2014-01-18 - SDR: One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Purple Fish

The sound is garbled, like voices speaking underwater. The tone is concerned-- no matter the language, that tone is easy to pick out. It's universal.

The voice is frightened, but not for themselves.

Hands all over. The spy and the archer are touched, scanned, damp, clammy touches in the carbon dioxide-rich room that is the minisub. Had it moved? Perhaps in the dreamy haze that was their fading last moments they felt it-- the capsule that they were in being lifted, moved.

And the slight pinch of a needle slipping into a vein, and the warm embrace of wetness surrounding them, like blood or the closing warmth of a womb, before the darkness came finally for them both.


 * Bee-beep. Bee-beep.* Hospitals--or medbays-- are frighteningly the same the universe over. The sound of medical equipment. The dull drone of nurses, doctors, and lab techs in the background. The floating in an angled tube, mostly closed to keep the patient from floating away...

Wait. Water. Everywhere is water, not air.

Clint's eyes flutter open and it only takes a moment for his mind to grasp the wrongness of the situation. When the wrongness is grasped those beeping sensors kick up a few notches as his heart races and he screams bubbles coming out more than sounds. "What in the hell?" he bangs on the tube with his fists and kicks it, but the water slows his movements and he is nowhere near strong enough to break something built to contain an Atlantian.

"Oh no!" an Atlantean woman-- more a scientist than a nurse, to be truthful, this was a research vessel, after all rushes into the room. "Please, calm yourself!" she says to Clint, tapping at the screen next to his bed, releasing a mild sedative into his bloodstream. "The transformation should be complete."

Natasha, for the moment, is nowhere to be seen.

Clint keeps flailing until the sedative takes effect. He begins to relax. "Where am I? What transformation?" he asks riding the wave of really good lazy feelings going through him. However he is taking stock of the situation while he's doing it. After all this was like the hundredth time he'd been drugged in his life, he was getting pretty good at just going with it and calmly riding things out until he got a moment to escape. He blinks at the empty tube next to his and then turns back to the woman, keeping a smile off his lips. "So, you going to tell me or what?"

A wordless snarl can be heard from the next room over, and the soothing voice of another Atlantean scientist-- and the meaty, resounding *thwack* of a fist hitting a face.

Then a very feminine yelp of pain, followed by a stream of curses in Russian. "Ooh, oh I hope your hand isn't broken--" the other voice says worriedly. "Let me take a look--"

"Clint!" Natasha's voice can be heard. "Where is he? Where are you taking us? Tell your leader--" and she goes silent.

The scientist at Clint's side winces. "Oh. We... we found you. You were air-breathers, but there really wasn't time for proper... channels." She looks sheepish. "We couldn't treat you in the air, we don't have that ability, so we... turned you into us. Don't worry, we've already started heading back home to Atlantis. I'm Kiarin. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just breathe deeply and rest. I need to go check on your companion..."

"You did what?" Clint asks looking at himself. "You turned me into an Atlantean? I am going to so kick Namor's ass for this," he says before he thrashes around some more "Nat!" he shouts. "You alright?"

When Kiarin says she's going to check on Nat he says "You're probably going need weapons. Or life insurance."

The scientist departs, and the murmurs from the next room can be heard. She returns shortly, checking on Clint. "She will be fine, we just had to sedate her," she says kindly. "We do not have anyone by the name of Namor on this vessel, but if you know him, I will try and find him to help your transition, if he is Atlantean and one of your friends."

"He's your king, right? Or does he just say that when he's in the surface world?" Clint asks shaking his head. Wouldn't put it past the jerk, and it makes more sense that he's just an Atlantean crazy rather than an actual king. "And nah, it's fine, I'm traumatized enough as it is I don't need to see Namor's junk in speedo. However if you want to help me out you can let me up. I don't do well in tight places."

She blinks. "Oh... um..." she looks like she has no idea what he's talking about. "Well, I really shouldn't let you out until we're sure you're all right. You had suffered from asphyxiation, some malnourishment, and," she swallows, "dehydration... so terrible, so terrible..."

She looks over his vitals. "...you look much better though. If you start feeling woozy, you promise you'll lay back down?" and she reaches up beside Hawkeye's head to open the chamber-- it wasn't locked or anything, just meant for the patient's comfort.

Clint gives the Atlantean a dry look. "Dehydrated by your standards or mine?" he asks before she begins to open the chamber. When she does he gets up and swims out of the chamber. "This is so very weird," he says about being underwater and not feeling that burning in his chest to make him want to surface. "Can I see my friend, the one who was in the sub with me?"

"Oh, by either, I suppose," Kiarin replies, floating backwards out the door into the hallway. "And of course. She was quite distressed-- perhaps she was worried about you? I can certainly understand that. If I woke up among you breathers and my husband was missing, I would be upset as well." She dips down the hallway, out of sight.

"Wait! We're not!" Clint protests but Kiarin was gone. "Do I wait here? Or are you getting her?" he asks before he takes a moment to look around the room.

She pokes her head back in. "Oh, silly me. I forget that when breathers start out, they can't swim as fast as we can. Come on, this way. She's just next door." And she makes a concerted effort to swim slower, waiting on Clint.

Clint swims after Kiarin and the flow of the water around his body alerts him to something he hadn't noticed in his panic before now. He was naked. "Hey, by the way you don't have my clothing around here somewhere do you?"

Kiarin blinks. "Oh. Maybe. Somewhere. It is too constricting to swim in, though. Drags in the water..." she turns backwards, floating into the room next door, but facing Clint as she talks. "We have some spare suits, I think... Marik? maybe? was going to get them for you both.

The room is a mirror image of the one Clint had awoken in. Floating in the tube, though, Natasha is mostly asleep, her eyes fluttering lightly.

Clint's not proud but he totally checks Nat out when she's sleeping naked in the tube as he swims over. Once he's there he taps on the glass, plastic, whatever, and says "Hey Nat, you okay?" before he looks over his shoulder. "And yeah, suits would be great Doc."

Kiaran floats over, tapping the vitals screen beside Natasha's 'bed'. A few moments later, the red head opens her eyes. Seeing Clint... nope, her eyes totally do /not/ flit south, nope, not her, nu-uh... she relaxes ever so slightly. But only so much.

"Clint." She looks calm, but her muscles are tensed. She glances towards the scientist. "I request our immediate release. We are agents of SHIELD." If the fact that's she is breathing water fazes her (oh, it does, but she's long learned not to show such fears) it doesn't show.

Kiaran swallows. "Oh. Um, well... you're not prisoners-- we found you. We'll figure out where... uh... where you can go when we get... there..." she's a scientist, and she really isn't accustomed to dealing with people. Especially not hostile ones.

Clint opens the container in the same way Kiarin did, or if it needs a code or something he tries and then curses at it until she opens it. "Yeah, they let me out without any trouble," Clint admits "But they also gave us something to make us breath water," he looks back over at Kiarin. "How long does that last by the way Doc?" Kiaran looks confused at the question. "Oh... how long?" Her eyes widen. "Oh. OH... um... it's a permanent change to your physiology. We have had several refugees from the surface who has sought asylum with our king. This serum changes you, makes you Atlantean."

Natasha's eyes flash. "You... you have turned us into mermaids?"

Clint turns, or tries to, quick dramatic movements are hard to do under water. "What, you mean this is-" he scowls and tries to kick the Doc. "What gives you the right!"

"You...!" the scientist looks distressed, easily dodging the kick. "You.. you were dying. We did not know what else we could do. Our captain nearly left you there, but... we argued... please, it is not so bad! There are others, like you, breathers who live with us." She looks highly distressed.

For Natasha's part, the acrobatic woman slips out of her tube, reaching out under the water and grabbing onto Clint's shoulder, drawing herself to him. "No, Clint. This is not the time," she says. She is no happier about this than he is, but she will not punish someone for saving her life.

Kiarin floats backwards towards the door. "I... I will see about those suits. Please just stay here for now. We'll show you around in a bit, get you to some quarters until we reach Atlantis."

Clint grits his teeth and stares at Kiarin but he doesn't attack her again. When she leaves he shrugs out of Nat's grip and turns himself around by grabbing the tube. "Shouldn't have stopped me," he says. "They had no right to change us like that."

Natasha breathes. Water, which in and of itself is the problem. She reaches up, grabbing his chin firmly, looking up into his eyes. "No. They did not," she says.

"But in a choice between being dead, and this..." her eyes narrow. "Tony, or the Director... they will know someone who can fix this. Reed Richards, perhaps, if Hank cannot. But dead is dead." She glances to the side, looking over the room. "We need to find a communications device. Report in."

Clint lets out a sigh made of bubbles and nods, but doesn't look that mollified. "Fine," he says before he looks over at her. "How are you doing?" he asks. "I really don't even remember when we passed out."

"Honestly?" Natasha tilts her head, grinning at him ruefully. "My head hurts, the last thing I remember was holding your hand so we did not..." she looks up, sighing. "...die alone."

Her eyes flit back to his. "Thinking about things I have done. Things I wish I had atoned for. Orders I wish I had not followed, and others I should have carried out better. And how it all was going to end in a tin can, slowly suffocating, with you."

She treads water, turning slightly away from him.

That was familiar. He kicks off the floor and moves over to float in front of Nat again. "I remember now," he says reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, before he chews his lip for a moment. "But we survived, we don't have to go out that way now," of course they could have to spend the rest of their time as Namor and Namorita lite, but one thing at a time. "We can make amends, do things better, all of that."

Natasha looks up at him again, a half-smile playing across her lips. "You're right," she replies softly. Then she glances down, and bites her bottom lip, stifling a short laugh before looking back up at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

She does not say anything for a moment. Or two. Or three, actually... then she grins. "You know, there are /some/ advantages of being underwater I am sure. Perhaps I can get some purple seashells, sing a pretty song into a fork?"

Clint snorts "Yeah, I guess there is that," he says before he well tries to lean against the bulkhead but realizes this doesn't work to well in the water.

He glances towards the door wondering if he'd run the doctor off permanently.

A young Atlantean man swims in a few minutes later. "Here," he says, sliding a pair of bodysuits similar to the ones he and the other scientist were wearing. "There we go. Whenever you want to join us, I'll be outside-- I will show you around a bit."

The suits float in the middle of the room. Natasha kicks over to them, snagging them out of mid 'air' and pushing one back towards Clint, floating backwards towards the wall-- moving around will take some getting used to.

Clint clears his throat, or whatever the underwater equivalent is as Nat moves for the body suits. He puts a hand down over his crotch and sort of snags his out of the water and turns around to put it on. He's totally not blushing. "So, uh, yeah," he says and pulls on the suit.

Natasha laughs lightly as she observes Clint. Not only was she a student of body language in general... but being as close with Clint as she had been for so long, reading him in particular was an art she had mastered. She slides the suit on-- not as gracefully as perhaps she'd like, as moving underwater is still somewhat awkward. It fits her disturbingly well, as Clint's suit will fit him-- skin tight, not allowing any room to cause drag moving in the water.

She pushes off the wall, moving towards him, once she is dressed. "Having... difficulties?" she teases lightly.

"Shut up," Clint says still turning away until he's got the body suit on and zipped. It wasn't much better than being naked, but it was at least something. "Anyhow, we're dressed, lets just move on."

Natasha nods, swimming out the door. The Atlantean man from earlier greets them both, and gestures for them to follow him. "We have a place for you both to sleep-- we should be back home soon, but you may be tired in the meantime. The cafeteria is through there... not really a large one, of course. This is just a research vessel, after all. You're quite lucky we were even out this way."

Natasha swims behind him, her eyes sweeping for anything that looks like a communications device. The man floats backwards at times, to more easily talk to to the two of them.

Clint follows and keeps his eyes open, but more just for the sights than looking for anything specific. "So, uh, what do you guys eat?" he asks their guide as he does his best to keep up. He was a tumbler and a bowman, not so much a swimmer. "Also, is there a way to let people know we're alive."

The man furrows a brow. "I think so, but that sort of communication has to be approved through the captain. I'll see if we can get you some comm time, though." As to the food, he shrugs. "Jellyfish, seaweed, most fish. Same as anyone else, right?"

"Here you are," he says as they reach a plain looking room to the side of the corridor. "If you need anything, just let one of us know. Someone will be in the lab at the end of the hall." He grins at them both. "I know it's strange... one of my friends back in Poisidonus was a breather, and his transition was rough at first but it gets better. I promise." He seems very sincere and nice, at least.

Natasha looks less than happy with this whole 'swim to move' idea. She thanks him, though, floating through the door to the quarters that she and Clint been offered.

"You may actually want to talk to your breather friend about food top side," Clint says with a bit of a smirk. He looks to Nat and mouths 'jellyfish'. Then he carries on to their room, checking it over. When he's done he nods and looks back to their guide. "Well talk to your Captain, we have people up top waiting for us, I'm sure they'd be you know, happy to hear we're alive."

"Will do," the scientist replies. "I will talk to the captain at once and see if we can get you a comm to the surface." He departs, leaving the two SHIELD agents alone. Again.

But at least not suffocating, and in a better place than they were 24 hours prior.

Natasha looks over the room. "...this is possibly a foolish question," she says idly, "but how does one /sleep/ underwater? Without floating off the bed?" She looks over at him to see if he has any ideas. Clint looks around the room. "These tube things," he says nodding to the two beds that look like the ones they woke up in. "That first doctor lady told me they were to keep us from floating away." He says moving to check them out. "Not sure if I like them though."

Natasha looks less than thrilled with the prospect. "...I do not like the idea of sleeping in a test tube," she comments wryly. "And you cannot tell me this is how they normally--" she cuts herself off. "No matter. We will find out more soon enough... hopefully he returns with news for us and a commlink to the Director's office." She looks over at Clint, and sighs, a small trail of bubbles escaping her lips. Then she smiles slightly at Clint, giving him a very obvious once-over.

"You know, this look suits you. Shows off your muscles, your... whole package." She stifles a smirk.

"Well it seems like they do, or either that or they've gone a long way to troll us, which I wouldn't put past Namor," Clint says. "By the way they didn't know who Namor was, that's weird right," he says before he smirks over at Nat when she compliments the suit. He shrugs and gives his ass a shake in Nat's direction. "Well at least it's not a speedo," he remarks as he peeks into the tube. "And yeah, it seems like they really do sleep in these things."

"I may ask Janet to update your costume when we get back," Natasha says optimistically. "The women will swoon, and the men will froth in jealousy. We can see if she makes purple speedos, as well." She winks, teasing. She was in a better mood. She pushes over towards the beds.

"As for Namor," she shrugs. "Try to be nice... at least until we don't have to deal with his smug highness anymore."

"Well as long as they're purple," Clint quips as he tries getting into one of the tubes. It's not exactly comfortable, but then he's laying suspended in water. "The Roman emperors wore purple speedos." He pulls himself back out of the bed again and chuckles. "Okay fine, I won't make fun of Namor anymore until we're on dry land," a pause. "Maybe."

Natasha's brow furrows some. She licks her lips lightly. "Clint." She tilts her head. She says his name again, only this time, her lips don't move. He still hears it though.

She looks as startled as he does. "I had wondered how sound was traveling..." she marvels quietly.

Clint blinks. "Wait what?" he says moving his lips but then he turns around and looks at Nat. He pushes his thoughts at her gently and with skill "Woah, I'm a telepath again" he thinks at her with a smirk. "Long story. I woke up one day and had powers, telepathy was the coolest part, the fire everywhere, not so much."

"Let us hope you do not have fire again." Natasha has not had the experience of having such powers before, but she understands, in theory, how they should work. Apparently speaking is almost reflexive, as they had been doing so since they awoken. She considers how to test other methods of it, and sends a wordless thought towards Clint... one that's not particularly PG, or even PG-13 rated. Considering its source was in a memory of a night in Reykjavik, and inspired by that shake of hips Clint had sent at her…

Clint blinks again, then smirks. "Wow. We can do that too?" he thinks at her. He forms a thought of his own, a memory of that time in Montreal. When it seems like it gets through he smirks a little wider and says "Better stop that," he thinks. "But cool."

Natasha actually blushes slightly, but grins. "I'm glad you enjoyed /that/," she replies with a light laugh. "I had always wondered." She yawns. "I might try this sleeping tube thing. For now. By the time we are awake perhaps they will let us use the phone to call..."

"What can I say," Clint smiles lightly before she mentions sleep and he looks back at the tube. "Yeah, I could use some sleep," he says before he studies it a little closer. "Well, I guess I may as well try the tube. Going to guess they don't have the sedative dispensers in this one."

He shrugs and climbs in, after a few moments, he looks over at Nat. "Um, good night, or good morning or whatever it is," then he settles down to try and sleep.