Rabat, Morocco

September 17, 2013

2300 hours

Four men sat around a trashcan fire in a dark alley in Rabat, Morocco. Three of them were wanted internationally and one of them was a nervous, highly unwilling trainee. Unbeknownst to them, two other people were nearby, one on a nearby rooftop and one behind the dumpster. And, of course, the two other people had no idea the other was there as well.

Vladimir Zaroff was a deadly, very well paid assassin for the Russian mafia. He had killed political leaders in seventeen countries and an unknown number of citizens and black market dealers. Well, unknown to most of the world.

"Fifty-seven people, nineteen important ones," the woman whispered silently, loading her gun as she re-assessed her marks. "High threat."

Gaston Buteaux, the French assassin wanted in thirty-nine countries for assassinations of mob bosses, mafia leaders, and one vice president. What he was doing being buddies with the mafia assassin from her country, one of the countries that wanted him dead, the woman behind the dumpster could only guess.

"His only marks are women," she hissed to herself. She would take pleasure in killing him. He was an old adversary.

David Matthews. An American. A rogue from their SHIELD organization, in fact. This was a rare treat, an American assassin. SHIELD always proved a challenge. The man was remarkably trained, and had killed almost as many as SHIELD's other famous assassin, Hawkeye.

"Trained by Hawkeye himself," she murmured. "This will be interesting."

Finally, there was Jason Alexander, another American. He had borrowed money from Matthews before Matthews went rogue, and had the unfortunate cure of owing him a lot of money that he wouldn't be able to give. So Matthews had threatened Alexander's family, quietly of course, and roped Alexander into being his new protégé. Alexander had killed only once, but she would not be able to let him live.

"He knows too much," she said, and all guilt was erased from her mind. She was the infamous Black Widow; she did not feel guilt.

"God, what is this, the annual assassin's convention?" the man on the roof muttered, looking down at his mark. David Matthews had shown promise in the beginning, but he had never given the man his full trust.

"You know the deal, Hawkeye," the voice of his handler came through the earpiece. "Kill Matthews, try and get Alexander out of there."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I got it Phil," Hawkeye said, annoyance tingeing his tone. He hated rescue missions. Especially when the missions were for someone he didn't know. Most people didn't get to see him in action and live, and he liked it that way. It saved a lot of risk. "But I could have all three of them taken care of, and save us two more future missions. It would be so much easier-"

"Enough, Barton, just do your job and get out of there. It's safer, a concept you'd do good to get familiar with," Phil Coulson chastised.

"Hey, if you're safe, you're not learning," Hawkeye retorted.

"It's 'If you know what you're doing, you're not learning', and you took that damn fortune cookie too far."

"Same thing. Now shut up they said my name," Hawkeye said, grinning down at his mark.

"Great, your ego needs the boost," Coulson said sarcastically.

"You're deadly assassins, who can you possibly have to fear?" Jason said caustically, glaring at the others in the circle.

"There are very, very few I fear, Mister Alexander, rest assured about this," Zaroff growled, taking a sip from the flask in his hand. "But these two…"

"Oh, 'these two'," the highly accented voice of Gaston butted in. "You speak of them as if they work as a team. Phah, if they came into contact they would kill each other!"

"Well, if they were to work together, imagine the devastation it would cause. The Black Widow, she would never defect Russia. So your infamous Hawk would, how you say, have to convert to the dark side."

"Please, gentlemen, he only just left our side of the equation," Matthews sighed, leaning forward. "You see, Jason, there is only one thing an assassin fears, and that's a better assassin. So, naturally, all assassins fear two people. Hawkeye and the Black Widow. In almost every way, the two are exactly the same. Government assassins, following orders to their cold heart's content. Their ledgers are both redder than those embers. Only difference is that Hawk's a man and Widow's a woman. Some may also argue that Hawk's a good guy and Widow's a villain."

The Black Widow scowled momentarily. She followed her own code, did what she wanted. No government got in the way of that, and she did not follow the orders of her own! How dare he suggest that? Killing him just became her top priority. Meanwhile, Hawkeye made a face. He was the good guy? Since when? He would certainly have to work on his reputation.

"Personally, having met the Hawk, I think the Widow would probably win if Gaston's ideas came to reality." Hawkeye narrowed his eyes at the statement, while the Black Widow smirked. "But the thing about these two is this: once you're on their mark, you're dead."

"And yet you've met Hawkeye and you're alive," Jason countered.

"I said I met him, not that I'm his mark," Matthews said.

"You are now," Hawkeye commented quietly.

"Well, how do you know if you're the mark, then?" Jason demanded.

"This is simple," Gaston said loudly. "The Widow's giveaway is this; her perfume. A smell so sweet and indescribable, you will find it nowhere on Earth but her. One sniff and you know she's nearby."

The Black Widow had to bit her lip to keep from laughing. That certainly wasn't the desired effect! She had no idea that the perfume had become her trademark, but she wasn't about to argue it.

"And as for the Hawk-" Zaroff began.

"An arrow, so most say," Matthews finished with a roll of his eyes. "The real way to spot him is to look for the folks in sunglasses and dark jackets talking on earpieces. They're never far behind him. Because the thing about Hawkeye and arrows is, he never misses."

"Good to know," a voice said behind them. All four whipped around to see a man in the shadows, standing with a bow drawn. "And as for arrows, David, it's usually the one on the bow they see."

"Well lookie here, boys, it's the Hawk," Matthews said, standing up and pulling Jason with him. He held the other man in front of him like a human shield. "So, Hawkeye, gonna shoot an innocent, just to get at me?"

"He's no innocent. He's killed," Hawkeye said. "But I'd get a hell of a lot more pleasure out of this if you put him down and considered begging for your life. You two," he added, turning the bow towards Gaston and Zaroff, who were quietly trying to slink away. "Don't move."

At that moment, the wind picked up, nearly blowing out the fire. Carried with it was the sweet, sinful smell of a woman perfume. The assassins all looked to each other in quiet panic. "It's the Widow," Zaroff said, fear evident in his voice.

Gaston looked accusingly at Hawkeye. "What have you done?" he exclaimed. "She'll kill us all!"

"Glad you have faith in me still, Gaston, mon amiee," a voice said, tempting and flirty and smooth as silk. A woman stepped into the firelight, dressed all in black. She wore lethal-looking heels, and around her waist were strapped several even-more-lethal-looking weapons. Her hair was a bright red, falling down her back in long curls. Every man's eyes locked on her as she moved toward them, seemingly without drawing a weapon. The assassin's eyes darted between her and Hawkeye. Gaston began muttering a prayer while Zaroff looked terrified. Matthews still held Jason in front of him as a shield. Jason looked torn between hope and fear, fear they would kill him and hope they would free him to go home.

"Excuse me, miss, but I'm in the middle of a kill here," Hawkeye said, recovering from his shock and finding it replaced with great frustration at being stopped.

"Hawkeye, that's the Widow," Coulson said in the earpiece. "Drop everything and take her out, now."

"Alright, you take him and I'll take these three clowns, then," she said. "I have no problem is you kill Matthews or I do, I get paid either way." She lifted her hands, seemingly in a shrugging, I-don't-care gesture, but he knew better. His bow was immediately on her. "Put 'em down, Widow. I'm killing Matthews and taking Alexander home with me. End of story."

"Take her down, Barton!" Coulson snapped.

"Well, I can't put my weapons away if you don't," she said, and all attention was drawn to the widow's bites on her wrists. Gaston let out a moan. The Black Widow stepped forward, and Hawkeye noticed she was favoring her left leg, though she did a very good job of hiding it.

"This is because I killed your friend, the black haired girl, Giselle, was it not? I am deeply, terribly, sorry. It not-" he was silenced by a shot in the arm. Where the Black Widow had pulled a gun from, no one could tell. He wailed in pain.

"Shut up, Buteaux," she snapped. "Besides, if anyone here would die for me to avenge my friends, if would be you, Hawkeye."

"Barton, she's playing with you. If you don't kill her she'll kill you, and you can be damn sure she won't hesitate!" Coulson shouted. "She's injured, you may never get this chance again, now shoot god dammit!"

Hawkeye smirked at the Widow, acknowledging that he knew how many Red Room operatives he had killed. "Unfortunately, I'm not scheduled to die today. Sorry," he told her.

"Well, these boys are." And, almost faster than he could follow, her widow's bites were in Zaroff and Gaston, killing them. "Now, about the final two. Jason can't live, he knows too much. As for Matthews, we're in agreement? Go ahead, kill him."

"Jason lives. He's an innocent who was forced into this. You can't kill him for that."

Something flashed through the Black Widow's eyes, something like understanding. It was gone a split second before Hawkeye assured himself it was there.

"No," the Widow stated. "For that, I get claim to Matthews."

"Don't think so," Hawkeye said. Just as fast as she had killed the two men, he had loaded an arrow and shot it between her feet. To the Widow's credit, she didn't flinch.

"You missed," she said coyly.

"Weren't you listening?" he asked. "I never miss." He grinned at her as the arrow exploded, enveloping her in a cloud of knockout gas. She shrieked with rage and tried to fire at him, but missed widely. The amount of gas had her down in seconds. While she was unconscious, he made short work of Matthews. When Jason backed away from the bodies, he turned to him and said, "There's a safe house two streets over, it's the one with the flamingos in the yard. Knock three times and state your name. They'll get you home."

Jason just looked at him in awe. "Thank you," he said, before running off. Barton was left alone in an alley with the Black Widow. He stood over her for a moment, looking at her.

"Barton, Fury will have both our heads if you don't kill her now," Coulson said. For the first time since he engaged with the assassins, Hawkeye responded to and acknowledged Phil.

"What if I told him I could bring him in a major future asset?" he asked.

"What?" Coulson asked, confused. "Wait. No. Oh no, no way, Barton. This is Natasha Romanoff, SHIELD's most wanted woman in the world, the definition of 'kill on sight', and you want to bring her in? Do you know how many SHIELD agents she's killed?"

"Fourteen. I know. But think of it. You saw how fast she was. You know how good she is. But you didn't see the look in her eyes. She's not too far gone, Phil. I'm telling you, this will work."

Coulson groaned. "You and the eyes…obviously, you're going to bring her in no matter what I say and attempt to convince SHIELD to hire her. Fine. Whatever. But go to your own damn safehouse, keep her away from me. I suggest you go somewhere SHIELD won't find you easily, because they're going to be pissed beyond reason."

"Quite alright, Coulson. I'll be in…"

"Don't tell me. I don't want to know." Phil's com went to static, telling Hawkeye he had stepped on it to end the conversation. Hawkeye shook his head with a laugh. He knelt down and examined her more closely. As he had guessed earlier, her left ankle was swollen and very obviously broken. He couldn't believe she was walking, let alone acting like she was fine. He narrowed his eyes in grudging respect. Almost as an afterthought, he removed all the weapons he could find on her, and ended up with a pile of way more than would fit on her belt. He shoved them all into his quiver and stood, picking her up.

"Guess we're headed to Budapest, Natasha," he said, starting to walk towards the nearest airport. "We'll be safe there." He pulled out a phone and dialed someone who owed him a favor. It was going to be a long night.

Well that's about it, my take on how they met. I might continue on to Budapest if anyone wants me to. Hope you liked it. Reviews and constructive criticism very much welcome, and very much appreciated.

BA&A