The Enemy of my Enemy || Clint & Bucky
Hardly listening to what the other man is saying, Clint is looking back down the alleyway, eyes darting from there to the rooftops as if anticipating snipers. If they werenât there now, no doubt they would be soon. Neither of them were in the condition to keep going, what with his bleeding and Barnesâ metal arm near useless.
Looking to, what was his target, Clint considered him for a moment, taking note of that questioning gaze. What was the best option hereâŚbreak away or stick together? Normally, Clint would dive off on his own, but there were questions circling his head, all of which Barnes could answer for him. Also there was the chance of one of them being picked off, and it seemed the two of them worked best in a team with their current disadvantage of an injured limb.
âI have a place nearby we can lay low in.â Clint said finally, nodding his head to the side. âBut we have to move quick.â With that he was off, shouldering his bow and  keeping his guard up in case they were being circled. Luckily, HYDRA hadnât anticipated confronting both of them, and so appeared to have withdrawn for the time being. With their loss in numbers it was probably the best thing they could have done.
The building six blocks down the road wasnât exactly the nicest looking place around. It used to be a hotel, now rundown and vacant. To anyone passing by, theyâd hardly give it a glance, and the only people that really came around were the occasional homeless, or some druggie looking for a fix. Clintâs room was on the third floor, the highest vantage point there, and the doors and windows were reinforced to keep people out.Â
Leading the way upstairs, Clint pressed his back to a rotting dresser that was in the way of the door, sliding it to the side before unlocking the deadbolt. The inside was surprisingly clean and well maintained. A large sofa, a dining room table, and though the walls were bare, the paint was relatively in tact. âMake yourself at home.â Clint grunted, closing the door behind them and locking it.
James hesitates once more before following the archer. Barton seems trustworthy for now, didnât expect the HYDRA attack, so thereâs a low chance for him to be leading James into a trap. Still, heâs not going to be putting his guard down anytime soon.
His arm shakes with every breath and step, itâs getting to be on the side of painful. Of course, it wouldâve been worse before the upgrade from HYDRAâs engineers. He hopes theyâre not seen, because heâs nearly about to faint from the pain his metal arm is shooting down his spine. Needing to fight again in his condition is a bad idea, and Barton isnât doing much better.
Bartonâs place is farther than he likes, but itâll do. Though, itâs a bit questionable that an Avenger has a safe house in a place that looks like this. âNice place.â He says dryly as he watches Barton move a dresser to open the door. The room, at least, looks better than it should in a building so rundown.
James notes all the exits of the place before relaxing, plopping down on a dining room chair and lifting his left arm up onto the table. âYou wouldnât happen to be an engineer, would you?â He frowns, then winces when the metal arm whirs in protest to his brainâs command of move. He sighs, poking around the plates to switch off the arm completely. Thereâs basic knowledge of fixing his arm up, but heâs pretty sure there are fried wires from the electrical charge it received. The only thing heâs able to do is turn it off and stop the painful jolts.












