Natasha, Clint, & Darcy | Thursday Afternoon (backdated)

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Clint has a plan. It's a terrible plan, but Natasha's an enabler. Darcy is less than impressed.

Warning: Blatant stupidity, recklessness, and really bad science experiments lay ahead.


​"All right, all the analysis indicates," Clint began, pushing his goggles up up off his face. They perched on top of his hair, indents left around his eyes where they'd pressed into his skin. "That what I've got here should counteract your venom. And, since it's injected, it's totally technically venom. You would not believe some of the weird internet discussions and arguments I had to wade through to get all of the terminology figured out. But, once it's airborne or whatever -- once we mess around with it -- it'll be poison." It was obvious Clint was having fun. "Probably."

Natasha lounged in a chair, one arm rested on the counter top, while she watched Clint. "You're enjoying this," she said with a smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't say she wasn't enjoying this herself. They were working together in a way they hadn't in several years. It brought a sense of familiarity and routine she couldn't bring herself to say she'd missed until now. "Gives us more options anyway. And there won't be a chance of the supply running out for once."

"Exactly. And of course I'm enjoying this," Clint said. He grinned outright. "I've got a venom expert looking at my results wondering what the hell I did to get a sample of something he's never seen before. It's amazing. He wants an actual sample for himself so bad." He was positively gleeful.

She laughed. "You just like being able to indulge your science side while crafting weapons at the same time." She reached for a test tube then watched the liquid inside tilt back and forth. "Anyone outside the fancy mansion getting a sample of this would probably be a bad idea, don't you agree?"

"Absolutely," Clint said, expression sobering briefly. "It's entirely unique. I've found nothing in any databases that I've been able to access so far that has this chemical signature, this particular toxicity. And we know, thanks to tests on various tissue samples, that it breaks down rapidly after whatever it's been introduced to is dead. Meaning that, even if something happens and you have to use it in self-defense, there won't be anything for anyone to find in the body afterward. If anyone even decides to try to test for foreign substances."

"What you're telling me, then, is that we've finally found the perfect toxin?" Natasha mused aloud. That was ironic. After all this time, all the complications of needing to be undetectable, or finding ways to incapacitate her target without killing, she herself would produce the one thing she'd needed years ago. "Obviously, we need to figure out what the upper limit of production is and how to convert it into easily used forms. Pills, aerosols, coating blades, etc."

"Coating blades should be simple enough, but we need to make sure the sheathes and things are -- wait. Wait, if I can get in touch with a friend, I could theoretically get the material necessary to make sheathes that are blade-specific and hold the venom. If I can work out the proper components to add to it, you'd never have to actually reapply it to the blades themselves, the sheathes would do that whenever you put the knives back in. It's just making sure the sheathes don't... leak. Or whatever. It wouldn't matter for you, obviously, since you're immune. But for my arrowheads, that sort of thing..." Clint trailed off, jotting a note to himself on a pad of paper on his desk.

"Oh? That material sounds like something we definitely need to get our hands on." Natasha placed the test tube back into its rack and picked up the next one in the holder. It held a few drops of venom mixed with some chemical substance that had turned the combination yellow. "Immunity from repeated exposure. Is that a possibility or is not dying solely antivenin based?" She frowned. "We're also going to need to test that antivenin on someone without an X-gene enhanced system to get an accurate baseline. Actually, we need to test my venom on a normal human system at some point."

"We have no way of knowing about a potential build-up of immunity until we've tested it on the same person a few times," Clint said. "And that's assuming we'd even be able to introduce a small enough quantity to not cause them to die without the antivenin. It's definitely possible in theory -- like people who are allergic to bees. Build up the tolerance slowly and all that. But I want to get a read on the full effects it has on a normal person's system before we start trying to build up immunity. It's possible that introducing the antivenin to the subject's system would cause it to dissipate so rapidly that the body wouldn't have time to assimilate enough of it to make a difference. But that's for another day. I've been thinking about potential test subjects."

"We're going to have a hard time finding anyone to agree to that. Especially when we can't guarantee their safety. Introducing it to those with healing factors would negate the whole point of effect observation." Natasha wasn't surprised. Anything could have a tolerance built up to it. Her venom wasn't going to be the exception, no matter how convenient it would be. "There's small scale tissue dilution tests to determine the minimum concentration before we scale to actual test subjects." Natasha tilted her head. "People within the mansion or some of our outside contacts?"

"Figured I'd just test it on myself," Clint said, shrugging. "I know the risks. I've come up with the antivenin already. And while I've got the x-gene, I don't have an increased metabolism or a healing factor or anything, so we'd be able to see the effects. And I know what effects we're specifically looking to measure. Not saying I should be the only one we test it on, but it'll be easier to find somebody to volunteer once we know for sure the antivenin works."

"What? No. That's the last thing you need to be doing. Small scale tests first then we'll move to actual subjects." Natasha set the test tube back in the rack and focused her full attention on Clint. "There are so many ways that could go wrong. Don't get me started." She arched an eyebrow. "And what happens if the antivenin doesn't work? I'm not exactly a trained medical professional able to fix that."

"They have trained medical professionals onsite," Clint said, shrugging toward the door and the elevator that led down to the medlab. "Besides, I trust my science enough to trust the antivenin. Plus, I don't feel comfortable testing this on animals. What if it doesn't work? I don't want to kill any mice or rats or anything. They're cute!"

"Again, that's the last thing you should be doing. You do realize the whole point of lab animals is to take the initial burden of dying off humans?" Natasha said dryly. "If I wasn't immune, I'd be the better candidate. If only to stop you from being stupid."

"That's totally illogical," Clint said, raising his eyebrows. "If I'm not gonna test this out on animals, I'm not gonna test it on my best friend. And anyway, I'm confident that the antivenin will neutralize the venom."

"You entirely missed my point. The whole scientific process is based on animal model testing before transferring to a human system." She flicked a folded paper football at him assembled from the messy pile of papers near her elbow. "I'm as confident in your antivenin as you are but it's possibly a risk you don't need to be taking."

"Oh, c'mon. There's plenty of chemical analysis that's totally backing up my antivenin," Clint says, amused now. "And I'm against animal testing. No chimps wearing lipstick to make sure whatever's in the shimmer isn't toxic to humans or whatever. No little mice accidentally dying if my antivenin doesn't work. Besides, the dose I'd be using is so small, the med team here could flush it from my system almost immediately." Probably. They could probably do that. In truth, Clint knew he should test the antivenin on an animal of some kind, just to get a projection for its potential mortality rate. Because if he died, he knew people would be really angry at him, but also, all of his results would be thrown out because he was dead.

Natasha flicked several more paper footballs at him. "You're making a lot of assumptions there, Barton. And you know how the saying goes." She shook her head and held out her hand for the injection syringe. There was no talking him out of this. She knew from experience, not unless she was willing to fight him for it, then sit on him for the foreseeable future. Which meant any spare moment he could sneak away from her and do it, he would and that's not how she wanted to spend her fancy mansion living time. "You're taking full blame for this if it goes wrong. Also, if you end up dying, you're getting no rest in the afterlife. Death by failed science experiment is also a death far beneath you."

Grinning, Clint handed over the syringe. "I will totally not be dying today." Again, probably. He very probably would not be dying today. Glancing over his somewhat disorganized lab space, he caught sight of the recorder he needed and stood up. "Okay, so the goal is to stay verbal for the whole thing. Might not be possible, but I'm gonna try. If I can't speak or I just outright fall unconscious, definitely call the medlab." Snagging the recorder, he considered his sample of pure venom, then the areas where he might be able to set up comfortably, and headed for a wall so he could prop himself up.

Natasha looked at the syringe with its sterility cap still on and the innocuous clear liquid inside and shook her head. There were so many things wrong with this but at least she was here to make sure things didn't completely go to hell. "Whatever you say, Einstein." She followed him over to the wall, dragging a comfortable rolling chair with her. "Should I go get pillows? Blankets? Any last drink requests?" She said with amusement. She probably shouldn't be making light of the whole situation. They were about to inject Clint with a deadly substance and only had an antidote of questionable veracity to prevent him from going through that door to the other side. And okay, a medlab that would probably stop that from happening if worst came to worst.

"Pssh, drink requests," Clint said, putting this back against the wall and sliding down to sit. "Maybe later. Don't want any other variables introduced. And no for all the other stuff, too. I'll probably be too busy getting neurologically compromised by your venom -temporarily! - to worry about things like pillows." He turned the recorder on, uncapped the syringe with his sample of pure venom, and shrugged to himself. "Doctor Clinton F. Barton, performing first human trial of antivenin for NRPV.

"The LD-50 of L. mactans venom has been measured in mice as 1.39 mg/kg, and separately as 1.30 mg/kg (with a confidence interval of 1.20-2.70). I am roughly 104kg, but since we're not trying to kill me - and since we're only using L. mactans as a predictive model, given the similarities in its toxins to what's in NRPV - I'm injecting ten mgs into my shoulder. Note: Should investigate length of time NRPV takes the subject to become symptomatic in relation to injection site. Also note: Large number of active components in NRPV include latrotoxins, several smaller polypeptides, adenosine, guanosine, inosine, and 2,4,6-trihydroxypurine. NRPV - definitely a neurotoxin." Quirking an eyebrow at Natasha, Clint smiled and continued, "Assistant on-hand to administer antivenin. Suggested administration when subject becomes nonverbal, but assistant can give it as soon as she likes - again, we're not trying to kill me." With that, he injected himself in the shoulder.

"I am not taking the blame for this, just to be clear," Natasha reminded him mildly. There was only so much of playing babysitter she could do. Clint was a grown man and allowed to make his own mistakes. Even if this was going to end up being one of the more painful ones. She let the words filter through, processing them distantly. She wasn't quite the scientist Clint was but she could hold her own when pressed. She focused on tracking his breathing and responsiveness. When they reached the point where she wasn't comfortable with this continuing, she'd be pulling the plug no matter what Clint might be saying at the time.

"That's fine," Clint said. Then, eloquently, "Ow." Looking at the injection site, he could see it was already reddening and a slight swelling had begun. "Ow," he said again, pain shooting from his shoulder down his back. "Okay, so pain. That's pretty immediate. Note: Take blood samples before injecting antivenin. Sharp pain radiating... outward from the injection site. Doesn't..." He paused as the pain, still sharp, became a near constant. He gritted his teeth, then continued, "Doesn't appear to be following paths of veins and arteries." He had to stop again, swallowing before he picked up the train of thought. "Given... the intensity, which I'd place at around an eight on the universal pain scale... nerves. I think it's. Fuck, I think it's targeting the nervous system." Then he clamped his mouth shut as his back and shoulders cramped.

Natasha moved back to Clint's lab station to grab a couple of sample needles for blood collection, though she wasn't sure how likely it was that Clint was going to be getting those samples. A part of her had expected a quiet, painless creeping spread of poison leading to paralysis and unconsciousness. It would've been more useful to her that way. She settled back into her chair and frowned as the pain was obviously intensifying. The last time she'd seen Clint like this...actually she didn't think she had. The pain they usually dealt with was localized and muscular.

Clint had broken into a cold sweat, his muscles all relaxing at once a moment later. "Abrupt," he said, then swallowed. "Abrupt loss of feeling in the lower extremities. Which, at this point, we're counting as a positive. Wow, that was amazingly awful." He flexed his fingers briefly, then reached down and poked at his thigh. "No feeling in left thigh. Also, no feeling in the hip. Shit. Didn't account for potential loss of bodily functions due to paralysis. Ugh. Tasha, remind me about that the next time I do something like this."

Natasha was sitting with her legs crossed at the knee, fingers tapping against a thigh while one foot bounced slightly. Telling signs for her in any situation. "Yes, of course. Your main concern right now is shitting yourself due to lower extremity sensation loss. Your priorities...." She shook her head. "What did we do in our prior lives to end up here...." She snorted. "After this, there's still going to be a next time?"

"Course there's gonna be a next time," Clint muttered, head thunking back against the wall behind him. "Loss of sensation in right leg and hip," he said. "Injection site is numb, though still red." He blinked slowly, swallowed again. "Everything's kinda going warm and fuzzy now, though. Like. Like when you're freezing."

"Guess I'll be investing in some adult diapers then. Probably should design a clothing protocol before you do this again," Natasha said dryly. "Interesting that the venom is going through the whole range of sensations but not unexpected since it's a neurotoxin. Wonder if it's the same exact sequence each time and if there's a way to jump those. Then again, it's probably highly variable dependent on the subject it's used on," she mused.

"Could... target specific things," Clint offered. "Effects. Maybe. Fiddle with it. Y'know. For... science."

​Darcy walked into the lab Clint normally used, coffee in hand. She didn't see him at his usual counter and turned her head, noting him slumped against a wall with a needle on the floor nearby. She screamed, coffee dropping at her feet as she rushed over. "What the fuck, Clint?!" she demanded as she knelt beside him. "What the hell did you inject yourself with?"

"Aw... coffee," Clint half-wheezed. "No."

"I told him this was a bad idea. Such a bad idea." Natasha glared at Clint for good measure. She held up the syringe containing the antivenin. "Now would probably be a good time to inject him with this. It's the antivenin he created for my poison."

​Darcy grumbled as she grabbed the syringe from Natasha. "Specific place this needs to be injected, or is there a particularly painful place I can stab this idiot?"

"Much as I agree in sentiment, the idiot needs this faster than intradermal delivery." Natasha deftly grabbed the needle back and kneeled down next to Clint to stretch out his right arm. She felt for the vein in the crook of his elbow, giving the area a few flicks of her fingers. He was a more difficult stick than normal, likely from the neurotoxin effects. She quickly stuck him with a transfer top, filling several vials with blood, bandaged his arm, then moved to the left to quickly inject him with the antivenin. "The things I do for you, Barton," she muttered.

​"You're an idiot, Barton, and you're never going to see a gold star again," Darcy bitched as she watched from where she was kneeling. She turned her head to face Natasha and asked, "So should we call med lab down here to pick him up, or do you think he'll be able to drag himself up there with our help? I can't decide which one would be the most humiliating, but I'm thinking it's having him stretchered out, and I'm a fan of that right now."​

Natasha started a mental count for how long it took the antivenin to show visible effect. Because Clint would want to know and better they obtain the data now instead of subjecting themselves to this diaster again. "Much as I agree with the sentiment, he'd spin it in such a way to garner all the sympathy." She pulled out Clint's phone, thumbed her way through the security code, then scrolled through the contacts.

"I'm not sure moving him would be the best course of action. Clint said a certain Cecilia Reyes owed him a favor and that he's briefed her on the generalities of our experiment. I'd prefer to keep this contained as much as possible." She hit dial and held the phone up to her ear. "Hey Cecilia, this is Natasha, a friend of Clint's. If you could come down to the labs, Clint could use your expertise." Her mouth twitched at the explosion of sound that resulted. "Yes, he did go through with that." Another explosion of sound caused Natasha to smile very slightly.