The Proposition

The Interview(9)

Heya, so I'm really sorry this is late, i've been super busy and no inspiration. so i hope this will make up for the space of me, ya know, not updating. again, sorry. Enjoy!!

Disclaimer and all that, please leave feedback, unedited.

warning: blood and stuff.

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The Interveiw-Chapter Nine

Clint felt nothing.

A cold substance: water. Suddenly splashed over him. He woke up instantaniously. shaking his head and spluttering, trying to wake up and find out what happened. he lifted his hands to try rub his eyes. But he couldn't. He could barely feel them.

He opened his eyes as fully as he could since they were squinting in the bright light in front of him so that he could look around a bit. He felt dizzy, but shook it off. He looked down to where his hands were and around him. His hands, for starters, were bound to the chair he was sitting on, blood barely able to reach them the brown leather strap was so tight.

He looked around the room, a little confused as to why he was there and in that situation when it all came back to him. the warehouse, the fight. Everything.  

The room he was in smelt of mould and was dark, damp and he could hear a faint drip somewhere far off into another room. His side, arm, leg and head hurt. The gun wounds stinging like mad and his head pounding and dizzy. He had a concussion of some sort, he knew it. He looked around again, taking in everything; He was in the middle of the room, in a dull spotlight, the rest of the room barely detectable it was so dark, but he could make out a floodlight in front of him about 10 meters away, a hose to its left and a table of various nasty looking things to the right of it. There were several people in the room, for example the one that held a bucket infront of him, the one that doused him in freezing water to wake him up. There were men standing in front of the floodlight, staring at him, hands in their pockets and more behind him and to his side.

Clint just kept a straight face, hiding all the confusion, dizzyness, pain and emotions raging inside him.

One of the men standing in front of the floodlight stepped forward hesitantly. The man with the bucket backed down and walked off, depositing the bucket somewhere to Clints right. Hawkeye, however had his eyes on the leader, who had just moved to stand a few meters in front of him and the floodlight. The leader then shouted out something in Korean, Agent Barton then mentally translated.

'Who do you work for?' the leader stepped towards Hawkeye. Whom, was still keeping a straight face. Agent Barton just ignored him and kept on staring him down. The leader didn't look impressed by the answer he was getting.

'Who do you work for?' the leader screamed at him, impatient already. Ignoring him again, Clint took the opportunity to take him in up-close. He was a peculiar looking man. Korean, obviously like all the rest of them with a few exceptions. The leader had a turned up nose and thin, small lips and mouth. His eyes were almost circles and his iris's were a very dark red, almost black, scary looking in a way as it looked like blood. His neck was tense and he kept clenching his hands.

But Hawkeye just stared daggers at him. The leader looked up at someone behind him, nodding slightly. the person who he'd nodded to then came around to Clints left, his 10.00. He was a muscluar guy, not nearly like Clint, more like the co-captain of a high school rugby team. Clint redirect his gaze up to the co-captain. Shooting Daggers that almost said, just try it.