𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐾 𝑊𝐼𝐷𝑂𝑊

𝐵𝑈𝐷𝐴𝑃𝐸𝑆𝑇

LOOKING OVER HER FILE, SHE STILL COULDN'T BELIEVE IT WAS HAPPENING. Here was the man who trafficked her, who took her childhood and choices, forced her to kill to survive, and... he was a father. That... it couldn't be right; she refused to believe that someone would grant him with something as precious as a child. It wasn't fair! Why did his daughter get to have a normal life, but yet, his widows – which he called 'his daughters' were forced to live in hell.

Clint shuffled over to her, clearing his throat and asking, "You okay?" Blue and Green eyes meeting. Pursing her lips, she shook her head as she clutched the file tighter. "No, I'm not okay. The man who took my choices and my childhood, the man who forced me to be a killer, is a..he's a father, Clint. What kind of cruel joke is this? He has an 8-year-old daughter, and she gets everything in life from him. She gets to go to school, she gets to have friends, she gets to have a family, and what did I get? I got shooting a bullet in my friend's forehead for my 5th birthday." Shaking her head in disbelief, she leaned back in her chair in the jet, closing her eyes.

She tried to imagine anything else, but nothing was able to distract her. While she was there at night, wondering when her next meal was gonna be, his daughter was getting read bedtime stories. His daughter got to sleep without being chained to a bed and was given actual food that didn't taste like mush. "I know I should just let it, but..." She trailed off, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them – trying to seem smaller than she was.

"No, Nat," Clint shook his head, taking a seat right in front of her and staring her in the eyes - a look of understanding in his eyes, "You have the right to be mad and hold grunge. That man ruined your life, and finding out he has a kid – who he treats like a normal-fucking-human-being; I'd be fucking pissed, too. You were treated like trash, and you have the right to be mad. Sure, the kid probably has no idea what her dad does, but you're allowed to be jealous and petty, and pissy, and whatever the hell you're feeling. You can't control your feelings, and... those feelings are pretty valid, Nat."

She could feel her body loosen up as she slowly unwrapped her arms from her legs. "I want him to suffer. I want him to feel agonizing pain as he dies." Her voice cracked slightly, her bottom lip shaking, "I want him to feel as disgusting and pathetic I felt growing up."

"And we'll make him feel like that, Nat. That man deserves to rot in hell."

Her lips quirked up in a small smile before they disappeared, a serious look taking over her face, "According to Fury, there have been many assassination attempts to kill him. We have to make this one work." She told the deaf-archer, who was leaning back into his chair, kicking his feet up on the table that was in between them, "What's one thing that people can't survive?"

Clint was quiet for a few moments, his eyes growing hazy. That was one thing Natasha always noticed about Clint. He would always zone out, and would have the most ridiculous plan... but it would always work. After a few minutes, he snapped out of it and blurted out, "Fire!" Jumping up out of his seat.