My Way or the Highway
Manhandled | Forced to their knees | Held at Gunpoint

~~~

Two pairs of arms roughly grabbed her, shoving Natasha against the ground without mercy. She felt the skin on her knees break and start bleeding, but made no move to stop it while being forcefully pulled down. The asphalt road was burning with the high temperature and the air felt like the inside of a blast furnace.

The familiar click of a gun cocking reached her ears. Seconds later, the butt of the gun connected with Natasha's head — not to knock her out — but instead act as an intimidating warning not to do anything you'll regret. The people holding her didn't ease their grip, talking into their comms in Spanish.

"Ramirez y yo tenemos dos," one said. Natasha mentally translated: Ramirez and I have two.

Looking to her right, she saw Tony on his knees and out of his suit. Actually, Natasha wasn't even sure he had it in the first place since they hadn't been on a mission. The Avengers had been invited to a gala dinner down in New Mexico, near Las Cruces and surrounded by a dry yellow desert. Thor had just traveled with his hammer and made sure to stop by Asgard on their way back, planning to land at the tower when the others arrived. Clint, Steve, and Bruce had taken one car (self-driven by Jarvis, of course) to where a quinjet was parked. Natasha and Tony did the same, but using another jeep which was trailing behind.

It hadn't taken very long for their tires to get shot out, the car spinning out of control, and then getting ambushed by a gang of some sorts.

The men holding the pair tied their hands behind their backs and stepped back. Natasha knew she could easily escape, but wanted to gather more information about what she assumed to be a drug cartel. They chatted animatedly in Spanish and Natasha picked up a little about being taken to a guy named Pérez via the truck that was already on its way. Besides, a quick glance at Tony confirmed that he was holding up just fine.

Ramirez's knee was pressed into Natasha's back, leaving a decent sized bruise. She felt her head spin by the pressure of being held in place for so long. Sharing a look with Tony, Natasha hoped he could realize the message behind it. She knew he could occasionally read her emotionless face, but didn't know for sure. She also silently prayed to anyone who would listen that Tony wouldn't do what he was known for: making the situation worse.

Tony whistled. "Looking good, amigos! I've got to say that the whole camouflage-tactical-gear is really authentic."

"Tony Stark," Ramirez said with his natural accent dripping through, "and Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha arched an eyebrow to show she was listening.

"Huh, so you do speak English."

The other guard spoke up. "Desafortunadamente."

Ramirez laughed and repeated what he'd said. "Unfortunately."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Do you have an appointment?"

They both frowned and looked at each other. "What?"

"Y'know, an appointment. I'm the Tony Stark — genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. If you wanna talk business, you have to set up a time to meet. I'm a busy man!"

"It's my way," Ramirez announced, clicking his gun again, "or the autopista — highway."

In their momentary confusion, Natasha jutted her legs out from beneath her and knocked Ramirez off his feet, splitting the zip ties into two (talk about cheap, huh). He fell back and caught himself using one of his knees. Pain exploded in Natasha's shoulder as his gunshot went wide (luckily only a graze). Tony managed to get out of his guard's grip and the restraints and roll away. He got up and remembered his sparring lessons with Birdbrain and Red for a fight with one.

Ramirez got up and threw a punch at Natasha. She barely managed to dodge and avoid a kick to the back of her knees by the other goon. Feeling in between one of her boots, the assassin quickly grabbed and flipped one of her many knives up to her hand. Natasha gave Ramirez a decent cut on his face, distracting him enough to bend his arm behind his back. She pinned him and knocked down the other guy. He fell on top of Ramirez with a groan of pain, hitting his head on the asphalt highway hard.

She helped out Tony with his waging battle and together assessed their surroundings once all hostiles were down.

"Isn't this Interstate... 70?" Tony guessed. "They should rename it to Big-Empty-Sand-Dune-Street.

Natasha sighed, examining her shoulder wound. "Your observations amaze me, Stark. Also, there's shrubs along the roadway instead of just sand. I—"

"Oh, look!" He pointed in the distance to where a moving truck was heading in their direction. "I wasn't really in the mood to walk a few miles, thank god."

Natasha smirked, not finishing her last sentence. "Can't figure out a way to get your suit?"

"Well, Jarvis was in the middle of updating some security things, so it'll take a little bit longer even if I cancel it. Besides, Pepper can handle herself if worst comes to worst at the tower and security fails."

Natasha shrugged. "I know. I taught her some of my favorite methods."

"As if she wasn't scary enough."

"Let me do the talking." Seeing Tony's wrinkled pout, Natasha jokingly asked, "Do you speak fluent español?"

He shook his head and let Natasha move forward. The truck slowed to a stop and they both read the U-Haul logo on the side, written in white to contrast against the bright orange side panels. The windows by the driver and shotgun seat were heavily tinted — definitely too dark to be legal.

Natasha's narrowed eyes scanned the door before the driver could open it. They widened and Tony was about to ask why — just when she grabbed him and pulled him across the road.

"Run!"

They ran like their lives depended on it (which they did) and were able to make it at least seventy meters when the truck exploded into a firey ball of gas. Smoke billowed into the sky, immediately turning the once clear blue sky into a dark grey cloud. If Bruce, Clint, and Steve hadn't already noticed the lack of the second car behind them, they would surely notice this.

Tony got thrown into a ditch and felt something metal hit his foot. He made a mental note to never go to New Mexico again.

"Red?" Tony coughed painfully. He got no response and was left with the dull throbbing in his ankle.

Sitting up, Tony felt his head spin with the motion. "Should it be doing that?" He slurred absentmindedly. "Ah... Fuck."

He got up and winced with every step. "Ow. I think I've got a new appreciation for that time you had two broken ankles, Romanoff. Why the hell is the grass so high in a desert?"

Rocks littered the ground everywhere, varying in sizes of big, bigger and bigger-er. Tony was sure he saw a snake or two slither by. The whole area reminded him of some Star Trek episodes he'd seen before. He shivered, even with the heat, before coming to a stop — finally finding his elusive teammate.

Natasha lie strewn across the cracked clay on her back Her head rested by a rock and had blood coming down from somewhere on her head that Tony couldn't quite see. More crimson dripped down her cheek from behind one of her ears, drying quickly in the hot desert sun hanging lazily overhead. He ran forward and tried to asses the most pressing factor.

Where she'd been grazed by a bullet earlier had stopped bleeding, but stained the t-shirt she was wearing (it probably belonged to Clint or Steve). Tony ran his hand through her red hair and tried to find the place where she had been hit when the explosion knocked them off their feet. A small bump was behind her ear where the blood was running from.

He cursed the sun for being so hot and annoying. Tony took a deep breath, gently shaking Natasha. "Wakey, wakey, vodka and artillery."

She slurred something in Russian, and he picked up the word Clint. Her eyes opened and glossed over before shutting quickly. Tony realized the sun was directly in her sight, and was probably burning into her irises.

"I'm offended, but okay," Tony joked without any real humor. He immediately felt guilty.

Tearing off a piece from the bottom of his shirt, Tony wrapped it around the bullet graze and gently wiped off some of the blood. He didn't even hear the telltale sound of an approaching vehicle until Natasha pointed it out.

She pushed past him (despite being injured) and held a finger to her lips. "Something's coming. Probably Ramirez's backup."

"Shit."

Natasha reached into her boot. Both of her once concealed knives were gone, but she instead pulled out a small black ring and handed it to Tony. "They really should've checked us for weapons and communication."

"You had comms this whole time?" Tony asked in mock surprise. "What, do you also have a taser?"

"Who the fuck uses a taser? Stark, guns and knives are far superior," Natasha exclaimed. "This comm is connected to only one other one, which Clint should have unless something happened to him—"

"I could improve them..." He trailed off, noticing the glare he got for interrupting.

Natasha put the comm in her ear and muttered something in Russian; an authorization code for extra security measures. "Clint, do you copy?"

There was a brief moment of static before the voice of Clint came on, instantly evaporating their worries: "Tracking your coordinates now. We saw what happened and are headed back, Nat. Is Tony there too?"

Tony made a static sound into his hands. "Affirmative."

The sound of another jeep entering the area let Natasha allow herself to grin. Time for Ramirez to get his ass kicked by five assembled Avengers.