He'd kept it to himself. Nat probably suspected something, but to Clint, this shit is private. He was never satisfied with the way Loki was punished, and he'd never told her the extent of the mind-bending way Loki had treated him. For God's sake, those few days in Loki's service were the best days of his life -- or, at least, some of the happiest.
So he takes his vacation days -- which is suspicious, but fuck it -- and walks out, suck and tired of the bullshit of everyday life in SHIELD, blah, blah, and follows the breadcrumbs. He's getting his damn bow back. He likes that one. He made that one. Or at least had a big hand in designing and crafting it. It's his. And Loki can't have it.
He has enough time to think through his plan. Enough that he decides he really shouldn't have one. Loki is unpredictable, and who's to say what he's like once he's been through Asgardian justice. Maybe he's been brainwashed himself. Maybe he's been stripped of his powers. Maybe he's only got one leg now. Clint doesn't know, and it's stupid to plan. So he has a few ideas, makes sure that he knows the area, makes sure that he's got some weapons stashed away.
And then he waltzes into Loki's trap, because this timeline is already too long, and he wants to get things moving.
Thus, he's not entirely surprised when he blinks himself to consciousness dangling from the ceiling.
Cuffs are comfy, though. Nice. He's used to the more torturous we-don't-care-how-much-carpal-tunnel-you-get kind.
Hey! That's his fucking bow!
"So," says Clint, "Option A is that you just give me the bow, let me go, and I'll ... well, actually, I'll shoot your face off, so that's probably not ideal, from your point of view. It is quick, though, so I'll let you decide."
no subject
So he takes his vacation days -- which is suspicious, but fuck it -- and walks out, suck and tired of the bullshit of everyday life in SHIELD, blah, blah, and follows the breadcrumbs. He's getting his damn bow back. He likes that one. He made that one. Or at least had a big hand in designing and crafting it. It's his. And Loki can't have it.
He has enough time to think through his plan. Enough that he decides he really shouldn't have one. Loki is unpredictable, and who's to say what he's like once he's been through Asgardian justice. Maybe he's been brainwashed himself. Maybe he's been stripped of his powers. Maybe he's only got one leg now. Clint doesn't know, and it's stupid to plan. So he has a few ideas, makes sure that he knows the area, makes sure that he's got some weapons stashed away.
And then he waltzes into Loki's trap, because this timeline is already too long, and he wants to get things moving.
Thus, he's not entirely surprised when he blinks himself to consciousness dangling from the ceiling.
Cuffs are comfy, though. Nice. He's used to the more torturous we-don't-care-how-much-carpal-tunnel-you-get kind.
Hey! That's his fucking bow!
"So," says Clint, "Option A is that you just give me the bow, let me go, and I'll ... well, actually, I'll shoot your face off, so that's probably not ideal, from your point of view. It is quick, though, so I'll let you decide."