"Are you sure this is the place?" Clint asks quietly.

"If it's not, then I don't know where else to look," Natasha whispers back as she fiddles with the lock. They're almost in. She can feel it. They're almost–

"I know you're out there."

Natasha pauses, glancing at Clint warily. He wears the same expression. There goes the element of surprise.

Clint flicks open his bow and loads an arrow in. Natasha raises an eyebrow, a silent question in her eyes.

"Not lethal," he whispers.

Natasha nods once. That's all she wanted to know.

She turns her attention back to the lock, and within seconds, she hears the click. She glances back at Clint once more, and he nods, a silent signal for her to go ahead.

She pulls out her gun out of her waistband, and only then does she open the door, holding her weapon at the ready. There's nobody in sight. It's probably for the best.

"I know you know I'm out here," Natasha says cautiously. That's why she's here. It's also why she's not sure this is a good idea.

Natasha steps inside, slowly, cautiously, eyes scanning her surroundings with every movement. She's sure Clint is doing the same. It's nice to have an extra set of eyes with her. She wouldn't want to do this alone.

"Then why are you skulking around like it's a minefield?" The voice is familiar, enough so that she knows whom it belongs to, and yet, it's new at the same time. She knows it, but she's never heard it before; not really. It didn't sound quite like this twenty years ago.

"'Cause I don't know if I can trust you," Natasha answers.

She checks every room she passes. She peers around every corner she takes. Her gun remains at the ready, and right behind her, Clint is doing the same. He has her back. He always does. As long as this isn't an ambush, they'll be fine – and if it is an ambush, she'd like to think they could fight their way out. And if they can't, Loki will find them and save their asses eventually, she's sure. He always does.

"Funny; I was going to say the same thing."

There's a room full of guns. That doesn't bode well. Weapons of all sizes cover the wall, and if there'd been any doubt in her mind that her foe is armed, this dispels it. But she'd expected this. That's why she has a weapon of her own – and she has a partner.

"So," Natasha says, "are we gonna talk like grown-ups?"

She rounds the corner, and there she is, on the other side of the doorway.

Yelena Belova.

Her sister.

Natasha aims her gun right at her sister's head. Yelena aims her own gun right back at hers.

"Is that what we are?" Yelena asks.

There's movement behind her – Clint, she has to assume. She doesn't check. She's not taking her eyes off her sister. She doesn't trust her enough for that, and the feeling's mutual, she's sure.

Natasha steps toward her.

Yelena steps back.

Step after step after step, Yelena lets her push her backward. She's going to get herself cornered – or, more likely, she's going to lash out just before she does. But Natasha will be ready for that. She expects it. She'll know how to counter it.

"Put it down," Yelena says. "Before I make you."

"You put yours down," Natasha counters, her slow, purposeful steps never halting.

Yelena's gaze flickers to Clint, only for the briefest of moments before it returns to Natasha's face and the weapon she holds.

Yelena stumbles, just slightly, as her foot hits something on the floor. She recovers quickly. Her composure doesn't break. She's good at this.

"Watch your step," Natasha quips.

Yelena just hums in response.

Until finally, they both come to a halt, Clint still trailing behind. The two women just look at each other, a challenge in their gazes, both daring the other to make the first move.

Without warning, Natasha reaches for Yelena's gun, pulling it from her hand. Yelena does the same thing at the same time. They swap guns. They swap positions. They're playing by the same playbook, and neither of them are winning right now.

Until, of course, Clint steps in, catching Yelena in a headlock from behind and grabbing the arm that holds her gun. Yelena fires off a shot, but Clint's already forced her hand down by her side, leaving nothing more than a bullet hole in the floor.

"Hey!" Yelena kicks her foot back, presumably going after the knee, but Clint sweeps her legs out from under her, bringing her to her knees and taking himself down with her.

He grabs her gun, sliding it across the floor toward Natasha, who steps on it with her boot before her gaze snaps back to her sister.

"Don't move," Natasha hisses.

Yelena grits her teeth, glaring up at her, but still, she listens.

"We're not here to hurt you, Yelena," Clint tells her. "You tell us what we want to know, and we will gladly let you walk."

Yelena huffs a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, okay." She grabs Clint's forearm, trying in vain to pry it off her neck. "Now let me go, will you?"

Clint looks to Natasha for that answer.

"Are you gonna play nice?" Natasha asks.

Yelena makes a show of rolling her eyes. "I checked the fridge. There is enough beer for the three of us."

Natasha hesitates, but then the corner of her lips quirks upward, and she slips her gun back into her waistband. She gestures to Clint with her head, and he lets her go, standing back up straight.

Yelena coughs, once, twice, and stands up, too, rubbing her neck with a frown. With the jerk of her head, she gestures for them to follow her, and Natasha finds herself reaching for her gun instinctively.

It seems there's no reason to, because all Yelena does is bring them to the fridge, where she pulls out three bottles of beer. Natasha takes two, handing one off to Clint. At least their field trip comes with refreshments.

"You had to come to Budapest, huh?" Natasha remarks.

"I came here because I thought you wouldn't," Yelena replies.

Natasha glances at Clint uncertainly. That... doesn't make sense.

"But since you're here," Yelena says, "what type of bullet does that?" She gestures to the wall with her beer. There's a nice array of holes in the drywall – holes that she remembers all too well.

"Not bullets," Natasha says.

"Arrows," Clint adds, holding his now-retracted bow up to demonstrate.

"Ah." Yelena just nods, then pops the cap on her beer.

Natasha moves on to what actually matters, and it's not alcohol. She puts her beer on the table, then reaches into her bag and pulls out the vials and the photo that accompanied them. She drops them on the table and looks at her sister expectantly.

Yelena's eyes go wide. "You brought it back here?"

"What are they?" Natasha asks.

Yelena clenches her jaw. "It's a synthetic gas," she says. "The counteragent to chemical subjugation. The gas immunizes the brain's neuropathways from external manipulation."

"Maybe in English next time?" Natasha says irritably.

"It's an antidote to mind control," Yelena says in Russian.

"Real mature," Natasha says sarcastically.

Clint looks between the two of them, the gears turning in his head. "Mind control?"

Yelena eyes him for a few moments, an unreadable expression on her face, then looks back at Natasha. "He speaks Russian?"

Clint looks at Natasha questioningly; an answer in and if itself, really.

"He speaks nerd," Natasha answers.

Clint cracks a smile at that.

Yelena huffs. "Yes, mind control," she says. "This is the antidote."

"Who's doing the mind-controlling?" Clint asks.

Yelena just looks at him for a few moments, then asks Natasha, "Why is he here?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Because he's my friend."

"Where she goes, I go," Clint adds.

Yelena rolls her eyes, too. "Great."

He extends a hand, an olive branch of a sort. "I'm Clint, by the way."

Yelena scoffs. "I know who you are," she says. "I'm not stupid. I've watched the news."

Clint raises his brows and lowers his hand back down to his side.

Natasha pats the vials, bringing everyone's attention back to where it needs to be. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

Yelena throws her hands up helplessly. "I don't know!" she says. "You are the superhero! You know all the sciencey people! You were supposed to figure it out!"

Natasha takes a deep breath before she responds. "Yelena..."

"I kept checking the news," Yelena adds, "expecting to see Captain America bringing down the Red Room!"

Natasha could swear, the whole world freezes in that moment.

The Red Room.

This whole adventure is beginning to feel like a mental breakdown in the making.

Yelena gives her a weird look. "What?"

"'Taking down the Red Room'?" Natasha repeats back. "What are you talking about? It's been gone for years. Dreykov's dead – I killed him."

Yelena huffs a sarcastic laugh. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Natasha furrows her brows, the corners of her lips turning downward in a frown.

Yelena's brows furrow, too. "You really do believe that."

Natasha glances at Clint. He was there. He knows. They did it together. They killed Dreykov together. They destroyed the Red Room together. It's done.

Clint eyes Yelena warily. "She did kill Dreykov. I was there. I watched the whole thing."

"Uh-huh," Yelena says. "And you're sure?"

"Yes," Clint says without a moment of hesitation.

"I'm pretty damn sure," Natasha adds. What she did... nobody could have survived that. The explosion was too big, too strong. He's dead. He has to be.

"And you checked the body?" Yelena asks. "Confirmed the kill??

The two Avengers share a look.

"There was no body left to check," Natasha says.

"Mm-hmm," Yelena hums, unconvinced.

And then the ceiling collapses.

Clint grabs Natasha's arm, pulling her into the next room. Yelena grabs the vials and ducks in with them.

It's silent for a few moments.

Then the thud of feet hitting the ground.

Natasha and Clint share a look, and with a nod, they each pull out their weapons.

They're not making it out of this one without a fight.