells. The room was large enough that he could see both the cells on the opposite side of the room, where Natasha and Steve were chained up. Tony had been locked in the cell to his left, though he hadn't woken up from whatever they had drugged him with yet. His wrists and ankles tied up with rope but clearly he had not been deemed much of a threat without his armor.
They had, obviously, tried to coerce the location of the tesseract out of her, to no avail. They had tried with Steve first, then drugged him up on enough tranqs to put an elephant to sleep when they discovered he had no idea where it was. Clearly, they trusted the reinforced manacles to keep him from breaking out with his super-strength. Unfortunately, they'd been too wary of the hulk to risk the same with Bruce - Bruce was drugged to the gills and still as death, if the mocking taunts of their captors were to be believed. Thor was still off world, quelling some sort of uprising in Vanaheim, and with the Bifrost still broken there would be no help coming from that quarter.
He slumped hopelessly as the reality of the situation hit him- there would be no help, no escape from the underground stronghold he had glimpsed as he had been dragged into the cell.
He turned left sharply as he heard a groan. Tony had woken up.