5747/A Disturbance in the Basement

A Disturbance in the Basement
Date of Scene:	27 March 2021
Location:	Avengers Mansion - Training Facility
Synopsis:	SHIELD news is shared with Wanda, knives are thrown, and Clint agrees they're a team
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff

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Clint Barton has posed:
Clint is over at one of the heavy bags, treating it like it just spent the last hour insulting his mother. He may not be able to kill it like Steve does, but he's making one hell of an attempt at it. He's pretty much covered in sweat and radiating palpable anger and frustration. He honestly doesn't even notice you come in, so intent is he on murdering the punching bag.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda is dressed... differently. The few days, weeks, she's been 'casual', as in 'messy, not going out' sort of casual, but now? She's dressed up, but looking more like she's going out on a mission rather than stepping out to party. She's got her signature red on, from bustier to leggings, boots, and a short red jacket. Her hair is down, the long red tresses half in front, half in back. There she stands in the doorway, simply watching the archer as he works out, pushing himself as hard in training as she's seen him in some time.

"Is that bad?" Wanda knows it is, of course. She's leaning on the doorway, just inside the threshold, her hands before her, playing with little red wisps of energy, moving her hands as if she's rolling a ball over and through her fingers. She looks.. determined, mixed of course with concerned. "I could feel you from miles away."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint hauls off and belts the bag as hard as he can without breaking his hand, then spins away from the bag with a growl and stalks across the gym. Coming to a stop in front of Wanda, he closes his eyes and take a couple deep breaths. Calming exercise done, he opens his eyes again. They reflect a deep hurt and anger, though not directed at her at all. He opens his mouth to talk, then closes it again as if he doesn't even know where to start.

He takes another breath and tries again, the words coming this time. "It's that bad... probably worse. SHIELD has been hitting HYDRA hard the last year or so. They hit back today, and it's worse than I could have ever imagined. The Secretary of Defense offered up a lot of lies and footage he claimed was us, and declared SHIELD was trying to overthrow the government. We're not allowed to be in the US, are all subject to instant arrest, and the Triskelion has been seized by the military."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda doesn't shrink, doesn't move from her spot when Clint approaches; she can feel his anger, no, fury, his frustration, his concern.. all are placed elsewhere, but that doesn't make him any less fearsome. When he stands before her, the red smoky shadows dissipate as she lifts her hand to touch the sweat-soaked, tense cheek to stroke it briefly in that attempt to assuage his anger.

They are both present, ready to pull each other from that dark precipice. That's not to say they don't dwell on the cliffs, but the fall is prevented.

So far.

Wanda listens to the words as they begin to flow from him. It's almost like that break in the dam where the water flows free, and Wanda is there to shore it up once more. Her voice is soft, deliberate, and she begins, "They will never get you." It's a statement, not a threat. "Ever. And if I need to protect this mansion, I will," and those within.

Wanda smiles, but it's not a happy one. It's more.. melancholic. "I have been on other side of United States law before. I can again, for you. They cannot hurt me, and I will not let them hurt you."

The conversation of a preceeding evening, however, comes to mind, and she cants her head, her expression thoughtful, "You had mentioned the possibility of this."

Clint Barton has posed:
He leans his cheek into that touch, taking some comfort from her presence and instant willingness to do whatever is needed. His eyes close again as she strokes his cheek, and when they open, he's a little more Clint than he was a minute ago.

He also knows that no matter how upset he is, getting her to match his fury would be a terrible, terrible mistake.

His hand comes up to press hers against his cheek, and he says quietly, "I don't think they'll come here. Most of the Avengers aren't SHIELD agents, and well, people like us. Plus, who really wants to piss of the Hulk and Thor at the same time?" He chuckles a little, no real humor in it, but adds, "I don't want you fighting the government if you don't have to."

He finally looks into her eyes and says, "There was always a possibility of trouble, but this... they're in the highest levels of government, and they did this after we spent a year ruining plan after plan. They've got to be so much bigger than we ever thought."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
No one wants to piss off Thor or the Hulk, certainly. But, after a fashion, they're... rein-in-able? Mostly? And the Hulk can be brought to bear. Wanda, however?

She's still mostly an unknown, even to SHIELD. Sure, they have a file on her, undoubtedly a mile thick, but in the end, her ability is limited by her imagination. And when she's angry?

She's imaginitive.

That's not including her teaming up with her twin brother.

While Clint quiets under her touch, Wanda can feel Clint's troubles, all that lies beneath the surface. "I am not afraid, Clint. There is nothing they can do. Even if they have my file, they cannot touch me. You have worked for SHIELD, and even if you have your secrets?" She's afraid they'll take him down.

Her tones soften, and she speaks as she runs her fingers through his short blond hair. "Please," is barely audible, "let me help."

Clint Barton has posed:
Her tone and her touch both reach him, and with a sigh he slides his arms around her and draws her close to him. The tension doesn't totally leave his body, but her closeness dispels some of it at least. He kisses her cheek and says quietly, "Right now, I don't even know what I'm going to do, much less what you could do."

He lifts his head to look at her and says, "If there's something you can help with, I'll bring you in. I don't know that we can afford to turn down help right now, even if you aren't officially part of SHIELD."

He takes another deep breath and kisses her on the lips this time. After the kiss lingers a few moments, he lets it end and smiles a little, though a bit sadly, "I do fear that I'm going to be very, very busy over the next few months. I doubt this will be fixed quickly or easily."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda allows the embrace, stepping into it, even if her mind is truly on those other things, that is, how to protect those she loves. Her arms wrap about him, and there's a breath exhaled in the feel of his warmth, and.. ew.. sweat. He smells like sweaty, strong Clint; not always a bad thing.

"You do not have to be SHIELD to know this is wrong, Clint," is reminded.

Those thoughts are quieted, if ony for a moment when the kiss is returned, her face, her lips lingering only a scant distance from his when broken. "-We- will be very busy for the next few months," is reminded. "I can get you places where you would never be seen. I can hide you, I can .." and she almost sounds like she's trying to remind him that she is capable, and more than willing.

Clint Barton has posed:
He nods and smiles, her unquestioning support buoying his spirits and bringing forth a rueful chuckle. "We will be very busy, yes. Becuase you, my love" he reaches up and taps her nose lightly, "are a very bad person to upset, and I'd much rather have you mad at HYDRA than me. Besides, you'll be a great help to me, you're very good at what you do."

He sighs, "I don't know what kind of mess we're getting into, but we'll get into it together. At least as much as we can. I won't promise to take you with me on every mission, because there might be some I simply can't. But as much as possible, you'll be there."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda smiles prettily, though there's a touch of //something// in those emerald eyes. "Would you like to hear me say the same, Clint? There will be times when I cannot have you by my side when I work. You would not like to see it, or it would put you in too much danger.." Her words are whisper-soft. "But we will fight side by side as much as we can."

Here, she brings a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the skin there, "I am a very bad person to upset," she repeats. "Do not go after the ones I love, or it will be regretted."

Wanda rises onto her toes briefly to press another kiss against his lips, but it's quick; there and gone. "I think you should do good workout now. Controlled and deliberate. If you like, I can throw things at you to deflect?" Well, create things out of nowhere and then throw them. Laws of matter need not apply to the witch.

Clint Barton has posed:
A shrug and a nod, "That's fair, honestly. You're the best judge of how dangerous what you're planning to do is. Just try not to lose yourself to it, ok? I know you sometimes have to fight to keep yourself together. I don't want to lose you over this, just like you don't want to lose me."

He considers her offer to throw things at him with a grin. "Usually that comes after the boyfriend upsets you" he observes with something like his normal humor. "Actually, you could give me targets. I'm going to have to leave the bow behind, it's too obvious I've been somewhere when I use it. I was thinking of switching to throwing knives."

He gestures across the room to the weapons area, "Pretty sure we have some over there."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda exhales in a sigh, looking into those blues as he so subtly reminds her how close to the edge she can get. Is there a chance she may go over? When she runs hot and into the emotional, her decisions aren't //always// the best. With her involved, it could either be very good, or she could start a one-woman war with the US government.

Hard to tell, really.

What is important, then, is that she be directed towards HYDRA and //not// the US federal government, which is attempting to bring SHIELD to heel. Or rather, had declared all SHIELD employees traitors (or somesuch) and to be arrested on sight.

Wanda shakes her head quickly, her hair moving in the rapid gesture. "You will not lose me, Clint Barton. At the end of this, we will walk out, and you will be able to impress me with your bow once more."

Until then?

"I cannot promise I will pull my punches," so to speak.. and she has something of an impish smile attached. "I will give you targets. And knives are good. Quiet. Only problem with them is you must be close." The consideration gains a frown, though she shakes her head to dispell the thought. He's good, and if she's bogged down in worry, it does neither of them any good.

"Get them. I will give you targets. We will start slowly," she begins, that impish smile returns, "and then find where you can no longer defend." And then, work past that. With her help.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint jogs across the room to the weapons area and digs through the cabinets there for a minute, finally coming up with a bandoleer of throwing knives that he slings across his chest. As he starts putting the other weapons he took out back he pauses, then picks up a katana and straps it across his back.

He comes back to the middle of the room and looks over towards Wanda and nods, "Ok, let's see how rusty I am with these things. Haven't used anything but the bow in a while." He takes up a ready stance, looking over towards her with one hand near his chest.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda takes the few steps into the training room, emerald eyes searching the walls, the ceilings, looking for hints, for things that can be used before she needs to begin creating things. It's the 'same old Wanda', only now she's moving with the grace of someone who knows where she is, where she fits, and most importantly, what her purpose is. She is no longer reacting, but rather acting, and it gives her a different manner altogether.

As Clint rifles through potential weapons, she brings her hands up, the red wispy clouds of magical energy winding around her fingers.

"You will be perfect, I am certain."

Once he's ready, or senses that he's ready, her opening salvo is slightly different. She pulls her hands down, and that punching bag is pulled from the ceiling, the chains rattling as it flies towards the archer, and with only heartbeats to separate the attack, three arrows are pulled from the bench and hurled in a secondary attack. She stands as an immovable object, the redness of her magic reflected within her eyes as she controls the chaos before her. She's paying full attention to what she's doing...

Clint Barton has posed:
He spins to the left and out of the punching bag's flight path, his hand darting to the first knife and releasing it as he spins, the knife flickering across the space between him and the bag to *thunk* solidly into it. His other hand has already pulled a second knife and released it directly at the first oncoming arrow. Both hands flash back to the bandoleer and whip down, releasing two more knives, one each aimed at the other two arrows.

Less than a second later, each knife meets an arrow and knocks them out of the air. He allows himself a small grin, murmering, "Ok, not as rusty as I feared." He's looking around, aware that the next targets could come from anywhere at all, since they might be something in the room already or something she creates out of her imagination.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Of course not," Wanda replies with a ghosted smile. Her concentration hasn't faltered, and Clint isn't given too much time to recover. She brings her hands forward, her fingers splayed, and she looks almost like a dancer in her pose as she steps forward, the chain of the punching bag now coming to life and snaking towards the 'former' archer to wrap about his foot.

She glances at the shattered arrows, obviously decides against using them, but beyond, her gaze catches sight of plastic bottles of water. They're lifted into the air, bottle by bottle by bottle, one pulled from its case at a time, aiming for body, legs, head.. some threatening from above..

There aren't any 'punches' being pulled, but she won't let him get hurt either...

Clint Barton has posed:
One hand draws another knife and after the barest second's consideration, throws it in the direction of the oncoming bottles before he draws the katana and slashes it across the chain to free his foot. He dives to the side, rolling across the mats. In the middle of the roll another knife flies out.

The first knife doesn't hit the first bottle directly, rather it ricochets off it, deflecting it's path and continues on to impale a second bottle. The second knife does the same for two other bottles, and he rolls again, coming up with the sword in one hand and a knife in the other, looking around to see if anything is coming at him at the moment.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda can (and would) do this all night if Clint wants her to, and there's a part of her that truly does enjoy watching how absolutely //good// he is. She's so proud of him, so.. happy to be the one he comes back to.

That... that tempers her attacks somewhat, even as the water splashes all over the training room.

The red wisps dissipate as her hands come down, and she stands there, just looking at the converting archer into .. something else. Wanda smiles, the expression easily reaching her eyes, and she steps forward, her now 'empty' hand forward to take his. "I do not think you are as rusty as you say," is noted. "But, I should put the boxing weight back up before the Captain has words with me."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint sheathes both the sword and knife and then takes the offered hand with a smile. "Apparently, I seem to remember all my lessons." He looks at the punching bag, "Yeah, he does prefer when we don't leave things lying around." He squeezes her fingers then lets go of her hand again to go collect the knives he's thrown around the room. They go back into the bandoleer except for the last one that he holds up to look at.

"I bet I could get some of these to do some of the same things my arrows do with just a little work. I'll have to talk to someone." He sheathes that knife as well and comes back over to where she stands, then hmmms. "Actually, we can dispose of this one, given that I put a knife into it. Just toss it over to Steve's broken punching bag pile and put up a new one."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
When her hand is taken, Wanda's smile brightens just that much more, and she squeezes in return, letting it go when Clint goes to clean up. She walks deeper into the room, stepping carefully around the carnage that was the pair. "I am always yelling at Pietro to clean up. He is quicker than I am, so it does not take as long." She pauses, chuckles and continues, "It is his arguing that takes longer."

Still, as they stand there and talk, the water bottles in all their various states of water/waterlessness begin to rise from the floor and settled into the recycling container off to the side. Doesn't require any magic there! It's the punching bag, however, that truly gains her attention.

Wanda presses her lips together, and looks beside her to her handsome archer. "And then, they will know it is you." Unless, of course, that 'little work' means to embue them with magic. That is //not// a Hawkeye trick!

Now, however, the crimson mist begins to rise from Wanda's hands as she lifts them from her side; at the same time, the tears in the punching bag begins to mend, and soon enough, it looks like new. Not a scratch on it! It's obvious with her gesture, then, that as her hands rise, the heavy bag does the same, and like a conductor in front of an orchestra, the gestures that rise are no less instructional. One holds the bag, while the other hand tends to the chain as it is first repaired, and then replaced.

Soon enough? The place looks a lot less of a mess.

Wanda smiles at the blonde beside her, and shrugs lightly, "I could put an illusion on it, so they think it is completely clean?"

Clint Barton has posed:
He laughs, "Showoff. Must be nice to be able to clean up with magic." He looks around, "Nah, someone might step on the broken arrows if you just hide them." He goes over and picks up a dustpan and brush Steve keeps nearby to clean up sand from the bags he breaks and sweeps up the arrow pieces, throwing them out.

"Well, I wasn't going to replicate everything my arrows do, but a few explosive knives wouldn't hurt. And really, I just need deniability. Hawkeye uses arrows, just cause someone uses an explosive knife doesn't make him me." He winks at her. "It's all in the technicalities."

He holds his hand out to her, "Come on, I want to go grab a shower and become a little less fragrant, then we should eat some dinner or something."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
A light shrug graces Wanda's shoulders, and finally a louder laugh exits the witch. "It is cheating, yes," and she nods, those green eyes gleaming with amusement. "But, yes.. we'll finish cleaning."

The pair do, indeed, finish the cleaning; both with elbow grease and magic, and when done?

Wanda slides her hand to his elbow, and she's ready to head out, the conversation about converting a couple of those knives ready to be taken up. During dinner.

Instead? "Yes, please. Then, dinner. I think someone has made meatloaf and potatoes.."